reflection Archives - Ingrid Murray

Things of Note, 2023

A 4x5 grid of photos of nature, art, travel, and a cat.

This year was hard. From my newsletter: “As a whole, [2023] was a one of wild — and often painful — growth. Though I’m happy to have it nearly behind me, I do appreciate the lessons it reinforced: community is everything; joy is everywhere; art is central to my well-being; and I am, unquestionably, loved.”

Navigating the complexities of moving to Germany. Celebrating our first anniversary alone and getting a visa in the same week. England and a lawyer. Early mornings on the train and a thick pink folder with all the documents. Receiving, finally, my residency permit. Learning the subway stations by heart.
A clean bill of health, again — something I’ll never not be grateful for.
Growing my art practice. Hanging a piece at Out of Order. Messy May. Joining a studio and selling my work. The Kindred Collective. Joining the Get Messy teaching team for 2024. Late nights painting and listening to audiobooks.
Seeking community. Game days. All the dogs at the Ministry of Brewing. New tattoos. A week with mom in spring. The Social Melting Pot. El Jem. Awkward first friend dates. Drinks and Mexican food and Weihnachtmärkte and the Thermalbad. Düsseldorf and Bonn; cookies in camping chairs. Barbecues. A visit from Kris.
A hot, hot summer. Days on the Rhine. Pasta salad. Naps with ice packs. Florence with E. Layers of art and history. Wine and pasta and limoncello with a new Israeli friend.
Moving, twice. Purging everything and seeing my things distributed among loved ones. Saying goodbye to a favorite home, sunbeams, and all my routines. Later, months of apartment hunting; a final, slow move just before the end of the year.
Practicing self care: the Lewis Museum, a luxurious bath, books, the Santa Clause, puzzles.
Surviving. Cat fights and real fights. Missing home and friendly faces. Exhaustion. Gloomy days and gloomy moods. Two trips to Tunisia. Sarcasm and frayed nerves and bed at dinnertime.
Going back home: kitties and kombucha and game day and the ER and puzzles and Chipotle. Dutch Blitz. Target and Savers. Texts and calls and The Mysteries. Being reminded, again and again, of how loved I am, and how missed.

Past year reflections.

These Past Months

Two outreached hands, spray painted in black onto a wooden fence, extend index fingers as if to touch, a la Michaelangelo's God and Adam on the Sistine Chapel.

The summer solstice fell on June 21st this year. Then the midway point of 2023 passed, and I finished James’ Clear‘s Atomic Habits a few weeks later. All of this has culminated in a pressing need to take a moment to pause, be present, and ask myself: How are things actually going?

The little things become the big things

Atomic Habits’ entire premise is that “small habits don’t add up. They compound.” The book explores the psychology of and misconceptions about habits, and suggests that building the lives we desire is possible through small, consistent daily choices and actions.

I highlighted nearly every other sentence; each on its own contains a multitude to parse out. It was Clear’s comments on self reflection, though, that jumped out at me as the mid-point of the year had just passed. He writes:

Reflection and review enables the long-term improvement of all habits because it makes you aware of your mistakes and helps you consider possible paths for improvement. … Personally, I employ two primary modes of reflection and review. Each December, I perform an Annual Review, in which I reflect on the previous year. … Six months later, when summer rolls around, I conduct an Integrity Report.”

I reflect and set intentions just before each new year, and I do have a sort of quarterly/seasonal reflection via my newsletter. Until now, though, I haven’t dedicated any thoughtful time mid-year to checking in on the goals I dreamed up the winter. And given that I’m progressively more stunned by how quickly time speeds by (and often bewildered as to how to recapture my days and be the agent in my own life), a summer review is a practice I’m adopting, starting now.

Two open mixed media art journals stacked on one another. The one at the bottom has black brush strokes! The one on the top is made of brown craft paper and has minimal collage and energetic marks and drips in neon pink and black.

What I’ve achieved

In a wild and literally life-changing year, moving to Germany was the biggest goal — everything else, really, was icing on the cake.

But I am proud of what else I’ve made happen: I chased some big dreams (took part in Messy May, applied for a freelance writing gig with an author I admire, called about a studio space), prioritized mental and physical health (journaled, meditated, felt all the feels, went on many walks, upped my fruits and veggies), and emphasized delight (attended an intimate Vivaldi performance, traveled to Italy, took part in some Oliver Burkeman workshops, tried new restaurants in Cologne).

Looking ahead

I’m stealing something from Clear’s Integrity Report — identifying and centering core personal values. Similar to years past, the values that resonate most with me are curiosity, creativity, joy, security, and connection. (This is a great tool I’ve found for narrowing down your own.)

How can I better embody my core values in my daily life?

