Archives for category: Metaphors

This morning I woke with anxiety riding shotgun. I woke early, and abruptly, feeling unable to take a breath. In the face of imminent panic, I managed to grab hold of the nearest practice – in this case, simply breathing – and focused on that, instead of the anxiety.

“Anxiety” 10″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic 2011

“Anxiety” 10″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic 2011

With the first deep breath, in and then slowly out, I observed the quiet environment, and the lack of immediate threats to my safety or wellness.

With the second, I observed my own body and state of being, finding and gently letting go of tension, then self-soothing by improving my posture, and comforting myself with reminders to be present, now, and letting the safety and comfort of the moment soak into my awareness more fully.

With the third breath I acknowledged Anxiety traveling with me this morning, and instead of panic, I gave myself a mental pat on the back for dealing with her – and my PTSD – so well these past couple days.  I took a moment to refresh my understanding that my TBI sometimes prevents my chemistry from appropriately returning to baseline because the inhibition/disinhibition circuitry – and other executive functions – are impaired; this too will pass, but it may take longer than I’d like, and I’ll probably have to help it along.

By the time I complete 5 deep cleansing breaths, my heart stopped pounding, and the surreal terror eased. Was it something in my dreams that woke me so badly? It hardly matters. I am okay, and a new day is beginning. I anticipate the anxiety may come and go today, as it eases over hours without new stimuli. I smile realizing that it feels almost natural… almost easy… to take care of me in the face of my anxiety. It is quite deliberate, very structured, almost ritualistic, extremely practiced, and in no way ‘natural’ or ‘easy’ – but it is lovely that it feels that it easy, and that’s more than enough to bring a smile to my face, this morning as I sit with my coffee, quite alone, and recognizing anxiety as merely an emotion, rather than envisioning it as some powerful super-being capable of destroying worlds.

The tools and practices I have invested so much time and study in really do make a difference. Using SuperBetter regularly helps me stay focused on practicing good self-care practices, and reminds me of all the variety there is in self-care tools and skills, and in creative ways to break problem patterns of thinking and behavior. Directing entertainment consumption towards the educational (TED Talks, SciShow…) has proven helpful, too; the brain is a sort of ‘use it or lose it’ tool, itself, and the sharpest elders I know are people who continue learning well into their elder years as a lifelong passion.

…And then there’s love.  I don’t want to overlook or underestimate the value of supportive relationships, emotional nurturing by loved ones, the comfort in someone listening, or the emotional safety in being accepted and loved – exactly as I am.  Being loved is a bit like buried pirate treasure, though; even though I suspected it might be ‘out there’, and even with a map that had a spot marked ‘X’ to point the way, it took some searching and some persistence, mostly because I did not understand that the love I most yearned for above all others needed to come from me, and until I found my way to that safe haven, no searching would ever turn up the pirate treasure of romantic love in the arms of another (because, even if someone loved me that much, in that way, I would struggle to recognize and feel it, having no similar feeling about myself).

It’s a lovely morning, and a good day to tell anxiety to take a hike – I will choose, instead, to walk with love, deliberately and willfully. Today is a good day to practice good practices, and to take care of me. Today is a good day to enjoy what works, and improve on what doesn’t work so well. Today is a good day to change the way I deal with my world.

 

If you were to find that you must quickly, and immediately, depart for ‘points unknown’, and do so in as prepared a fashion as you could with minimal time spent ‘getting your things together’…what would you take with you?

Too much? Not enough? What matters most?

Too much? Not enough? What matters most?

Think about it for a moment. You can use any resources you may have – but whatever you take along on the journey needs to be light enough to manage alone, and serve you well for having rated high enough to be considered to take along, at all. You don’t know the destination – but I’ll at least observe that there will be challenges, and potential risk to your health, perhaps even your sanity. So. What do you take with you to handle most of your basic needs?

Are there also things you know with utter certainty you must leave behind?

If this scenario develops unexpectedly, in the wee hours perhaps, or late in the evening when you are already quite tired, or when you are in poor health, or hurting – does your packing list change? What about the time it takes to figure out the details?

What is on your list of essentials on life’s journey?

Today is a good day to consider questions. Today is a good day to travel light, and to be prepared for change. Today is a good day to reconsider my ‘packing list’ and lighten the baggage I carry day-to-day.

 

Strength isn't always what I expect it to be.

Strength isn’t always what I expect it to be.

Amazing things are possible with a little support.

Love and Inspiration are a lovely combination.

Love and Inspiration are a lovely combination.

Enjoy the moment; it’s the only one quite like it.

Today is a good day to encourage someone to be the person they most want to be. Today is a good day for please and thank you. Today is a good day to be kind and considerate. Today is a good day to love.

Well, I suppose the aphorism is slightly different, for most. “Home is where the heart is”, is more likely to ring true. For me, it hasn’t been enough… Do I lack ‘heart’? That seems unlikely from the vantage point of being generally well-regarded, mostly valued, and living life embraced by love. But… living in a particular building, or at a specific address, has not been sufficient to define ‘home’ for me – even though I live with loved ones, in a generally comfortable, pretty contented day-to-day sort of way. It has seemed very odd for some time.

