stephanie lee - Semiprecious Salvage

Artful Journey

  

A cold Wednesday afternoon here. Wearing socks, slippers, AND leg warmers (the only thing I find acceptable out of the 80's so far. I'm fighting the return of the neon, attempting total and complete denial. Wild Pony numero uno has a pair of neon pink shorts. She LOVES them. I tolerate....and then remember how hot I thought I looked at her age in a swimsuit in the exact same shade.)

We're heading out to visit papa at work today (what the wild ponies call theman). The girls have the day off from school and so a little field trip seemed in order. It will be a nice drive down country highways with a stop for hot chocolate somewhere along the way. I hope I remember the camera. When I get back, I will be packing the car with every plaster working tool and supply I own for a weekend of play with Judy. We have a big project on the horizon and some play time is in order. We're meeting halfway between her city and mine - in Eugene where we'll hole up in a little vacation rental on a wildlife preserve. I purposefully didn't reserve one downtown. Too many distractions. Then again, staring into wide open, breathtaking wilderness isn't exactly NOT a distraction. I'm easily swayed away from my to-do's by such things as cloud watching and rain listening. The computer calls for sun tomorrow but it's Eugene, OR....I'm not counting on it. :)

I'm deliquent in telling you about a wonderful event scheduled for next summer. Cindy has created a wonderfully intimate and rich offering for Artful Journey Summer retreat. I'm teaching a three day class. What a luxury to have the same, delightful faces for three whole days!! The progress we will make, the learning we will do!! It is sure to be wonderful. There are other teachers there who are also have great things to share....if only I could be two people at once. Or three. Or four. You can read all about the retreat here. As you'll notice, it's the only event I have listed for 2010 on my side bar. That's only because i'm also delinquent in updating that list. Will do very soon.

I thank you all for your incredible response to my Thought Threads E-course. I'm amazed at the enthusiasm those who have signed up bring! I'm in awe and grateful and so very excited. (I will be closing registration for this class on Nov. 30th)

Have a wonderful day of remembering. I have no history in my family of military service other than the dapper National Guard coat that hangs in the back of my dad's closet. There is one picture of him somewhere in my memory...the kind in uniform.

 

Here it is (courtesy of my step mom. Thanks Sherri!!) What a handsome fellow. I got chills when, last year at an event that was part of the Utah Freedom Festival (the US's largest and longest patriotic celebration, I read somewhere) they took the time to honor the veterans. Each branch was represented by men in the audience standing while their song was played. There stood dad, head and shoulders above the rest of the thousands of people in the audience and the hundreds who stood representing the National Guard. He seemed proud. And so was I. So was I.

Online Journaling Class - The scoop

 

First off, I must say a HUGE thank you to the comments and countless private emails I've received in regards to my last post. The anticipation in the air is thick for some of you, certainly for me. I've been eating, sleeping, drinking this class - the e-course I've titled "Thought Threads". Digesting the gratitude I feel for the opportunity to share this, for the words of "I wouldn't miss it for the world" from many of you. I sat at the river today and wrote in the November sun. the sun that finally burned through a thick layer of fog late in the day. I sat on huge, cold granite boulders and felt the river carry this gratitude, this dream on down to the ocean where it will become a part of this whole, wide world. That's how it felt anyway, in a strange, humbling sort of way. And the class hasn't even started yet!

Some of you have written asking me to hold you a spot. And I will, for sure. There is room. I've decided to go ahead and post a button on my side bar (see there to the right? at the top....) that will enable you to purchase your seat in the class (click on either the picture or the buy now button). You will receive confirmation of your payment within 24 hours and a password to the blog by Nov. 16th. Here are the details as far as I have them worked out yet. They will be added to and tightened up in the coming weeks, but this is enough to throw at you for now:

Duration: Four weeks, Starting MONDAY, NOVEMBER 23rd with the final day being SUNDAY, DECEMBER 20th, solstice eve.

