Tag: creative life

Words in Sentences

Thinking Back

by ErinLeave a Comment on Thinking Back

I was thinking back on some blogging I did in 2021 related to training the brother and sister dogs we adopted. Seemingly in the constant pursuit of “what I write about” or “what I share about”, I wondered back then whether or not dog training was going to end up being “my thing”.

It’s comical now, 4 years later, with dogs who absolutely go ape shit at the fence for a german shepherd (they looooove a german shepherd). The only thing that makes any of that noise easier to swallow is the fact the sister dog jumps and barks while the brother dog stands with paws on the fence. It is as comical as it is absolutely irritating to the bone.

I have been near obsessively working on my program that has, at this point, been received by over five hundred people over the course of its existence and acknowledged by many as having “changed their life”. Holy shit – I realize – my approach to dealing with my own human emotions in order to give my life some purpose and not think everything is in vain has supported other people’s ability to do the same?

“I should really do something with this”, I think, “…then I could hire a dog trainer.” lol

And the truth is – I am thinking about it. I am doing it. I am recording and I am writing and I am creating every single week – something new – something old repurposed. How does it all come together? How do I start? Oh I am already started. What do I do.

I have so much faith in all of this, honestly. But the belief in right timing is only as good as the dedication to practice and use of right energy.

To do the things you love to do. To be the places you love to be. To allow the way you love to feel. It’s nooooooot always easy when you are covered in news and buried in headlines. It’s not always the first thing you think of “I love today!I love my life” when there are so many people dying and drowning in fear. BUT. HOW will it get better if the artists don’t art?!?

How will culture evolve in the creators don’t create?!

How will justice reign if the makers don’t make and the builders don’t build and the – what else – shakers don’t shake?

lol Taylor Swift nod.

Sigh. So – here I am, with my new Buddha (that honestly looks like me and my siblings likeness), my cat and my geraniums here in the middle of October ready for everything that is next. Are you ready for what is next?

Tell me honestly. Please – are you excited about your life? Do you feel purpose in today? Why or why not. Lay it on me.

Give me something to think about. ✌🏽erin

woman cat and buddha and geraniums set out to change the world on a wednesday october morning
Words in Sentences

Things are Sacred “Before They Are Beautiful”

by ErinLeave a Comment on Things are Sacred “Before They Are Beautiful”

I spent the last week in Green Cay, U.S. Virgin Islands in creative process, in conversation and – ultimately – in exploration of the deeper colors of life. What does it mean to be surrounded by beauty? What does it mean to be resourced by the earth?

Blessed be the Creator God – who made the heavens and the earth. 2 Chronicles 2:12

Part of this exploration was related to how, on an island, you celebrate the rain for filling up the cisterns, you wait for the sun to power up the panels before you do your laundry. This coordination with nature is and of itself a deeply desired internal rhythm I know I have, but I truly think we all have in our innate humanity.

What child doesn’t want to love and feel love from its mother?

Being in community with women who not only lived this way, but discussed which fish were eating which fish, increasing the big fishes’ mercury and who marveled over who had what trees growing on their property was nourishing and replenishing. Like rain to the cistern of my heart :)

Waking up this morning in the midwest with the type of tan I have found you really only get in St. Croix, I walked my garden similar to how I walked Samadhi by the Sea, the garden of my beautiful host for the week, Riya – a chakra oriented artist whose sculpture garden served as the key dwelling place for me and my creative spirit.

My garden – with it’s patchy weirdness, spiraling thin weeds and a serious need of mulch looked much different than Samadhi by the Sea. Thoughtfully still, I took my prayer beads and charged them by one of my favorite 2025 plantings: a baby rosemary shrub I am going to experiment with sheltering over the winter. I walked my garden slowly, kneeling down, looking carefully – naming what I believe are its main centers.

I moved the lemon eucalyptus and the pineapple sage together (near the “The Stump of Contemplation”) so they could be friends as they will both fruit Christmas gifts for my friends when I harvest their leaves, dry them out and bundle them for smudging gifts later on. I texted a dear family friend and studio member, Kim Joern – a master gardener and herbalist – for insight on my lavender. I danced in my garden when a neighbor stopped on her drive by. I pulled a few more weeds, said a few more prayers, noted a few more tasks and came inside.

One of the takeaways from my trip is a new installation in my vocabulary of the word “sacred” before key nouns in my sentences. Like the gold paperclips I picked up on my first day on island were dubbed sacred paperclips and kept all week in a dish, I started seeing the weird, the unorganized, the unmulched, the unattended parts of my Garden of Knowing as sacred.

My list of next round needs? A sacred rain barrel, small sacred fencing for the hostas… Among other things, of course, like sacred stones.

There is this stoic thought about how you cannot tell an emerald it is beautiful and it all the sudden becomes beautiful. Likewise you cannot tell it is is ugly and it becomes ugly. Rather, the nature of the emerald is that of an emerald, its nature is derived from itself.

