Quieting Down the Monkey Mind

It only takes a minute. Really. You have 60 seconds, don’t you?

I dunno what’s going on the last few months. Oh wait, yes, I do. I had foot surgery, and accomplished not very much. (OTOH, I read a LOT of books! So THAT was good….)

I still run out of energy early in the evening. So I go to bed early.

And then the monkey mind takes over.

“I’m not doing it right.”

“I’m doing it right, but people are telling me I’m doing it wrong.”

“People don’t like me.”

“Well, actually, I don’t like them.

“I’m a fake.”

“I’m not a fake!”

“Yes, you are.”

“I said I’d do something, but I didn’t. Okay, I did it, but I didn’t do a very good job. Okay, it’s a good enough job, but somebody gave me crap about it.”

“I should be better/kinder/smarter/funnier/thinner/more active/more patient/more appreciated/humbler/more assertive/oh-God-is-this-all-there-is-t0-life??? Self-doubt, self-denigration, righteous indignation??”

After a few months of this, I wondered if California was really were we are supposed to be.

Ahhhh, monkey mind…..

Unfortunately, there’s no permanent cure for monkey mind. Like an appendix, it’s ancient self-preservation thingie that doesn’t serve us well in our modern world.

But we can take tiny steps, daily, to soothe it. Tiny steps that slowly, but surely, get us back to our happy, productive, peaceful place in the world.

How do I get there?

For starters, I found this one-minute video online. One minute that helps you calm your monkey.

Second, watch for what crosses my path.

I contacted a friend recently. She asked me how I was doing. I wrote back, “A little bobbled…We feel up in the air again, some critical things missing. But also realizing we have to sit with uncertainty, or we’ll drive ourselves crazy!! Does that make sense??”

She wrote back, “Yes. I sit with it on a daily basis….until clarity presents herself.”

And then it hit me: I wasn’t ‘sitting with uncertainty’. I was struggling with it. Fighting it. Trying to sort it all out. And when I tried to sleep, it rolled over me like a giant wave, trying to take me out to sea.

Sitting with uncertainty… There it was, right in front of me like a Pokemon Go critter.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

And now I look up at my desk, where a pile of little horses, bears, and otters are waiting to be turned into ‘worry stones’….

I feel better already!

(Thanks and a hat tip to Sheri Gaynor, feisty woman!)


I thought I made these to expand my product line. Nope. I needed them for myself!




Filed under mental attitude, monkey mind, What is the story only you can tell?


(Originally published on the SOFA Santa Rosa website)

Today I only had a little time to spend at my studio in the SOFA Santa Rosa Arts District. (I’m at 300 S. A Street, #3, just down Atlas Coffee Alley.) This, after an entire morning of last-minute tasks, re-do’s, oh-I-forgot-I-have-to’s….  Every time I thought I was ready to leave, I’d remember one more thing….  Argh!!

When I finally got there, I unlocked my door and entered.

Then I realized I didn’t have what I needed to work on my next project. Drat.

Here’s where the magic happens:

A woman appeared. “I’m admiring your window!” she said. “Are dogs allowed?”

What dog?? Oh. There, hidden by the bottom half of my Dutch door, was a sweet, very friendly dog.


I love my Dutch door! Especially when the jasmine is blooming across the walk. Do you Californians know how amazing that is???

I let them in.

“We’re visiting that photography show  at Christie Marks’ gallery,” she explained. “I have the dog while my husband takes a look. Then he’ll take the dog so I can see it!”

We talked a little about the show (which is AMAZING!) Then I left her alone to browse my studio. (I got to pet the pup.)

She saw my new Sonoma County Art Trails postcard. Coincidentally (or is it??), Christie is also on the card, along with Cat Kaufman and Mary Linnea Vaughn.)  “Oh! May I take one of your cards? We’ll come back for your open studio!”


