something new

A new blog that evolves from this one -- more exploratory and also more specific themes: writing, making art, following one's bliss, daily life lessons, among others.

There are also new works posted in my art blog:

bed-weather wednesday

But I was up early enough to not feel hurried through the morning.

And so far my pace is quite agreeable. 

I am discovering new depths of joy from working with watercolor, dip pens, and ink:

Not to mention that I am absolutely loving my return to the good ol' filofax. Updated with chronodex scheduling and inspired by John Winchester's demon and monster diary. I love the flexibility of adding and removing pages as well as rearranging them. 

I am way behind my word targets for NaNoWriMo but I remain optimistic. This year's novel has been harder to shape than the first and I admit there have been too many distractions and causes of dismay (i.e. Dayjob).

I have gotten around to printing inspirational pegs for my art-making, something that has been on my to-do list for ages.

Being focused and centered, even for the things that you sorely, desperately want and love, can be a challenge in the midst of daily demands that chip away at your strength and resolve. What has been helping me through is writing. I write when I am shaken and I write when I am lost. Somehow the words help me find my way again even if it is only as far as the next tiny step. Sometimes the writing simply helps me stay afloat on the worst of days, either days of raging storms or days of death-like stillness. Between the two the stillness is the more unnerving, when nothing seems to move and you even begin to doubt if the world still breathes. I write through it all, carving paths through the emptiness, holding up the oft-flickering flame of hope that keeps my own heart alive.

an Artist Date

After a rather long while I found myself finding time to get out of the house and do something purely to inspire myself and shake down some ideas from the slumbering shadows in my head.

I went to Heima along Brixton which is about a ten-minute walk from home. I told myself I would only look and soak in the creative energies and not buy anything. I ended up leaving with a shopping bag of goodies and a mental list of what to go back for. 

I did not spend very much. Just a little. Nothing like how I would spend in a bookstore. Besides, I seriously felt that I needed a boost of creative inspiration plus some proper reward for successfully moving out and moving in and keeping the family's spirits up and positively bent.

Of course, count on me to get all fired up for creative work just before the start of a new dayjob work project, when bulk of my time is about to be taken away. I seem to have a knack for hitting upon the muse button at the last minute, just when I have to go someplace else and it could not be helped.

In any case I refuse to be disheartened by the amount of time left. The work will only take three and a half weeks, four at the most. After that I have half a mind to keeping November to myself to write the draft for my second novel, with small art projects to serve as breaks in between. As I was browsing at Heima I am reminded of how much I really love the interplay of image and words and thus I would like to strive and practice it in my creative works. 

That is all I have to say for now. I write this post on my phone while tucked in bed. The very heavy volume of Sherlock Holmes awaits by my side. I hope to solve a few more mysteries before I call it a night, but to you I bid a sweet good night!

more peeks at settling in

I have fully moved in with my parents and only visit the old place to transport things. I do the transporting by stages in order to manage the cleaning and fixing and arranging, especially of the tons of books that have to be re-organized into various shelves.

I gave priority to fixing my workspace/writing nook because a project is due to begin by end of next week and I really want to get seriously started on the research work for this year's NaNoWriMo. I have also decided to make my workspace more of a writing nook than a day-job workspace. Hence my "work" shelf actually has more of the happy stuff (my library of journals, writing books, notebooks) than the day-job stuff.

I also discovered that having no windows (my corner is literally a corner and under the stairs and walled in by a shelf) somehow helped me work better because I am less sensitive to the passing of the day and thus feel less resentful of feeling that I spent most hours just working on the day-job. The light is constant as if it is always early evening and I often pretend I am a hardworking detective on a mystery crime case working overtime (yes, it has a bit of that feel). Much better than enduring the daylight change from morning to late afternoon and realizing that I have been in the same spot doing the same thing.

A whole new theme and flavor for my writing nook/ work space.

in progress

a very rare selfie, and only because I want to show off the owl print that is now in my writing nook

Today's focus will be the bedroom. I hope to make progress in it well enough to be able to show nice photos. Then next on the list is the bathroom which is now much bigger and also shared with my sister. There is an unbelievable amount of possessions to sort through, combine, de-clutter.

