by Michelle Potter Artist - Energy Worker - Wayshower | Jul 11, 2024 | Art as Therapy, Blogs, Cancer, Life Lessons, Updates
A creative life is an interesting and challenging one. My mind has so many fleeting ideas. It takes practice to catch the right one and transform it into physical form.
Being creative has taught me that completing cycles carries over into life to help me finish things that I start. Not everything mind you, I am a work in progress!
The irony is, that once that thought is out there, if you don’t action it, someone else will. How many times have you heard someone say “I thought of that years ago. That was my idea.” Well technically it might have been, however, if you do nothing with the gift the universe gave to you don’t expect it to hang around! It wants to be birthed into the world.
The creative process made me question everything I ever thought myself capable of doing. For me that meant the four P’s. Patience, persistence, perseverance and practice.
Remember when I told my art mentor Lynn that I could not draw animals or people? Have you seen my art? I can most definitely draw those things, and so much more.
Let me take you back to Christmas 1978. There was a whole school competition to design a Christmas card and everyone had a chance to draw something. Granted, I had lost my Dad that year and the teachers probably all got together and thought it would be a nice gesture for me to be the winner. Of course I don’t know that as fact and I certainly wouldn’t have known that back then. So, when it was announced that my drawing had won the competition, I was so excited. My little stick drawing of Joseph and Mary kneeling down looking at the crib with baby Jesus. Designed by Michelle Potter written on the back. The very first time I ever saw my name published in ink.
My neighbour was someone I looked up to like a big sister. She was two years older than me and most days her, her sister and myself all walked to school together. After the winner had been announced she came up to me in the school corridor and told me that my drawing was really bad. That there were so many better drawings than mine. Then she blurted out ‘You just won because your Dad died’. My little heart was crushed. Looking back now I know she was probably jealous, because to her, I was getting an awful lot of attention, but to my seven-year-old self, it was like she had torn the sun out of the sky just because she could.
It planted a seed of doubt that me winning had nothing to do with my talent. I was now questioning, like most things that happened around my Father‘s death, that people wanted me to be happy and were doing nice things because they felt sorry for me, with of course the exception of my neighbour!
I believe this had a big impact on my art at a young age. It was the creation of a belief pattern that if I did something well, people I loved were going tear it down and often it was someone that I trusted. That being good at something brought out jealousy and nasty behaviour. From this moment I started to think it was much better to blend in and not stand out.
This pattern was repeated, confirmed and reinforced in different forms throughout my 13 years of classical ballet and schooling. I deliberately sabotaged myself and never excelled at anything because success meant I wouldn’t be liked. And I really needed to be liked.
Throughout all my childhood challenges I wish I’d had someone to encourage and nurture the creative side of myself. Someone to show me that I never really wanted to be like everybody else. I think the closest I ever got was my high school drama teacher Miss Collins. She was petite with short blonde spiky hair, wore baggy jeans and vests. (Very 80’s). She was a little bit out there and I loved her for it. I especially remember the day we all sang the Na na na nananana, nannana part of ‘Hey Jude’ so loud in a portable classroom, the teacher next door came in to see if our class had a teacher. I’ll never forget how red Miss Collins cheeks went with embarrassment.
A very important lesson for me is from the book ‘The Artist Way’. Julia Cameron uses the analogy of an elephant. That different people in your life will only see parts of you. Your work colleagues may only see the trunk, your family may see the side and your friends the tail. Very rarely will anyone see the entire elephant. Your entire self.
As an adult I now understand how important it is to surround yourself with the right people. To do what I love just for the joy of creating. It was never my intention to make a business out of it (if I can even call it that). It’s a platform to show off that baby Jesus Christmas card and If I make some money in the process then yay me.
by Michelle Potter Artist - Energy Worker - Wayshower | Jun 21, 2024 | Art as Therapy, Artwork, Blogs, Cancer, Life Lessons, Pancreatic Cancer
I didn’t specifically mean to go down a pathway of art as therapy and a form of healing; rather, it found me.
