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ANGRY: A Belly LOVE Post

If you are one of Dirty Footprints Studio’s friends on FACEBOOK, you might have caught yesterday that I announced I was planning on sharing a real heart warming story with you today.
Yep. That’s what I said.
AND, if you read THIS POST yesterday on Dirty Footprints Studio you might have got the impression that today I would be revealing some Art Saves story of a deep revealing kind.
Yep. That’s what I was alluding to too.
But today…we’re all getting Belly LOVE. And, even though it’s not exactly what I planned…this Belly LOVE has a little Art Saving thrown into it as well.
Last week was my first week of Summer Break. And what an emotional roller coaster of a week it was. But, thrown into it all–I really got moving in between my bouts of doing nothing. Almost every day I roller bladed like a Wildwoman–practiced Baron Baptiste Power Yoga–and did the ol 30 Day Shred with Jillian Micheals. I’ll tell you–I’m feeling strong and fabulous already!
But you know what else…I think things are getting all shuffled up inside me. Energy centers getting stirred and shaken. Because twice now, I’ve woken up angry.
Angry. Simple as that.
And maybe for some people that doesn’t seem so odd, but for me–it’s huge. I don’t wake up angry for no reason–unless my neighbor is up till 4 AM playing Lynard Skynard. Then I wake up angry.
But this angry is a bit debilitating. It kind of keeps me from feeling motivated and excited about the work I intend to do this summer. It brings up issues that I had no idea I was still carrying around with me and it makes me a grumpy crabcake to live with (sorry Hansel).
So yesterday, out-of-nowhere, I woke up angry again. But instead of like the first time I woke up angry this week–this time I decided to sit with it–explore it in a sense–then rather indulge in it by letting my mind sit on a carousal of angry thoughts.
First–I attacked it. I strapped on my roller blades on with the intention to burn all my angry juice. I roller bladed not like a Wildwoman through the neighborhood–but rather a Crazywoman!! I was cursing every little rock and pebble that was in my way–running over every twig that had the courage to sit in my path–and I was cutting across the street like I had not one fear in the world. Sweat was pouring from my pores. My shirt was drenched–along with my head of short hair. What usually takes me 30 minutes to skate–took me only 18.
I was on fire. And I kept thinking that I was burning angry fuel. That all this angry energy inside me was being burned like oil in a lamp.
It worked. For a little while. Then the grouch in me came back.
So I’ve done something I haven’t done in awhile, sorry to admit. I pulled out my Art Journal and I set the intention to understand this angry juice a bit better.
That’s what you see here. That’s what’s taking the place of a heart warming story (I’ll give that to you later in the week!)–or even a scandalous Art Saves story (yes, I said scandalous!). Here is some Art Journal LOVE that to me reveals somethings….like, once again, my heart feels exposed. I feel like my skin is peeled back and my emotions–dreams–all those things that make us feel vulnerable are exposed for the world to see.
Maybe that naked mermaidish creature is me–I’m standing there in water dangling my heart for the world to see.
So how is this all Belly LOVE you ask?
Well, transformation on any level is connected to all levels of existence. I’m moving more–so that’s changing the molecular make up of my body. My muscles are toning, my organs and systems are strengthening, and fat ( I like to think) is melting from my structure. I’m physically transforming into another shape or form. As my body transforms–things need to be let go of. Simple as that. There are pockets of sadness, anger, frustration, jealousy, and fear tucked away in parts of my body that I’ve neglected to notice for a long time. They’re surfacing as I move and work to change physical form. Things are bound to come up, right?
I can only burn so much. Exercising helps with that of course. But there are some parts that need to be examined–nurtured–and cared for before they’re let go of.
That’s where my Art Journal comes in. That’s how Art Saves me sometimes. Saves me from giving up on myself–or accepting that things are a certain way–just because they are..this way…for now.
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