I've moved...

hola gorgeous souls.

for anyone who may have missed it or is new to this blog, just wanted to let you know that I've packed up and moved homes.

You can now find me over here continuing in my joy rebel antics.

I hope you'll join me!

creative sunday:: doing stuff that scares you

fence, nikon d50 digital

It seems fitting on this last post on this blog (more on that later), that I was able to conquer two of my big creative fears.

The first is attempting to texturize photos using layers in photoshop-like I did in the photo above.

A friend of mine told me how to do this a long time ago but...well...it wasn't something I'd done before and because I couldn't picture how to do it in my head, it felt overwhelming.

My opinion on taking risks in art may be different than mosts. If I am overwhelmed to the point that I don't know where to start, trying to force myself to do it or just 'push through the fear' will just drive me away from it.

I get comfortable with smaller steps first. I DO something, even if it's not the project that scares me. In the doing of smaller steps, I gain confidence to try the more intimidating projects

In the example of the photo above, I got really familiar with the more basic editing options first. I got to the point where adjusting exposure and contrast, adding a border, etc became second nature.

And second nature means comfortable enough to get curious about next steps. And now that I have a confidence level in previous steps and a curiosity about next steps, I find myself motivated to work on those layers until I get it.

And so it is for art as well.


starting, nikon d50 digital

I've attempted mixed media before. Some forms I feel more comfortable with than others. Every time I've attempted a piece like this before, I haven't liked the results.

So, like with the photos, I kept getting comfortable with other mediums and techniques. I still think I have many more improvements to make with this method but I did it. I completely a piece that looked okay to me and that is a huge step.


stop and smell the flowers along the way, mixed media on paper

Look, I don't know if this method will work for anyone else but I would encourage anyone that wants to attempt a new art medium and is scared to try, don't beat yourself up. See if there is another form that doesn't scare you as much and get comfortable with it. You might find yourself motivated to step into new territory from there.

Which brings up one more point...impatience. It's getting to the comfortable part that I can get hung up on because I am impatient to get to the next step.

My minister said something about impatience last weekend that so totally hit home with me. She said that impatience is totally a fear based emotion. It says I'm afraid I won't get something I want or that I'll lose something I have.

yeah, wow.

That helps, ya know, when I start feeling the impatience now. I hear her voice in my head and take a breath and try to look at what the fear is. If anything, I at least pause for a moment before making an impulsive decision or start down the same negative thought pattern.

And that, my friends, is my last post as dandelion seeds.

This blog has been good to me and it will stay up in honor of the last three years of my journey.

But my journey has entered a new phase with this joy rebel thing and I would like to honor that with a new blog home.

So please join me over in my new home: brandi reynolds

That's me. No titles, just me.

The joy rebel-ness continues over there, starting with posting the second mission tomorrow.

There are also badges you can copy and link to this post.

See ya over there!!!!

my take on joy and grief

evening, nikon d50 digital

I was going to do a post on the amazing bridal portrait session I had last weekend but that will have to wait.

The truth is I'm pissed.

I've been spending more time with John's wife and while this is a blessing in all ways, it also provides ample opportunities to embrace the grief I feel over his passing.

How can I look in his son's face, seeing John's shadow right there in his son's eyes and ever explain to that child how much his dadda loved him?

How can I tell him how courageous his mamma is just by getting up every morning in the house where his dadda passed and somehow managing to get through her day?

Why? why dammit???

Why is John gone when somewhere in the world a woman is being beaten, a child going hungry, an animal being neglected...

Okay, I know that last sentence is completely irrelevant but I don't care at the moment.

Several amazing souls have wondered how they can be a joy rebel when they are sick or going through a tough time.

I think on this journey we'll find together the answers that fit best for us but for me, joy does not automatically equal happiness. Happiness is an important component of joy but really, joy equals authenticity. I'm so tired of not allowing my full self to emerge. When I don't let the grief and anger and frustration that comes with every day life out, I find that I can't let joy flood in.