Here’s where the magic gets even bigger:

She asked me if I’d consider submitting a piece for the upcoming “Landscape” show at Sebastopol Center for the Arts. (Oct. 21 – Nov. 27, 2016)

“I would,” I said, “But I don’t do landscapes.”

“I think that looks like a landscape!” she said, pointing to a small wall hanging behind my desk. “And you’d probably be the only artist in your medium!”

Sure enough, it could ‘read’ as a landscape.

I said I would certainly do that. She gave me all kinds of information–filling out an online entry form, the hours for delivering work, etc.

“Are you an artist yourself?” I asked her. “Do you volunteer at SCA?”

“Not really an artist, but I wish I were,” she said. “I just love supporting the arts, and SCA is a great organization.”

I thanked her from the bottom of my heart. Artists thrive when they are supported by their community. People who give their time to do that are golden.

We talked more. I promised to bring in my newly-recognized landscape. She joined my mailing list. Then she and pupster left to join her husband.

What are the chances she would show up at exactly the moment I unlocked my door?

I could have missed her by five minutes. By ten minutes Or I might have left before she even got there?

What are the chances she was not only familiar with Art Trails, and SCA, but also a dedicated volunteer, familiar with their shows?

What are the chances she spotted the one piece that could conceivably qualify as a landscape?

Yep. This happens all the time here in the Arts District.

Because when you are making the work of your heart, wonderful things cross your path every single day…if you look for them.

I don't know how she even spotted it in all the...er....visual excess. But she did.
I don’t even know how she spotted it in all the…er…visual clutter. But she did! (It’s the brassy-gold horizontal one at the top.)
Our Art Trails postcard!
Our Art Trails postcard! Come see us!


Filed under around the neighborhood, little daily miracles, What is the story only you can tell?


Learning new stuff is hard, and uncomfortable. But it’s good for us.

Last weekend, I took part in a digital storytelling workshop. It’s a state-wide project, collecting the multi-media stories of 100 California residents, a collaboration between Sonoma County  Library, Creative Sonoma (of the Sonoma County Economic Development Board), the California State Library and StoryCenter.

In two days, ten of us created our personal story, subjected it to intense editing (I don’t think I’ve ever written a story in 350 words or less….), recorded our telling, and added images, music, and text.

It was awful.

2016-08-24 10.55.14 (733x800)

How come I know how to make ancient artifacts, but I can’t figure out how to fix my email addy???

No, no, the project is amazing. The presenters were awesome. My fellow storytellers were incredible people. And the stories were powerful.

It was learning a video-making process that was so excruciating.

I’ve never used a video editing program before. (We used WeVideo.)

I had issues with my laptop (I accidentally used Google Chrome as my browser instead of Mozilla Firefox, and it kept locking up my computer til I figured out what was going on.) I had issues with my internet connection.

The worst part was, as I struggled to work out these issues, I would ‘space out’ and miss the next steps. My notes–usually quite orderly and thorough–looked like gibberish. Other people were working on their third or fourth draft of their video, and I hadn’t even recorded my story yet!

I felt like an idiot, and a giant crab to boot. (After a certain point, I do not deal with frustration well.) (I don’t think anyone in my group ever wants to talk to me again.)

Fortunately, when I dumped on my husband, Jon said EVERY video editing tool has a steep learning curve.

It simply takes time. And practice. And not giving up.

I also remembered a valuable lesson from writing my first book . I wanted to cover everything about stamp-carving. My editor gently held me back. “Save that for your next book….” she said.

My next book….

That helped. This was my first story on digital multi-media.

There will be more.

Today was my aha moment: I’d forgotten all about the four stages of competency.

This is how we learn.

This is how we move forward.

This is how we grow.

By stepping out of our comfort zone, and trying something new.

So SuperCrab here will persevere. After all, the one thing I learned in martial arts is gold…

A black belt is a white belt who didn’t quit.

P.S. Actually, now I’m learning how to manage a new website for our local arts district. I’m hoping I have hair left when I’m done.

