Archives for category: art and the artist

I’m sitting at the trailhead, waiting for the sun. I use the time to meditate, which doesn’t use all the time I have for waiting. I sit quietly awhile, reflecting on life, generally, and looking out over the seasonal lake on the other side of the highway observing the way the clouds and water reflect distant lights. I listen to the sounds of traffic, and my ceaseless tinnitus.

I take a moment to make a packing list for my upcoming weekend trip to the coast. I decided last night to take a paint box with me, and maybe spend some time painting seascapes and coastal landscapes. Should be fun and relaxing. My packing list completed, I update my to-do list for today, too. It’s not a lot, but the meal I plan to make for dinner has some specifics that will drag my ass into the kitchen for some tidying up, and I definitely need to finish doing the dishes so the kitchen will be ready for cooking a proper meal later. I’m making a Bolognese sauce and I plan to make enough to have some left to set aside for my Traveling Partner to enjoy while I am gone.

The day feels planned. Even the next few days seem pretty well laid out. Oh, for sure my lived experience will have some variations from anything I’ve put on a fucking list; the map is not the world. Still, I feel prepared, and that’s a feeling I like.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. This is a pleasant quiet moment, as I wait for the sun. The weather is unseasonably mild, and it’s not raining. I sit quietly, enjoying the moment for what it is before I begin again.

I’m awake on a snowy Sunday morning, on a long weekend in January. It’s cold outside – too cold for me to go walking, and the roads are in a hell of a mess after the snow, and quite icy. So… I’m home for the morning, and giving myself (and my Traveling Partner) some space to wake up. After a few minutes of “headphone silence”, with the world muted by having headphones on but no music, I put on a playlist.

…I slept in this morning. So delightful. So rare. I slept well and deeply. I really needed that. I hope my Traveling Partner slept well, too; I haven’t had an opportunity to ask, yet. He was polite and very clear that he wanted some time to himself to wake up, when I greeted him this morning, so I made coffee and made my way to the studio. It’s wonderful to have that option on a snowy day. 

Yesterday’s headache is… part of yesterday. Today’s pain is just the manageable day-to-day sort of pain I live with. I do the things that help to ease it, and I work to stay alert and mindful that it’s still worthwhile to put real effort into being kind and being present and being my best self in all the minutes I am able to. It’s an aspirational bit of work, sometimes; I’m still very human. I breathe, exhale, relax. I take time for gratitude that I’m not hurting, today, the way I was hurting yesterday. My Traveling Partner was supportive and kind and careful to be gentle with his words yesterday, knowing the headache was just fucking crushing me. Today? I don’t know yet what today holds – it’s full of opportunities and possibilities.

Maybe we’ll hang out watching South Park? Maybe I’ll read a book? Ooh… I could make a couple new batches of shower pucks for that fragrant luxurious shower experience! πŸ˜€ The day ahead is full of chances to choose, and opportunities to enjoy moments. My heart is filled with love, and my head is full of thoughts and questions. The music plays on. I consider maybe painting. The song in my ears makes me want to grab a paint brush.

A shot taken in 2021 inspires me.

There’s no telling what the day holds. It could all go badly sideways in an instant, but I don’t dwell on that possibility; no reason to create it from imagined bullshit or anxiety. I can live in this timeless now, filled with potential, and choose with more care than that. I smile thinking of my Traveling Partner. Fuck, I love that guy. He is my partner, my best friend, my muse… I find myself missing him from this short distance, already.

I’ll guess I’ll finish this cup of coffee, and this bit of writing, and begin again…

This morning I took a walk in the cold of the frosty morning, just as daybreak arrived. No pictures. Just walking with my thoughts, and taking care that I didn’t slip on an icy surface along the way. Now I’m home, sipping coffee, sitting here with my thoughts. Same thoughts? Same thoughts. I am thinking about good and evil, right and wrong, and the excuses we make. I’m thinking about the inexcusable horror of war and how terrible and pointless it is. I’m thinking about inspiration, and things I’ve seen that I’d like to put on canvas. I keep the sound turned down low on the playlist I’m listening to, in case my Traveling Partner calls out from the other room to get my help with anything, while he recovers from an injury.

