Tag Archives: inspiration

// bare //

sorrow

Lay bare your softness.
Close your eyes and let your vulnerabilities fall in the darkness like heavy punishing rain.
I will take your tears into me like oceans of perfect stillness on the moon.
Let the sorrow splinter inside your mind, erupt over every inch of you, make you hot with surrender.
Let it in everywhere, let the gaping mouth of this terrible void devour you, drench you in the wisdom of her infinite healing waters.
Let Love have you, angel.
Let it press your war torn body against the floorboards.
And as the brutal weight of your crippling illusion collapses in raging spirals of ancient galaxies falling from the vacant sky, let go, let go, let go, let go.
This is strength burned into your flesh like beautiful scars.
Let the pain spark along your bones until you are consumed in the fires of release.
Let Love become you, own you, bloom a thousand blood red rose gardens inside of you.
You can take this, you are a vessel for all of this, you are the gift.
There are no acts of Love that cannot set you free.

~ Allison Marie Conway ~

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My book of poetry, Vein, is now available on Amazon here.

Signed copies are available in my Etsy shop AllisonMariePoetry here.

All my deepest love and mad affection. x

// continuum //

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It’s as though everyday I wake up already searching for something, yearning before my eyes even focus in the dusty light.
I’m already roaming forbidden halls, haunted by something that is centuries old and restless.
Quiet like a stare.
Something intimate and beautiful is out there and we are reaching for each other, we need to borrow again the skin we shared once.
A love, a tragedy, a treasure, a mistake. An exception to my useless rules.
A body, a touch of sensual mischief. A moonlit forest in my hungry chest.
Some days we meet right away and the desire is sated for a while. Some days we meet almost too late, in a final breath at sunset.
Some days are spent entirely in static suspense and divine frustration – agitated, unfulfilled, disturbed.
But there has never been a day in all my life that my insides were not alert for this thing. That I have not made my soul available to her with reverence and devotion.
Hopeful for some way to connect with this graceful, wandering spirit I seem to have had once but lost.
Life is a continuum.

~ Allison Marie Conway ~

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My book of poetry, Vein, is now available on Amazon here.

Signed copies are available in my Etsy shop AllisonMariePoetry here.

All my deepest love and mad affection. x

Why A True Artist Has No Competition

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We walk a thin line.

Some days the line can feel sharp as a razor’s edge, in fact.

Like walking a tightrope in the sky, strung up across two high-rise buildings. (One might imagine. I mean, we’re artists not dare devils. Or are we?)

As artists and creative critters, we walk a line between love and ego with every piece we create.

If we dare to create the work we deeply want to create – the kind that screams to be let out but also scares the hell out of us for risk of exposing too much of our fragile selves – that line can cut like a hot knife down the center of our insides.

It’s a cut that can feel like it’s opening us and killing us at the same time.

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The Greatest Creative Advice for Artists. EVER.

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Being a fairly upbeat sort of person who shouts from the rooftops about how fucking phenomenal it is to be a beginner, I also tend to be the sort of person who gets herself into some shit.

And let me just tell you: I’m in it now, kids.

So deep am I in it, in fact, that I am writing this blog post from an undisclosed location and may or may not be wearing 3 day old (wait – what’s today?) sweatpants.

As of NOW it’s full on, full throttle, full frontal (well, except for the sweatpants).

I am neck-deep in the wild tidal throws of finishing my first book of poetry: Vein.

We’re so close now I can practically taste the textured pages brushing against my eager skin. (Ya damn right it’s a sexual relationship. If you think I’m not going to make mad passionate love to this book you have gravely underestimated the degree to which I have lost my filthy mind over this project).

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How to Love Yourself to Victory In Times of Great Struggle

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It kind of feels like a punishment instead of a help when you are in the midst of what seems like a major existential crisis and the only slim advice you get is “relax” or “it will all be okay” or “the universe has your back.”

It feels like you’re bloody (bloody, tho?) doomed, in a way, when you’re bombarded with these disjointed pop-spiritual messages that sound as though all you have to do is simply fit in to an angel-cookie-cut-out version of the higher truth or plug-in to some secret code for self-love that everybody else seems to have figured out but you.

One of the things I rail against is being told how it is, how it has to be, how it’s always been. I’m not interested in being force-fed (or force feeding anyone else, frankly) a slew of complicated systems or beliefs or rules. I want, desire and actively seek out a spiritual connection that works.

