Limbo

Last night I attended the first of four training courses at Art and Edutainment Creative at the Albany. I wasn't entirely clear on what the course would entail when I first interviewed for it. They themselves didn't seem to know as it was still in development.

Well, it's not a 'job' exactly, but it's a brilliant opportunity. They're training a group of us to help them with the workshops and courses they offer. Essentially they're prepping us to run our own workshops, for which we would get paid. In the mean time they cover our expenses and as volunteers with them we are able to access any of the courses they offer during our training. We've got four classes to attend and then we'll be tagging along with people already running regular workshops, sitting in and providing assistance and learning as we go.

The entire thing has left me buzzing with the possibilities (A 'zine workshop? Painting workshop? Stop-Motion animation? Sculpting?) and realising that I cannot wait for my art supplies to arrive. I'm idle and whilst I continue following up and calling around and applying for jobs, the vast majority of my days feel as if they are going to waste. But not today! Not anymore! Just because I don't have a job to go along with my Visa requirements doesn't mean I don't have a job. I'm an artist and I've got way too many ideas busting out of me at the moment to let them go uncaptured.

I'm off to an employment placement agency this morning and then to the temple. On my way back I'll be stopping off for some canvases, acrylics and brushes. My next tarot card is dying to be done and another piece about Buddhism is brewing.

London Journal - One Week In

It was raining this morning. Rain in January is beautiful. Rain anytime is beautiful, but there was something particularly lovely about it this morning. It filled me with a sense of calm energy and I found myself heading out the door with a plan of action in my mind, my London AtoZ ready at hand.

My first stop was the Houses of Parliament, which sit opposite Westminster Abbey.

When I went to Australia I spent five days in Sydney. On my first evening there it had rained and I'd gone walking through the darkened and damp streets. As I'd picked my way through a city I didn't know, I found myself below a bridge near the harbour. I'd come around from behind a wall and the Sydney Opera house was visible across the water, lit up like a glorious white flower rising up from the dark.

Seeing the Houses of Parliament was just like that. Just this sense of awe and amazement at something so iconic and familiar. Thousands of HP bottles that I've squeezed and there the buildings really were, stunning and illuminated by a rainy London sky.

Unfourtunately my camera died and my spare batteries were also dead. It's not really a bother because I'm planning on going back many, many times over.

It was chilly and I did have important tasks to accomplish. I took a CV to an art supply shop that's looking for sales staff and spent some time there, looking at the community posting board and smelling untouched art supplies. I thought of my yet untouched oils and began wondering what they would unveil when I finally feel ready to take the plunge properly.

I had to go to the BUNAC offices to photocopy some documents so I caught the tube and made my transfers to get to Farringdon. I managed to finish up at BUNAC in fifteen minutes. Having accomplished all my necessary tasks for the day I was then able to do something I'd been wanting to do since two days in to my adventure here. I went in search of the buddhapadipa temple in Wimbledon.

I took what can only be described as a convoluted route, as I was a little confused with the buses...but it was only an extra fifteen minutes over what Transport For London estimated on their Trip Planner. I found the correct road, which was lined with the most extravagant brick mansions. All the driveways were full of Audi's and Jaguar's and the like. I wandered down along the street, taking in the elaborate homes which seem freakishly huge when compared to the rest of London.

And then there is was.

And it wasn't like seeing Big Ben or seeing an Opera house. It was this calm moment when I saw the white building with it's ornate decoration, visible through black trees, perched upon a hill. I felt wonderfully serene as I walked down the drive to the front of the house in which the monks of the temple live. An older woman greeted me, ushering me inside once I'd removed my shoes. She offered me tea, which I gladly accept as the cold was seeping in and I hadn't had a tea for several hours.

She was just helping someone else leave so I set my bag down and looked around. There was this beautiful shrine of Buddha statues and pictures set in front of a window that overlooked part of the garden that surrounds the temple. I took it all in slowly, until the woman, Lyn, returned to the room and asked if I wanted to join her at the table. It's a huge square table where the monks eat in the morning and once in the afternoon. The two of us sat at one corner and had a quiet conversation. A few monks happened by whilst we talked. We greeted them and she told me all about them and how long they'd been living at the temple.