…There’s a bit of grocery shopping to plan, an errand to run, and I’m overdue to finally unpack from my trip to the coast (which now seems so long ago). There are dishes to do. Meals to plan. Laundry to wash, fold, and put away. Life. Adulthood. Taking care of things that take care of me. Sometimes it seems pretty fucking endless, ridiculously repetitive and without any lasting outcome of value. Processes and practices work that way, I suppose. I take a breath, feeling my fingers dance across the keyboard as my thoughts flow across my awareness and on past. I exhale, still finding contentment in these simple things. It’s enough, generally…

I saw a gorgeous sunrise while I was on the coast, and it’s the sort of sight that fills my thoughts for days and lingers in my recollections. Such sunrises are the stuff of inspiration, for me. Sunrises are a little on the nose as metaphors for new beginnings, but there it is; simple and true. Believable. Real.

Begin again.

I breathe, exhale, relax, and look over the many pictures I took on my recent coastal getaway. I spent most of that time working, and so most of the pictures are of the view from the balcony or windows of the hotel room where I stayed for 4 days, with a handful taken on this or that walk on the beach on a lunch break, or some opportune moment when the tide was low. It was time well-spent. I reflect on the time, now, hoping to prevent the nurturing emotional gains of rest, resilience, and introspection from slipping away in the chaos of returning home to an injured partner, and the busy whirlwind of pre-holiday life, generally. Breathe in. Breathe out. Look at the next picture. Repeat.

My Traveling Partner asks about breakfast sandwiches and whether I might make some…? It’s time to begin again.

How utterly ordinary this seems. Me, a cup of coffee, a dark early morning awake ahead of the sun… I could have slept in… if I could have slept in. lol I’m not even disappointed; I woke rested and uncertain of the time. By the time I had gotten up to pee and also found a means of checking the time, I was quite wide awake and feeling that a new day had begun. I tried to go back to bed, but that lasted only minutes; I was clearly awake. So. Coffee time. πŸ˜€

Once I had made a cup of coffee, I shut off the lights and opened the curtains, the better to see the changing light as day breaks. For now, all is dark and quiet. At home, in the heart of agriculture and rural industries, this is not a particularly early hour. There would be some traffic on the road and the highway, and evidence of businesses preparing to open, most cafes and coffee stops would already be bustling with folks heading to work, or places unknown – even on a Saturday, there’d be some traffic and people coming and going. (It’s not that early, just early enough to still be dark on a December morning.) Here? In a seaside tourist town? It may as well be deserted. Rarely, cars roll down the highway. I see few headlights pass by “out there” beyond the window, beyond the bay, where the highway follows the curves of the hills beyond. No house windows are lit up, yet. No sounds come from other rooms. It’s quiet. Dark, quiet, early, this is still a day filled with promise and not much else quite yet. It’s more than an hour until sun rise.

…Good cup of coffee…

I slept well and deeply last night, and my dreams were untroubled, and unremembered now. Easy night. I hope my Traveling Partner got some rest. I wish him well from afar. As it turns out, this coastal getaway ends up being largely wasted with regard to the primary reason for going in the first place, which was to give my partner room to work. He’s been in pain and not easily able to work at all. Fucking hell. How unfortunate – and how unfair! Nonetheless, this is also time that greatly benefits me directly, and my emotional wellness is bolstered and supported with it. Already paid for, so I make a point to enjoy it, to savor it, and to take advantage of it fully without any guilt or awkwardness. I help him by coming home feeling well and merry, far more than if I rush back anxiously – and wastefully. πŸ™‚

I sip my coffee and reflect on the day ahead. This is my one day on the coast (on this trip) that is not to do with work in any way. I’m free to enjoy the day as I’d like, whatever that means. I don’t yet know. Walk on the beach? Prowl antique shops as yet unexplored? A leisurely brunch somewhere? Laze the day away reading books? Some of all those things? I don’t know. I relish the feeling of luxury that comes of a momentary recognition that if I wanted to, I could just go back to bed and get more sleep. My time is my own, and that feels quite lovely.