And I also can't find all the joyful ways to heal or provide comfort to myself or release the hurt and ugly if I don't acknowledge all the crap in the first place.

the joy will flood in. I have gained confidence in this over the last few weeks. The grief flows now.

If you feel so compelled, please say a prayer for a woman grieving tonight as she cares for her child.

*rock on joy rebels*

Joy Rebels:: Your first mission

flare, nikon d50 digital

Alright rebels, your first mission is up!!!

How are you feeling? Bombastic? Energized? Or maybe serene...contemplative...murky.

We accept all expressions of joy rebellion here at joy camp. Remember, it's not about forcing happy, it's about allowing joy to flood in by letting all of YOU flood in.

And there's no better way to start that, in my opinion, by picking a rebel warrior name and mantra.

Now, my personal opinion is that both should either bring on feelings of enpowerment when thought of...or a fit of giggles. If you can somehow find phrases that do both, well then you are a rebel extraordinaire.

To kick the party off, I would like to introduce myself.

I am wild red star and I am a divine yes

rock on joy rebels!!!

joy rebel faq

color pencils, nikon d50 digital

Hello joy rebels!! This will be a quick post as I'm having computer problems but I wanted to address some of the ideas and questions I've had about this whole rebel army thing...lol.

1. What is a Joy Rebel?
to me, being a joy rebel is not about being happy all the time, though happiness is a component of joy. Being a joy rebel means being your authentic self and making those life affirming choices that bring more joy into your life. It's also about having fun and being silly. It also means honoring all emotions. Having a bad day and making the choice to pound on a pillow and then take a bath if that's what you really need is about joy. It may not feel like it but I've realized that I can't fully feel joy if I don't fully feel the rest of it. But then, as a joy rebel, you get to decide what that means for you too.

2. What about these mission things?
I'll post them every monday. And just a warning: they will be pointless. They will have nothing to do with self actualization or inner growth or becoming a better person. They will be for FUN. However, my personal experience is that allowing that fun, that very real part of me that loves color and silliness and 80's tunes and playing air guitar to come out can shift something good and healing and beautiful within. My happiest times-the times I have been most at peace with myself, when I have been most creative-are when I am not reading self help books or 'trying' to be this or do that and just allowing my true self to emerge.

3. Can we have a badge for our blogs?
Yep! I'm working on one. Well, I will be once I get the computer problems straightened out. But this is also where I tell you that I will be moving blogs. Yep. Dandelion seeds has fulfilled it's purpose and I am honoring a shift in my life. This shift will be reflected in my website and etsy store, this blog, the art I make, how I do business, all of it. The new blog launches march 1rst and a badge will be included with that. This blog will remain up as while I'm ready to move on, I feel no need to delete this amazing journey.

4. Who can join?
You can. Hey, this isn't about creating some exclusive club with membership requirements. If you feel ready to live more fully in your life, have some fun and connect with others, then you are a joy rebel. Welcome to the rebellion, we have cookies. :-)

I love the questions and feedback and am always open to connect with others so by all means, feel free to add to them with comments or by emailing me at artist [at] dandelion-studios [dot] com. Having said that, until I get these computer problems straightened out, I may be slow in answering for the next couple of days.

May you all have a joyfully rebellious day and look for a post on monday!!!

I feel obligated to warn you that I'm gathering an army

An army for a joy rebellion that is!!!

I posted the following invitation on a dear online community that I am part of:

your mission, should you choose to accept it:
To become a bombastic warrior chick (or dude), a fierce member of the joy rebel army.

your training: hand to hand combat against that greatest of evils: self doubt
Expert use of rampant positivity, disciplined funkiness and deploying radical self acceptance against all odds. Your training will come at great sacrifice. Negativity dealers will confront you, energy vampires will attempt to kidnap you. You will become vigilant against their attempts to seduce you.