Finding the right balance of co-existence in shared spaces is a very big deal and in that matter I count myself pretty lucky that I get along with my sister. She lives on rigid, almost obsessive but enviable well-orchestrated schedules while I fare better with a flexible day that leaves much space for maneuvering and flowing in any direction. I am more impulsive and indulgent. I am also worse at getting lists ticked off.

my odd sister. queen of calendars, schedule master.

My Reading Buffet, or Why I Read More Than Ten Books At A Time

Ten books is an understatement. If I were to trust my Goodreads record I actually have about eighty books on my Currently Reading List. But I want to keep the number to the books I have been actively reading through for the past two weeks.

Reading multiple books naturally slows me down but just to be clear, I do get to finish them. According to my Goodreads record, again, I am 28%, or 11 books, ahead of this year's Reading Challenge.

Books are my therapy. More specifically, owning them, reading them, and highlighting my favorite passages, not to mention copying those passages and using them in my various writings. I read both fiction and non-fiction, popular as well as literary works. I am partial to fantasy and mythologies and books with magic.

But why do I read so many at the same time? Because I get impatient. And I have this irrational need to feel that I am moving along more than one story. Maybe it is a way of filling my near-absent social life, filling in my social calendar with different stories instead of different parties. But I also like pursuing a thread of thought or the urge of a mood as soon as possible. That is the impatience working. The thought or the urge could be triggered by anything. It could be a genuine need for knowledge and information that could be useful for my work. It could be pure whim or curiosity from hearing a book or an author or a subject mentioned in fils, or even another book, that has moved me in some way. Neil Gaiman gets me going on a lot of reading, helping me discovering authors and genres in the process, expanding my reading appreciation. So does Joseph Campbell and Julia Cameron.

I have this strange constant sense of running out of time. As if I am forever cramming for an exam or a graded recitation. I have this constant hunger, every single day, to learn something new or to feed myself new images and words and stories. I can feel that what I read buoy me up and help me survive every endeavor and every encounter. What I read may inspire me, or literally provide me with a nugget of knowledge that will enable me to save the day, or guide me in the decisions I have to make. Books are my lifeline. They anchor me amidst the sea of unpredictability of the everyday. They remind me of my values and set examples by which to conduct my life (Thank you, Jane Austen).

I seek the variety because it makes me feel that I am covering as much ground as I can. Who knows when familiarity with a specific subject might come in handy? I guess I also don't want to be limited to a very narrow range of topics that could severely limit my already challenged conversational skills. I make up for not being updated with current news and events by being well-versed in books. (I avoid the daily news because I avoid all the negativity and anger and vicious circles of blaming.)

I cannot be idle and not read. While I do enjoy the occasional meditative silence of being still, for most of the time I have to have a reading material of substance in my hands. A book or two in my bag plus books loaded in my smartphone and tablet give me the same comfort as a fully-loaded survival kit in a zombie apocalypse.

My reading list covers a wide range. I follow my heart which pages it wishes to explore at any given moment because that is also when I know that I will get the most from a book.

As of today here are what top my active list:

In my Kindle I have:

The Cuckoo's Calling, by Robert Galbraith
The Twenty-Four Hour Mind, by Rosalind Cartwright
Daily Rituals: How Artists Work, by Mason Currey
Writing Well, by William Zinsser
Writing To Learn, by Willian Zinsser

I love finding unexpected connections between the books I read, even when they seem so different. The important lessons gets echoed because they are important. And when I badly need some clue, a hint of budge in the right direction, my books often come to the rescue. Or sometimes, a simple line can bring a whole load of comfort when I feel most alone in a dreary endeavor and resolution seems too far away, such as this quote from Kafka:

"...time is short, my strength is limited, the office is a horror, the apartment is noisy, and if a pleasant, straightforward life is not possible then one must try to wriggle through by subtle maneuvers." -- excerpted from Daily Rituals: How Artists Work.

What's on your reading list this week?

a sunday of substance

Yesterday was a great day.

I have been excited for yesterday since I set that meeting with my bookseller friend. I have not seen him for a while and the books I have ordered have been languishing in his inventory for months. I was at the tail-end of a project and a fieldwork and thought I deserved a reward of some kind for being still alive. What better way than finally getting my old orders and paying up and maybe adding a couple new books to the package?