I’m not always sure what being an artist means, precisely. I’m not sure how being an artist defines me differently than being someone who paints an occasional painting, or creates something of great beauty once in a while; it’s the beauty created that matters more. I am uncomfortably aware in recent months that my own art speaks to me, myself, with an earnestness and import that has resulted in feeling pretty displaced and homeless not seeing it displayed all around me in my daily life; it hadn’t been hung. There’s a lot of it. One or two paintings made it to the walls over the past couple years… I have… dozens. Hundreds? I paint like a madwoman, I am not shy about admitting that. The bare expanses of wall started working on my mind, over time; the stacks and stacks of paintings at the ready, the cabinets of smaller ones, the carefully boxed (between layers of protective acid-free tissue) unframed watercolors… all waiting…all part of who I am…all disregarded in favor of day-to-day minutiae and drama, and seeming unimportant to anyone but me.

The pain of it diminished considerably when I realized in an honest and aware moment that the bare walls left me feeling quite ‘homeless’ – more ‘deployed’ than ‘moved in’; it wasn’t about anyone else’s choices or actions, and I hadn’t expressed how important seeing my working hanging really is for my day-to-day comfort and contentment. I could communicate the experience once I found words for it, and phrasing that didn’t sound like an attack on life and love. Communication is a pretty big deal, and best done in an explicit and clear way on practical matters, such as the hanging of art… or the care and feeding of artists. 🙂

Use your words. Seriously. (Also, use them gently!)

"Emotion and Reason" 2012 detail

“Emotion and Reason” 2012 detail

I arrived home last night to find that quite a number of paintings had been carefully hung… really, more ‘installed’ than hung; the care in hanging them, the considerate and meaningful placements done so skillfully that ‘hanging paintings’ hardly describes it. I sat, in the evening, feeling very much more ‘at home’ than I previously had for 2+ years. Does it make ‘everything right with the world’? Hardly. Even the delight of the artist herself, surrounded by her work, isn’t ‘everything’, is it? I do feel loved, and greatly cared for to see so many of my very best pieces hanging all around.

There are more to come, more space for art, walls as yet untouched by color or vision…and I certainly have enough work to take care of that! I expect there may be some movement, some changes, swapping this one for that one… My traveling partner has a keen eye for color, contrast, form – and a lovely aesthetic. If I have the choice between hanging my own work, and having him do my installations for me, I definitely prefer to step aside and give him room to work. I frankly just ‘hang paintings’, and not very well – they’re level, sure, and generally at an appropriate height for viewing… but I’m prone to just shoving as many pieces into a given area of blank wall as what I think will fit… resulting in a dizzying mosaic of color and glow that suits only me, and overwhelms anyone else.

I have no idea what today will hold…but I am already looking forward to returning at the end of the work day, to be surrounded by what matters so much…love, and art.

I am thinking of a hot summer day, humid, sweltering in the still air, waiting for a summer storm, or a breeze, or an excuse to retreat to any room with an air conditioner in the window. I am thinking of the past. It is a metaphor playing out a bit like a video in my imagination. Car on blocks in the driveway, hood up, and a sweat soaked mechanic head down over the engine, peering into the darkness below the machinery, gesturing vaguely with a wrench and calling out probably relevant information over her shoulder. “Yep…Here’s yer problem! Wiring’s crossed. You got no spark.”

It’s not a moment of ‘real’, it is a fiction, and I smile as I walk on toward the light rail station to head to work, thinking about the things that work, the things that don’t, and the colorful gentle humor of the way I ‘communicate with myself’ while I walk – not quite fiction, not quite memory, sort of ‘live action’, something like a screenplay, a bit like watching a ‘choose your own adventure’ video… and as useful as any other thought I might craft, truly, without the potential hurts of assuming it is ‘real’ and therefore more valid, or valued, than other thinking. I let my imagination jump the chasm across my injury to bring insights from me to myself. lol I learn some things through my mind’s eye and the Theater of Absurd Conclusions… and sometimes I just enjoy it.

Spring is approaching. My daydreams are filled with trails, trees, wee creatures watching warily as I pass, plans for hikes, and camping to come, and thoughts of home, and home making. (Go ahead, define the difference between ‘house’ and ‘home’ and get back to me; I’ll wait.) I am in a place in life when ‘putting down roots’ and feeling at home – really ‘at home’ – matters a great deal… but it isn’t something I’ve experienced very often in life, and learning good practices for building a sense of home isn’t as simple as it once seemed in the abstract.

…I am quite fortunate to be well-supported, emotionally, by my traveling partner on life’s journey (and… the secret is out – that’s why he is my ‘traveling partner’; we are traveling, together, on life’s journey). It’s quite a long trip from where I once was, to where I someday hope to be – it’s nice having some company along the way. 🙂

So for now, I walk on, still learning, still practicing, still putting intent and will (and some verbs) into finding my way ‘home’.

I can feel at home in a tent, among the trees... so home is not a building.

I can feel at home in a tent, among the trees… so home is not a building.

There's something about garden flowers that feels like home.

There’s something about garden flowers that feels like home.

Home is where the art is.

Home is where the art is. “Summer Meadow” 12″x16″ acrylic on canvas w/glow. 2014

 

Feeling at home transcends permanence.

Feeling at home can transcend permanence of place, but I don’t count on it; some places never feel like home.

Home is a feeling...

Home is a feeling… or a matter taste.

Something that connects who we once were...

Something that connects who we once were…

...and who we are, now...

…and who we are, now…

...with what matters most. "You Always Have My Heart" 8" x 10" acrylic on canvas with glow.

…with what matters most.
“You Always Have My Heart” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas with glow.

How will I "find my way home"? "Daytime in The Nightmare City" 10" x 14" acrylic on canvas with glow, glitter and micaceous oxide. Indoor light, charged. 2014

How will I “find my way home”?
“Daytime in The Nightmare City” 10″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas with glow, glitter and micaceous oxide. Indoor light, charged. 2014