I will present a robust yet approachable journaling lesson with exercises on each Monday along with a podcast that will correspond with the lesson. EVERY DAY of the week I will be posting something to encourage you along. Quotes, thoughts, Q&A's, guest journaler interviews, prompts, and "spontaneous partner journaling" which, I must say, is crazy fun and surprisingly enlightening. I have big plans for the month. Big plans. But not so big as to be unmanagable, especially at this holidayish time of year. I'm a brood mare to two wild ponies with a big herd of mustang family near by. I know what the holiday stampede is like. I also know the gift of serenity, clarity, sanity, direction that even just a few minutes a day of guided journaling can bring. It's become my lifeline to my sane self.

Format: All registrants will have full access to a password protected blog whose sole function is to serve as the gathering place for this group and for all the journaling information I will share with you. The blog and all it's content will be available for two weeks after the last day of class (until January 3rd) so there is time for you to walk through everything that you want to walk through without the pressure of needing to perform every day. There will be recommended reading lists, music to journal to, and (i hope) a commradarie that can't be found anywhere else. We are sisters and brothers in search of self. A gathering place is good for our souls.

Cost: $50 (I'm having a small and likely simple issue with getting the shipping to be at zero. You will be promptly refunded the $5 shipping if you are charged it. I have supposedly cleared this up with paypal but thought I'd mention it just in case there's a glitch for any of you).

Let me unabashadly share with you the kind words of a couple of women who bravely and boldly joined me in class at Journalfest - the seed that this online workshop is growing from:

""Unraveling Word" with Stephanie Lee was the catalyst I needed for jumping
back into my writing with both feet, wildly waving a banner exclaiming "hurray for my writing and journaling practice!".

Stephanie as an instructor is a joy... Her thoughtfulness and ability to create a positive, supportive environment was great, and created a writing day which became one of the best I have experienced. She brought a wealth of materials, background reference books and exercises, and structured the class in such a way, so that everyone felt comfortable to participate and to open up enough to share their personal writing.

The pace was appropriate and allowed for highs and lows throughout the day. Humour was encouraged, and whatever limb we crawled out on with our writing allowed us to take risks and try new ways of writing both together and individually, and then, she was able to reel us back in and move to the next level.

It is not easy to wrangle with a group of energized, creative artists and writers and draw out deep thoughts, but Stephanie accomplished that with ease, and I left the day feeling ready to plunge with renewed passion back to my writing. Thanks Stephanie, it was a pleasure to have you as our instructor!

-Sandra"

"I had the privilege of taking stephanie lee's "unraveling word"  at journalFEST recently and i have to say, it couldn't have been more than timely. i have been blogging for nearly two years now and while that has been relatively easy forum to communicate through, my own personal journal writing has been an entirely different matter, altogether. i have felt stymied and unable to write on a deeper level. stephanie's warm and inviting manner, her clear exercises plus her numerous handouts & prompts, made it possible for me to see journal writing in a whole new way. instead of just the classic "what i did today"  diary, i am seeing that journals can take many forms, each as individual as i am! with stephanie's gentle encouragement i will be writing in a whole new way, which in turn, will be a truer reflection of me! i can't wait to take another of stephanie's writing classes............-Wendy"

and lest you think I am making this all up, here's one more....

"Where do I begin? Your class was such a breath of fresh air, I'm not sure if I can put it into words.

I am a busy mom of 4 kids and I hadn't written in years.  I wasn't even sure I really had anything interesting to say even if I did want to write.  I signed up for Journalfest thinking it would just be a fun retreat from my hectic life.  The first two days I took classes that I thought would be fun, but that wouldn't stretch my abilities too much.  I signed up for Stephanie Lee's "Unraveling Word" on the last day and honestly, as much as I was excited for the class, I was terrified.  From the first minute of class, I was put at ease by Stephanie's kindness, patience, and her willingness to reveal to us her authentic personality.  Her ability to draw thoughts and words out of the class participants through provacative prompts and interesting writing exercises is truly a gift.  The six hours of class flew by too quickly, and I was left thinking, "Wait, I have more to say."  Thank you Stephanie.  Your class was truly a gift to me.  I will be stalking your blog on a regular basis to find out where and when I can take another of your writing classes!