My friend sells good quality second-hand books which I absolutely love. Pre-owned books carrying a history of their own. Yellowed pages, old editions, rare hard-bounds. And that lovely old-book smell. He also sells notebooks – Moleskine and Field Notes and Fashionary. Yes, a dangerous combination for a writer/artist like me.

So I set up a meeting and I was fired up all week looking forward to it.

Layer on the discovery that Before Midnight opened in cinemas in July 10. Marvelous! The theme movie of my generation! If I had to name a mythology of romance for my generation it would be that trilogy. So I set Sunday afternoon for watching it with my sister, while also setting a couple of evenings beforehand to watch the first two movies.

Sunday arrived and I was like a child about to go on a field trip to Disneyland. Well I was. My own kind of Disneyland.

I met my bookseller friend in a cafe. He was late and I was too early. Which was perfect because I intended to get some writing done. I haven't written in a cafe for a long time, and it was such a glorious sunny morning, the cafe was half-empty, and there was this vintage jazzy music playing in the background. The other customers were quiet oldish people, not the usual crowd of noisy young things. Needless to say I felt right at home.

I took out my last Moleskine notebook (I have run out of stock) to write. I just have to say, I caught myself smiling many times at the sheer joy of the moment. In the past week there were little events that somehow perfected the trajectory of my life and I can feel the effect of it. Finding myself in that perfect spot on that perfect Sunday morning, I recognized the wisdom of the Universe and its infinite magic leading me to where I was. Most likely it was also where I needed to be. 

My dear friend arrived bearing my joys. Like a midyear Santa. A heavy bag of books and a heavy bag of Moleskine. He also brought a few vintage books I might be interested in (I was) and those were added to my loot.

I love vintage and old things, especially books. Look, this one survive through the war!

It was time to replenish my stocks. I am halfway through my last ruled Moleskine.

Then followed the kind of conversation that lifted one's spirits and refreshed one's faith in people and the world. Discussions about books, life decisions, the quality of paper, being independent, ideas and insights for improving our respective businesses, astronomy and mathematics, finding niches. An equal exchange without reservations or agenda, a connection that was effortless. I had missed it so very much.

We parted at lunchtime. I had a movie to catch. I also found out that another friend was joining me and my sister to the movie. Oh joy!

Before Midnight did not disappoint. I actually want to see it again and savor the words again. I didn't cry. Only almost. That part towards the end.

After the movie we had coffee and pastries at a nearby hotel. This time I was a content observer as my sister and our friend did most of the talking. But it was also one of those conversations that flowed naturally and without fear of misinterpretations or judgements. Then we went to my home to discuss options for framing my art works which I will be selling soon through another friend with a mobile vintage van (Doesn't that sound like a perfect way to start?) There were also some art and book discussions, analysis of men, women, and relationships, and a little history-digging for examples.

Brazo Bombs by The Legend Hotel. They taste like brazo de mercedes magicked into cream puffs. Very delicious!

The evening concluded with a light dinner. I started to feel tired and sleepy a little before ten. The adrenaline rush since the morning had finally worn off. I was happy. But my introvert self said, alright, time to draw back. If I had pushed myself more I would probably end up with a migraine. Oh, but make no mistake, it was the best Sunday I have ever had quite a long time.

I cleaned up, then tucked into bed with Sometimes The Magic Works. A fitting bedtime read for a beautiful day.

"I have decided, on reflection, it is best just to remember that sometimes the magic really works."
-Terry Brooks

How has the magic been working for you lately?

i am a bookaholic

It started when I was twelve years old. It was during summer vacation and my best friend then took me to the public library. I was the kind of kid who stayed home so I discovered places only when people took me to them. I was thrilled to find out I could get my own library card without much fuss. I did and that was the beginning.

Being twelve, I started off with the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew. But those quickly ran out because I was a voracious reader. I read two to three books in a day or two and I had to go to the library at least thrice a week during the summer and twice during schooldays.

I began venturing into bookstores and touching the shiny brand new books on the shelves. I began smelling books and loved both new-book-smells and old-book-smells. When I was in high school, I asked that my Christmas and birthday gifts be books. Brand new ones from the bookstore. The librarians in the public library became fond of me, and waved away fines and gave me extensions and most especially, allowed me to take out more books than was permitted.

