by Jill MacGregor

I have a spot reserved in my heart for the small voice that speaks at the exact moment the yammering crowd silences –when the noise parts and the small voice says the thing everyone is to afraid to say—and usually the last thing I want to admit.

Finally.

Sort of.

But until that voice speaks, the yammering persists. And amidst all that noise, seeds are planted—well, thoughts get planted—firmly, in my rocky, little pea patch of a brain and sometimes the one thing that thrives is doubt.

Excuse me while I second guess myself.

Psst. Shut it. Busy in here.

This small voice—let’s call it clarity, bright and glaring. My horrible internal friend who would never be mistaken for a yes man, by anyone’s definition.

This small voice, is not always kind but it is so on the money. Its sentences often start, “You know exactly what to do, you big whiner…” and “Seriously?”

This small voice is the first to announce: “Something is not working. Welcome to your crossroads.”

To which I respond, “Aww dang—again? Sumbitch…”

Choosing the Right Story for Yourself

Bringing things together in your life requires patience and persistence and percolation.

I love alliteration.

Developing your personal mythology is not for the faint of heart. Your story gets really interesting at the So, here I am at a crossroads part, especially in retrospect. In the moment, it’s a churny pain in the ass.

Let’s look at what got you here.

Untying Your Knot

For things to change, something usually has to stop or end. Sometimes it’s not your choice; sometimes it’s not any easy choice to make. And at first, you might even miss the thing that you’ve let go off and you may notice that it’s left a little black space where nothing else seems to grow.

Loss can make you hesitant. Loss can also make you fight for the wrong things.

Wrassle. Struggle. Fight. What do you want me to tell you—that it’s not fair? Maybe, but this story is yours for a reason.

You’ve got something to solve.

It may all start with some reoccurring pattern—that’s usually what the struggle is all about. That thing you thought you had already done for the last time but here it is again just in different wrappings.

Truth, the hot stinking truth—it begins to seep into your situation and you welcome it the same way you welcome noxious gas. Why is it that something that is designed to be such a solid, helpful reflection of our internal and external situation can make us hide and deny its existence? Truth is such an influencer even though our ego likes to claim that role for itself.

Cue denial. Perhaps it will only make a short cameo.

But, you’re starting to get it. Because that small voice keeps chirping—it is the smoke detector that has a dying battery. It’s going to keep beeping until you change the battery.

Truth–just try to ignore it. It will stand too close until you feel its breath on your neck—truth is a bullying, forcing function. Truth can be very intimidating—how do you argue with something that’s –well, undeniable?

But you do spend some time arguing it down ‘cause you’re so smart—and you are as effective as a drunk arguing for his car keys. You want it your way. But the truth has no flexible points. It is what it is– clear and firm.

The Desire to be Real

“It’s not what you did. It’s what you do next.”

A friend said this to me while we were philosophizing and it has stuck in my head, echoing around in the wide open spaces of my mind.

It’s not about the damage. It’s about the reconstruction.

Not about the omission but the commission.

Not how it ties you down but how you free yourself.

It’s what you do next.

I have a tendency to rub my face in my mistakes, like a bad dog who should know better, hoping that the sting of shame will be enough of a reminder to keep me from making the same mistake again. It can be hard to pry myself out of the constant replay I force myself to watch.

I bet we all do that to some degree.

Shake it off like a wet dog. Your task is to live in the present.

What are you going to do next?

I bet it’s going to make us pick up our pompoms and shake our asses.

If you liked this, you may want to read:

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by Jill MacGregor

liminality: a psychological or metaphysical subjective state, conscious or unconscious, of being on the “threshold” of or between two different existential planes

I harbor a deep and growing resentment toward the horoscope in the Sunday paper. It repeatedly tells me *today is a 7*. I cannot get past a 7. Every flipping Sunday—7.

My horoscope score (HS) is a 7.

I just invented Horoscope Score^TM.

Everyone else is having 8’s and 9’s…it makes me think they get tired when they get to September and they say, “Aw, let’s just give the Virgos a 7 again. They won’t notice.”

But we do. We are Virgos. And that in itself is not always easy—nor is it often a 7.

Liminality showed up in recently my horoscope and caught my eye…it felt so very *not* a 7.