As I spent time in my newly appointed sacred garden, in its overgrown honeysuckle and hidden irises, I reflected on how nature simply becomes. It unfolds without rush or definition. More rain does one thing, less rain does another. Early falls do things like late springs, hot summers and cold winters are an active part of the unfolding.

I promised my garden I would write in it. And I saw the process of the gardening serve up a lesson as I walked up the steps again (similar to a 12 hour writing day a few days ago, when I ascended and descended the steps of Samadhi by the Sea over and over and over and over).

“Discipline means walking up the steps again.”

It is my recent finding that the faithfulness to the process seems to be more important than the dedication to the outcome itself.

To allow my garden its sacred nature brought the same wave of gratitude and inspiration, nourishment and knowing as the waves crashing ear’s distance away from the vibrant intentionality of Samadhi by the Sea.

At the 3rd Eye Point, Ajna, the 6th sculpture in Samadhi by the Sea.
Words in Sentences

My Creative Life: An Honest to God Life Update

by ErinLeave a Comment on My Creative Life: An Honest to God Life Update

I had a stress dream a few days ago about my old job. I mentioned on some other outlets that, over the summer, I was exploring a return to corporate life when the conversation went silent… awkwardly silent and came to an abrupt end with no honest explanation.

Was I rehirable? Did I say too much? Who doesn’t like me? Who doesn’t want to deal with me?

The immediate thoughts that flooded my mind brought me back to that red tape wonderland, my desires to achieve – to be trusted – to have a seat at the proverbial table.

It was three years ago that I decided to retire from corporate life and try something new: a garden, perfect a pie crust, start self publishing. These things felt complementary to my new role as wife, stepmom. That free time felt a little blank and has gotten full, though flexible. These days, I am constantly rebaselining as so much of my effort has born blossoms and buds and – in some very cherished cases: actual fruit.

In the dream, I was shut out – though I don’t remember why or how. I felt like I needed to know it was going to be OK. That I was worthy. I woke up at 2:30am, stressed out. Worried about money and health insurance and all of the other reasons people tie themselves to desks. “I have to get a job”, I thought. I can’t waste this time. I am not getting younger.

OOF.

Even now, recalling that, I feel that web of want and worry across my chest and back. <take a deep breath in>

And though, it’s true: it’s time to take Monday Night Yoga to its next formation, it’s time to update the audio page for Words that Rhyme and start selling and it’s time to reeeeeaaallllyyyy sit and whiteboard out the experiences for the Restorative Yoga for the Spiritual Person Journey, it is also true that I am right on time. Things are happening.

I have posted all over my social media (specifically a public Facebook post) about my recent trip to Universal Studios in Orlando and about the witnessing I got to do as I watched my oldest daughter absolutely field day with my stepson, recalling a wish she made on a Chinese Wishing Tree “for a baby brother”.

I also got to feel the growth my personal life undertook to make that manifestation all happen: the very private and supportive conversations between me and my husband, the evolution and inner closet cleaning I have done to heal or at least acquaint myself with childhood wounds brought to light from stepmothering (it’s not quite mothering, not quite friending, not quite stranger, not quite acquaintance) young women I didn’t raise. My love for my dogs, my absent minded gardening, my pie crust recipe I need to dust off. My hoodie. My makeupless face.

My writing.

My honesty.

The way it feels when you are both sad and happy, when you are both trying and successful, when you are both here and there, I think, is a real feeling. It brings out the inner stoic that remembers impermanence is the vehicle for mental transformation. It brings out the faithful mindset and the beautiful practices. It brings out the magic. It honors the muse.

To sit and write this, I recognize, is a gift of time.

My house is completely quiet. The wind outside and the click of the oven cooling down oven are faint. I can’t even hear my next task as the dishwasher hasn’t been run and the dryer has been done for an hour.

And to update Frozen Spaghetti with my 42 year old self, Erin Ford (I even have a new name. I mean – SO much has changed.) is to update the future on the past. To put into words where I am. This next round is real and it’s now and there are things that truly feel ripe and ready.

To close – back to the dream – so I wake up.

I stretch in bed. It turns to 3a and I remember, at midnight that morning, the Impromptu Sessions went live.

The Impromptu Sessions is a project David has had going for awhile and is a major milestone as it debuts US on world sound media.

The songs are special as they were made up (and recorded) impromptu, on the spot. And I love it. I love it there is no grounds for critique on my voice in “Farfelu” (a la “who doesn’t like it”) type thoughts because the face I am freestyling is so fun. And because of that, it’s freeing.

So I pressed play and was mesmerized all over again at how David and I wove so perfectly unplanned together and then was absolutely floored by David’s production as the next track “The Road” presented itself.

Brilliant. Beautiful. All of the words. So good.

Listening in the middle of the night, the EP closed with “North West Sunset”, a song that takes me directly back to our breakfast table in Washington and yet I was in Orlando… soothed back to sleep with fresh tears and a gentle reminder of my creative life.