Creativity – Kim Upton

the art of arting

First of all, I’m a delight.
Second, we are all artists.

“This world is but a canvas to our imagination.”
– Henry David Thoreau

If we, made in the image of a creator (science or spiritual), then we are also creators. When I taught art classes, that was always my opening statement, along with the ins/outs of the art world. My goal with every student was to help them understand that creating for the joy of it is part of who we are.

For a long time I made art to support my family – everything from abstract art to mosaics to Zentangle. There were words, images, stories, all formed by the overwhelming urge to remind others how magical humans can be. It was absolutely where I wanted to be in my life, and was doing pretty okay in the professional creative world.

The thing about being an artist is that you have to produce items, or at least talk about the processes of what you are making/writing. That was going pretty okay for me, with some art shows under my belt, classes, and even a few articles in the local newspapers. Then something happened that shifted everything that gave me an almost 11 year hiatus of everything in my life. While the Universe might have known what was up, it took me just a little more time to see the wisdom in those changes.

What got me through those moments was the support from my wee little family — my husband and our kids — who have always believed in me. Better stated, we all stood together, making sure that everything would be okay. It is hard to explain the levels of gratitude I have for the ability to persevere through some of the wildest moments of my adult life, and to also have the resources to keep all of us afloat. Sometimes when I look ahead to my goals for bringing my pieces back into the world, my being fills with feelings of grace.

This week’s episode of The KimboBurly Tales will be about some of this, and how to find your way back home to yourself. Most likely I’ll write about up until that day, so be prepared to read a ramble or seven.

It’s a beautiful Monday, and I think the best way to enjoy it is to get out some yarn, sit on the porch, and have gratitude for the little things.

Until next time…much love,
~ KEU

Lived Experience Is a Credential

First of all, I’m a delight.
Second, lived education is valid education.

Paper about Kim Upton teaching a watercolor class at the Hillview Library.

“Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.”
– Thomas Merton

Bee enjoying some delightful goodies from a flower.

Long ago in the Way Back Times, humans passed down information about the world around them in a manner vastly different than the systems we have today. If you wanted to learn about building a home, you went off to work with someone who understood carpentry — specifically the art of putting pieces of wood together in order to create a shelter. While the arrangement of being an apprentice might seem a little odd to us now, it was usually a benefit to both parties. This was a situation of social education, hands on experience that helped a craft continue into the future.

This type of relationship happened in other fields as well, and it seemed to suit the culture for some time. That is, until someone realized they could create a certification program where money would be paid to this credentialing entity in exchange for a piece of paper stating the person had been duly educated.

But here’s where it gets interesting, and if you’ve studied the history of the education system, you will see how it’s been geared to those who have the means to pay. This is seen now with the rising costs of higher education, pushing out those who are not able to pay for a piece of paper that no longer guarantees access to the vocation of choice. However, if you don’t have the money, there is an option to engage in predatory lending that is very similar poor folks working for the company, while being forced to buy their necessities from the company store. Don’t have enough money for a bag of flour, well then you can just put it on store credit (with a rate of interest that could never be paid).

Now you might think that I’m about to engage in some kind of internet screed that borders on aluminum chapeau territory, which is totally fair given what I wrote above. Honestly, there are already a lot of folks out there telling this tale, and that’s not the direction this post is going to take. These days I’m just not up for that kind of drama, the gnashing, wailing, and finger pointing online isn’t helpful when folks need tangible help out in the real world. That’s just how I work these days. With that out of the way, lemme continue.

While away from my professional work, the ability to pay for credentials has drastically changed. Apparently you can just buy them online now, which is kind of concerning. Instead of working with say, an herbalist with a few decades of lived experience (and credentialing that took years to achieve), you can now work with someone who had enough money to become a master herbalist in just a short 72 hours. Even after 17 years of professional experience, I don’t feel anywhere near being a “master,” as there is still so much to learn. While my years make me a Crone, that doesn’t mean someone showed up to wave a wand over my head to dub me the knower of all things.