Sidebar: Sometimes I read other horoscopes only to gather evidence against my argument of being a 7. Because, of course, I want to be fully prepped to defend my case in Horoscope Court. Best argument to date: I am definitely not a 7—maybe more of a 9 or, dare I say it, a 10—because I am experiencing liminality.

So, moving from the topic of my horoscope rage…I think there might be something to this liminality–excuse me while I overuse my new word. I do feel like I’m in a bit of a jumping off place (HS 9)-—maybe a launching pad (HS 10)-—or if nothing else, some sort of transition (HS 7).

Transition is such a boring word, boring like buying tires. When you think about it, a step forward involves one foot in the past and one foot in the future. Passing from one to the next—let’s call it what it really is.

Time travel (HS 11).

My next step creates the past just as it creates the future.

Liminality. So much more interesting than transition.

Jill is experiencing liminality. Jill is liminalious. Liminalicious. Even though I’m not sure how to use it in a sentence, I pretty sure it will make you study me and wonder.

And not think I am just having a mid-life crisis.

And, as you study me and wonder, you will notice that things are mid-process, that colors are slipping off me only to be replaced by new ones. You will see all that I have shed lying in a heap at my feet and wonder about the slightly raw and pink newness that has taken its place. You will nod at my desire to stretch my new baby muscles, tight like rubber bands.

You will think words like re-invention and rebirth.

That sounds so much more glamorous than mid-life crisis…

But the Virgo in me wants to distill it down to its truest nugget – and also find something I can use properly in a sentence.

I’m doing gap assessment.

Once you understand where the gaps lie—that tender spot between what is and what will be—you can then lash your bridge together and close said gap.

This will allow me to touch something that I once could only see from a great distance.

That’s got to be at least a 9.

If you liked this, you may want to read:

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by Jill MacGregor

Action expresses priorities.

~ Mohandas K. Gandhi

Drowning and Swimming – both involve water and splashing about but, of course, you’d never confuse the two. You may think that’s a ridiculous statement but reflect a moment. There are choices you make, things you decide to do that make you sink like a stone in life yet you tell yourself that they represent forward motion. You are in the water and there is splashing…but you are going down.

Are you struggling for the fun of it? And as you say “Why would anyone choose to struggle?” three or four people will probably pop into your head.

Are you one of them?

Ask yourself this: What do you think you deserve?

It can be very simple: Are you able to say please and thank you—and really mean it?

But that is other people. You’re fixing to get to that super important life changing thing as soon as you make it through your to-do list.

Sidebar: So that I can avoid all the messages from friends asking why I wrote a blog post about them…this is not about you.

This is about all of us.

Which one of these feels familiar?

The Finger Puppets, Dancing Bears, Key Shaker—

You’re very practiced at finding that clever way of not getting it done completely or correctly each time. You avoid your goal by adding yet another elaborate task to the mix. You’re the man behind the curtain, pulling levers, creating smoke—hoping that no one ever discovers that you are a fraud.

You don’t seem to be comfortable getting what you want. But all the talk you do certainly distracts the crowd. All the puffs of smoke and brightly colored scarves in the air…there’s a lot to look at even though it contains no substance.

You’re afraid. But we all live that moment. Put away all your magic tricks and tall tales and start talking about your fear. Pick one person. You will probably hear this: “Yea, me too.”

Everyone has fears. Gently give yourself permission to be human—the rest of us already have.

You are a doer of great things.

The Gift Blocker—

It’s never going to be right for you, is it? You’re always wishing that it had happened at a different time or a different way—because then it would have been perfect and only then could you have enjoyed it.

Your focus is on the *not* and *if only* portion of every situation.

Maybe there’s a part of you that feels this approach shields your from disappointment–to start all new endeavors with low expectations. But you’re really making a declaration: please take your stinkin’ gift back because I can tell, without opening it, shaking it or holding it up to the light that it is subpar.

Opportunities are given to you, just like gifts, and you never know how a gift will change the course of your life.

Life is a bag full of surprises and you, you are here to LEARN.

Because let’s face it. If you knew everything, we would have put you in charge a long time ago.

The Spin Cycler—

You make problems for the sake of making problems and love the accompanying struggle like it’s a badge of courage. You spend a lot of time tying tiny little knots in things, then spend more time untying them only to call it *progress*.