In college I was fortunate to get into a university with a very impressive library. I became its denizen and the librarians there also gave me the same privileges. I used up three to four library cards in a single semester.

Any extra money I saved up from my allowances I used to buy books.

When I started working, I spent a lot of money on books. At one point I had more than a thousand crammed in the tiny bedroom that I shared with my sister in the small apartment where I lived with my family.

I would buy books almost every week. Not just from bookstores with their brand new volumes but also from second-hand book shops. Then the internet happened and I discovered an online auction site for books and I outbid everyone else on the books I wanted. The owner of that site eventually became a very good friend.

Sometime in 1999 I sold off more than half of my book collection to fund a trip.

Two years later I moved to a higher-paying job and was able to replenish my personal library. It was even more intense that time, the book-buying, for the books took the place of everything else that work did not consume. Books became my lifeline to sanity.

Eight years later I quit the job that had been eating up my life and then I started selling off my books again to raise funds to sustain a freelancer's life. Now I wish I had been more discerning because there were titles I wish I never sold.

Three years later I began the process of recovering the books I had lost and adding new ones that feed my rediscovered passions. My library today has about 500-600 books, including those in my Kindle.

In the past three years I have simplified my lifestyle to the point that I have significantly reduced my monthly spendings and have channeled my retail therapy to just three things: books, writing materials, and art materials.

I particularly enjoy fantasy, fairy tales, mythology, basically anything with magic and supposedly impossible things. I also like a bit of philosophy and psychology. I like books on writing and poetry - Susan Wooldridge, Anne Lamott, Ann Patchett. I like the occasional chick lit and I like inspirational books along the lines of Julia Cameron, Zen, Anna Johnson, Paulo Coelho. I have favorites among the classics : Jane Austen's novels, Sherlock Holmes, the mysteries of Agatha Christie. I like food and travel books : Ruth Reichl, M.F.K. Fisher, Jamie Oliver.

In authors I absolutely love Neil Gaiman. Then there's Nick Bantock, Barbara Hodgson -- writers who are also artists. I love Sarah Addison Allen.  Joseph Campbell is right up there with Neil.

I admire bloggers who have become authors -- Holly Becker and Grace Bonney.

There are many others but I don't want to make this a very long list. I will write about most of them anyway as I read through the days.

My latest book loot is from yesterday, when I stepped out to air myself after being cooped up for two days because I was ill. I wandered into the secondhand bookshop in the supermarket and walked out with these:

The Ethnography book is just a geeky thing for me because it is part of what I do to earn a living. And it is ridiculously cheap at Php50.

The Dante Club is something I have been curious about and the copy was in very good condition for only Php148. I plan to read the original Dante before reading this one to enhance my appreciation.

The School Of Essential Ingredients is hardbound and I have a sample of it in my Kindle and it is on my to-buy list. I paid less than half for what it would cost me to purchase it on Kindle. A great bargain indeed.

This week alone I spent twice on books. But I don't splurge on anything else. No more clothes and shoes I would only wear once. No more wasteful time and money spent with pseudo-friends. No more unnecessary products in the grocery cart. Yes, it is all about books, writing, and art now. But most especially books.

my very own Project Life

I am inspired by Becky Higgins and her Project Life. But I cannot afford her beautiful templates and kits plus at some point I still want to do a bit more hands-on when I put things like this together. I also want space for my writing, lots of writing, not just photos and images. So I decided to design my own Project Life by getting a plain ring binder, printing papers, magazine scraps, old decorative calendars, and the like to help me get started. It is also a great way for me to have a hard copy of all my digital journals and blog posts -- my own way of securing myself a copy of everything I have written with a computer and thus taking away the fear that they would all be lost in cyberspace when the zombie apocalypse comes around.

There is a lot of cutting and glueing and doodling and coloring involved. Very therapeutic. I also find myself re-reading old journal entries and realizing that I had worked out some things that have been troubling me without realizing it at the time. I also enjoy discovering the patterns in my writing topics which help me with whatever it is that I am struggling with at the moment.

Right now I would love to do this all day but I need to get some work tasks done. How I wish for the day when I will never say those words "need to get some work tasks done"! How I wish that all I need ever say is "need to finish writing the latest book" or "need to complete the pieces for the next exhibit"!

sick day and introverted musings

I have been under the weather all day yesterday. I suspect an intense stress and anxiety attack as the main cause. Things at work are rather stirred up at the moment and important decisions have to be made.