Thank You, Thank You, Thank You!
-Jenny"

I share these words from others to offer another perspective on this offering so you don't have to just take my word for it. And let me make one thing very clear: this workshop is not designed just for writers (though experienced writers are sure to learn from it as well). This is a workshop for the common wo/man. It is for mothers and daughters and executives and creatives and wanderers and those who are found. It is for anyone who wants to live with intent and is open to seeing that journal as the most simple and personal way to maintain that clarity of intent. It can be a place to improve your poetry, a place to learn the practice of self-care and quietude, a place to work through what to do with an unruly teenager. It can be whatever it needs to be for you. Light and heavy. Thick and thin. Funny and real.

Thoughts coil and catch, like yarn in a cat’s paw. The hook-ended practice of word-smithing catches a strand of thought and pulls it out in linear form, laying the words on a page. Tug by gentle tug, the unexamined thoughts become disentangled and lay before you on the paper like a river with clear and obvious direction.

Who will be the keepers of our stories? Who will interpret the many layers and find the guides in the whispers of our lives? We will. We must. It's not about poeticism or eloquence. It's just about practice with a little direction and encouragment, a journey into deeper authenticity and lightness of being.

I'd love it if you joined in.

ox

Trepidation + deep-in-the-core love =....

HI y'all,

I just got finished spending way to much time on a blog written by a witty southerner and I learned that all my life, my ENTIRE life, I've been spelling "y'all" wrong. I always thought it was "ya'll". Don't ask me why and since it's not like I use it in on a regular daily basis or anything, I'm guessing it's probably okay. But still, to find out I was wrong all this time??!?!!.....

Anyway, dark and rainy days here. Thick and wet and cold. I pulled out the parka so Dog and I could go for an early morning walk.................................................................DOG!!! Just as I was writing the word "dog" I realized that I'd forgotten that she was at the groomers! They'd called an hour ago and said she was ready to be picked up. It was right about that same flurry of time when the wild ponies get home from school and are starving and racing to be the first the the bathrooms and dropping their backpacks mid pathway. So, you see, it's reasonable that one would forget amidst all that, right? I'm not a bad dogmom, honest. I stopped mid-blog-post-typing to run pick her up. She's back, all is well. Chaos resumes as usual.

Aaaaaanyway, a walk along the river. Cold, heavily misted. The kind of mist that isn't rain but that soaks your freshly dried hair in no time flat. You can feel it seep through the tops of the toes of your shoes. Keeps you awake while you walk along the soothing river's edge. Such a walk is best followed by a small breakfast tucked in the booth of a high-ceiling'd diner on main street. You'll share company with an elderly couple, a few high school senior girls clad in over sized sweats and messy buns in their hair, unshowered and beautiful anyway. A short and stalky tatoo'd trucker type will hold the door when you walk in and you'll hear all about his sick kids and how his wife is working extra hours and how he's worried she'll get sick if she doesn't get more rest. The waitress with the permanent smile, contagious laugh and long, black braid, will stay fully engaged in this conversation with him while not missing a beat - serving plates of french toast, pouring coffee (or in my case, tea) and wiping tables. She even manages to chat with all the other customers somewhere in between the tatoo'd man's bites.

I sit alone in a booth, usually facing main street but this time the other way. Facing the row of tall, narrow mirrors on the back wall. Strangly with the same view as if I were sitting facing Main Street. I'm grateful the ambience is lacking and that I'm not bossom buddies with anyone who works there. That way I can write in quiet, undisturbed. I'm not tempted to visit or to eat everything on the menu instead. I sip tea, eat cheap toast, and write in my journal. I haven't fully confessed the relationship of me and my journal to you all. I've alluded to it here and there, even told you about my mom's journals (over 100 now, I think). But never have I REALLY told you of my journals.

