It’s the end of the day, and the household is still and quiet. The click of the keys, the distant hums, and hushed background noises are hardly interrupted by the trickle of the aquarium filter. Even in the stillness, I am reminded that some aquatic gardening is a tad overdue. It’s a long weekend, and there will be time to take care of it before the new work week begins. I feel…content.

Contentment has become just about my favorite emotion. Oh, sure, there’s Love…love…passion…romance, and yes those are all high on my list of favorite emotions. Happiness, too, sure. Joy. Delight. Those are all excellent emotions to savor in any moment. Memories of those emotions are wonderful to recall, and re-imagine in great detail. Contentment, though, has this saturating, drenching, wholly fulfilling sense of completeness and comfort that just can’t be beat. Contentment doesn’t ask for more. Contentment doesn’t feel short-changed, disadvantaged, or cheated. Contentment doesn’t know resentment, jealousy, or envy. The best part? Contentment is easy.

Here it is, night. The house is quiet, possibly sleeping, but no matter; I am content in the stillness of this lovely moment, after a delightful day of love…contented love, good-natured love, committed love, soulful love… and it’s not anything to do with Valentine’s Day. Love isn’t a holiday on a calendar to be celebrated as a token moment…It’s more of a lifestyle.

Love was once challenging for me to recognize, to find, or to hold on to…I needed to make quite a few love-related lifestyle changes, some of them even the same basic fundamentals of good health and self-care as diet and exercise; how do we love well, if we don’t begin with ourselves? At least, it has seemed to work out that way for me…your results may vary. I still work at love. I expect that even a committed lifetime of the study of love and loving doesn’t halt the need to practice good practices: kindness, compassion, listening with awareness, laughing together, being present, being considerate, sharing experiences, tenderness…all of it matters. Every compliment, every criticism, every moment to connect or to disconnect is relevant to the state of love. How we treat ourselves, how we treat each other, are what love is built on.

If practice makes perfect…what are you perfecting?

Love was good to me today. It’s definitely enough, and I am content.

One quiet moment, thinking about love.

One quiet moment, thinking about love.

 

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

 

 

Pain sucks. A lot of people (me included) live with some measure of physical pain, moment-to-moment, day-to-day, or occasionally. It doesn’t matter at all how common pain is; it still sucks to experience it, generally. Pain is largely unavoidable, even when it is treatable, manageable, or resolvable. We feel pain, because we feel, and some stuff hurts.

Outrage is a different sort of feeling, although it generally falls into the set of ‘feelings beside pain that also suck’. Outrage is that peculiar mix of anger, despair, frustration, annoyance – and pain – that we experience when confronted with something that ‘just isn’t right at all’ and nothing seems to be getting done about it. More or less. (Your results may vary) Outrage is the stuff movements and causes are made of. Outrage sells newspapers, and advertising spots. Outrage gets us to show up and take a stand. Outrage is painful, and floods us with a cascade of negative emotions, as well as increasing our level of arousal – readying us to fight, to take action. Outrage is motivating… but it’s probably not really ‘healthy’ to linger in that state. I know, for me, outrage builds over time to slowly become fused with an ancient feeling of ‘learned helplessness’ that eventually develops into a sense of futility. Despair and frustration become dominant in that experience, as the urge to take action generates no positive outcome (generally); often we are being stoked into a sense of outrage for marketing purposes. There is no intent to drive change at all; we’re being used.

Outrage, delightfully enough, is not unavoidable. It’s totally avoidable. Outrage, generally, is optional. Quite optional. This is a new thought for me, or at least I think so right now.

Where is your outrage getting you these days? If it is solving problems, and moving you through your difficulties, and finding you in an improved place with your fellow human being – and finding them in an improved place, themselves, you are having some success with outrage. If your outrage changes one thing – any one thing – for the better, truly, then your outrage is effective. I’ve got nothing but gratitude for people who can endure outrage long enough to drive positive change. I’m even impressed.

Outrage generally just upsets me, resulting in agitation, frustration, arousal and leading to my PTSD symptoms flaring up, and my disinhibiting TBI definitely gets in the way of managing outrage appropriately. Over time, outrage takes me over, colors my experience, and renders the world a seeming palette of horrors, and despair without end. It’s unpleasant. It’s also totally avoidable.

I changed how I consume media, day-to-day, and in general it alleviates my experience of chronic outrage. There is plenty in the world to be outraged about, and certainly there’s enough for every human being to take a strong stand on an important issue and change the world…but…there’s actually so much potentially ‘wrong’ in the world, it could certainly ruin any one person’s day entirely to embrace all of it as a personal cause. I still care. I am learning not to allow myself to be dragged into chronic outrage. It’s not easy. I often catch myself getting pulled back into an issue through a link shared by a friend; it matters to me a great deal what matters to my friends and loved ones, and before I quite know how, I’m caught up in measles at Disneyland, or gun safety concerns, or police brutality, or any number of feminist issues that are of direct and immediate concern to me personally, as a woman. It happens fast.

Good self-care sometimes means putting down the device. Scrolling past the news article. Refraining from commenting. Taking a few deep breaths and letting it go. Why does it matter so much to manage chronic outrage? Emotional experience is tied to our physical experience pretty directly; emotions are chemical. Pain is physical – and emotional. Chronic outrage seems (in my own experience) to correlate to an experience of pain feeling more intense, less endurable, and less responsive to treatment. Hmmmm… give up chronic outrage and hurt less, or… don’t. Yeah. That’s an easy one.

Relax. Have a coffee. Think about something pleasant for a moment. Enjoy this moment, right here; it's the only one quite like it.

Relax. Have a coffee. Think about something pleasant for a moment. Enjoy this moment, right here; it’s the only one quite like it.

Today is a good day to be aware of media manipulation. Today is a good day to enjoy each positive moment with at least as much attention, passion, and engagement as I might bring to any cause or concern. Today is a good day to let small stuff go, and to choose my battles. Today is a good day to change the world.