Welcome to a love letter, a monthly publication from artist, writer and yoga teacher Colby Mackenzie featuring stories of my loving practices and support for yours. This year (Oct 2021 - Sept 2022), we’re practicing with The Artist’s Way. Thanks for being here.
Hello loves!
How are you doing?
No, really.
Where you at?
If you are tired, please go rest. You can revisit this letter anytime. No big deal.
Welcome to July - the first full month of summer in the northern hemisphere. And happy 2nd anniversary of this love letter! (My first post was in July 2020 - I’m reminded both of my original mission and how much I’ve grown and you can read it here.)
In July on cloudless days the sun beams down hot on the shoulders.
The heat suffusing the dry air reminds me of the sanskrit word “tapas” meaning “heat, warmth, fire”, calls to the mind visions of burning desire, sensations of rage.
I think of fireflies, the desert, the ocean, the colors coral and turquoise, hot buns stuffed with cool lobster, and gardens in bloom.
And I think of fireworks, grilled hot dogs, and cold beer as we annually celebrate this country’s independence. From tyranny.
independence (n.): fact of not depending on others or another, self-support and self-government.
All life on this planet is connected; all humans are essentially the same (just ask Neil deGrasse Tyson). We need our environment, one another, our communities, our networks and infrastructures to survive - globally at this point (just watch one of the Belle Haven crew’s favorite shows: Alone (History, Hulu, Netflix)). But evolution has granted humans consciousness, free will. We make choices. We take responsibility for our own lives as they are ours to live. May we all experience that birthright.
An Artist’s Way
June was one big return home to myself. Without a job schedule for the first time in over a decade, I had wondered how I’d spend my time and energy during this savasana summer. Would I fill up my spacious free time with to dos? Would my anxiety haunt my days and keep me running purposelessly ragged?
At the core of my questions was simply fear as I faced spacious time and the dreaded question: WHO AM I? Without work or a schedule or massive list of to dos. Without constant email and social media. With mostly my choices to fill my days.
And I am overjoyed at what I’ve discovered.
My month was essentially one long artist date. I played with dogs and gardened. I took my time driving from Virginia to Massachusetts, stopping to car camp (more below!) and take myself on a nice dinner date. I played with paint and stickers, went on long walks on the beach, created 1 minute videos of nature in movement, planted flowers, had a spa day, sweat moving furniture, did yoga outside, danced on the deck, watched RHONY in bed. Engulfing myself in luxury while I have it.
Pampering helps us recover.
Recovery helps us get healthy.
The world needs healthy humans.
In June I practiced Ch. 9: Recovering a Sense of Compassion. I held that word, compassion, with me on most days instead of the text - remembering that lovingkindness and self compassion meditations I’ve practiced and what they taught me. One day when I let my social anxiety run me ragged, panicking about the right cooler to bring to the beach with friends (LOL), instead of beating myself up I shook my head and laughed, stopped what I was doing and took a big breath, began again. I actually put my arms around myself one day when I got upset, as if I was holding a child. It really helped. I reminded myself it’s okay that I’ve spent so much precious time blocked, that I’m not behind everyone else, that things take the time they take. Some days when I make mistakes, I now even manage to laugh.
Slowly, as we practice our morning pages and our artist dates, we begin to show ourselves kindness. As soon as that happens, we share kindness with others.
The author, Julia Cameron, notes during this stage of the creative recovery process that “it may be tempting to abandon ship at this point. Don’t! We will undertake healing the shame of past failures. We will gain in compassion as we reparent the frightened artist child who yearns for creative accomplishment. We will learn the tools to dismantle emotional blocks and support renewed risk.”
The essays cover fear, enthusiasm, creative u-turns, and blasting through blocks.
She writes, “Do not call the inability to start laziness. Call it fear.” I remember all the ideas I’ve had whirling about in my frenetic brain, the countless projects I talked about for so long instead of simply starting the work. I would chastise my pathetic inability to begin, my “laziness”. No. I was afraid. I still am afraid, but actually doing the work, beginning the creative project, makes it far less scary than standing there and staring at it, panicked.