Imagine all you could accomplish if you used all that energy in a different way.

Creating churn and froth is not forward motion. Churn has no give back. It’s not a sign of innovation to build something only to tear it down.

Honey, hop on the Love Train, immediately. Your burning need to identify everything that you think is wrong is delaying you from seeing everything that is wonderful.

So, no more pretending, no more avoidance. Quit being a puss about it. Today. Accept the gifts. Embrace the positive. Allow for differences. Be your strongest advocate. And, become a laser beam for all you wish for—even if deep down inside you think you don’t deserve it.

Here are some easy words but also a possible hard truth: you do deserve it.

Get ready.

If you liked this, you may want to read:

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by Jill MacGregor

giving the paparazzi the stink eye in my younger years

I have found myself running into the girl I used to be lately. You may think that must mean some carefree version of myself, untethered by serious adult themes but that would not be the case.

I’ve definitely gotten younger as I’ve gotten older.

But I am rediscovering an old theme—an old ghost—that used to keep me up at night. It’s that first hurdle we all are faced with, I think: What am I supposed to do with my life? Who am I supposed to be? What am I meant to influence? Am I smart enough to recognize the signs that will point me in the right direction?

Honestly, I’m not sure I’ve ever stopped asking myself these questions.

These questions definitely got stirred up recently when I found an artifact in my closet.

I keep thinking about it.

It’s my Strong-Campbell Interest Inventory Assessment. I can’t believe I still have it. I remember when I got the results –some 25+ years ago—I thought it was full of shit. Because at 23, I already knew everything.

EVERYTHING, people.

Except what to pursue as a career.

At 23, I was using my double major of French and International Studies to manage a trendy, little bakery. At this point, I think it’s important to remind you that “croissant” is French and I pronounced it better than anyone at the bakery.

Yep. That’s what 6 years of French and living abroad for a semester will get you.

So I baked. And I loved it. I loved researching new recipes. I loved the science of baking and its demand for precision. I found that the toque I wore at work was tremendous camouflage for my increasingly unusual hairstyles/hair colors. No customer knew what was going on under there until I *released the Kraken* at the end of my shift and the long pink curls fell over one eye in direct contrast to the buzz cut on the rest of my head and the –gift with purchase–long purple and blond tail.

My hair was a strange cross between Burt Lancaster in Elmer Gantry and the female singer in the Thompson Twins.

It was the ‘80’s…

But here was the rub. You see, the 2 years after college I’d watched many of my friends put on suits and go to traditional jobs that somehow corresponded with their college major while I put on my apron and baked.

And as time passed, I began to feel the difference in the choice I’d made–to the point that I began having very quiet conversations with myself about doing something that might involve working for the MAN and following a path I proudly fought for no real reason…other than being young.

So, I searched a bit of counsel.

And, as I sat across from the career counselor, my erupting fuchsia curls assaulting her very senses –and at the very college that encouraged the pursuit of my French major even though the reasoning for my choice was “I like French”– I realized she was just a few years older than me.

But she wasn’t wearing Birkenstocks or smelling oddly of chocolate and vanilla or thinking, as I was, that I needed to go to the co-op and get some falafel before that new client stopped by to have me read their Tarot cards.

She was probably thinking how nice she looked in plaid and that her brunette bob was never going to go out of style.

I imagine her thoughts were peppered with ideas about career trajectory and maximizing her potential.

I was a little jealous of her at this moment for her ongoing clarity that led her from one sensible decision to the next. It made me feel a bit…cartoonish.

I approached the test results the same way I would have approached a horoscope: slightly skeptical but still hoping to find some definitive answers for my life.

She said my results showed that I would probably never be a farmer or in the military, as if a single glance wouldn’t have allowed us to come to that conclusion. I rated lower than low when it can to teaching, especially as a foreign language teacher, or any career that ended in -ist or -ian.

I scored very highly with the Artistic themes, though, especially with art and writing. There was a high score in Adventure, however that is translated. The job that popped highest on my results was advertising executive.

That would so be working for the man.

I shifted nervously in my Birks and rolled my eyes.

I also scored highly with the Enterprising themes especially in the Sales related field.