In the middle of all this I found myself thinking about a bit of a revamp for this blog. Maybe it's my way of coping with all the other matters that demanded for my time and attention. I am also feeling that familiar itch to lock myself up in a room for days and write my books without interruption.

It is Saturday and I will have to get some work tasks done. Then tonight I might be stepping out a bit to visit a friend whose father had just died. If events unfold as planned I might also end up telling another person how much I had been hurt by his behavior weeks ago and for which I have hardly forgiven him.

Yes, it is most likely too much anxiety and stress that is getting me all sick and tired in every sense of the words.

I am reading this book :

It is written by Sophia Dembling and it caught my attention while I was browsing in the bookstore last Thursday.  It is easy to read and very uplifting for an introvert like me.

I like the chapter that discusses friendship:

"What is a friend? We probably all have out own definitions. For me, it's someone I don't feel alone with. Who doesn't bore me. Whose life I connect with and who takes reciprocal interest in my life. It's someone I feel comfortable turning to when I need to be talked off the ledge, and for whom I am glad to return the favor."

"Once we start investing in a friendship, we start weighing what we get back. It's a make-or-break time. And for introverts, the investment can feel costly in terms of energy expended. It's the points when we start asking, 'why bother?' --- a legitimate question, as long as it's treated as a question rather than a blow off. Is this person willing to see you, and fun to be with, one-on-one? Does the conversation flow? Is it satisfying? Do you feel energized or depleted after time with this person? I love friendships where the conversation is so interesting, you can't end it even when the visit is supposed to be over."

Sometimes I feel I could use a couple more people who could be real friends. I could relate when my sister moans her lack of a girlfriend posse. We both dream of a constant group of four to five girls sharing the same values and overlapping some interests. The values are important. We could like totally different music but having the same values mean we agree on the things that matter -- in our case those would include compassion for animals and care for nature, reciprocity and responsiveness in relationships, respect for religious beliefs, just to name a few.

I am an introvert who is rather pained by the fact that I have to survive in the world of advertising. I am writing myself a whole notebook on the subject to sort it out and maybe find something that could ease me through until the time that I could fully focus on my book-writing and art-making. I don't want t spend days of my life just gritting my teeth through "shoulds" and "musts" until I could literally afford to be simply a writer and an artist.

Sometimes I feel like the effort will kill me. Pushing myself to be the kind of person everyone expects and then be the kind of person I really am. It's a tightrope walk without a net.

I promise to be brighter soon.

snapshots

Bills to pay loom every month. I have to keep working to keep paying. I wish there was a better alternative to all this.

I badly want to make art but I am struggling with work.

A little bit made for someone whom I really like and admire so much and who has been inspiring me no end for the past eight years.

My NaNoWriMo novel is getting some good treatment in between heavy loads of work. 

Recovering old titles I had and loved and sold years before to raise funds for a trip.

Discovered and loving Snapeee, a photo app.

What I hope to do more consistently every single day.

and then the story starts rewriting itself

In less than a week.

I simply could not stop writing.

The story writes itself even when I sleep and my fingers will be dripping with words in the morning.

Loving Scrivener and Scapple. Very much.

Good Old Thing

This old electric typewriter has been hidden in my parents' storage for YEARS. My dad found it when he was doing some cleaning and asked what I wanted to do with it. I want to keep it of course! So I brought it home and plugged it in and it is still working perfectly despite a lot of missing letters. There is even ink in the ribbon still! I will just need to replace the letter wheel and the correction tape and it will be good as new.

The sound as I was typing was simply glorious for me. It was like being transported somewhere back in time. It is like a time machine in its own way, just like when I play my vintage LPs on my record player.

Poems, short stories, essays, journals. I could hear them chattering in delight at the possibility of being written with this good old thing.

novel in progress

My Derwent Inktense has opened up new ways of making art and creating illustrations for my fantasy novel which I started out last November via NaNoWriMo. I am in no rush to publish because I want it to be done well. I have decided it will be an illustrated novel and that I want it printed on "aged"-looking paper. Which means that actual printing will probably take a while and I will have to start with digital publishing if I want to get all the colors and images in. I will be self-publishing so I only have myself yelling at myself to get some work done everyday.