P.P.S. A huge shout-out to Jon Udell (dear hubby) and Alex Kaufman (who rebuilt our hacked SOFASantaRosa website) for all the technical coaching and patience these last two weeks.




Filed under life lessons, What is the story only you can tell?


Today’s post was originally published on Fine Art Views

This post is by Luann Udell, regular contributing author for FineArtViews. She’s blogged since 2002 about the business side–and the spiritual inside–of art. She says, “I share my experiences so you won’t have to make ALL the same mistakes I did….”  For ten years, Luann also wrote a column (“Craft Matters”) for The Crafts Report magazine (a monthly business resource for the crafts professional) where she explored the funnier side of her life in craft. She’s a double-juried member of the prestigious League of New Hampshire Craftsmen (fiber & art jewelry). Her work has appeared in books, magazines and newspapers across the country and she is a published writer.

 Don’t bury your lead. Keep it up front, in its most powerful position.

 I love helping people write artist statements. Especially if I’ve had an opportunity to actually sit and talk with the artist. Especially if I’ve had an opportunity to pound them over the head with this one simple question:

 Why should I care about your art?
I try to tread carefully. I know how deeply artists care about their work, and what they want to say about it.
OTOH, if I have to read one more artist statement about line, color, texture, about boundaries and schisms, about anything that could have come from an Artsy Bollocks, I swear I will do damage to someone.
If I have a chance to meet with someone, or at least talk with them, my job gets easier. Because everyone has a story, a reason, a turning point in their history, that’s the deeper “why” about what they do.
And coincidentally, usually this powerful reason, if they include it at all, is at the very end of their statement.
It’s called burying your lead.
This writing structure is the bane of journalism and professional writing. We run on about our background, our training, our credentials, our methods, our materials, our media, etc. etc. And there, at the very end, is the deeper reason for it all.
It’s natural. Many of us were not raised to share our deepest, richest thoughts and history. We worry we’ll embarrass ourselves, admitting to pain, or loss, or even joy. No, we must be professional. Which means not a single sentimental, fluffy, unmanly thought will pass our lips. Er…pencil.
Here’s why it’s time to change that:
I know people who have known each other a very long time. They’re all artists themselves. They’ve also spent years—decades!—actually working in art galleries.
Over the years, there’s been a marked change in the world of art marketing. “It used to be,” said one, “Artists created work for the market. They figured out what was selling, and they worked accordingly, finding their niche in that market.”
“And now it’s flipped! The trend is to make the work that is unique to you—and find your market for it!”
That’s why the old artist statement style of the past is no longer working.
People want to know who you are.
People want to know why you make the work you do.
A few artists are sticking their toes into the new water. It’s very hard. It goes against everything they’ve seen to date.
But what we gain when we open our hearts, and stop hiding behind our work, is huge. It’s powerful.
This doesn’t mean your new statement has to read like a letter to Dear Abby. No need to hang all our dirty laundry in public.
But you need to understand….
Everyone has lost someone.**
Everyone wants to be loved, and respected, for who they are.
Everyone is longing for something.
Everyone needs to be protected from something.
Everyone has obstacles to overcome.
Everyone has a dream in their heart.
Because we are all human.
Our individual stories are as unique as we are. And yet we are all connected by common themes, similar fears, shared needs, and dreams.
It is also right on trend to be vulnerable. It’s now perfectly acceptable to wear your heart on your sleeve.  It’s been my own mantra for years. And now we have company!
Because other people want what you have—a vision, a talent, a gift, a story—for themselves.
And when you share what you’ve lost, what you’ve gained, what you’ve found, what you’ve learned, what you’ve overcome, you are actually setting an example for them.
You’re showing them it can be done. You’re showing them how to do it.
That is the power of our true narrative. It helps us connect the work of our hand, the work of our hearts, to the hearts of others. Your story can inspire. It can heal. It can encourage.
So go out on a limb today.
Get out your artist statement. Cross out every reference to education, technique, medium, credentials.
You can only reference one or two of these, if you can share why you chose this medium, this technique. (And no, “Because I just love color” is not enough.)  For example, one reason I chose polymer clay to make my artifacts is, no animals are harmed in the making. (E.g., I don’t want to use real bone or ivory.)