Curiosity. “What if…?” Buy and try new art supplies. Explore new things, with permission to move away from them if they don’t feel right.
Creativity. More art-making, and embracing of imperfection. Stylistic exploration. More making things with my hands: knitting/crocheting (coasters), carving stamps, collaging, big paintings, jewelry, sewing (clothes). Make home home. MORE WRITING.
Joy. Get out of the house and see musicals, go ice skating, pet the dogs, go to a Weihnachtsmarkt, travel. Chase the things that make me so excited I want to throw up. Go on noticing walks several times a week. Reflect more on what brings me delight.
Security. Financial: Put more in savings by the end of year. Sell some art in some way. Self care/having my own back: regular reflection, writing, asking self Qs that help. Get better sleep. More movement, veggies, self love.
Connection. Stay in touch with old friends. Nurture new friendships. Have a regular virtual game day with family. Buy ticket for home. Read more books. Pick up the phone and call my parents.

Ultimately, in a few months, when I look back to what I have achieved from this point, I want to have written more, to have stretched my linguistic muscles and shaped my ephemeral and fleeting thoughts into words. I want to have cultivated joy and ease and connection, and above all to have been gentle with myself.

Street art of Bacchus nursing a hangover with aspirin and Alka-Seltzer

A look up at the intersection of two buildings early in the morning

Welcoming Ease

A double exposure of a flock of birds flying against a gray sky.

Intermittently, I’ve chosen word of the year—it serves as a beacon to focus on throughout the ups and downs of a trip around the sun, a reminder of what is important to me at this time in my life. It fits nicely into a “to feel” list, too. Past words include emerge, expand, awakening, and charge.

In 2023, my word is ease.

After a difficult year, now behind me, and a year of big change looming ahead, I am craving simplicity, small and steady progress, and letting go of perfection and impossible expectations.

Ease is a permission slip to breathe and be. I have a tendency to complicate things with arbitrary self-imposed rules; this year, instead, I’m going to focus on embracing “good enough”. I’m centering rest, too, and my own imperfect humanity.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”
Mary Oliver, When I Am Among the Trees

Things of Note, 2022

A grid of twenty photos taken throughout the year. They include: a tabby cat; feet of a bride and groom on cobblestone; a orange wall and bikes; several notes; one of which says "You can do hard things"; a pine tree that looks like it's giving multiple middle fingers, and an arm and hand giving the middle finger back to the tree; a purple flower; the sign at Pike's Market in Seattle; a pile of mixed media ICAD cards; a stone with the message "Sing for joy" written on it; a digital collage; a backlit orange flower; the sign to the German embassy; a very happy sleeping cat; the ocean; red autumn leaves against a blue sky; board game pieces; details of a mixed media piece; a storefront at the beach; river ice; trees in fog.

As I wrote in my December newsletter, 2022 was a year of extremes. I feel like I’ve seen the bare bones of life: joyful new beginnings and bittersweet endings, the importance of community and togetherness, and the knowledge that nothing lasts forever.

The highlight of the year, by far: getting married in a perfect, intimate ceremony in Denmark. DIY wedding dress alterations. A surprise send-off. Hives of anticipation! Burgers in Copenhagen. Calling my mom while getting ready. Swans. Sushi. Cake. Family calls + screenshots. The very best weekend that has sustained us for an entire year.
Deepening friendships and leaning into belonging and unconditional love. Ani’s kindness and support. Fake tattoos and Schitt’s Creek. Bethany Beach. Wing night. Madeline at the splashpad. Reconnecting with old friends. Chimney swifts. Assateague. Dinners with my crew. Art-making at R. House. AVAM.
Rituals and habits: family game days. Art nights with Viv. The second full year of using a logbook. Running. Blogging daily for a whole month. Visiting the deer. Keeping a commonplace book. 1SE for an entire year. Learning to slow down, and remembering that small, consistent actions are the key to sustainability.
Our wedding reception in July. Seattle. Kayaking. Trash talking over MarioKart. Celebrating with family and friends; wedding speeches. Visiting Grandma. Smartfood and flirting and escape attempts.
Challenging lows. Biopsies and scary medical news and surgery. “Wait to panic.” Two grandparents diagnosed with cancer. Waiting and waiting and waiting for a visa. Packing up a whole home. Losing a perfect apartment.
A rich year of art, including two finished two art journals. Out of Order. Joan Mitchell exhibit at the BMA, twice. ICAD. Doing a collaboration with Max Devereaux. Being a featured artist for Under the Influence Art Journaling. Making so many new connections with artists online and in person.
Building new skills, including Photoshop and Illustrator. Playing with digital collage. Trying out Mastodon (and loving it). Launching my newsletter. Learning to use a Gelli plate.
Witnessing loved ones’ highs and lows. Pets traveling over the rainbow bridge. Multiple relationships ending. Mom’s 60th birthday. Ani’s wedding. Dad’s new kitten. A surprise promotion. Remembering that life is deeply precious and equally precarious.

Past year reflections.

Top Nine (2022)

Here are my top nine most loved posts on Instagram this year:

A three-by-three grid of nine square Instagram posts. Two images are index cards with mixed media; six are open mixed media art journal pages; and one is the spine of a handmade art journal with a map cover.

And here are my own top favorite posts: