creativity – Rabbit & Crown

Silence

For some, silence is that uncomfortable feeling creeping up on you in the dark; uncontrollable, except to be broken. Others may find it peaceful. There are of course, different kinds.

Loud
Mine, right now, is filled with a low whirr of the laptop trying to breathe, a high pitched frequency from some utility – accompanied by it’s own white-noise-type fan, clicking and shifting of metal: the oven preheating, a shhhhhh of water and then fmp fmp of (I think) the heater warming it, all rounded out by a faint but shrill tinnitus in my ears and sound of typing.
Neighbor’s music through walls, people shouting at fireworks outside, footsteps or moving furniture overhead; loud, as you sit in silence.

Soft
When quiet enough to hear candles crackle slightly as they flicker, or gentle rains approach, the small sighs of pets surface and whispers feel like they float; it’s those nice things that tend to produce a spirit of rest. Even then, another kind of silence can linger.

Either or Both
Sitting in a room full of lovely, laughing, happy people, there can exist a deep silence. If you seek someone in that place, first find their eyes, more still than expected, like undisturbed water. Alas, pain can be perceived as comfort if “better” comes like waves.
A blank wall is not loud, yet a mind afforded generous silence in multiple senses, can fill with chaos of brash, banging, rushing thoughts. One does not even need to finish before another cuts it off, yanking back and forth, here and there, with no mercy.

If you have read this far, I thank you. My mind has been both so dill, silent and avoiding any opportunity for rabbit trail after rabbit trail of spiraling, confusing, endless chaos of thought. I’ve found it difficult to care about anything except sometimes to distract myself, scrolling social media posts, videos, Pinterest pins, nothing of any real creative value since I’m almost completely zoned out then.
At the beginning of next month, it will be two years since I started this blog. I had such excitement and passion then, that it makes me sad to look back and see the slow fade. So much has happened and changed since, not just in my life but in our world even still. It makes me wonder if it’s worth it to hold on to those things that used to ring so loudly in my heart.

This is what happens when I get silence. I start thinking “what is realistic? what is worth it? what do I need to prioritize?”. The questions don’t end and I never feel like I’ve done enough. Finding the small things in life, the quiet beauty, being still and able to enjoy silence, I’m trying to get back to that.
For me, posting on all creative platforms has slowed to once in a blue moon, not just here. In the endless scrolling of them, my mind shouts “you should post! why haven’t you posted? what is wrong with you? post!” and I have no answer. Eventually one comforting thought timidly stands up in my grey matter. “I am not only valid when witnessed.”

I am not only valid when witnessed.
Stephanie – Rabbit & Crown

Most days, silence is the monster under my bed, saying that not much matters, especially me. I’m hoping to get back to days where silence is sunshine on my skin and the quiet beauty of life around me.

I’ll be around, Friends and Strangers. Thank you for being here.

The Vulnerability in Knowing

I know that I’ve been absent for quite some time here. There has been no new writing, no spam posting of edited pictures on social media, and a barely-noticable, quite sparse presence on the book of face.
I haven’t been creating like I used to, for months… and that’s okay.

“We’re all on a different timeline.” has been repeated over and again and it makes me wonder. In the multiverse of five billion minds, where will paths cross, intertwine and split again, all creating what we know of ourselves?

What exactly started the chemical reaction of learning more of myself, I don’t know. The healing does not come like a cleansing rain. No, it comes like a nuclear explosion, laying waste to all you’ve ever known. It leaves you in what looks like ruins, flaws and brokeness exposed.

There is no painless way to know yourself.

Before uncovering the foundations a soul stands on, hours, days, months are spent digging through the rubble. Research on radioactive events, in our existence, is never truly over. So it is, sorting through fragmented memory, to find insight into a reason for every element of ourselves.

Clarity is supernatural and what you once thought of in black and white, washes away. Contrast can only do so much to see within, when even our brain-matter is gray. Such is the struggle, when it is realized that previous you-s no longer exist, and you are pressed to give answer to questions insidious persistence. Steady retort is buried under the debris of all I have been and have yet to be.