“There’s a really good reason why I use polymer clay to make my artifacts.”
Look for your power sentence. The one that, if you were speaking aloud, would make you stand up straighter, would make your voice more sure.
Put it right up front where it belongs. Take that buried lead—and lead with it!
Build that bridge, from your work, to your audience.
If you build it, they will come.***

*”Bury the lead” made me think of dead bodies, which made me think of the movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail, with its infamous plague scene and the memorable quote, “Bring out yer dead!!”

**I also got to quote Guardians of the Galaxy!!
***And Field of Dreams!!!!  Triple play!


Filed under artist statement, Fine Art Views, What is the story only you can tell?


Artists urge us to see the invisible, unnoticed beauty, and the important stuff of life.

I didn’t intend to write today.

I opened my journal, intending to try a new journaling technique I just read about. In flipping to the next blank page, I came across a note I’d written a few weeks ago. All it said was David Foster Wallace: This is Water

That’s it. Curious, and always open to an opportunity to procrastinate, I Googled it.

It’s about everything I’ve ever written about.

Of course, my lizard brain went, “Dang! Nothin’ left for me to write.” The angels of my better nature said, “Shut up and write. And then share it.”

Foster tells the story of two young fish passing by an old fish. The old fish says, “Mornin’, boys, how’s the water?” The younger fish continue on, til one turns to the other and says, “What the hell is water??”

Foster talks about a basic fact of life: We are the center of our own universe. After all, he notes, everything that happens everywhere is filtered through our eyes, our experience. He describes a typical experience: Grocery shopping after work. He outlines every single nuance of frustration and exasperation involved, from getting caught in traffic, shopping crowded aisles filled with slow people and whining kids, and ending up in the longest line at checkout. Who are these annoying, terrible people, and why are they ruining my day??!!

This isn’t bad, or evil, he reassures us. It’s natural. It’s ordinary. It’s human. It’s our default setting.

And yet….

We have something unique in us. We get to consciously choose what has meaning, and what doesn’t.

We all worship something, something not necessarily god-like. This, too, can bite us back. If we worship money and things, we will never feel like we have enough. If we worship our bodies and sexual appeal, we will always feel ugly. If we worship power and control, we will always feel afraid. If we worship our intellect, we will always feel stupid.

Real freedom, he says, comes from conscious choice. It involves attention. Awareness. Self-discipline. Effort. Caring for, and sacrificing for others.

That awareness comes from seeing what is real and essential, hidden in plain sight.

“This is water.”

I instantly realized, this is what artists are for.

When I say to you, “Yes, making money from art is nice. But that’s not the whole reason we do it.”

When I say, “When we have a creative gift, it’s our responsibility to bring it forth.”

When I say, “We can’t judge the work we do. We just need to get it out there in the world.”

When I was told, “The world needs your art”, I felt ‘the call’.

When I say, “Art is more than just what it does for you. It’s what it does for others.”

All of this, and more….What I’m really saying is this:

Art and creative work helps us see water.

This is why we must make the work that is unique to us–not what’s trendy and fashionable.

This is why measuring ourselves with fame and wealth is a sure way to kill our creative spirit.

This is why trying to control our legacy creates a disconnect with our rich inner life.

Bringing our creative work into the world involves the same conscious decisions: Attention. Awareness. Self-discipline. Effort. Caring for others. Sacrificing for others. (I’m still wrapping my head around that last one, I can almost get it, but can’t articulate it. Another article??)

First art heals us. When we share it with the world, then it can heal others.