I was horrified. Selling? That is so what the MAN would want me to do. Sell a thing to make money. It sounded horrible.

These results seemed to fly in the face of the life I was currently leading. Because, people, at this point, I was volunteering at the co-op to get my 15% off of my organic kefir. I took my own jars…And lets all remember this was 25+ years ago which officially made me…a granola.

Alright. Get the picture? I was a pink haired, Birkenstock wearing granola who ran a bakery and read Tarot cards professionally on the side. My friends and I discussed our auras and the use of cranial sacral massage to rid us of baggage from our past lives.

When I left I felt quite certain that the test only had the ability to discern my dislikes and absolutely lacked the power to tell me what I should do with my life.

I discarded the (NOT)Strong-Campbell Interest Inventory Assessment that day.

So imagine my surprise when I found these test results—which are such an ancient artifact that they are printed on paper.

Because when I short list my career and interests now…well, I ended up pursuing everything that damn test said I would.

When I eventually left the bakery several months after taking that test, full of fear and the absolute knowledge that I was doing the right thing, I started a 20+ year career in advertising sales, working at TV stations around the country. Much to the horror of my woo-woo friends…

I’m an artist and have been showing my paintings for the last 5 years.

And I’m a writer.

Show off-y test.

It makes me feel a bit like a word problem—that somehow I can be solved mathematically. And I’m sure you can understand how frustrating that is to the girl with the pink hair and too many piercings– that she can be so easily deciphered. After all the work she had put into being unsolvable.

I couldn’t help but notice how things have changed—and how they have stayed the same–when I ran into this girl I used to be. We both live by our intuition but I notice, now, how much more informs my intuition than when I was younger—fortunately.

And, we both love the smell of the unbeaten path and slightly uncharted forward motion. It has always led somewhere interesting.

If you like this, you may want to read:

by Jill MacGregor

You, you, you and you. AND ESPECIALLY YOU! You are all here to teach me something that I cannot learn any other way.

Whether you are endlessly being reintroduced to my last nerve or are busy opening my eyes (and possibly my cold, black heart) by that last thing you said or did, you are my teacher.

And, these lessons you bring…I fight them, I push them away until, finally, I inch cautiously closer. The lessons you teach are live demonstrations on what to do and not do.

So much to file away for later, so much to emulate, so much to try and incorporate.

You may think I’m not paying attention as you watch me make the same mistakes over and over, batting away the good things because I still don’t understand their importance in my personal ecosystem. You are so patient to teach me as I discard and waste out of fear or stubbornness or my own inability to see that things can be different.

You are my sharp stick, constantly poking me in the side. The twinge that helps me understand that I am GETTING WARMER even if I am still not quite HOT. You become the feeling in my gut that helps me understand that adjustments still need to be made and life is a series of course corrections—and that is a good thing because it represents the change I try to create…even if I fall a little short at times.

I hear your words in my head and they remind me that I am never alone. You help me so much and I don’t know if you realize it.

Every day allows me to begin again. Every lesson loads my arsenal. Every one of my teachers helps me see that life is more about reconstruction than it is about fracture—more about working the puzzle than admiring the finished product.

Every time you show me who you are, I learn more about who I am.

I just wanted to make sure that knew that.

You may want to read Saying the Words now.

You may not know this about me but I am an artist. I been very surprised over the years by what painting has taught me about life—and I don’t mean about appreciating form and color. Painting is the one thing I can’t multi-task my way through. It demands my complete and undivided attention. Maybe that’s because an unhurried mind is more observant. These are some things that Painting has whispered in my ear while I’ve put my brush to canvas.

1. Don’t ever give up just because its hard/ugly/looks unsolvable

Because, friends, sometimes I would like to get the lighter fluid out and douse a canvas. My lesson here is that I have simply not completed the task. I am impatient. I think I should be at conclusion but I’m really in the middle of the process. If I produce enough follow through, conjure the will to try and push forward, I’ll see where this painting needs to go. It only takes one brushstroke to give me a new idea and provide me with a new direction.