It was 2012, and I was still in recovery from my stomach cancer. My life as I knew it had been turned on its head. In a parallel universe, I’m sure I was enjoying motherhood and socialising, and my hopes of finding myself again included rejoining the workforce. This timeline, however, looked very different.
I started back up again at a weekly women’s circle, and my circle mentor suggested that I try pastel drawing. Up until now, I had only ever played with abstract acrylic art, and I dabbled with some cartoons. My mum was the artist in the family, not me!
Side note: In truth, when I first started Circle in August 2009, my interests were mainly focused on developing my psychic abilities. As it turned out, this was not a class about chakras, crystals or the paranormal. Most weeks were spent peeling off layer after layer of belief and societal patterns, fears, religious dogma and lifetimes of karmic dross. I learned a lot about myself during these years, and it had its time and place in my life, but by August 2017, I was grateful when the spotlight didn’t fall on me on a Monday night. There was a moment when I knew in my heart that it was time to step out of Circle. It had been brewing for a while, and one thing I knew for sure was I shouldn’t feel worse when I left than when I entered. It had become a toxic environment for me. It is an interesting reflection knowing that Circle itself became something that I needed to let go of.
Lynn Whitty (Shiona as she is known in the Spirit Art World) became my art mentor for many years after 2012. I remember getting my first packet of mungyo soft pastels and driving myself to her then home in Springvale (southeast of Melbourne). She had the most amazing acrylic painting, which had been an Archibald entry, hung at her front door. I stood there in awe and thought to myself, ‘ One day, I want to be able to paint like that.’
Lyn is a bright and colourful character. Her modern hairstyle, funky glasses, and laugh make her stand out in any crowd. The room she taught from had a room full of easels. It was warm and cozy, with years of pastel dust staining the carpet. I felt instantly comfortable. As several other ladies came in, chatting, mingling and settling down with cups of tea, Lynn asked what I wanted to get out of class. I stated “I can’t draw animals and I can’t draw people.” Boy, was I wrong!
My first drawing was of a man in a green cape with a wolf. It was pretty two dimensional, and his eyes were a little close set, but considering I had never used soft pastels before, I was really proud of what I had achieved.
Something shifted in me during that first lesson. I realised I was capable of much more than I had imagined. Getting through stomach cancer and surgery had mostly been out of my control. I had to hand my life over to other people. I had to trust that the doctors, surgeons and specialists did what they were trained to do.
There were many lessons in there for me, including that of letting go and being more vulnerable than I had ever been in my life. This ‘creating space’, however, was a place that was just mine. A place where my inner child could learn and play.
My inner child! Of course, I had been neglecting her. I had all this grown-up, responsible stuff to do. From the age of 6, when I lost my father to bowel cancer, I became the responsible one. My childhood had been cruelly snatched out from under me, and now, with the help of my cancer, I had a chance to embrace her again.
This time, she could be encouraged, nurtured and supported, and I realised it was my job to give her the time and effort she needed to flourish. I was starting to really understand the meaning of gratitude and abundance. My vulnerability had opened up possibilities. It created a place for growth and transformation, so that is what I chose.
If I could get through stage 3 cancer, then my life, as I knew it, had already jumped tracks. What did I have to lose? The worst that could happen is that I could fail dismally. But how was I ever going to know unless I gave it a go?
My Wednesday mornings became my ritualistic art day. I set up a small easel at home in our family room and I worked at my craft every single day. This was the beginning of my art as therapy.
by Michelle Potter Artist - Energy Worker - Wayshower | Nov 30, 2017 | Cancer, Life Lessons, Stomach Cancer
Hi, I’m Michelle. I thought I would reintroduce myself to everyone. In 2011 my world changed forever. Not only did I survive stomach cancer I also discovered I live with Lynch Syndrome, also known as hereditary nonpolyposis colorectal cancer. For anyone who has carries a genetic predisposition there is a lot of anxiety attached to it.