Sadly, Wallace suffered from severe depression, and committed suicide in 2008. Sometimes the angry, frightened voices in our head cannot be silenced. But he left us with beautiful words, and powerful ideas.  He got them out into the world so that you and I can flourish.

He helped us see water.









Filed under go to the studio today, life lessons, ProPanel, the power of our choices, What is the story only you can tell?

BE KIND (to yourself), REWIND

You and me, we are only human. Embrace that!

Yesterday I wrote how I sabotaged my creative workday. I did dishes and laundry instead of making art.

Today, I did the same thing.

Doesn’t matter what I did. (Okay, I finished a book. It took a couple hours. But I had to do it. Why? Well, it was kinda creepy. Giving me bad dreams. But the writing is good, and I had to get to the ending.) (No, I’m not going to tell you.) (Okay, The Chalk Girl, by Carol O’Connell.)

Yes, as I was reading, I thought, “I should get to the studio.” But I chose to finish my novel instead, knowing I had other choices.

Why? Because I’m human.

This means there are days where I will have the power of my intention. And days where I will give in to temptation.

There are days where I will make time to make the work of my heart. And days where I will set it aside to do something else I love. Or like. Or fool myself into thinking I have to.

There are days where I will move heaven and earth to explore a new design, a new color palette. And there are days where I have to look up “palette” for spelling (because I always forget the which of the three options is right) and I come across a wonderful new color palette app–so cool!) and get distracted. (Color Pal–get it? Auto fill-in with Google led me right to it.)

You are human, too. Which means, if you read that last post, you may have realized how often we sabotage our creative efforts with more mundane tasks that can wait.

And, being human, you–me–all of us–will do it again. And again, and again, and again.

Here’s what I’ve learned from my decades-long observation and exploration into what makes me click as an artist, what holds me back, what holds me down, what gets in my way, what leads me astray.

It’s always me. Me making that decision, consciously or unconsciously, to leave the path.

And no matter how many times I observe it, write about it, clarify it for others, there’s also something else I’ve learned….

I’m going to do it again.

Here’s why I’m not beating myself up about it. And why you shouldn’t either:

This is what people do.

You are not a bad person because your will power is made of rubber, not steel.

Here’s an interesting fact: We’ve all read the benefits of meditation. We all know what we’re supposed to do. Sit quietly, empty our mind, and if we do it right, we will achiev a state of enlightenment.

And most of us know that finding that time, that quiet space, is something we just can’t seem to make room for. We know we start emptying the mind, and all sorts of stuff rushes in to fill the vacuum. “Did I remember to turn the oven off?” “How do my kids/cats/partner/employees know when I’m trying to sit quietly for five minutes?!” “I can’t remember my mantra….!!” We are left with yet another feeling that we’re doing it wrong. We’ll never be enlightened, unless yoga class goes on for another hour or to.

But do you know that enlightenment is not the goal?

Turns out the benefit doesn’t come from “doing it right”.

The benefit comes from trying.

Here is a two minute video of a beautiful explanation of why the trying matters.

I’m sharing this with you, today, so you don’t waste a single minute feeling bad about yourself today. I want you to know how normal, how human you really are.

People don’t exercise, lose weight, break addiction, stop drinking, meditate regularly, make their art, because they have superior will power.

They achieve that habit because they never stop trying.

My favorite quote from martial arts is, “A black belt is a white belt who didn’t quit.

True dat.

So do make room for your art today.

Do set aside time to note some ideas. Play with paint. Stitch a little. I’m experimenting with animals you can carry in your hand.

2016-08-24 10.55.14 (733x800)

I didn’t do as much as I’d planned, but I did SOMETHING!

Practice your intention, daily. Observe what the lizard brain monkey mind says.

Decide you only have to dedicate a wee bit of time for your art. (I allowed ten minutes to make these. Yep, I fooled my monkey mind, and actually finished these!)

And listen to the achingly beautiful, loving-kindness of Mary Oliver’s words today:

Go to your studio today. You won’t regret it.