That’s why when I delve into spiritual (and creative) study / reading / practice / action, I consciously try to be sure I approach with a mindset of willing openness, of loving curiosity, of a strange sort of reverent playfulness.

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Is It Time For a Change? Always Remember THIS Before You Decide.

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You know that punchy feeling you get when you’re slammed with stimulation from every which way but not one damn sliver of it actually inspires you?

(Oh, wait, my bad, lovers, that’s every day in this our hyper-charged, bizarre world where we are relentlessly poked and prodded by the media that has somehow managed to photo-shock us straight into the clutches of bogus-ly, passively numb.)

It’s that dull frustration of: different day, same old bullshit “inspirational” quote (that says some mundane, generic thing like “DREAM!” surrounded by smiling stars and scores triple digit likes in under a minute  because . . . seriously?)

Sometimes we just want to shake things up, we need to shake things loose, bust out of the monotony, change course, swing left while everybody else is going right, try something new.

Try something bold. Something unconventional. Something that might not work. And it’s the “might not” that gets your limp hairs finally standing on end.  You want to do something just for the mystery of it.

You can’t explain it – it just feels delicious.

One side of ourselves (hello, ego, you punk) says making a change is a stupid move, This side of ourselves is busy dumping cold water on our hot adventure of an idea with thoughts like these:

“But that’s not what they expect from you. It doesn’t make sense. It’s not what you started out to do so how will it look if you change / stop / screw up?  It’s too late. You can’t change direction now. The only acceptable way forward is the way you’ve been going lest you are admitting defeat / surrender / that what you are doing now isn’t working (HORRORS).”

Then there’s the other side.  The side that doesn’t believe in stupid.  The side that believes you were made to grow into a bigger version of yourself. This side of ourselves is determined to fly with very cool thoughts like these:

“Hey love, people will say what they want but you know what though? What about the F word? Hmm? What about FUN? What about just follow the joyful idea, the one that lights you up inside, and see what happens?”

Ironically (tragically?) the struggle to decide for bigger joy is very real. We want to reach for what would truly make us happy, but we’re terrified of how that will make us look. (Facebook has trained us to be egotistical maniacs well.)

Stuck in this kind of tug-of-war, we can spend so much time analyzing just to get to the same (boring) answer of “Don’t.” that we stay gruesomely stuck and button things so perfectly up that we succeed only in missing out on all the glory of trying something new.

We deny ourselves the goodness.  Why are we so damn afraid to indulge in the doing of what we love just because we love the feel of it, the sound of it, the clever / weird / stealth / not-the-same-old-thing of it?

Who cares about likes / comments / status – none of that means anything if we aren’t ENJOYING OURSELVES, you guys.

do ya gb

(Incredibly important side note, wild things: this is a blog post about making decisions like: “Hey, maybe I should start that crazy ass art blog I’ve been dying to start but I’ve been afraid people will think I’m lame.” NOT: “Hey, I’ve been thinking about ditching my husband / wife / children / financial responsibilities and Allison Marie over at Glorybegin.com seems to think that’s a swell idea so – screw it! I’m out!”  We’re talking about creative exploration not the unraveling of lives, you dig?)

We forget that it is perfectly okay to try a thing – to jump in and just see what happens – to let ourselves be alive – be here now.

Somewhere along our little way we stopped taking the beautiful chance of “It feels fresh and new and that sounds fun – let’s just try it and see.”

But this is the juice, the thrill of the creative life we say we want to live, isn’t it?

I didn’t get into making art to feel stifled – lord knows there’s enough rules everywhere else in the universe. I won’t stick around where things are an artistic drag.

Why would you?

Art may just be the last place on earth we can be our most honest, raw, truest selves. We must stay true to that spirit or what are we left with? Another shell? Another shallow, hollow “Dream!” meme?

Fuck. That.

Your creative life is where you call the shots – all of the shots.

Don’t ever, ever give that up. That’s the lifeblood of an artist, of a creative warrior.

I started writing a blog because I desperately (I’m not even being dramatic, troops – I was clawing my way out of a thing when I started writing again) wanted and needed the freedom and pleasure of creating my own thing in this big world.