Your duties: To employ your own unique brand of joy. Wonderfully awful art, messy love, spontaneous dancing, cozy cuddling, quiet tears, angry letters, epic poems.

*warning* You may experience brain washing as your heart expands and floods the inner critic sentry that resides in your cranium. Side affects are: ridiculous grins, toe tapping in public, enchanted cursing, imperfect magic and a slight pink tinge to your aura.

So I stand before you, oh potential warrior. Do you choose to accept your mission??


And people did. This thing sort of grew and has some really fun energy behind it. Enough to the point where we plan having actual missions. Fun stuff like writing 'joy' on the sidewalk or giving yourself a warrior name or leaving a love note in a library book or...well, whatever we come up with.

So much fun, in fact, that I thought hey, I'll invite the switched on humans that I know in the blogging community too.

What I love about this is..well, if I can be honest. It's not another self help thing, another 'to do'. must clean house. must read book on self growth. must fix me. Don't get me wrong, I have had amazing and wonderful experiences because of what I've learned in several key self help or spiritual books. I'm not saying that growing and learning aren't important.

But if you want to know the truth, I think once you've read a few books, been to a few classes or workshops, you start to realize that the basic principles are the same. This is a good thing. It means that sound knowledge is still being passed down and shared. Whatever the newest self help book is on the market probably has the same basic ideas as 'power of positive thinking' from the 80's and 'think and grow rich' from the 30's (?).

Is anyone else tired of beating themselves over the head with critisicm and fear and this list and that book and cleaning the house and saving the planet and getting a sale and getting published/discovered/written up/interviewed?

God I'm so sick of all of this. I'm tired of just trying so damn hard all the time and never taking time to appreciate and enjoy the life that I have now. The good now. The joy in me now.

The basics haven't changed.
listen to your heart
be kind (to yourself and others)
live in the moment
simplify
think positive
do good
breath
and my personal favorite: it's not enough to know these, it's time to live them.

So let's do that shall we??? Let's go have some fun.

I post weekly missions on the board. Of course anyone that wants to join the community is welcome to but I was also thinking I could just post them here as well (every monday).

Who's with me???

a joy dialogue

*I met Savannah (not her real name) via an online community about five years.  Her life story is one of amazing growth, healing and transformation and I am honored that she allowed me to interview her and share some of it here.  I consider her a true joy rebel and example of finding the beauty and joy in life, pretty much against all odds. As a disclaimer, I will say that she speaks about childhood abuse and if you are particularly sensitive to that topic, I would recommend proceeding with caution.  For those that are wondering how a story of abuse could possibly have anything to do with joy, all I will say is read on.*

1. For those that don’t know you, can you tell our readers a little bit about you-what you do, where you live, siblings, pets, blog name, etc?

I live in South-Western New York state with two cats, Weedle and Charley, who are spoiled rotten (just as they should be). I’m a graduate student in history of women, gender and sexuality at the local university. I’m originally from West Michigan, where I was raised with my brother and sister. My sister still lives in our hometown, but my brother committed suicide in 1992. Now, I have three separate families. My family of origin split in two. My dad and my stepmom and her four kids and five grandkids are one of my families. My mom, my stepfather, my sister and my two nieces are another and then I have a very good friend and she, her man and his two daughters are my third family. My blog is called “blooming into me” and it’s at www.savannah-faith.blogspot.com

2. Would you mind sharing some of your dreams and goals-what you’d like to do with your life, where you see yourself in five years?

I graduate in May so I have many dreams and goals for 2009. I want to move to Chicago and work in publishing. I want a good job with good people where I can be part of a motivated team. I want a great apartment. I’m currently in the process of losing weight. I try to avoid assigning a number to how much I want to lose this year, but I know it will be significant. For the long term, I want to create a loving home with a man and begin a family (either through natural means or through adoption). I really want the luxury of being a stay at home mom. I’m a feminist who believes one of the most feminist things you can do is raise the next generation.