2. My biggest mistakes can turn into my sweetest accomplishments

See: Lighter fluid

There have been times when I set a partially painted canvas in the corner just to stare at its ugliness. Oh dear god, who painted this crap? When the answer is *me*, I have found universally that if I don’t give up–when I get in there and continue painting, even if I’m not exactly sure which direction to take—that I begin to see the painting form. The paint knows the way. But if I give up, the paint never makes it to the canvas. This process is about trust and taking a walk in the dark. We all have a tendency to be control freaks in one way or another. The hardest choice to make is to trust that everything is going to work out perfectly. Possibly not our personal version of perfect—maybe a version that’s unexpected. There’s also an excellent by product: it feels great to not give up.

3. Know when to say *when*

The hardest part of painting is knowing when you are done. The next stroke can be overkill and take your oeuvre from subtle to amateurish. Everything has a natural stopping point. Jobs, paintings, hobbies, relationships, our lives, the extent of our feelings, patience, energy—everything has a natural stopping point. And, that is not the same thing as giving up. It’s about observing something in a particular state.

4. Staring and thinking are very important

Never underestimate the importance of percolating on it. When I stare at a canvas, I’m not having quiet time. I’m painting, I’m trying new things, and I’m planning— all in my head. There’s something so important about running the game from start to finish in your head before you actually do it in real life. Ask any Olympic athlete. It gives us the power of *I will! I can! I did!*

5. Do something completely different when you’re stuck

When I get stuck on a painting and don’t know what to do next, I’ll grab a color without looking or choose a color I seldom use. I’m amazed at how doing the least predictable thing can jog me out of a rut. The other thing I do when I’m stuck—I will hang the painting upside down and work on it. Everything’s about perspective. If you can’t imagine what something would look like from a different point of view, physically show yourself. It never fails.

6. You don’t have to wait for Inspiration—it can totally be created

I want to slap the person hard across the face who uses lack of inspiration as an excuse to not do something. You, sir, are a liar! Can I show you the thin thin, thin, thin (it’s really thin) line that separates lack of inspiration and procrastination? My friend, when you are feeling uninspired, when the muse is not whispering in your ear, there is but one thing to do. I will share my secret. It’s something I tell myself each and every time I make the horrible face because I have no motivation to create art.
Shut up and do it.
That is what I say. My gift to you. Really, quit your bellyaching and just shut up and do it.

7. If you like it, it’s good

Not everything has a measurement attached to it to let us know if it’s hit the mark. Many things, like art, are subjective. Each person has their own idea of what’s good, better, best. You know what? Your opinion is just as valid as theirs. Do not forget this.

8. There are no mistakes

Two words: happy accident. Just because you didn’t plan doesn’t mean it wasn’t meant to be. There’s something thrilling about taking control of a big piece of ugly and making it something enjoyable and pretty. And also, relax! Try being a participant in the process instead of the drum major. Your being in charge is not only way things get accomplished. Ouch, right?

9. And that’s why they made white

Footnotes avaialble at “Know when to say when”

This is really my way of saying, yet again, that there are no mistakes. Let’s say you create a painting titled *Super Ugly to the 10th Power*. Get out your white paint. Squirt it on. Start over. There is power in knowing that whatever you do, you have options. Let me make the analogy a different way. I used to be a baker and I loved it. But sometimes yummy things can come out of the oven ugly. Or gooey, in a wrong way. Do not throw out your *mistake*. This is why they made chocolate. Make frosting and drizzle. Yes, it’s a bit of camouflage, you’re sort of just putting a dress on it. Yes, it’s nowhere near the delicate pastry you might have originally intended. But will it be enjoyed? Will it reach an audience you may not have originally intended that will be just as pleased as the audience you did intend? The answer is yes…it is chocolate. And chocolate is magic.
Note to readers: every situation has a chocolate equivalent. Its up to you to discover its powers.

10. Why waste all that good pain

This is by far my favorite and most used. There will always be times in our lives when pain becomes leaden…sad things happen and they can hollow us out. These feelings are as palpable as they are oppressive. I know when you find yourself at this moment, as we all have, it’s hard to do anything that might lift you up. Try to think of pain as an ingredient, not an obstacle, to creation. But do know—it’s not a necessary ingredient. It’s really important to remember that especially once the sun has started to shine. That whole tortured artist thing…not so much.

Would you like to see the art that taught me all these valuable lessons? All my paintings hang in my virtual gallery at Pitchfork Art. See if you can pick out the ones I wanted to burn before completion…

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