She reminds us that we must reimagine our work as play - that it is enthusiasm, not discipline, that returns us again and again to the page or easel or computer or garden or sidewalk or town hall or wherever your creation(s) lead you.
My favorite exercise from the chapter wasn’t one of the tasks (I didn’t do those) but a series of questions outlined in the blasting through blocks section. It helped me get over my fears and resentments before starting my first independent interior design project (more to come!) and I’m proud to say that not only did I begin but am overjoyed with the process and about to finish it!
This month I’ll review Chapter 10: Recovering a Sense of Self-Protection. Julia summarizes, “we explore the perils that can ambush us on our creative path. Because creativity is a spiritual issue, many of the perils are spiritual perils. In the essays, tasks, and exercises… we search out the toxic patterns we cling to that block our creative flow.”
I feel resistance to this topic already - the word “spiritual” still feels a bit hollow in my mouth. My relationship to “God” is awkward, unconvinced. But throughout this recovery process I have discovered the inarguable benefits, the power, of creativity and its power to transform the self, the other, and our relationship(s).
The goal of this work is to come home to the self, with its individual set of idiosyncrasies. And the point is to share it. Humanity and your soul need you to.
P.S. People come to The Artist’s Way/creative recovery if and when they’re ready. You can read more about why creativity = love here and buy the workbook here if you’d like support (there’s also a post-retirement edition).
Practice
Our practice recording (click Listen Now above) is the first of several tools I teach in my signature Mindful Breathing for Stress Relief class, noticing the breath. The impact that this simple practice can have on the self blows my mind. It feels like actual magic.
The mere act of turning our attention to the breath changes it. It tends to slow it down, deepen and even it out as we move our mental energy down into the body.
The yogis noticed how pranayama practices (limb 4 of yoga’s 8) tended to clear the mind, making it a natural prep step on the way to meditation (limb 7) and enlightenment (limb 8).
Modern science has proven this connection by discovering that the diaphragm, the muscle that contracts and expands the lungs (the lungs don’t move by themselves!), is connected to the central nervous system (aka brain & spinal cord) via the phrenic nerve. The respiratory system affects the nervous system and vice versa. In other words, the state of your breath usually reflects your state of mind and vice versa. Changing one impacts the other.
To calm the breath is to calm the mind.
Especially if you feel resistance to this practice, commit to trying it at least once this month. See what happens. You deserve it.
NOTE: If you have any medical conditions/concerns, please consult your healthcare practitioner(s) about incorporating respiratory/mindfulness exercises into your care plan. If at any point you feel distress during practice, stop immediately and take care of yourself.
P.S. Like my yoga teaching? Crave live practice? You/your organization can join my Mindful Breathing for Stress Relief live workshop waitlist for the Fall (and beyond) here.
Loving Lately: A Rose and A Thorn
A Long Weekend Artist Date: Car Camping
I’m seizing this summer’s freedom with wild appetite. I camped alone for the first time ever on my recent drive from Virginia to Massachusetts, ad-libbing a stop at a family campground in a small town near the border of Pennsylvania and New Jersey, about 5 minutes away from the Delaware River. I lived in my car for three days and relished in the solitude, the fresh air, the sense of total freedom and adventure.
I wrote the following Insta poem to encapsulate the experience, which was such a revelation (of joy, of self reliance, of the enduring promise of humanity) that I booked another car camping trip for later in the month, this time exploring Acadia National Park in Maine.
Car camping is
the most joy I ever knew
in this body at this age;
to throw off things
and that leaden worry
to keep only what you love/need
and improvise the rest;
this adventure alone with only
one’s muscle and wit
and all the kindness:
of neighbors and their tools
of strangers with directions and fuel
of servers who celebrate in delight
of nature and her sunny weather
of a car whose cracked-open window
never once let the evening raindrops enter
as I laid me down to rest.
Heads Up! Almost Scammed
I had a beautiful West Elm couch that wasn’t coming with us when we moved out of our apartment last month. I posted the couch on Craigslist, and the following ensued. The more you know!
This is a clever, well-orchestrated, and now popular scam. Here’s how it goes.