3. You experienced a very difficult childhood-can you share with us and what issues or repercussions this has had on your life?

I was abused as a child. I was raped and beaten everyday until I was 18. The first time I remember being abused was when I was very small – 2 or 3 years old. I remember my brother touching me was when I was four, but it may not have been the first time – it is just the first time I remember.

A child of abuse doesn’t grow up the way other kids do. It’s not a linear progression. A child of abuse grows up in circles. While physically and intellectually I advanced in age, psychologically, part of me was still reliving what happened when I was 3, 4, 5, 12, 15….

I spent the first thirty years of my life running. Running from the abuse, running from myself, running from what the abuse said about me. I wanted to die. Everything I did was about bringing that wish to fruition. I smoked; I drove too fast; I dated dangerous men. I escaped through any means available. I lost myself in an addiction that grew from comfort. Many survivors lose themselves to addiction. Many end up in prison. I was lucky, my addiction was not illegal, was rather unusual, in fact, but it was just as obsessive, just as controlling as any physical addiction could be. I lost myself in daydreams and fantasies of the ‘80s new wave band Duran Duran (hey, I was at the beginning of puberty in 1984, when they were huge). Some people drink. Some people do drugs. I never did that. I never needed to. My drug was Duran. The lyrics and the fantasy I created around them kept me alive, but also kept me isolated from people.

Which was fine because as a child of abuse, I wanted to be alone anyway. If I was with people, if they got to know me, there was always the danger they would find out my secret. The secret was not that I was abused. Hell, in this day and age nobody makes it to 18 without some kind of trauma goin’ on in their lives. No. The secret was that I was worthless. I had to be because if I wasn’t worthless, if God didn’t hate me so much, if I wasn’t useless or crazy or a waste of everyone’s time, none of these things would have happened to me.

You see, it gets turned around. I wasn’t broken and wasted because of the abuse. I was abused BECAUSE I was born defective. I believed I was permanently broken. No one could ever love me. I deserved to die, but I wouldn’t die because God hated me and wanted me to suffer more. I was useless and worthless, unlovable, defective, innately bad. Nothing I ever did was good enough for anyone. I would spend the rest of my life miserable and unloved, with no one able to reach me or touch me or help me. These thoughts would repeat, over and over, in my head for hours. Sometimes I shut them up by cutting on my arms, or my legs or my belly. Sometimes, I cried so hard that the next day, my eyes were swollen and bright red because I’d broken every blood vessel around them. Sometimes, I’d cover my ears with my hands and scream into a pillow so no one could hear me because I couldn’t deal with their attempts to make it right when it could never be right. I believed God hated me. I used to ask aloud, “Why would he make something this useless?” I was trash and I knew I’d been thrown away. Instead of being loved and protected, I was tossed aside and left to fend for myself against a violent, dangerous apprentice sociopath in the form of an older brother. The result was that I went crazy. Abuse led to crazy, crazy led to driving away those who may have loved me, being alone led to misery, misery led to crazier. The abuse I suffered was the single determining factor in everything I did and everything I was. All of my thoughts, feelings and reactions were based on the fact that I was tortured. I cannot use enough words to express how bad it was.

I. Was. Alone. In. Hell. For. Decades.

So, I took razor blades to my arms. So, I overdosed on pills. So, I smoked if only to shave a few years off. Inevitably, it was revealed I did these things, and I was locked up in psychiatric hospitals more times than I can count. They gave me pills and group therapy and they stuck electrodes to my temples and zapped my brain with electricity in an effort to make it work. They forced me to accept their “help,” which I knew was pointless because nobody could help me. Abuse wasn’t what happened to me, abuse was what I was. And I would lie awake at night furious at them for trying. Don’t they know I’m broken? Can’t they see that? As I told my therapist so many times, you can’t fix broken.