It was wonderful to sit and talk, sipping tea and watching birds play in the soggy snow.

As it grew dark a couple arrived. They had an appointment with one of the monks, so, to give them privacy, Lyn invited me into the office. One of the monks I'd met earlier was sitting there. She told him that I'm an artist and that I could probably help with some computer things, if he ever needed it. The room was nice and warm in comparison with the rest of the house. It was nice to sit there and take in the tiny space. The monk was delightful and he spoke to me about how he has no wisdom to give. He finds that when people come to him with a problem, they already have the answer. I agreed with him, knowing full well how true it was from my experience with my psychologist.

It was growing dark though, and I didn't feel sure enough about my route home to risk doing it past sunset. I said my goodbyes, thanking them for the tea and conversation. Once outside I intended to just leave, but my feet found the path to the temple and I let myself be taken up to the doors and then down the path around the building. In the dimming light of the day it was very calm and quiet. A heron startled as I crossed one of the bridges over the creek. A tiny bird with a bright red breast flew past me. My first authentic British robin! The trees were stark black, speckled with bright green moss, stretching into a misty sky. The path was lined with boards that bore words of wisdom.

I took the path straight around the temple and as I rounded back to the front I picked up the pace. It was chilly and I didn't want to risk getting lost in the dark. I headed back out onto the street lined with mansions and out to the main road. My bus came almost instantly and in an inspired moment I climbed the stairs to the second level, claiming a seat right at the front. Grinning from ear to ear, I took in the twilight colours of the city, watching droplets of condensation form on the glass and loving every moment of it.

Stranded

It snowed over night.

In Calgary we have a unique advantage. We are capable of understanding all degrees of manic weather. It can dump a foot of snow in a matter of hours and we'll grumble and make our way to work slower than usual, but we still manage to get to work. It can go from -30 with a windchill of -50 to Chinooking and a high of 10 in a period of a week. We know what it's like to experience a hot, heavy summer day where heat radiates up off the concrete and power goes out all over the city because so many fans and air conditioning units are running.

But in London it doesn't really snow. Despite the media images we see of a 'snowy London Christmas', it's not a snowy place. Last year they had a snow day. A few inches fell and they had to close the tubes because of it.

This year the snow is causing chaos and newscasters are saying ,"We know you're tired of hearing that there's so much snow since we've been going on about it all week."

A week of snow and the city is in a frenzy of panic, unable to get out.

I'm equipped for such weather. I've got 'snow legs' and this beautiful powdering of snow is stunning to me. Everything is lush and green and the white snow layered on green ivy is a beautiful sight to see. I could easily don my boots, coat and hat and venture out to do...whatever. But the city isn't accommodating to my ability to cope. Trains are delayed or shut down entirely. People are being warned not to drive at all because snow tires don't happen in London and their tiny city cars aren't equipped for slush and ice.

So I'm stuck inside today.

I don't mind too much. I've got my new wardrobe set up and my room is beginning to come together quite nicely. I can nip out to get coat hangers and maybe spend some time painting in this space which is feeling more and more like home everyday.

It's the little things that are making me happiest. Like brushing my teeth. Cinnamon toothpaste doesn't happen over here. In fact, mint is the only thing they've got. They don't even do winter-green. But I found this stuff that has nothing to do with regular toothpaste and everything to do with tasting like a Pillow-Mint. Y'know those little pink, yellow, white and green squares you used to get at the til in restaurants? The ones they discovered had traces of urine in them because of how many people touched them after not washing their hands and using the toilet?

I loved those little things and I've discovered a toothpaste that tastes like them. Only available in England. It's brilliant.

And I feel quite at home in a place where an inch of snow makes everyone shut down because I have this advantage. This sort of weather invigorates me. That's the word for it.