The scammer reaches out quickly (minutes/hours after your post) confirming they want to purchase your item. You’re likely more of a target if you say in the ad, like I did, that the item must go and by a certain date. They offer extra money for you to take it down off of Craigslist and hold it for them (never do this), building trust. You are excited you have one less thing to worry about (lol).
They say they can only pay via a cashier check (a historically safe method of payment but no longer) and will rush mail it (Craigslist has a notice on their site to never accept cashiers checks, a memo I clearly missed).
The check will be delayed. The delay is planned and an important part of the scam. They will make excuses for its delay. “Michael” said he was at work and forgot, that there was additional USPS delay due to the Memorial Day holiday.
They will only be able to “confirm” the cashier check via the USPS tracking number, not a receipt from the bank itself.
They may switch phone numbers at some point, saying they’re reaching out from their work line.
You will receive the check at the 11th hour. The check will be for more (likely way more) than they owe you. In my case, they owed me $950 and sent a check for $3,000. I of course, innocent to a fault, took this as a great gift from a stranger, a sign from the universe my lack of income all summer will turn out alright (it was also the exact amount I said the couch was worth in the post). The check may also look a little funny - in my case, my last name was lowercase and the sender was a strange LLC that didn’t come up in an internet search.
They will repeat to please let them know when you have deposited the check so they can schedule pick up; they will not pick up the item before you’ve confirmed the check is in your account - more building trust. They will say “please” a lot.
As soon as you tell them the check is deposited, the tone will change. They will say “give me the difference in the amount I sent you versus the amount owed when I pick up the item.” I knew it was a scam as soon as he said this, but unfortunately I’d already deposited the fraudulent check. (If I’d agreed, the scammers would have walked away with $2,050 and a free couch before I even knew it was a bad check.)
You will call them out on the scam, and they will deny, deny, deny. They will continue to text you to schedule the pick up for the item and their money.
Now the fallout is your responsibility. They know you’re in a bind having to get rid of the item. They know it will take 7-10 days for the check to officially bounce, and the bank can do nothing in the meantime since you yourself are the one who deposited it.) And now they can play on our fears and suspicions of each other as they have your home address. “Michael” never threatened, only persisted texting a few more times and then stopped.
A small voice kept warning me all week, telling me to re-post the couch and not hold it for this person, telling me to organize a donation pickup while there was still time, but I had 100 other things to do with a struggling mind and body, and kept saying back “let’s just see what happens.” This small voice is our knowing, our instinct, that is usually drowned out with other seemingly more important but superfluous sounds.
Despite the multiple red flags, I was operating from a place of pure adrenaline, of reactivity and stress, and wasn't thinking clearly. I deposited the check into my savings account using my mobile bank app (it is an enormous blessing I didn’t deposit it into my checking account).
After it was deposited, I walked out onto the balcony to tell my bubsy the couch was all set, glowing at how generous a stranger had just been ($3,000 was the amount I said the couch was initially purchased for in the Craigslist ad). His ears pricked up, ears he has tuned with experience. He said babe, that it probably a scam. The interwebs confirmed his suspicion. I sunk to the floor and cried like a baby, cried like a kid who had just seen her dog get hit by a car. I had clung to this stranger’s generosity for hope, for strength, and I had been betrayed. It hurt, a lot. I felt ridiculous and stupid.
I called the bank. It takes one business day for the check to go from “pending” to deposited (initial clearance), but it takes 7-10 business days for the bank to determine the check is no good via a clearing house per banking laws. They deposit it in the meantime, and it looks like the funds are good to go (The internet (or your boyfriend if you’re me) will tell you more - Google it!).
When we reasonably determined the check was a scam, it was 8PM on Thursday. We were scheduled to move out at 8:30 AM on Friday, and now I had a couch so heavy it takes 3 big dudes to move to get rid of. So, I panicked. I blasted the internet. I sent an email to leasing office asking what the cost would be if I had to leave it there, figuring based on all our regular charges it was in the hundreds of dollars. I sent frantic emails to local charities. I submitted quotes to furniture removers on Angi’s list. The first call back I got was from a junk hauler named Angel at 10 PM and I booked him.
I was at a mental, physical, spiritual and emotional breaking point after the past 2+ years, after leaving my career of 11 years, setting up a new biz and getting a rough bout of COVID the week prior. I spent our last evening in our beloved apartment as a raw nerve - crying in the bathtub, trying and failing at breathing exercises, stressing out my partner, unable to make even basic decisions, unable to sleep.
And I spent the first free day after our arduous multi-day move on the phone with the bank, who confirmed there was nothing they could do. I couldn’t file a fraud claim as I was the one who deposited the check. I had to wait for the check to bounce on its own and not use the funds.
This required more work of paying attention on my end - making sure the monthly withdrawals from that account into my Ellevest investments didn’t occur while the bad check funds were in there (there were two I had to immediately reschedule). If any of that fake $3,000 was spent, I would owe that money back to the bank.
This was a huge pain in the ass and drama that we did not need at the 11th hour of the move. But COVID is hard times for people, and this is what happens. People are vulnerable in more ways than one. People take advantage. Given the wait times for the fraud line at the bank, it’s a safe guess that I am not alone.
If I’d kept my head, which felt actually impossible at that point, I could have remained grounded, and not let the pain and panic descend. I could have just said, oh well, and surrendered. And ultimately, it turned out, simply leaving the damn couch in the apartment would have cost me zero effort and only $30 (we got that email from the leasing office at 12:30 PM on Friday as we drove away - HARD LOLZ). It probably would have found a good home with one of the maintenance guys.
Basically, if I’d done literally NOTHING, it would have worked itself out for me. I would have saved hundreds of dollars in time, money, and energy, not to mention the unquantifiable effects on my health. But I promptly forgot my own lesson from our June love letter, to go lightly, to try less, as I promised I would and made everything harder.
This is why we practice again and again. This is why healing and fortifying the nervous system is so crucial. This is the cost of perpetual stress and operating from a deficit, from a place of burnout. THIS IS THE COST OF HOW WE ARE LIVING OUR LIVES.
This is why we learn. My life has been relatively easy and full of good fortune; I’ve never had to fight in the trenches of society for what’s mine or do the unthinkable to get by or been in a violent situation or a victim of serious crime. As we left our cocoon to be, as Joan Didion writes, “loose in the world”, this felt like a gift. As a new small business owner, I need to be wary and informed to protect myself. I need to do my due diligence, do business with people I trust. And most importantly, I need to trust my instincts, which had warned me early and repeatedly.
This failure was humiliating. But I remember from The Artist’s Way, we must have the courage to be beginners, not only in art but in all new things. I remember the lessons this past month on recovering a sense of compassion, that I am worthy of compassion.
I remember these lessons I’ve read again and again in Women Who Run with the Wolves. Chapter 1 is “Death to the Too Good Mother”. Wolf mothers run their pups til their paws bleed not to be cruel but to prepare them for living independently, for surviving in the wild. Wolf lesson #7 is tune your ears. There is malice in the world. A malevolence, evident in people only because it is evident in the universe - there is creation AND death. Ask the tornado. Shiva - the destroyer of worlds. This malice is not personal, even when it feels like it is. And I don’t have to write off Craigslist or internet selling entirely, just keep my ears tuned.
And this is why we trust - why we can trust, why we must. In the end, the couch was given to our lovely TaskRabbit, Piena, who came on Friday to help us with the rest of the move and who himself had been recently and successfully scammed out of a personal loan. Angel and José were there in the morning and willing to help move it into his van (a herculean task), giving me a big hug before driving away. It felt like poetic justice, the closing of the circle, and made me glad.
On the drive down to the eastern shore later that day, I saw a billboard that read, “Good finds a way.”
Shitty things WILL happen to everyone. Realizing this is part of growing up. But maybe, we can trust that goodness will always find its way back to us. I need to believe this anyway to survive.
And now, may we never speak of the couch debacle again - I promise bubsy! :)
How are you showing yourself love and kindness? Any glimpses of creativity in your days?
I’d love to know! Comment below or simply respond to this email.
Thank you as always for reading.
Sending you love and sunshine,
Colby
This monthly letter is given freely with love. If you’d like to support or show appreciation for my work, option to Venmo any amount to @Colby-Sheffer. Want to learn more about me and my work? Check out my website. Thank you for your attention dear!
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