And so it went, circles and circles for thirty years. At one point, I was diagnosed with five different mental disorders ranging from clinical depression to general anxiety disorder to severe personality disorders.


4. When did the healing journey start for you?

I started therapy when I was 12. I had another therapist when I was 14. A third by the time I was 17. By the time I was 18, I met the woman who would drag me through healing kicking and screaming for nearly the next 20 years.

5. Can you describe what your healing process has been like?

Slow. It was very slow, mostly because I’m stubborn and was convinced in my beliefs about myself, God, my family of origin, the world. But I’m also tenacious and I persevere. I didn’t believe my life could improve, but deep down, in a place I didn’t touch until I reached the nadir of my suffering, I really didn’t want to die. Yet, I couldn’t live as my life was. This contradiction – I don’t want to die, but I can’t live – pushed me through therapy for all those years.

It came to head in 2003. I had just been fired from my second job in two years because I was unable to function in normal life and I said, “Enough.” I went home, took a bunch of pills, called my dad to say goodbye and ended up talking to my stepmom. She is a social worker and asked me if I was safe. Well, I thought, I just took a whole handful of pills, so, um, no. She called the sheriff’s department and they hauled me off to the hospital whereupon I was committed against my will to psych hospital. I’d been in hospitals before. I knew how to play the game. I knew what to say to get myself released. I knew if I played along, they would release me in a week and then I could kill myself without any further outside intervention.

So, I’m playing the game. I go to all my group meetings. I participate. I say all the right words, “I was in a downward spiral”; “I really need help”; “I’m interested in any treatments or medications that you think could help.”

The hospital works with the local universities and a psych student had an assignment to work up a treatment plan for a patient. They asked me if I would participate and – being as cooperative as possible – I said, yes.

We met. She asked a lot of questions about me, took a lot of notes and went away to confer with her professor and my doctor. She came back a few days later and asked one question,

“Have you ever done any reading about trauma?”

What you have to know about me is that I’m cerebral. I’m a student. When I’m interested in something, the first thing I do is read about it. And yet, until her, NOBODY had ever suggested I read about childhood trauma. All those doctors, all that therapy, all those years, and a freaking student hit the nail on the head.

I couldn’t kill myself. All my plans went right out the window. Because I’m so stubborn and so arrogant about knowledge I couldn’t die knowing there was information out there that might help.

So when I got out of the hospital I read everything I could get my hands on about childhood sexual abuse, effects of and recovery from trauma, sibling abuse, and cutting.

That was the beginning of my true healing. In those books I learned everything I believed about myself, my abuse, my families, my world was itself a product of the abuse. My thoughts and beliefs were not unique to me; they were very common among abuse survivors. And knowing I wasn’t alone, knowing my tortured existence was a product of having been tortured loosened my stubborn hold on those false beliefs.

From then on, I was dedicated participant in my healing.

6. Has your healing process had a spiritual element to it and if so, can you share how your spirituality has evolved and what it means to you?

I always believed in God. I don’t know why, but I did. Both of my parents were raised Catholic and when I was little we went to the Catholic church, so maybe it was nothing more than childhood indoctrination. Yet while I believed in God, I also believed He hated me. And not passively. I thought God actively, passionately, viciously hated me. I thought I was born because it was easier for God to punish me if I were human.

Challenging that belief was a big part of my healing. Again, I read. At the time, I still identified as Christian and explored Christianity thoroughly. I was tortured by the question, “Where Was God?” Where was God when I was being raped and tortured and abused? How can a loving God allow those things to happen? Those questions created an existential crisis in me and I couldn’t move forward until I answered them.

As I struggled with God, my conception of a higher power changed. I couldn’t work with the male authority of my childhood. It was easier for me to imagine God as a loving grandmotherly type. A mix between the mother of the matrix and Tyler Perry’s Madea – warm, funny, wise, and feisty.