Talking about this particular curiosity in the human culture often gets me fired up. Why? Well, let me tell you why… It has to do with the fact that many of the things that are now being gentrified and commodified are part of the daily life for indigenous persons, minorities, and the poor. If you want to hear me ramble about that, check out this episode of the Mom’s Strange Magic Podcast. These dismissals of those who have spent their lives learning all they can, being careful to have appreciation instead of appropriation, really chafes my soul. It’s giving 1910 Flexner Report, where leaning into a biomedical standard of care (which is great, but not compassionate) took away the ability of the poor, indigenous, and minorities to gain greater access to knowledge in the healthcare field. Along with that it demonized the Granny Women and community caregivers as engaging in barbaric medicine.

The point that I’m trying to get across here is this — fancy degrees are nice and I understand their appeal, but so is lived experienced. While looking for pediatricians after my oldest two were born, my husband was given some great advice from a pharmacist to look for the older doctors, as they had most likely seen everything and wouldn’t be quick to over prescribe medications that weren’t needed. That piece of advice helped us find one of the best medical caregivers I’ve ever met. He was kind, compassionate, and truly had seen all the issues a child might encounter.

Care and wellness isn’t the only place you will see something like this, as it exists in all the vocational genres. For example, if you create art, that makes you an artist. If you hand weave a basket, then you are an artisan. Taking a photo with your smart phone absolutely means you are a photographer. Sometimes folks get so caught up in protecting their entitled space that they forget that not everything is about them.

There is a saying about Wisdom being hard earned, which I gotta say has been absolutely true for my life experiences. While calling myself wise is not part of my gig, it is fair to say that my experiences have made me more perceptive, allowing a different lens for the shenanigans of others.

So, y’all, go out and be the beautiful beings of bodacious badassery. Everything you have done in your life is an experience, which makes you a subject matter expert on all the moments you’ve had. I see you out there shining brightly as the Sun, and I know you are gonna do great things!

Until next time…much love,
~ KEU

on the turning away…

First of all, I’m a delight.
Second, everything I’m about to tell you is true.

This morning I woke up with Pink Floyd lyrics running through my mind…
“No more turning away
From the weak and the weary
No more turning away
From the coldness inside
Just a world that we all must share
It’s not enough just to stand and stare
Is it only a dream that there’ll be
No more turning away?”
– On The Turning Away, Pink Floyd

I’d like to share something deeply personal with y’all today, and it’s not something that is my usual content – or that’s been my usual content. Over the years my words have been placed into the greater internet-verse with a desire to be understood and to feel “real.” This isn’t some kind of admission to boost my stats, or gather followers, it’s just where my life is right now. So bear with me as I ramble a bit…

At some point in my life I gathered quite a bit of anger into my being, and it decided to stay around a lot longer than anyone should have to endure. While I applied all the teachings, the mystical rituals, and tear-filled prayers to what was stirring within…nothing seemed to fix the tumultuous feelings going on within my system. Heck, I even tried the whole path of taking a fearless moral inventory while giving forgiveness to things that were beyond my control. Nothing was working, and believe me when I tell you that I literally tried everything from hugging crystals to baring my soul in therapy. My language would tell others everything was okay, but my soul was flailing about hoping to find some calm in the storm. In short, it was not a great time to be a denizen of my mind as all my thoughts put me in some kind of miasma of wonkiness. That is, until I just gave into the anger…

The first step was just being still and quiet, or being in the mode of silent running (as I’ve mentioned before). It is not a fun place to dwell, as all the insecurities come along with you, whispering complicated lies into your ears about all the things that you are doing wrong…or that you have done wrong. And friend, I’ve made so many mistakes in my life that came from a place of wanting to fit in, or hoping to not be the weirdo, or whatever force of nature was on the schedule for that day. In this time of contemplation it became pretty apparent that the common denominator in all the mishaps of my life was my self.

Now this isn’t me saying, “Oh, the people that hurt me was my fault,” nor is it a way to be absolved of my actions when my emotions ran wild – but more like, “oh……I see now…..there’s some healing to be done.”