Here is the draft of my cover:

And here is my initial attempt at a map. I need one because the place is pure invention.

One of the key items in the story is an urn and I have imagined it to be this:

I find myself progressing faster when I added the illustration work alongside the writing. So it is like watching and listening at the same time and then somehow managing to take it all down on paper as the story unfolds. Rather tricky but also surprisingly motivating. The story feels more substantial because I have visual anchors. Besides, I have always loved the interplay between words and images and I am delighted to have the opportunity to use both in this story.

At some point I would like to be able to draw people because there are some scenes I would just love to portray. I can draw women but drawing men needs more practice. We'll see how that goes.

I might also begin on some illustrations for the poetry books and those I need to prioritize because they will be "released" ahead. By released I mean producing the book in high-quality PDF/e-book format and sharing a portion of the first volume for free, like a Kindle sample. Then the full volume can be available by order. I don't know yet how I will do the sharing and ordering but I guess I will just play it by ear.

What have you been up to lately?

a post on books (with other bits on the side)

Early birthday gifts to myself which I hope to add to before my birthday month ends. Of course it's just another excuse to buy books. I got these on the first day of February. Already finished reading two of them, and re-reading one (Campbell). The Campbell book was also a gift from the Universe because it sharpened my focus in life and in my daily goals. I was actually on the way out when it caught my eye as if it was hollering out at me and waving a flaming torch. And when I held it in my hand I felt that old familiar shiver when a Thing Falls Into Place.

I got Alice's Adventures in Wonderland because... I have never read it in full. Or maybe I have but I can no longer remember.

Sixty-One Nails is an adult urban fantasy that is being compared to Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere. By adult I mean that the main character is an adult (a divorced man, actually) instead of a teenager who has all the convenience of only going to school and not worrying about paying the bills and getting food on the table - thereby having all the luxury of time to go off on adventures and fall in love for the first time and discover one's identity. I think there should be more fantasy/other-world stories with adult characters, like the adult versions of the likes of Clockwork Angel, Hunger Games, and Divergent (I love all of these series.) Neil Gaiman does adult fantasies so well, there should be more. Or maybe I just haven't come across them so let me know if you can recommend anything. More urban fantasy type, because there is also enough of the likes of Game Of Thrones and Wheel Of Time (Yes, I'm reading them too).

The novel I'm writing (which I started during last year's NaNoWriMo) has adult characters, set in a land where magic is part of nature, and with the substantial focus on relationships like young adult fantasies but with the complexity of adult concerns and realities, and then situated in the bigger context of saving the world, or a world (aren't they all?) I read somewhere that you must write the book you want to read, so I guess I'm on the right track. I want to discover more of those kinds of books.  Sarah Addison Allen's books are pretty good -- I have read all of them and they often make me cry because they chip away at my jadedness and cynicism. Others that are along similar story-lines tend to be too chick-lit, the crafting itself lacks the pull and impact that Allen is able to put in her stories.

There, I think I have rambled on enough about books. It's just that I caught myself fantasizing this morning over my coffee, that I would love to spend the morning of my birthday browsing for hours in the bookstore, and then coming out with bagfuls of purchase, and then having a late lunch with coffee and dessert with Someone who would probably need to sneak out of the office to do so. Then I would go home and sort through my purchases and maybe paint a little, while I wait for Someone to finish work and then we would have dinner. It could even be home delivery, or I could even cook as my own token for the occasion (it's my birthday AND Valentine's Day, so there) so we could go barefoot and stretch our legs and then just step out again for coffee at McNeighbor.

Yes, that would be just perfect.

look up

See there among the tabs, one that is titled 365 for 2013. Yes it's my own personal 365 project. It's a humble project, and I designed it to be easy. A picture a day, with a lot of leeway on what kind of a picture it could be. I was inspired by Lisa Congdon's 365 Days Of Handlettering from last year and she even got a book deal out of it before the year ended. Well, I don't think my little project will be book-worthy yet but at the very least it should help establish me as an artist in some distinct and solid way. One of the pictures has already been claimed by a cousin. She offered to buy it but I insisted on giving it as a gift instead. Generosity, especially within the early stages of an endeavor, will go a long way. Good karma always pays.