So maybe it was just a tiny blip in cyber space but it was my blip damn it and I was going to do it my way. Mine. (Of course, my way at the beginning was to publish a fashion blog on which for the first solid week and a half I did not know how to upload photos. You can imagine the legions of hip and trendy fans I attracted upon launching.)

The tug to try something new is an invitation from the universe for you to play, to move. Because as long as you keep moving you’ll figure it out. You’ll figure out how to upload photos (and take much better ones). You’ll figure out what you like and don’t like, what works and what doesn’t. You’ll figure out your style, your authentic voice.

You’ll figure it out, babe.

Just don’t spend so much time “figuring” that you never let yourself out of the cage.

The Muse moves, morphs, changes. It’s a lover’s game.  She keeps you guessing.

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For me there is no way to separate my spirituality from my art. When I say Muse I’m saying Angels, I’m saying Intuition, I’m saying Higher Self.

And this Voice, this All Knowing, All Loving, All Encompassing Creative Energy wants me in the game. It needs me in the game.

Any glory I’ve ever known has come from trusting that being loyal to creating with my heart and soul is what being alive is all about. And when it’s time for a change, I move. Most often, stepping into your bigger self isn’t one big giant leap – it’s a million small steps in the directions you believe in.

“It is not sacrifice to wake to glory. But it is sacrifice to accept anything less than glory.”

A Course In Miracles

We need to stop playing so small, so calculated, so much like we’ve got our arms tied behind our backs. If we’re so busy tying ourselves up, how will we ever reach out and touch each other?

Move, babes, move. That’s all I’m saying. Dance, try, stumble, do something that might not work.

Make a choice for your grandeur, your magnitude, your greatness. Step toward what you are dying to become.

“It is essential that you accept the fact, and accept it gladly, that there is no form of littleness that can ever content you. . .

There is a deep responsibility you owe yourself, and one you must learn to remember all the time. The lesson may seem hard at first, but you will learn to love it when you realize that it is true and is but a tribute to your power. You who have sought and found littleness, remember this:

Every decision you make stems from what you think you are, and represents the value that you put upon yourself. Believe the little can content you, and by limiting yourself you will not be satisfied.”

A Course In Miracles

If it’s time for a new direction – it’s time.  Believe it. GO for it.

Trust that instinct. The more you do, you’ll see that as you keep moving you’ll get better with it, feel more confident in trusting that you can dance around within your art. You can zig and zag and pull ahead and sneak around from behind.

The creative life is one of expansion – we can’t help but to move out further and further and keep claiming new territory, new land. That’s the freedom we talked about last week. The freedom the artist dares to step into.

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After a while, I knew the fashion blog had to morph into something else – I could feel it. I knew that as much as I adored me some killer sexy Stuart Weitzman boots (I mean), I wasn’t obsessed with fashion enough to keep going in that direction. (Obsessed? Yes. Enough? No.)

I was eager and hungry to write and speak for inspiration of the soul, to write about spiritual topics and to expand my reach to all types of artists, creatives and seekers.

So I moved out and moved on. I followed my desire and my heart and kept going.

Because when you move, you create forward motion, you summon and attract momentum. [Click to Tweet]

It doesn’t have to make sense, you don’t have to know where it’s headed, sometimes you just have to choose to do what makes you deeply, genuinely happy.

Remember you, love?

Why did you get into your creative adventure?  Is it feeling stale / old / tight / boring / like a “job” instead of like a sensual seduction?

If so, why aren’t you changing things up and stepping into what feels right for you? 

What if you just did it?

What if you didn’t have to explain your new move to anyone?

Because, angel?

You don’t.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

COMING SOON!

Dear Ones,

I have a special announcement to share with my email subscribers only.  Sign up at the top of this page to make sure you don’t miss out on exclusive content & updates.

As always, I thank you for your support & engagement.

It means more than I could ever say.

All my love,

Allison Marie x

Why Creative Freedom May Be Holding You Back

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There is something an artist does bravely, without asking and without being told.

There is no instruction manual on how to do this thing right or how to ensure it is “successful” by the world’s standards.

And yet just doing this one thing is reason enough for an artist to call himself a success.

It is the reason she does her most soulful, moving and beautiful creative work.

It’s happening now all across the world. You might be doing it.

In fact, I KNOW most of you are doing it (and doing it damn well, by the way, lovers, bravo).

What is this elusive thing the artist dares to do?