Long story short, I’ve been learning about myself, pursuing healing, and wrestling with the unknown. When you think about everything you perceive yourself to be, what do you find when the past is pried open and the patterns of of your personality are tracked? Getting to know someone, with all their flaws and idiosyncrasies, takes intention and vulnerability. You are worth getting to know yourself that way.

From Gratitude to Riches

Hello,

I’ve come home from another day at work feeling like time is moving both all too fast and not at all. The beginnings of a box of Rice-a-Roni sizzle softly on the stove, requiring me to leave the warmth of the kotatsu and stir it before it browns too much. It smells lovely and I half imagine myself to be cooking up something from scratch in a lonely forest cottage. My little mushroom mug, previously my grandma’s, fits the narrative. I’ve been sorting through my stash of tea and trying to drink it more but this time, it’s a matcha and cardemom latte. The pan that dinner is cooking in, is also a hand-me-down and I’ve ended up covering it with a baking sheet since it has no lid; how aesthetic.

There is much I want to dream into my fantastical (quite likely impossible) future but the current moment holds beauty. It’s something that I’m working on remembering. Sure, escaping into a daydream is fun, but it leaves me feeling somewhat trapped when I come back. So, I’ve settled myself in, to process the unpleasant reality that is my now and resolved to romanticize it.

It’s been bad winter weather the past two days. Snow and ice cover the roads and let’s just say the temperatures aren’t very positive. I was carefully parking yesterday when my vehicle decided to slide into the dms of the one next to it….and leave a nice scratch. That is a claim I now have to handle on top of the other matters pressing at my tired grey matter. Bills, budgeting, scheduling, pursuing the next steps for my health, and simply maintaining my space and self seem to be more than I can manage but, one task at a time. Some progress is better than no progress.

Seeking out the parts of my imperfect life that are daydream-worthy and keeping them in the setting of the present, helps me practice gratitude. I have so so much to be thankful for. Might be dealing with physical pain, burnout, and exhaustion but I have a warm home, a comfortable bed to sleep in, and a job to provide money for which to pay my medical bills. I may have yet another insurance thing to process, but the people involved have all been kind, there was minimal damage, and no one was hurt. There is probably no secluded cottage in my future, but I have my own cozy space with a kitchen to cook in. Thinking of all the things I do have, how ungrateful my mindset is most days.

It’s been said, “the present is a gift.” Trusting that right now, is good timing for what currently is, is a process. Even struggling through difficulties, I am going to practice noticing that I’m rich; rich with opportunity, rich with relationships. I am rich with a multitude of what I have in my life, and when I frame things that way, it doesn’t take much to romanticize it.

Whatever struggles or hard times, difficulties or frustrations, pain or loss of hope you may have, can you find something you are rich in? Maybe it’s too much of a stretch to use that word but what is something you are grateful for? What is something that you could pluck out of your present and place into a daydream?

Be well, friends and strangers. Thank you for joining me again.

Perfection

It is beautifully quiet, for a few precious moments. The sunlight from our frozen outdoors, bounces off of my ring onto the pillow next to me in small dancing dots. Clove is free to wander the apartment but she has returned to her cage for a mid-day hay snack and possible nap.

At the beginning of this year, a few weeks ago, I chose what goals I was going to focus on this year. Since I could not pursue them all at once, I chose to save for a house and to focus on and pursue my health all out. The result of this, has been decreased eating out with friends, fast food stops, and more appointments than time to take a breath.
For my chronic pain and fatigue, I’ve gotten two diagnoses. Hearing a medical professional say that it’s not all in my head and no, I’m not being dramatic or overly sensitive is so reassuring. Admittedly, though I am happy to have some answers, there are no cures, only treatment for symptoms to try. I now go to physical/occupational therapy twice a week before or after work, and am still working with my primary on what medication is the best for me. The other part of my health is mental health. I finally am pursuing full answers to my questions so that hopefully, I can be better equipped to take care off my brain.
I read somewhere that someone was trying to change the term to brain-health because it decreases the stigma around mental health. Mental health seems to have worth and morality assigned to it, while physical health does not. Did you know that anxiety can literally damage your brain? Brain health.

Mental health doesn’t just cover people who struggle with your labeled conditions though. Stress and our perception of ourselves affects mental health. One of the providers that I’ve seen looked at me and told me that I have amazing memory and talent. I must have looked properly shocked. “Do you not think so?”
Do I not think so… What do I think about myself on a regular basis?
“You’re letting perfectionism steal your joy.”
Wow. In my pursuit of being the best me that I can, I was self-sabotaging. I speak to myself in a way that I never would speak to a friend, often in the name of being who I want to be. Nothing I ever do is good enough for me.

I had a friend over last night and ended up reading her some of my old writings. She is absolutely convinced that I’m an amazing writer and that I need to be published. I downplayed it, made excuses, and eventually was told “I’m going to shake you every time I see you if you don’t give this a chance.” She believes in me far more than I do. It’s warming to have a friend stand up for you, even if it’s against yourself.

I’m working on it, friends and strangers.
What is your idea of perfection?

New Year ‘22

Hello, and happy new year!

So many of us have been struggling this past year and many, just wanted 2021 to be over and done with. I admit, I have no expectations of situational improvement for this year of 2022. The empathetic exhaustion is just too real and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight. Now, I didn’t say I’m expecting the worst. No, I just don’t have expectations.

This doesn’t mean that I don’t have plans, goals or things to focus on. I’m determined to continue growing even more than this past year. I’ve resolved to buckle down on a spending structure to save for a house of my own. The appointments, already working on my health, are densely populated over the month, and creative pursuits are still on the to-do list.

There isn’t really a “new year, new me” operation in place, just a “more me, still growing” kind of thing. I’ve begun reading, soaking up truth first thing in the morning instead of clearing social media notifications. If you have any kind of social media addiction, escapist scrolling, obsessive opinion posting or other, I think you will agree with me that it has become a hard and fast habit. With any habit, it is HARD to change. Even if I’m still half asleep and the words I’m reading don’t make sense, I’m choosing to start my day that way, instead of scrolling because it eventually will break the unhealthy habit.

This year is going to be a lot of choosing. Choosing to keep myself to my budget, choosing to prioritize my health, choosing to focus less on consuming digitally and more on creating, learning, and caring. It is comforting to know that no matter what may happen this year, I can still choose joy. The amazing thing about joy, is that it isn’t an emotion. I can be in pain, depressed, anxious, or heartbroken and still choose joy.

Do you struggle to process your emotions? I know I do, especially the negative or “bad” ones. I try to find the solution to them instead of feeling them, try reasoning with them instead of processing. Happiness is great. Everyone wants to be happy, but what it took me years to realize is; it’s not the same as joy.

Joy is a choice and hope is waiting. A simple enough thought, but truly challenging for me when I look at it closely. Did you know that the Greek word for hope, elpis means expectation, trust and confidence? Hope isn’t wishing but instead waiting for something that is guaranteed. What do you hope for? While you are waiting, do you choose joy?

Today was fine. It started out quite nicely. As the clouds turned sunshine into gloom, and I was left alone with my thoughts, unrushed, I wasn’t excited to keep going. My goals struck me as pointless and my pain crept in to whisper that there is nothing to wait for. But… I remembered my reading from this morning, about joy and hope. Admittedly I may have been a little too excited about new word meanings in ancient languages at the time. The point is that I was able to choose joy. I’m not happy right now but I’m waiting for the time that I will be and choosing to find the opportunity for growth, the good, and taking one step at a time.

What do you think friends and strangers? The structure of this post is a bit scrambled but did you relate? Maybe you disagree. Either way, I hope your day is lovely and your life is joyful.