C.S. Lewis says: “I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief,” and I’ve never seen a more truth statement in my life. Grief does very funny things to the human system, putting us into places that we never expected. We lash out, we scream, we dance around things that are important, and very often we overlook the boundaries we have in order to feel less alone. Also, we make decisions that look good on paper, or feel “right” when we try something new, but until the grief/anger nexus is resolved…we stay stuck in a boot loop of emotional turmoil.

Last year (2025), I had a serious reckoning in my life that caused me to engage in the aforementioned silent running. At the time it felt like the world was going to end, but after a few weeks it was easy to see that the Universe, or whoever was on the line that day, was absolutely worn out with me asking for someone else to fix my internal circuitry. Not only did I get eleventy billion signier signs, it was becoming very apparent that the answers needed were already within…and if I made the choice to keep overlooking them…things were going to stay the way they were. The only way out was to sit with each feeling, each sadness, and each hurt, asking them all what it was they’ve been trying to tell me all these years.

It would take a very long time to unpack all those ponderings here, and honestly it does none of us any good to put them under a public microscope, so I’m gonna do a fun bullet point list for y’all:

love everyone and tell the truth
if a box isn’t for you, don’t try to fit into it
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” (huge thanks to Mary Oliver for this one)
always trust your intuition
the anger and grief you feel is from avoiding the path you seek

Avoiding the path I seek you say, dear inner voice – whatever could you mean? Oh…you mean that a lot of the chaos in my life came from trying too hard to fit into places that were not for me due to issues from my childhood that I carried around like tokens of a fever dream…and that hiding from that which makes me wonderful (and often seen as “weird”) is also my superpower?

As I was mulling all this over in the metaphorical cave, embracing the raw power that comes from having a dark night of the soul, off in the distance there was this light. It compelled me by forces unknown to get closer, and with each step there were pieces of myself that I’d left in the control/power of others – or honestly just abandoned because there were external (meaning not things of my own doing) issues that shattered me while I was too busy trying to survive. Each time I looked closer a thought came into my head – what if I just loved these parts? And not in a bypassing way, or not taking personal accountability, but truly and deeply cared for each aspect that was left along my path.

Yesterday I returned to something that seemed so out of reach that I gave up trying. Not because it was beyond my grasp, but due to the overwhelming grief (and fear) of what others would think – or how I would be perceived. As I talk about it in the podcast (link below), sometimes you just have to be as real as you can be, even if it means starting over again for the 300th time. People are going to think what they want about you no matter what you do, and they will judge/condemn/dislike you because of their own thoughts/feelings. If the pain of not being who you are causes you to overlook your boundaries, sit at tables that aren’t yours, or stop trying to make your dreams come true…you might want to take some time to talk with those parts of you that need some love. Be still and quiet until you feel secure enough to wear stripes with plaid, or to share your creative work…or even to write about your inner world online.

And to help you along the way, might I just say a few words…

You are seen. You are loved. You are a beautiful child of the Universe, connected to everything around you. You matter. You are amazing.

Here is the link to the official (re)opening day podcast for Mom’s Strange Magic. Also, I’ll be moving all the Mom’s Strange Magic content to my Patreon page. Most of the content there will be free, and you can access it by clicking this link. Now, could I put all of this in one place – sure. Is that going to work for me personally – no. This space is my personal walk in the world where I’ll be sharing my creativity, my brain noodles, and whatever else shows up. As I’ve mentioned already, but will say again, WP does have a subscription option, which is pretty much how it is these days, but it works better for me to go through Ko-fi as I will also be selling off some of my artwork soon, and while it will be updated here it is important to keep my organization skills in a place where they are happiest. If you plan on following me, or any of my work, you can also just click that follow/subscribe button that WP provides, as I’ll be sharing all the things here as well.

With that, I’m off to feed the birds, tend to my chores, and hope that the typo faeries have been appeased enough to make this post not too full of mistakes. Plus, they also prove that AI didn’t help me write this. (LOL)

Much love to all y’all,
KEU