And if you don’t get there today, why, try again tomorrow.


You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Mary Oliver 


Filed under go to the studio today, perseverence, What is the story only you can tell?


Creativity comes first. Everything else can wait. Really!

Recently I wrote about finding a new source of ideas about creativity. This 3-minute article by Todd Bisson answers 7 Questions Aspiring Writers Ask That Don’t Even Matter a Little Bit. (Short story: Write first. Everything else, later.) (In case you don’t have 3 minutes this morning.) (In which case, you really do need to do something about that to-do list…)

I loved it, because it’s true. So many folks get hung up on figuring everything out first. They spend so much time spinning their wheels, trying to finess all the marketing strategies, they never actually create a body of work to build on. And of course, in the actual doing/making, you’ll probably figure out most of what else you need to do.

I felt pretty smug as I read the list. I’ve got that all figured out already.

Then I got to my studio to work.

And felt totally unmotivated to make anything.

Fortunately, I did what I do whenever I feel stuck. I pulled out my journal (I call it my “blort book”, for…well. blorting.)

Within a paragraph, I knew what I’d done wrong.

I’d followed my to-do list.

Some of it was time-sensitive. I get the damn boot off next week. I know if I don’t line up my physical therapy appointments now, I could lose another week or two waiting for slots to open up. (Even as I was on the phone with Megan, slots were taken as we spoke.)

But did I really have to catch up on email? Well. There were one or two that needed a quick response. But the others? No. They could have waited.

Did I have to do my volunteer commitment (Instagramming!) for the art group I’m part of? Yes. Did I have to take care of my own IG account right then? No.

Did I have to do the dishes? No. (God, no. There will be more in a minute tomorrow.)

Did I have to do the laundry? No. Good god, usually I look for excuses NOT to do it. I tend to stock up on the essentials. I can go for weeks without running out of clean underwear. (Too much information?)

But it felt like I was on a roll this morning, and I ran with it. I was pleased  with how much I’d accomplished.

Until I got to the studio and realized I was out of oomph.

I can blame the fact that it’s been a long eight weeks of recovery, a long time spent off my feet (and necessarily so.) It was my priority.

hanley1med.jpgBut the day that my priority is to do dishes and laundry and check email is the day I officially declare myself housewife of the year. (Please. No. Remember that 50’s TV show, Queen for a Day? Arguably the oddest game show in television history.) (Yes, it was my favorite game show as a very young-ster. There were crowns!)

(Hint: Truly desperate housewives competed for washing machines, so they could do laundry for 13 kids faster.)

So take a good hard look at your to-do list. They can be great for writing down all those big and little tasks, the ones that wear down your brain when you try to carry them all in your head.

There are extenutating circumstances and exceptions, of course. If you are a mom, especially a new mom, yes, young ‘uns are at the top of the list. So does the work that puts food on the table (if that isn’t also your art work.) Partners and friends get top slots, too

But when you can, put your creative work way up at the top. Even a tiny bit of time, and space.

It may seem like a luxury. You may not always be able to put it in the No. 1 slot.

But it is the foundation of everything else you do.

The work of your heart completes the circle of who you are in the world, and from it comes the strength, the clarity, the energy to carry everything else.

Twenty years from now, no one will remember that your laundry basket was always empty, and your sink was never full of dishes. They will remember the powerful energy you got from the work of your heart, and how it influenced everyone you met and everything you touched.

And if, like I did, you won’t do it for yourself, do it for your kids and/or the other people looking up to you.

How can you want that fundamental wish, the power that comes being in the world with a whole heart… How can you want that for your kids/people, and not for yourself?

And how will they know what that looks like, if you don’t show them?

Go to the studio–NOW!

William Stafford has something to tell you.

p.s. I was going to include a photo of my sink. But you don’t need to be exposed to that today.






Filed under mental attitude, time management, to do list, What is the story only you can tell?