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How to Get the Love You Desire (Fast & Easy)

We have to do more.

Right? I mean, what we’ve done isn’t enough.

Right? Because we’re still lost and confused and aren’t exactly sure what we’re doing or should do next (quite possibly it’s chocolate, though, whatever the fuck it is).

On some existential level (and to sort of box up our random idiotic cravings and shove them under the proverbial bed) we simmer all this vague “needing” to do the “more” down to “needing more love.”

We seek for love.

Don’t we?

We look for love in everything – we want love from our family, our dog, our kids, our killer abs, our boy/girl/friend’s killer abs, our talent, our blog, our followers, our art, our sex, our fantasies, our work, our homes, our partner, our vibrator, our new haircut (no, you look so cute tho, seriously).

But love isn’t any of those things (okay, maybe we’re on the fence about the vibrator but let’s try to focus, kids).

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How Deep Is Your Love? The Art & Struggle of Surrender

We don’t want to give it all up.

As sexy as it sounds to surrender ourselves, we’re terrified of what it would mean to actually do it completely.

As lovely as it rolls across the mind to say we will surrender, we don’t often (ever?) intend to give up the struggle and inhabit the peace of mind we say we want.

It’s just not that easy.

What if I invited you to consider that this poem . . .

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How to MAJORLY Build Your Self-Confidence by Doing This ONE Badass Thing

Right, so we’ll get to building your sexy ass confidence in just a second, good friend.

First tho, here’s a fun trick to try if you’d like to test your creative confidence; publish a blog post about erotica, get everybody all seduced and lathered up, and then come back a week later and publish another blog post.

About anything.

About anything else.

Post about something else – after riffing about touching and stroking and fingering – and expect anyone to give a shit about what could possibly come after all that goodness.

I hear you. I know. But never fear, my love. I’ve got you. I am not afraid.

I have something even hotter to talk about this week, if you can possibly fathom that (I realize a blogger with any sense at all would be concerned about deliberately stacking this kind of dangerous pyramid scheme of expectations but nobody’s here to play it safe, I sincerely hope).

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Erotica: Finding Pleasure in the Essential Art of Touch

Fair warning, lovers: This one will be very different from the others. (Are you reading this at the office, by the way? Because you might not want to be reading this at the office. But then again, maybe you really do.)

Consistency is divine but so is disruption. So is surprise.

This post is not about how to’s or fixing or changing anything. It’s about feeling.

Feeling. Everything.

Feeling, it seems to me, is a precious and increasingly scarce form of artistry. People are numbed out all over the damn place trying to avoid feelings of pain but also, in more cases than we seem to realize, trying to avoid feelings of good honest organic pleasure (because, you know, the guilt and the guilt and the guilt and everything – and then there’s the guilt).

Odd things, we.

Maybe it’s better (more accurate? more tragic?) to say that avoiding our feelings has become a twisted art form in itself.

Somehow, in these overcharged, overstimulating, hyper-sexed times, we end up numb and ashamed when all we really crave is to be touched and awakened.

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3 Ways to Start Doing the Work You REALLY Want To Do

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Allison Marie for glorybegin.com

A weird thing happens to otherwise normal people when we attempt to level with each other about work.

People seem to act like if they were to start doing the work they truly loved, other people will think they are colossally selfish / stupid / immature and begin throwing themselves out of seven story buildings or lighting themselves on fire in protest.

We act like if we want to be artists we’ll need to prove we’re “allowed” by only doing what we long to do as a “nice hobby” or in a damp cellar by dank (dank?) candlelight where no one has to see us in all our crazy.

We seem to think that if we were to work on something that we totally dig, this may simultaneously cause our families to implode, our lovers to walk out, our children to disown us, our very physical security to be threatened by some invisible bully.

We think we don’t deserve it. We think they can’t handle it. We think it has to be a big fucking deal and we’ll need to ceremonially trade in everything we’ve earned in our entire lives up to this point in exchange for the right to pursue our creative passions.

But you know what actually happens to us and to other people when we finally dare to start working on our dream?

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How to Find Your Authentic Voice

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Hello, gorgeous – would you come closer for a sec?  Sssshhh come come come closer closer closer . . . I have a secret to tell you.