So today I'm going to keep on posting my CV out and then I'm going to set out my new oils and I'm going play.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

Fear

"Fear is a natural reaction to moving closer to the truth"

- Pema Chodron


My art supplies are not available to me right now and seeing as this is a year of great change and exploration, I've decided to try my hand at oil paints...finally. I went to Fielder's and picked out three tubes of paint, a few brushes and some cleaner/thinner. I felt completely out of my element, not knowing the first thing about painting with oils. I just knew that you need to be more aware of the materials required and that I'm often told, "Once you use oil, you will never go back."



There is something to be said for taking the plunge. I've got these tubes and I love all the potential held in a shiny, new paintbrush, but I'm still hesitant. I'm going to dabble, initially. I'll start on a small canvas, get a feel for it and see what the result is.


And yeah, I'm a little afraid. Which is awesome.


"When we are shaky, we are on the verge of something."

- Pema Chodron


It's amazing how we will let fear limit us. It's not about doing something stupid ie. Fear of getting eaten by a tiger is a good reason not to climb into a cage with one. But fear of facing something about ourselves, our inability to perform a task or take on a new adventure, that is where we can find so much chance for growth and change.

Using oil paints might seem insignificant to most. It's just paint...but it's paint with an entirely different set of rules to acrylic and water based paint. I've not used oils for the same reason I don't like drawing in pen. I can ink in over something I've drawn, once I'm certain the pencil lines are exactly as I want them, but just taking the plunge with pen to paper scares the crap out of me.


So I do it. I do it over and over until I face that fear of messing up, of doing something 'The wrong way' or risking that something might looking stupid and not like what I imagined. It's facing the fear of discouragement and it's about knowing that only through failure and through the lessons it gives us, can we grow.

Direction on the Tube

After ten hours sleep I was feeling far more up to snuff than I thought I would today, despite having a cold and all. Not wanting this energy to go to waste, I headed out to the BUNAC office, which is the SWAP support program on this end. They helped me get my bank account information together and sent me over to Barclays where a lovely man named Anthony assisted me.

Following all that business I headed back home, catching the train at Angel and taking it to Colliers Wood. Whilst sitting on the tube a man next to me leaned across to the man sitting on the other side of me and showed him a piece of paper. It had 'Leicester Square' written on it. The man was Chinese and obviously did not have a great grasp of English. The man to my left seemed like he couldn't be bothered.

I can't tell you how many times I've been asked directions to some place in Calgary and I had no clue where it was. I always feel terrible about it because I love the idea of being helpful and knowing really fantastic directions somewhere. The moment I realised that the gentleman to my left was disinterested in providing help I removed my headphones and pulled my A to Z out of my bag. I showed the man to my right where Leicester Square station was on the Northern Line and how he had to get off at Kennington and get on Northern in the opposite direction on the other side. I knew the stop because that's where I went when I found Trafalgar Square, back in November.

The man was very grateful, although he still seemed very confused. I told him I'd let him know when he had to get off since I was traveling past Kennington. Then i put back on my headphones and smiled to myself.

I really do feel as though I'm home. I really do feel as if I've figured the city out, quite easily. I have a map and an Oyster Card and that's all you really need.

I don't want to push myself too much so I'm going to take it easy over the weekend. My plan is to apply for work on Monday and pick up a canvas and some oil paints whilst I'm out and about. Actually, I might get the canvas and oils this weekend. My art kit is still in Canada, until my mum ships it over. I figure I could use a new set of brushes anyway and seeing as I haven't any oils, I can start something new in a medium I've never explored. *laughs* Sounds a bit like my moving to London.

Always on a plane or a fast train - Kait's Mix Tape

All my bags are packed and I'm ready to go...


When traveling anywhere I usually have a large carry-on bag of 'entertainment'. This includes a novel, a journal, my laptop and sometimes a sketchbook. It always includes headphones and a device for listening to music. If I was told I could only bring one carry-on item my ipod would be it.