Meanwhile I am motivated to meet this challenge I set for myself this year. I am still in the early stages so it is easy to get into it but the real test to my commitment will be when work starts to pour in again. I still have my writing to make time for as well as for reading all those books lined up by my bedside table and in my Kindle.

The drawing and the painting soothe me in similar ways as writing does. It is in that momentary transportation into another plane of existence where anything is possible and everything makes sense. Where whatever comes out of the pen or the pencil is real and alive. Where colors speak their hidden names and words reveal their secret powers. Worlds are born. When I am creating stories or images I find peace. I feel a calmness that I could never fully achieve with doing anything else. Writing and making art center me, ground me, keep me tethered to life and just enough sanity to distinguish between this world and the other worlds I travel through when my hand wraps around a pen or a brush or when my fingers start flying over the keys.

Writing and making art are the refuge of my heart when it is besieged by doubt and fear. How I wish and hope that I will one day sustain my physical life with my creations! To get up in the morning eager to work because work would be walking into my studio to add products for my popular art shop or to prepare for a small exhibit or sitting in front of a half-finished book for which an advance has already been received. Blissful indeed.

What dreams are you dreaming this year?

The Gifts of 2012

This old year coming to an end has fulfilled its purpose in my life. Today, on its last day, I want to write something for many reasons -- to end this year with awareness instead of just letting it slip by, to have a post to read on the same day next year, to set my mind and my heart for the new year, and most especially to be grateful for the gifts that this year has given me.

I had thought 2011 to be like a dark tunnel as it led to the Rebirth promised by 2012. Little did I realize that the Rebirth was to be accompanied by intense labor pains that came in overwhelming waves. But with every push there was an aspect of myself that breathed into life.

I wrote a novel. That perhaps is the biggest gift I am grateful for. My rebirth as a writer. I won the NaNoWriMo challenge at the first try and have unlocked the rusted gates of my storytelling.

In addition, I have also written more profusely than ever since I lost my muses sometime way back in the early 2000.

I painted and made art more than I have ever painted and made art in that past sixteen years. I have also invested in a watercolor painting and a photography workshop to help with my creativity.

I have finally regained my reading pace (which I also lost sometime in the early 2000) and met my target of finishing 24 books this year. I have even exceeded it and am close to doubling the number.

I have authenticated the relationships in my life ---letting go of those that harm me and those that inhibit my growth. I have made my peace with those worth keeping, and I have begun to be more nurturing of those I wish to keep and evolve. I have also reached out and forged new ones so that I may deepen and expand my own web of kindred spirits. I made choices and I made decisions on whom I want to share my life with.

I have fallen in love, then out, then in again, (all with the same person) which has certainly messed up my heart's landscape like a hurricane. But in the process I learned new lessons that I never managed to learn in my past heart stories. I am officially retired from leaping "bravely" and blindly into voids without nets, because one of the most important lesson I learned is that when it is truly meant to be, I will not be leaping alone (and Gandalf's friendly eagles will be swooping down in perfect timing to catch us). This year ends with me in love and not totally immune to imagining movie-like last-minute declarations of mutual affection.

I have gained clarity on my career and how it must complement my creative life. And making it work is probably the biggest challenge I will face in the coming year. The rebirth it brought me took me back to square one, on a different playing field, but square one nonetheless. I pray for fortitude, and bucketfuls of optimism.

I have achieved a calmness of spirit that I never could before. I will dare and say that I am even finally learning to be truly patient, and sometimes I can't help but think that the moment I grasp this one single lesson of being patient then everything else will fall into place, because all this time it has only been my stubbornness that has been keeping everything on hold. Who knows. I let go and let the Universe weave its magic and I will not utter a single question of "Is it here yet?"

Have I mentioned that I have fallen in love? Oh yes, I have. More than everything else this is the matter that dangles in front of my eyes as the year draws to a close, like a teasing mistletoe hanging in a roomful of couples where I am the only one without a partner, and the clock will soon strike twelve.

I end this post with a poem, in honor of the rebirth of my writer self, in honor of the creative spirit that dwells in me, and in honor of the love that inspired it, written for him who told me something about how love is like a dance between two people. Maybe one day I will know what it exactly means.

Happy New Year Everyone!