I attended self development for many years, have read a pile of books, connected with others living in similar circumstances and have spent an awful amount of time in my head. In my newsletter I wrote “One of the things I will take away from 2017 is that I have tried very hard to be a bee over the last few years. Encouragement pushing me in that direction has only made me more conflicted and aware that I was trying to be something I was not. My business was not gaining momentum because of what I was projecting and I know now that that was not my authentic self, rather a productive version of me that I felt I had to be in order to be successful. All the while I was unconsciously projecting the very fear of success I was afraid of by not being true to myself. “
This has been a confronting year of truth and as Kerwin Rae says ‘Just trust the path as you go.’ Doing things through fear has held me back because I believed that I had to find one thing and be great at that. But, I am not one thing, I am many things and I can BE all of them. It has taken some serious life lessons to realize I just need to be me.
Fact, I live without a stomach everyday and some days are more challenging than others. My art is my healing space and my time to create for others. I am a mother, a wife, a cancer survivor, a healer, a writer, an artist, an explorer, a creator, a business woman and a friend. In order to live to my full potential I need to accept all of me without self judgment.
So with excited uncertainty I do not know where the path is going to take me in 2018 but I know I will be embracing it with both hands. 
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❤️
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#bio #Artist #magical #uniquegift #abundance #livewithoutlimits #cancersurvivor #stomachcancer #bringon2018 #artistwithnostomach
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by Michelle Potter Artist - Energy Worker - Wayshower | Oct 16, 2017 | Life Lessons
I was reminded last week that when we fear success we actually block it from happening. This can happen with so many things that our hearts desire. Loosing weight, a loving relationship, a fantastic career.
We find subtle ways (and not so subtle ways) to self sabotage so we don’t reach that success. Why? Personally, I feel its because we don’t like to embrace change. Perhaps we think we do, but when we get down to the nuts and bolts most of us like living in our familiar comfortable discomfort. Maybe loosing weight will make you feel and look more attractive. This might make you unconsciously uncomfortable. In your mind you don’t know how you are going to deal with accepting compliments or maybe you are afraid of attracting the wrong attention. So a cycle begins. A committed week of 3 gym sessions and monitoring every morsel ends with a big piece of cake and a large glass of wine. You deserved it right? We can justify this sabotage because we look at it as a reward.
My fear of success stems from the feeling that I actually don’t deserve it. This has been reinforced throughout my life by others who have taken it upon themselves to put me down (probably just stemming from their own insecurities). From my younger years as a ballet dancer, to my short drama career, a massage therapist to finally finding my creative outlet through art. It gets embedded into your psyche even though as an adult I logically see things for what they are.
How many of you have positive affirmations that you look at daily? How many self help books have you read (or have sitting on your bedside table collecting dust.) How many courses have you done and yet you are still the perpetual student. Until you step out of fear and actually start to implement everything into your life they are just words not worth the paper they are written on. This in itself makes me want to take the horse by the reins.
I have come to realize that if I don’t step through my fear and just let go of controlling the outcome then how can I possibly inspire other people? By simply blogging about this it might light the spark in someone else. What if I had decided to just keep all this in my head this morning and go on with my day?
Being a creative, emotional critter I wear my heart on my sleeve. A nasty comment can have me retreating back into my shell quicker than a tortoise being poked with a stick. My reality is I have had an extremely hard life. If every sin carries its own punishment then I have worked through life times of karma this time around. This has made me a sensitive soul, and I have to be very vigilant in protecting my sovereign space. Stepping out onto the stage leaves me open and vulnerable to the opinions and judgment of others. My adult self is very encouraging and fully supportive, my inner child however is teetering around the edges of the pool (and has been for a while).
If I jump in what is life going to look like on the other side of success? I’m not really sure yet but I’m about to leap in and see. 3, 2, 1 JUMP !
by Michelle Potter Artist - Energy Worker - Wayshower | Mar 1, 2015 | Cancer, Life Lessons, Stomach Cancer
I was a normal six year old girl enjoying a carefree life, laughing with my friends, and starting my second year at primary school. I was Daddy’s little princess and my life literally changed overnight. My childhood was ripped away from me and the harsh reality of Dad’s death stole my innocence. It all seemed to happen so fast — my tiny little head did not have time to take in the reality of it all. Having been diagnosed in December of 1977 with a secondary bowel cancer, my Dad died four months later at the age of 36 in April 1978. After my Dad’s death, I was thrown into a world of grief; I no longer had my Dad to comfort and to hug me. I no longer had my Dad to read me bedtime stories, to tuck me into bed at night, to praise me after my ballet concerts, or to hold my little hand when we went for a walk. Unbeknownst to me at the time, my Dad had Lynch syndrome.