In preparation for this trip I've been noticing more and more lyrics about change, growth and adventures. I'm already thinking of ways to incorporate them into my artwork. A lot of the lyrics influence my journaling and this leads to inspiration for my paintings. I'm busting with ideas and I hope that a few of these lyrics will help inspire you too.


"Oh What a World" Rufus Wainwright

This song was first introduced to me by two friends who sang it A Capella. One of them did the 'back-up', providing his baritone voice as substitution for the drums and cello used in the actual song. The other sang in her classically lilting tones. I love the rhythm of it and the original is just as wonderful as the version done by Nancy Price.


"Walk This Word" and "London Rain" Heather Nova

The first is full of innuendo, but it's also a beautiful love song about adventuring with someone who knows themselves as well as you know yourself.

London Rain is just an obvious one for me.


"Recessional" Vienna Teng

It's set in an airport...or possibly a bus station. Either way, it's beautiful. It's so important to see what is beautiful in each moment we have.



"Dogs Days Are Over" Florence + the Machine

I'm not quite sure what it is about this song, but I can listen to it anytime, anywhere. The lyrics are fantastic and the music itself is incredible. It's the sort of song that is likely to make my foot 'heavy' whilst driving. It makes me want to twirl and dance and laugh and sing along at the top of my lungs.


"Mushaboom" Feist

My favourite line: 'It may be years until the day my dreams will match up with my pay'

And it may very well be, but I'll never let that hold me back. Money can always be made, but once time is gone you can't get it back.


"Live Like You're Dying" Lenka

I discovered this Australian pixie when I heard her song 'The Show', which is also fabulous. But this song has joined the ranks of my OCD mix. There's not a line in it that I don't believe. We are all dying, everyone of us. Some are doing it faster, but that doesn't mean we can't and shouldn't all live like each day is our last. All we have is the moment and the moment is what we make it. We choose how we feel and we choose where that takes us. We are only given so many days, and we cannot trade them in for more.


Essentially, in the words of Mary Oliver:

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

And finally:
"How To Say Goodbye" (Smiles fondly at the spelling of 'au revoir' on the link provided) Paul Tiernan

Goodbye, so long, farewell, au revoir... *smiles the widest smile*

Until next we meet...

Three days to go

I've managed to accumulate gobs of papers and booklets to assist me in my departure to London. Today I sorted through them, weeding out the ones that I'd used and no longer needed or that haven't proven to be useful at all. Many of the items have checklists in them and it seems the Three Day mark is a key one.

This is when you start packing. Really packing.

Thanks to me ever-so wonderful parents, I've two immense suitcases into which I'm fitting my possessions. Over the past six months I have held several purges, able to reduce what I own by more than half, I'm sure. I've rid myself of things I held onto simply because 'you never know'. I don't have room for 'you never know' in two suitcases and in light of the Carry-On rules (my flight jumps through Chicago to Heathrow.) to the States I'm even more limited.

As I began packing my art supplies yesterday I found myself choosing to leave behind things I wouldn't have questioned bringing before. There is a practicality to bringing a lot of it. Generally I'm not going to have a large amount of disposable income when I first arrive. I have hundreds of dollars worth of art supplies that I'd rather not have to start fresh with accumulating. But as I sort through and find things I thought I couldn't bear to be without, I continue to reflect on where I'm going.

I would always much rather have a memory and an experience than to have a thing.

This move has been a lesson in discipline and for that I am most grateful. I appreciate that which is useful or I find to be lovely, to paraphrase William Morris. Of course, in that I love my artwork, it could be difficult to part with it, but having sold an original piece I am suddenly able to see how that spurs on further creation. The overwhelming response to 'Without Limits' has made me realise that I was right to stick with painting as the focus of my art career and that the influence of my Buddha nature is appreciated by many.

Three days is too far away to think about yet, but soon I will be in London and when I am, I plan to buy a canvas as soon as possible so I can keep being this incredible artist I always wanted to be.