Until next time.
R&C

Toast

The rain patters quietly outside of her open window, punctuated by a car alarm honking forlornly in the distance. Placing her hands on either side of her mug, the warmth seeps into her fingers and she breathes in, herbal cadence blending with fresh rain smell. It had been a long day, discouraging but she couldn’t let up just yet. She wrinkled her nose slightly, noting that the trash was not a list item that she could put off any longer. A blank spot on the opposing wall gained her steady gaze as she pondered the complex weight on her mind. How is it that no matter how much was ever accomplished in either her personal or professional life, it felt like no progress was made?

There was no answer of course. Not this time at least, so she rose from her spot on the floor to stare into the refrigerator. No food looked appealing, either requiring effort and time or unsettling her fickle appetite. She sighed. When did eating become just another item on her list of things to do? The neighbor’s bass thrummed through the wall and she finally grabbed a loaf of bread, throwing a couple slices in the toaster. She jumped when they popped up, what felt only a few seconds later. Butter. Absentmindedly, the previously utilized fork on the counter was used to spread the slices before she once again sank to the floor.

She couldn’t have turned into a robot entirely. Robots don’t care about food. The real question was, what else did she actually, truly, care about? Once again, no answers presented themselves so she continued to study the blank space on the wall and munch on the half-done toast.

The Dream

Though my dreams and aspirations have become somewhat fuzzy these days, I realized that a core desire still remains.

My “what do you want to be when you grow up” answer has ranged from being a mother, to being an event coordinator, to being an author, to teaching English in Japan. Realizing that I currently don’t know what I want to do and that my interest in any previous 5 year plan has flatlined, is both discouraging and confusing.

Years ago, one of my dear cousins and I were looking for locations to do photo shoots. Various abandoned buildings presented themselves but one lives in my memory, solid, to this day. It was the most beautiful brick instrument factory. Sun reflected off of the large multi-glass pane windows, vines climbed the exterior elevator and the sturdy front door: stained glass window and rich finish on the dark wood, provided contrast to the pavement and metal.
It was for sale. We dreamed of buying it and renovating the inside to be full of conduits for potential. There would be various bedrooms, a library, a professional level kitchen, a music studio, art studio, dance studio, workshop and room for more. The building was large. The vision was that people with cohesive personalities and interests could live there in community and create through the different avenues. It would be our place.
Of course neither of us had much money at the time and the lot was bought by someone else. I don’t know what became of that building. I’d like to think that the new owner did something beautiful with it instead of knocking it down and building cookie cutter condos. In my mind, it is what we dreamed it could be.

My more recent idea for a small business, I’ve realized, would fit into that fantasy as well. I want to create experiences for people who, like me, are stuck in the 9-5 grind and wish they could live a different life, but can’t. Boxed escapes brought to you not just by me, but by partnering with local artists and other small business creators. One of the reasons it hasn’t happened is because it requires a massive amount of prep, organization, community and time.
A different dear cousin is visiting me this weekend and she spoke of her roomate, an author who “collects” other artists. People supporting and working with each other, like minded, creating beautiful elements that, as a whole, reach the desired outcome. It brought me back to that dream of the abandoned instrument factory.

Admittedly, these particular people don’t fit what society deems normal or typical but there is a richness in individuals working to understand each other and support growth, even painful, in each other. It’s not something that I’ve felt comfortable sharing here before but I am what some call neurodivergent. It roughly means that my brain doesn’t work the typical way. There are a lot of people who fit into that descriptor and it’s still highly stigmatized. When we are able to share with like-minded individuals, unafraid to be ourselves, it is so beautiful. Safety to exist as you actually are in a community is not something that everyone has the occasion to value on the same level. Meaning, if you fit into societies expectations, you aren’t consistently putting energy toward presenting yourself in a way that is comfortable for others.

I may not know my solid, attainable dream for my future right now but I do know that having the support from people who understand me, and the ability to create and essentially share my heart with people in that way, that’s the dream.

Thank you for reading, strangers and friends.