I sip my coffee and explore that feeling of luxury. It dawns on me (maybe not for the first time) what a real treat that feeling of my time being my own actually is. Human beings are social creatures. We work and play collaboratively. We create and make and labor in partnerships, teams, groups, and communities. We are industrious as global enterprises. We live as families. My love of solitude is the oddity, not the norm, and in all likelihood it’s a byproduct of my chaos and damage, my trauma, and the resulting lack of enjoyment I take from society, generally… probably. I know my Traveling Partner misses me deeply when I’m away, sometimes to the point of depression. I miss him, too, but… day-to-day, I often find myself missing… this. The solitude. The quiet that allows me more room to “hear myself think”. The stillness that becomes a beautiful space to write, or paint. The freedom to simply be – without disturbing or inconveniencing anyone else with my quirks or my anxiety. So, this morning I merrily raise my coffee mug to the dark sky beyond the window, as if to say “here’s to the luxury of a couple days of solitude!” – if I haven’t “earned” it, nonetheless, I sure do enjoy it. I’m grateful for a partnership sufficiently secure to permit it as often as I do get to enjoy it. I make a point to sit with that gratitude awhile, listening to the ocean waves as the tide comes in.

…This cup of coffee is finished. I make another. I see the note that I left for myself by the coffee machine. It says “go easy on the coffee, you’ll want to sleep later!” A reminder from me to myself. I often do drink too much coffee when I’m indulging myself with some getaway or when I’m camping. It rarely seems to be a problem, the way it definitely is when I’m home living a routine ordinary life of habit and calendar. I have no idea why there’s such a difference. Maybe there isn’t? Maybe it’s an illusion? I consider whether to spend more time on that, and decide it’s unimportant. I make another coffee and move on with my thoughts.

The sky begins to lighten, ever so slightly shifting toward a dark subtly blue gray. The cars on the highway begin to pass in occasional clusters. High tide is still a bit more than two hours away, and will occur well after sun rise, which is only an hour away now. For now, just the earliest hint of dawn appears. The specificity of the language we have to describe these experiences delights me. It’s somehow very telling of the importance to human primates of the coming of a new day, that we can so clearly describe its coming using words, in such detail.

On the highway, across the bay, I see taillights just stopped there. I know that spot – there’s a pull out right there, with access to the mudflats at low tide. There are a trio of large rocks jutting out of the bay near there. The spot is called (on the map) “Freedom Rock”. It’s too dark to go down to the bay from the highway, still. It’s also almost high tide; there’s no where to go (it’s covered with water). I see that car continue to sit, lights on, then shut off the lights. I imagine some other version of me – or some similar sort of individual – sitting there in their car, waiting for enough daylight to go for some walk. It seems familiar and reasonable, and the thought pleases me. I sip my coffee and think my thoughts. I wonder if they will be disappointed when daylight reveals the lack of any point in waiting at that spot? lol

Just barely dawn; a pointless photograph.

The sky is just starting to evolve from the darkness of night to the dim light of dawn. Another few minutes, and it will be possible to take a picture without using night settings. Another cup of coffee will be consumed. My email account will sync and my app notifications will begin pinging me. Day will begin. I’m reminded to take my morning medications, and snarl quietly and not very seriously as I head over to the counter where I left them. “Aging sucks…”

I take time for yoga and meditation, then go downstairs to the breakfast bar adjacent to the lobby for a light bite of breakfast. I’m not overly eager to be out in the world, among people, so perhaps a sit down breakfast in a restaurant is not an ideal choice, this morning? No obligation to be fancy or lavish with my spending, and I’m pretty easily satisfied with a yogurt cup and a toasted English muffin. I turn my eyes toward the window just in time to see the horizon infused with shades of strawberry and peach… I jump to catch a shot of it, stubbing my toe painfully on the way…

The sort of sight worth 4 days in a hotel room.

