I have my craft blog up now and my first post! check it out and tell me what you think, Renaisydaisy.wordpress.com

I am moving this weekend to Chico, and I have only just started to realize what that means. I have to pack! That wouldn’t have been a big deal a few months ago when I didn’t have much stuff, but now my apt is filled with mountains of stuff that I have picked up at yard sales and thrift shops. All sorts of clothing, materials, and yarn that I plan to turn into other things and sell. Why do all the big stores lock up their cardboard dumpsters!

I am in a coffee shop right now, typing under the covering of an inspiring wall hanging with a quote, “success is not the key to happiness, happiness is the key to success. If you love what you are doing you will be successful.”  Quotes like this one hit me as a little bitter sweet. It inspires me because I believe that it is true… when you live in a country with that kind of freedom. I do, and I have been able to take  time to create beautiful skirts to sell on etsy. I am creating what is beautiful to me and on my time. However not everyone gets that opportunity. If you live somewhere, where all you can do is is work 16 hours in a hot factory just to keep your family fed, doing only what you love is a luxury. However I have been places where although the average person doesn’t have the luxury to pick and choose the way they earn their income, they are still joyful. It is because it is not what they love but who they love that they are able to surround themselves with, and that is the community around them.

 

 

This Picture was taken on a beach in India. I don’t know who took it, I had a lot of fantastic photographer friends and I found this on my computer.

I just came back from a West African dance camp where I danced all week long. I have a love hate relationship with West African dance. It is beautiful, breathtakingly beautiful, and when I am dancing to movements I have already learned I feel like I am flying. But constantly learning new moves while my whole body feels like one entire left foot, and my brain a soggy loaf of bread, I wonder what I am doing here. That is how I felt all week long. Thankfully on the last day, class wasn’t too difficult, and although I didn’t feel like I was flying, I reminded myself that I was there to gather more feathers for my wings.

The two pictures on the outside are outfits that I was trying on. I went with an agenda to buy one outfit I could perform in. I went with the one on the right. The middle picture was my little vendor station, I made a bunch of skirts hoping they would sell well to help pay off camp.

I am trying out the whole etsy thing. Crafting my own business; literally, and I think I have really found my niche. I love it. I can go for hours just cutting material, take a breather and then go for more. I love so many things, to read, write, dance… but crafting is the one thing that has always come the easiest for me. It’s one thing that I can look back on and remember, so many things that I have created without self doubt. Of course now that I am creating things to be purchased by others, I do have a little anxiety, a little self doubt, but it’s so much less than when I taught dance class or started writing and sharing my words with others. I am going to try and do better to keep up this blog, do more than the once a year posting ;-), but I am also gonna start a craft blog soon, to get my etsy business going. My “business” name is renaisydaisy and I have a renaisydaisy.com that I am working on right now. My etsy shop is Renaisydaisydesigns and once I get my business card I will really start posting a lot of my products and my craft blog is going to be renaisydaisy.wordpress.com  here are some pics of my stuff

Oh dear, it has been almost a year since blogging. Maybe I should start simple. I am back home… again. India has come and gone, and in that time I have taught West African dance, learned to Hula Hoop, meditated on God a lot. Burned my leg on a motorcycle and moped exhaust, ridden a camel and elephant, you know the usual. I am back home for a while now. I have decided to go back to college. I am renting a sweet little apartment, with a yard. I have never had a yard before, I am at the moment googling how to fill a yard with wildflowers, and have started a veggie and herb garden. I will take some pictures of my garden and post it soon. I also have all these plans for the summer to find the wild veggies and fruit and pick them like crazy. We have figs in my town and lots of blackberry bushes. I also have the wild idea of learning to skateboard. Maybe I’ll be seen skating around with a bushel basket, straw hat and juice stained clothing.

I am home, living in my little sisters apartment sharing a tiny room, full of our mattresses and bedding and clothes strewn about in every corner. I love my home town, coming here after visiting my brother in LA really makes me appreciate what is special about small towns since they are dwindling away to strip malls and housing complexes. It’s funny living with my 18 year old sister. I went with her and her 18 year old friend to the mall last night and for pizza. Oh dear me I felt like a mom, there constant talking about this girl and that girl and this girl is really dating that boy and can you believe what that girl was wearing. Every once in a while my little input from the back seat of “learned wisdom through the years”, and my brain becoming more and more exasperated brought me to realize how old I am, (or how old they were making me feel. It was funny though because my sister would comment from time to time how they were tiring me out from there chatter,  and that would make me laugh.

My travels to England were long wearisome and very comical to me this time. It started off with me sitting at the train station waiting with my luggage to catch the train to the aiport. When the train came I was in a very calm mood. I new it was the right train, and nothing to rush about, it was right there in front of me.  I casually walked over reading off the the list of names on the different cars not letting my self be bothered by the Indians rushing past me in a frenzy to board the train in time. I did get a bit nervous when the doors of the car I was supposed to be on were shut, and so were the next car. I walked farther down the train away from where I was supposed to board looking for a spot to get on, the next door had a crowd of people all trying to jam thereselves in at once while three of the men were yelling and shoving everyone out of the way trying to load huge steel chests into impossible small entry ways. I walked past that door and down a few more cars where only a few people were getting on, and almost started to step up when one of the men with the steel chests shoved his way in front of me. I started to get a little anxious when I saw the panic in his eyes. I walked much quicker to the next car and got to the door as the train started moving, the entry way of the door was so crowded that bodies were coming out the door. I hesitated while fear started  to attack my brain with scenarios. Scenarios of missing my train, or trying to jump on and getting hurt, smashing into the side of a tunnel, even though there weren’t any around and the train was still moving slowly. So I stopped thinking and jumped on with my huge traveling backpacks attached to me making me heavy.  Me and about ten Indian men behind me squeezed in like marshmallows. As the men behind me were climbing on I was getting shoved into a pile of luggage, my right leg straddling a huge suitcase and my left leg getting left behind as my upper body kept moving forward. I looked around me at all the faces, all looking at me observing my frenzied face and I could have burst out in stress relieving tears but instead I saw the situation for what it was, very very funny and I began to laugh. Eventually a very nice man (a hero in my eyes)  helped me through the packed Indian aisle while carrying my huge backpack, and we pushed  and shoved ourselves all the way through to my car. The rest of the sweaty ride I was taken care of with people feeding me chapatis full of subji (vegetables) and tart mango chutney, buying me mountain dew and water, even though I didn’t ask, and begging me to come to there home for a visit.

I am now living in the himalayas. They are stunning of course. The scenery outside our front porch is full of hills, trees, flowers, and snowy mountain peaks in the misty horizon. This is the kind of beauty that can take your breath away, but for me, when I am sitting in an old church building with airy light flooding into the ancient windows and a little lady bug is crawling along my flowery skirt, or when I am getting dressed in the morning and notice in the mirror a lady bug on my collor bone, that’s when I enjoy nature most. When I am sitting on a bench in the morning eating oranges and chai with my friends and three donkeys are crowding around us with there heads in our faces hoping we’ll share our food. When I am walking down a street in Goa with colorful old portugese houses and bouginvillea flowers carried along with the wind as if they are dancing fairys. When the wind is God whispering life into creation, flowers, leaves, my hair and puppy fur all flowing in the same breeze that is when I enjoy nature most.

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Some random guy with his Trumpet? 

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