Pinterest board for the factory is here.

Dealing with Death Daily

Maybe people don’t realize

The impact to my already cracked heart

Even the mention of another human’s passing

Can lend

Spider vein fractures on the vessel that is me

What will cause Kintsugi

Precious pain not hidden, highlighted

Empathy interlaced like gold

Potters hands still hold

I was forced to think about loss of life actively yesterday, not just in passing news or a circle of people I used to be part of. Repeating that I am someone who cares quite a bit about many things, there’s a certain apathy that I employ to cope with constant pain in this world. Multiple instances of loss of life were thrust into my main focus and my heart just aches. It physically hurts in my chest.

For those that don’t know,

Kintsugi (金継ぎ, “golden joinery”), also known as kintsukuroi (金繕い, “golden repair”),^[1] is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquerdusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum, a method similar to the maki-etechnique.^[2][3][4] As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise
Wikipedia

Not only is there no attempt to hide the damage, but the repair is literally illuminated… a kind of physical expression of the spirit of mushin….Mushin is often literally translated as “no mind,” but carries connotations of fully existing within the moment, of non-attachment, of equanimity amid changing conditions. …The vicissitudes of existence over time, to which all humans are susceptible, could not be clearer than in the breaks, the knocks, and the shattering to which ceramic ware too is subject. This poignancy or aesthetic of existence has been known in Japan as mono no aware, a compassionate sensitivity, or perhaps identification with, [things] outside oneself.
Christy Bartlett, Flickwerk: The Aesthetics of Mended Japanese Ceramics

If you’ve made it this far, I’m glad.

Thank you for reading, Strangers and Friends.

Fear and Fantasy

There’s a storm brewing. I can feel it in the air as I right my toppled zucchini plant. It’s warm, windy, and the wildness creeps into my bones. I want to be wild and free like the flying leaves; soak up the adrenaline and be at fiery peace.

Tomorrow, my favorite weekend escape opens. I can be another version of me in a different world. Going to Renaissance Festival has always given me that feeling, the one I can’t quite put into words.

My imagination is renewed and a match held to the wick of my creative spirit. Maybe it’s that I don’t have to be what most people want me to be. Keeping to myself offends no one and I can slip between groups of people like a shadow, all the while taking in such delicious details.

I’m a little afraid of my excitement. A lot has changed since I was last able to attend, and I’m afraid it won’t infect me with that restful, childlike inspiration.

Do you ever get scared by being excited for something, just hoping it is as wonderful as you remember it?

Have a lovely weekend strangers and friends. Here’s hoping you get to revisit pleasant dreams and fall asleep to the sound of a storm.

Escape into Reality

I’m sitting on my patio, iced tea creating a wet spot from the sweating on the cement next to me. Clove is tethered to my ankle, free to explore the length of her leash but close enough that I can be there before a dog or hawk. It’s a perfect 73 F only partially spoiled by hesitant grey skies and light mugginess.

Weather like this makes me sleepy and unmotivated to do anything except lay in bed and scroll TikTok or Pinterest. Actually, that is exactly what I was doing before this. I came across a TikTok of someone who was told that if they feel that way, to go for it, just outdoors at a park instead.

I have found that taking care of others is vastly easier than taking care of myself. Why that is, I’m not quite sure. I do know that the way I perceive things has a large sway on their impact. I have used my imagination to escape from real life as longa s I can remember and never once did it occur to me until this week that I could use my imagination and creativity to actually change my reality instead of escape from it.

“Bad” feelings are still meant to be felt. Greif, pain, anger, are not meant to be ignored and pushed down. Instead of beating myself up for feeling more than happiness all the time, I need to learn to process the emotions that are generally frowned upon, remind myself that they are ok to feel, just don’t wallow in them.

Maybe you came to this realization long ago or maybe you don’t relate to my same feeling of needing to escape life at times. Either way, I hope you’re finding a way to take care of yourself.

Thank you for listening strangers and friends.

(written May 23rd but forgot to actually post it)