Experiencing the death of a parent at a young age is certainly a character building experience and can be the catalyst for a young girl to develop “daddy issues”. These daddy issues manifested themselves in the form of manipulation and promiscuous behaviors during my teenage years. I sought father figures in all my male relationships throughout my twenties, which only led to broken partnerships and a failed marriage. Independence was my armor and I gave power to the masculine side of myself and not necessarily in a healthy or productive way. I consciously quelled the very essence of my feminine side down. I feared I was weak, could easily be hurt, and was vulnerable — I was a survivor who needed to be in control.
My second marriage came with its own set of challenges. Despite our backgrounds and former spouses, our union seemed strong but after ten years of financial pressure, challenging teenage stepchildren and two babies of our own I had started seeking a way out. I began with riding my bike taking every opportunity to escape. I had commenced self-development class once a week in the hope of rediscovering myself, picked up a part-time job, which got me out of the house mainly at nights and on weekends because blended family time was finally taking its toll. I just couldn’t do it anymore. It broke my heart to be despised in my own home every fortnight; I was at a complete loss. The environment around me was becoming so toxic and I didn’t know how to fix it. If I really wanted to self sabotage my life the Universe was about to give me a permanent way out if I chose to accept it.
You know when you just know certain things? Well, my intuition knew that I had cancer even before the doctor’s appointment. My husband and I went up to the mountains and sat quietly in a little tea house. We held hands, cried and made a promise to each other that no matter what the diagnosis we would get through it together. We walked to a small gift shop and I was drawn to purchase a beautiful aquamarine pendant. I didn’t know at the time but the benefit of using this crystal is that it aids you to let go of emotional issues from your past that you have been holding on to. When I paid for the pendant we started talking to the owner of the shop, she just happened to ask what my star sign was. When the word “Cancer” fell out of my mouth I just knew the heaviness in my heart was a fear I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to face. It wasn’t just my star sign, that same afternoon my doctor confirmed I had stomach cancer.
During treatment and surgery something beautiful happened. That little girl that lost her Father resurfaced. She finally had an opportunity to grieve the loss of her Dad. She looked into her own children’s eyes at night and felt the heartache her Dad must have felt, knowing he was not going to see her grow up. She had time to sit on the floor and play with her boys. She had to hand all the masculine stuff over to her husband from the running of the house to the organising of everyone’s life. She only had one job – to get her adult self well so she could love and guide her little boys into men. The cancer diagnosis exposed the my feminine side that had been so carefully hidden high in my subconscious for so long, had finally re-emerged, and spilled back over into my life.
I took my power back, faced my own mortality, beat the statistics, and chose to live a life of self awareness. My feminine side was not to be feared. She is kind, nurturing, creative, healing, and most of all incredibly powerful. Allowing the creative side of myself to explore my emotions through art was my modality for healing during my illness. Painting was my passion prior to my illness but the work I was starting to produce began surprising me.
Yes, I have Lynch syndrome, but it does not take over every thought of every minute of my life. I am not my genes and I am most certainly not the cancer. I have used the experience to empower my life and to make a difference. I count, I am a survivor but I am also a creator, a healer, a mother and a wife. I am grateful for the knowledge of my genetics because I can now be a proactive, a happier person who doesn’t sit in drama or sweat the small stuff. My perspective and ability to bring hope and healing to others through my experience and my artwork has changed my life. The cancer and the Lynch syndrome diagnosis have opened my eyes, saved my marriage and awakened me to possibilities far beyond anything I could have ever imagined.
Michelle Lykokapis
Melbourne, Australia
http://michellepotter.com.au