While being fully present at Journalfest, I saw as many versions of journals as there were people there. Each and every one beautiful, honest, decadent, raw. I kept mine tucked away most of the time. They didn't seem to fit there. You see, my journals are very plain jane. They are the Laura Ingallses of the Nellie Olsens of journals. Make sense? I saw page after painted page. Visual journals that were something akin to an out of body experience, or at least a severe case of catnip high. My pages were filled with line upon line of black ink on white pages. Messy, written quickly, usually. I rely heavily on the practice of journaling to save me from tripping myself up with tangled thoughts. I start out most days with  this practice. Sometimes it's for an hour. Sometimes for five minutes. Often I find myself penning something in it during the middle of the day. I love catching bits of a conversation I find intriguing or funny or jotting down something profound I just heard on an audio book or something. Journal generally lives in my purse but also follows me out to the studio when I plan a stretch of time out there.

I taught a class at Journalfest that was a true test of my bravery. It was a class I've had in mind for over a couple of years now in various stages of incarnation. It needed the right venue and so was kept on the back burner....all the while the concept burning a hole in my heart in a good, "i dare you" sort of way. Who would want it? Who would love it like I do?

In the meantime I've become known for teaching plaster or renegade metalsmithing and with each sucessful class and student requests for more of the same thing, I felt more and more trepidation around the idea of teaching a journal writing class. I would get "oh, I'm not a journaler. I do jewelry" or "I don't write. I paint". That kind of thing that creates a very strong, rigid label. I remember  months ago, almost a year now, submitting this class to Teesha and Tracy Moore who are the visionaries behind Journalfest (and Artfest) and feeling like it was a do or die kind of thing. I knew that THIS was the venue where this class would fit, if anywhere. And so I printed and filled out  the proposal form, sent a few snapshots of my black and white journalpages, stuck a family of stamps on the envelope, and passed it over the counter to the lady at the post office. I sighed inside. A bit nervous. This was my ideababy. I wasn't sure if I was ready for it to be rejected. I also knew that if I waited until I was ready, it would forever be gestating. 

Fastforward to last week when a room full of beautiful women sat there looking at me as class was ready to begin. You know that kind of sigh that is quick and deep - the kind that says "here we go!!" I had one of those. And smiled. And went about this class in the most honest and brave way I knew how. I was NOT going to fake anything here. This was my chance of all chances to really share what I love. What I love even more than the plaster working and metalsmithing. I wanted to do it standing in full authenticity. The women responded with incredible, simple writings. Honest, pure, funny, raw, engaging. I was and still am so inspired by what they brought to that room that day. I thank each and every one of them from the bottom of my hearts. (This is not to say that my book making class was not as equally as wonderful in a chaotic, busy sort of way. It was amazing too. I'm just saving it for a different post). :)

I've been thinking of offering an online workshop for quite some time now and had been wrestling with what I knew i needed it to be. I knew, on a-not-so-subconscious level, that this journal writing class, "Unraveling Word" was the class. I knew that I was not ready to foray into trying to teach one to solder with a torch via the web. That's no easy feat, I'm sure. But after teaching my Word class at Journalfest, the demons of denial reared their head and told me square on that THIS was the class to share. That it was...IS...time to share this love with others. Even as I write this, I feel a flutter in my chest. It's always a little interesting to confess a deep love. One is never quite sure what the wind will do with it. "Please be gentle" I say to it. And then I also know that the wind can only carry truth and if this is part of my truth, I trust it completely.

And so, what I'm leading into saying with all these long, drawn out words, is that I am preparing an online class in its actuality as we speak. I'm so thrilled to offer it to those who find it calls to them. I will start out easy. Approachable. But I will work to stretch you. You'll be surprised by how comfortable stretching can be if you are willing. You might find it expands you creatively in ways you'd never imagined. You will find that it can be paired with any artistic approach you currently love engaging in.

Here's what it will look like. One blog. Four weeks. A weekly lesson backed up with daily, yes, DAILY, in depth thoughts, prompts, quotes, interviews of other regular journalers and more.  There will be no supply list other than your pen and journal. Maybe a little stash of mad money for gas so that you can drive yourself to a diner like mine here and there for some writing time. I'm working towards podcasts and hope to have them a part of it as well. BTW, if any of you are genius at podcasting and are working on a Mac, I'd love to know your prefered way of doing it. I'm looking at a few options and am not quite sure which way to go. I'm hoping for a Dec. first start date but will keep you posted. Please drop me a line if you have any questions.