Oh. Yes. ;)

Actually, I have 43 secrets. (*politely checks wrist where watch would be if anyone wore watches anymore now that Fitbits are apparently every sick thing in an ever-expanding arsenal of sick digital things all diligently calculating a million new ways to remind me that I haven’t done enough today*)

Don’t sweat it though, babe, these secrets are fast and they are powerful if you listen tight.

You see, secret friend, I have been secretly working up to this secret blog post, secretly, over the past secret six weeks.

In secret.

As in: drenched and soaked and sealed and locked in secret. Total sexy punk wizardry; total ninja stealth warrior hidden in plain sight.

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The B.S. Question That’s Keeping You from Doing What You Love

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You know how some people have to clean their entire kitchen / office / living room / patio / house / dog house / bird house / neighbor’s house before they will finally just sit down and start doing their creative work?

Yeah.

I’m not one of those people. (Nor do these people ever seem to live next door to me, proving that no good will ever come of this kind of neurosis.)

I can write with a messy kitchen / teetering piles of papers / tipping stacks of half-read books / vases full of but-they’re-so-arty-though dead flowers / unwashed dishes (… you guys can’t actually see me, right?) doing their unkempt thing all around me.

I can write through the Apocalypse.  (Done it, actually – see how that turned out here. Spoiler alert.)

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Dear Ego, You Seductive Bastard

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I will always be a problem for you.

Because I will always get back up.

And I will get stronger every time.

I will always choose love over and over again.

But you never count on this do you, baby?

Even after all the times we’ve gone around and around.

I will always forgive myself.

I will always forgive you.

I will always forgive them.

I will always pay attention.

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Just Don’t Call Me Tribe

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I believe in people.

I believe in the power of the individual and I believe in the power of the community.

Deeply, I do.

I believe in the power of ideas and the sheer penetrating force of a collective movement toward a higher consciousness. I believe people come together when they are meant to come together by the energy of values and ideals that matter sincerely to them.

This is sacred; this is work; this is precious.

I want to connect and I want to converse. I want to elevate and listen and understand and offer what I have.

And then I want to be left alone to my thoughts and my soul and my creative process so that I can come back again when I’m ready to engage from a centered place of authenticity, strength, clarity, balance and truth.

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{Podcast} The Nasty Habit That’s Destroying Your Kick Ass Creative Edge

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The light is dim.

The candles are dancing for each other and all is quiet.

You are the only person in the room.

But you’re not alone.

Because you can’t break the filthy habit you don’t know you have. You can’t stop the insanity if you don’t know how it started.

I’m on the other side of it now and I can’t even tell you what a huge difference kicking this habit has made in my writing and in my life.

Come now, that’s a ridiculous thing to say. I have a podcast and I CAN tell you.

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How to Make Love Out Loud

me noir love post

I’m not asking you to disassemble your life.

I’m not asking you to live on the street or give your last dime to charity or replace your dark roast coffee with decaf (in fact, if decaf coffee is ever mentioned on this blog again: someone else is writing this blog).

I’m not asking you to somehow figure out a way to make up for what you didn’t do or could have done or should have done or should be doing now.

I’m not asking you to change houses or partners or jobs or religions or toothpaste.

But I am asking you.

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How the Artist Saves the World

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It’s before dawn on an inky black morning in late November.  A sudden slap of thunder collapses over me, slamming the hairs on my neck straight up.

And I know in this fear-strangled moment. The Apocalypse is upon us.

In hindsight, I’m sorry I didn’t alert you guys but to be fair we’ve not yet exchanged phone numbers (it’s not you, it’s me) and I have a dysfunctional relationship with Facebook right now.

But we all damn near perished at approximately 05:14:00 Eastern Standard Time last Tuesday. And at some point on Wednesday. And a couple of times over the weekend (the weekend details are still sketchy; I may have passed out more than once).

We’re still here, though, thank the sexy buddhas, and do you know why?

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How to Write Like Sex and Dance on a Pinhead

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You think you know a person, right. And then she pulls some random shit like this on you.

What is happening right now. You’d like to know. I bet.

You think you know yourself.

You think you know all there is to know inside what you already know and then you got comfortable there.

I’d like to disrupt you for a second, babe, if that’s cool. Because while you are warm and snuggled there in the chaise lounge corner of your punchy Ikea Nockeby sectional, your mind is getting dull and your face is pulling sunken and your beautiful, beautiful wild spirit is growing stupid-restless.

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