A minute later and I’d have missed it altogether. The sky has returned to a rather featureless rainy day gray once again. Worth the stubbed toe. Worth 4 days in a hotel room. It was a gorgeous sight and the picture hardly captures it at all. I sip my coffee contemplating which pigments I would choose to capture that view on canvas. If I’d painted such a thing, in such vibrant colors, before seeing this view myself, I would hardly be surprised if someone else seeing that painting assumed I’d taken artistic liberties with the colors. lol

I sigh happily and finish my second cup of coffee, my yogurt, and my English muffin. My Traveling Partner pings me – he’s awake now too. It’s a new day. The sun has risen, though there’s no visible sign of it beside the daylight itself. I’ve still no particular idea what I’ll do with the day, and it has begun to rain softly. Antique stores and books are winning out over beach walks, presently, but the tide will begin to recede sometime after 09:00, plenty of time to consider walking on beaches later on.

Plan or no plan, I find myself ready to begin again. πŸ˜€

I am sipping my coffee and reflecting on the day. It’s my Traveling Partner’s birthday. We’ve managed to celebrate 13 of these together, now. Hilariously, it’s been more likely that we’ll be together for this day than any other one holiday on our shared calendar. Over the years, we’ve missed a Thanksgiving or Giftmas or two, and a couple of my birthdays, and quite a few Equinoxes and Solstices… but generally, we’ve managed to be together for his birthday. I’m glad. This is a hell of a partnership, and he’s a pretty great partner (and person), generally – worth celebrating.

“Communion” 24″ x 36″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow. 2011

I’m listening to love songs (that are meaningful to me – or us – in the context of “us”). A younger version of me wouldn’t have found this at all comfortable. There was a time when my cynicism was so profound, and my disappointment in humanity ran so deep, that I just didn’t “understand” love – or believe it even existed in any real way. Certainly not the fairy-tale forever-romance version of love that infuses every “bodice buster” romance novel or Hollywood rom-com. I’m not sure I think that sort of thing is at all commonplace, even now, and if a person is so fortunate as to find such love, nurturing it and maintaining it over time is a whole other monstrous challenge. We’re human creatures. We reason poorly. We lead with our emotions without understanding our emotions. We bumble through our lives chained by our bullshit and baggage, and holding ourselves back with flawed assumptions and unstated (and unreasonable) expectations. Messy.

Sharing the love, and sharing the building. Destruction is far less joyful.

I’m in a different place with Love these days. I’m a believer. It’s funny how it hit me, too. We were commuting together pretty regularly, and one day, after we got off the light rail together to change to our (different) buses, we exchanged a hug. I had a Lady Gaga song stuck in my head for hours after that hug. LOL I will probably always remember that moment as the moment I fell for my Traveling Partner. Hard.

So much of life is about love and loving.

It’s been a wild ride this thing called love. Sometimes poignant. Sometimes sexy (mmm-hmm… πŸ˜€ ) So, I sip my coffee and think about love. We’re happy together, generally. We have our trying times and vexing moments… doesn’t matter, really, the love matters more. We work it out. We’re reliably “there for each other”, supporting each other’s dreams and goals. Having fun with it. Growing together.

So many everyday things in my life were made for me by my Traveling Partner.

I sip my coffee as the love songs play on. So many memories, together. This day? It’s celebrating him. Like I said, worth celebrating. πŸ˜€ I already miss him, and it’s only been two hours since I left the house this morning. LOL It’s autumn, but I’ve got summertime in my heart – flowers, sunshine, and a deep and abiding love.

I’d say more about my Traveling Partner as an individual, but his privacy matters. He’s strong, capable, funny… he’s one human being that I’ve fallen for heart and soul, and I can’t even say “why” – I only know it feels right. It’s not always easy (for either of us; I’m a mess!) My greatest regrets in a long life well-lived? Hurtful words or thoughtless actions by which I’ve wounded my Dearheart, more than most anything else. What a rare and beautiful love. What a cherished partnership. πŸ˜€ I’m eager to end the work day and head home to spend time with him. ❀

(If you read this over your coffee, Love, I hope it makes you smile. Happy birthday, and I love you. I’ll see you in a couple hours.)