This class is designed for everyone. Not just writers. Not just those who are looking for a purpose in life. This isn't heavy lifting. Not yet. This is greasing the bearings. This is what makes the heavy lifting not so heavy. But don't be surprised if a little grease is all it takes for a big shift. Maybe it's more about keeping a momentum of practice than it is about writing to nail down insight right NOW. And of course, there will be fun. I have giveaways planned and interaction in the que. I hope you join me....and thanks for hanging in there to the end of this post.

A page from one plain jane. A page of things I overheard stacked there next to taped down dandilion umbrellas found at the foothills of wildflower covered mountains somewhere between Utah and Yellowstone.

be present retreat - registration opens today!!

I'm home from a glorious week in Port Townsend, WA where I was in full on creative journaling bliss with some 150+ other like-minded folk. It was a sort of heaven. And I'll tell you all about it another day. For now I need rest. Lots of dreamy rest. But, I did drag mydrowsyself out of bed this morning to tell you about something very special - another retreat that I'm so excited about. (it's certainly a 'retreat' as opposed to an "event"). :)

I have a little bubble of childlike excitement about teaching along side the talented and witty Alicia Paulson and Andrea Jenkins at the second be present retreat. Both women share their talents in invitational, down-to-earth ways that caught my admiration from the get go. Liz, who is following and sharing her vision of the be present retreats, is also, in doing this, offering a light to the world that shines brightbrightbright. The way I have lucked out on being a part of it has worked out better than I could have imagined.

This retreat, held on the northern Oregon coast from March 10-14th, is opening it's doors this morning for registration. Space is VERY limited so check it out.

Registration begins at 9 am PST today (in just a few minutes!). :)

P.S. Kelly Rae just participated in the first be present retreat and said some wonderful things about it here. I can't wait to share my own stories of it.

Pictures from a magic bubble

Opening

Two blissful, rainy days on the road visiting loved-ones and dear friends. We've been inching our way to Port Townsend to finally arrive this afternoon. Inching past great water ways and grand old moaning cities perched on river's edge. Stopping at thrift shops and finding well-tended gardens behind. Bed after vegetable-filled bed, line upon line. Plants don't fully die here in the winter. They just sleep long, deep sleeps. I held a new cut glass tea cup in my hands and moved on down the road with my best friend in the driver's seat. Lucky me. And to think there would be even more love for me when we finally arrived. I don't know if I can handle all the beauty in the faces and souls before and around me but I try. I just keep opening and opening...
I work at not tripping over myself - my fears and insecurities - and I swallow whole the words of love and encouragement from those who know the wrestle with oneself. I swallow whole and try not to choke. It's best washed down with humility and trust. Trust that maybe even my grandest dreams may stand limp and pale in comparison to what that vast sea and sky and allthatis has in store for me. Again...still...I open.

Awestruck

I know I just posted last night, but an email from a friend this morning with this link in it left me awestruck. Blown away. Amazed. You've gotta see it....

Whole lotta

Not a whole lotta something special to write about from the home front. Busy as a bee getting ready for Journalfest - my last teaching gig until February. I'm SO looking forward to this retreat...born from the journaling passions of Teesha and Tracy Moore. I'm teaching two classes both of which have me full of giddyness to share. Giddyness like Laura Ingalls when she got that new blue dress Ma made her as a surprise. 'Member that episode? We've seen 'em all. Quiz me. I've told you this before - we watched them all in order - every episode for all nine seasons. The biggest wild pony has started over again. Fine by me. I'm hoping that a little common sense and gratitude will rub all that teenager sense-of-entitlement off that's trying to latch on to her at school. It doesn't suit her and she knows it but she has to try it on for size. It's the way of youth. Maybe if I had her harrow the field a few times she'd appreciate her perfectly good shoes more - even if they don't match everything in her overstuffed closet.

I've been watching the rain for days now. The water level in the galvanized bin out in the yard is inches and rising. It's high enough that the cats don't actually have to get IN the bin to get a drink (I guess it tastes better than the fresh water in their bowl by their food dish). The chickens have been uncertain about all this soggyness. Standing at the threshold of their open door, taking a few steps out in the down pour only to run back in...then back out...then back in. And on it continues until enough of them are out that they decide to go find another hiding place together. This morning I was feeling a bit groggy and sleepy. I could've gone back to bed, but that felt a bit like a waste of a perfectly fresh day. So rather I went out in the down pour, barefoot and clothed only in my robe, and decided to rake leaves. And acorns. Lots of them. I stood out there in the water as it ran down the slope of the lawn. I raked as much water as leaves. I let it come up over the tops of my toes and noticed that it wasn't as cold as I'd thought it might be. In fact, the fresh air was invigorating. Don't worry, we have lots of bushes so the only person who could see me out in the rain in my robe while barefoot was the sweet neighbor who was out in the rain in her robe shuffling horses around. She had boots on. We're the robe patrol, she and I. Often outside in the wee hours of the morning in just our robes. She, wrangling real horses, and me sending off my own real wild ponies to school for the day - waving to the bus as it rolls down the hill from the edge of the deck tucked up here in the trees. "Good bye! See you soon! Remember who you are and what you stand for! I love you!" And I'll say it again tomorrow. And they'll love me back tomorrow. Thank goodness.

I have a small stack of books I'm stitching up for Journalfest. I'm loving making these so so much. I'll show you pictures when I get them done. I took a break from stitching today to read a REAL handwritten letter from mom. Written on lovely old paper placemats that had been cut perfectly down the middle with autumn soft and rich - mums, dahlias and daisies - along three sides. She's always been a real letter writer and I love that so much about her. She even writes her sister weekly who lives only an hour away from her (but far enough away that a phone call is long-distance....more expensive than a stamp). :) I love that she loves me enough to write. I'm sending mom a box of my homegrown fingerling potatoes. My first crop all on my own. They taste like summer. And to be sure she doesn't bastardize them, wild pony #2 and I are writing a little companion booklet titled "The Difinitive Guide to Proper Potato 'Preciation". It contains such wisdom as: "Smell the potato before you wash it. Take in the scent of the earth still on it.......Don't peel it and whatever you do, do NOT boil it!!! And DO NOT bury it in butter...." There's more that we're still writing.

In today's letter she expressed her motherly pride in my efforts to raise my girls with an appreciation for nature and self-sufficiency. I can't even describe how warming that was to hear considering I've always known she wasn't much for manual labor or engaging in any activity that might result in exhertion or the spending of money. Especially if it involved being out in the elements and getting dirty. Animals and she do not communicate well. So, to be acknowledged in that way, though totally not necessary, is like a big, warm, tender hug. Thanks momma. Despite what my siblings might say, I have the best parents in all the world. FAR from perfect, believe me. But then again, so am I.

Are your children sleeping? Stop reading now and go kiss their fingertips. I can wait............Better yet, leave a love note under their pillow for them to find in the morning. Or tuck it in their pants pocket when you hug them goodbye for the day. Especially if they are teenagers. Keep the faith. This is important work we are all doing.

Art and Soul Virginia class openings

I'm back from beautiful Portland. More on that later.
In the mean time, I wanted to let you know that all four of my classes at Art and Soul VA for May of 2010 have been filled and closed for a while now. I've been contacted by many who wished they could have made it in to one or more of them so I have worked with the organizer of this event to open a couple more spots in each class. If you are interested in joining me, check out the website here. (btw, if the classes still say "closed" when you link over, check back later. You know how the timing of online stuff can often not be perfect). :)
A peek at what a couple of those classes are all about....

UPDATE: Two of the four classes have refilled/closed since I posted this yesterday and the other two are near full.

Washing away

I'm half way to Portland and my windshield wipers are struggling to keep up with the rain I had imagined. I didn't know it was even in the forecast! I wonder what else I might imagine that is already on it's way...
For now it's just me, a muffler growl, the words of Lao Tzu coming through the speakers, and the pinging rain. Sigh.