The more I studied, the more I moved away from Christianity. I studied Buddhism and Wicca and sought God through meditation and yoga. I finally answered that when I was abused, God was inside me, holding enough of me together so that one day I could heal.

Then, in October 2007, I went on a vision quest. I stayed up one night, all night and ended up staying up for nearly 40 hours straight, eating nothing, not taking my meds and reviewing every moment of the last decade of my life. In the midst of the journey I started seeing a shadow on my wall, the shadow looked like a bear. And then it started speaking to me. I could only explain it as a spirit guide. I found out later that spirit guide bears have the symbolic meaning of transformation. It was powerful, deeply spiritual and when it was over I’d made significant progress in my healing and moved forward seemingly effortlessly.

Since then, I’ve found God inside rather than outside. I have a much less structured concept of spirituality. I see God in compassion and kindness and ignore much of the rhetoric of organized religion. I see God as a power inside each of us, connecting us to one another, to the Earth, to every living thing. Consciousness and intent are spiritual powers I’m still learning to manifest.

7. Despite all that you’ve been through, I have seen such amazing healing, growth and transformation in you. To what do you attribute this transformation?

God and her emissary, the bear. Ultimately, I have had immense help from above and below and in between from a power I can only recognize as the loving, guiding hand of a higher power.

It’s also due to the fact that once I believed healing was possible, I wanted it. I’m still stubborn, but now I use that character trait for my benefit. I persevere because as bad as it gets – and there have been bad times since 2003 – it’s never as bad as it was before then when I was living to die. It’s also partly due to the fact that I found a treatment that worked wonders for me. EMDR (eye movement desensitization and reprocessing) is a therapy that increases communication between the two halves of the brain and works amazingly well in healing from trauma. In about ten sessions, I have gone from being overwhelmed by my abuse to feeling neutral about every memory I have. It’s nothing short of miraculous.

8. For anyone that may have also experienced abuse, do you have any advice or resources you can share?

Read. Read everything. Read books on trauma, sexual abuse, general healing. Never stop trying to find new treatments to help yourself. I’ve been in talk therapy since I was 17; been on tons of medications, had ECT (electroshock treatments) and EMDR. I’ve had more success with some than with others and you will, too, but don’t give up if one thing doesn’t work. There are always options.

9. What does joy mean to you?

I think a lot of people equate the lack of suffering with joy. I don’t necessarily disagree with that, but at the same time, there will always be some sort of suffering. Living a life means stress, headaches, grumpiness, getting angry, feeling negative emotions sometimes. In those times being joyful means choosing joy. It means allowing yourself the emotions, but knowing they’ll pass. It means seeking out positivity.

10. How do you connect with joy

Lots of ways. I’m finding a lot of joy lately in taking good care of myself. This goes beyond just eating healthy, drinking lots of water and exercising, to pampering myself – shaving my legs, massaging baby oil gel on my arms and legs after I shower, painting my nails. Finding new ways to enjoy being in my own skin.

I listen to music, read good books (I’m currently devouring Christopher Moore’s bibliography), and I play. I play a lot. I try to have fun with everything and I find ways to reward myself for doing the boring, inane stuff we all have to do -- little, mostly insignificant ways to reward myself. If I go to campus and study, I get a diet coke (which is restricted from my eating plan at any other time). I cleaned my house this morning (which I hate to do) so I went to the library and rented Desperate Housewives and I’m indulging in all the snarky, gossipy fun. I find these little things to make the obligations easier to swallow.

11. How are you a joy rebel?

I think it’s rebellious to be nice to everybody and smile even when you’re in a bad mood. I think it’s rebellious to take time for yourself. I think it’s rebellious to be happy when we are consistently told we should be miserable and scared (for one reason or another). I think it’s rebellious to love yourself and to let that love flow from you into every person you meet. I think it’s rebellious to have hope and to let yourself believe in magic. I think choosing joy at all is a rebellious act in and of itself.