Archives for posts with tag: artist at work

I am enjoying my morning coffee. The morning is still and quiet. My tinnitus is louder in my ears (in my head?) that the sounds of the world that are audible through the open patio door. I slept well, and through the night, waking at my usual time, and returning to sleep after taking my morning medication. Sleeping in is a lovely start to a Sunday.

I have re-started this post three times now, changing the underlying idea, changing the title, changing my mind about what matters most this morning…it’s easy; it’s a blog post.

Life allows us to re-write our own narrative, too. I’ve needed to make use of that truth so many times, I sometimes forget how easy it is to commit to one detail, one experience, one notion of the ‘true truth’ or the ‘real reality’ that it becomes less clear that many of the details of life that I cling to with such passion are…well…completely ‘made up’. Seriously. How often has a simple change of perspective completely altered my understanding of the basic facts of an experience such that what I think about it, and what it means to me, are completely changed? Let’s just call that quantity ‘often’, and move on, without criticism or judgement.

I started the weekend with a loose plan, and a lack of preparation. I am ending it mostly with no plan at all, completely prepared for each moment as it happens – just by being here – and I have been both enjoying and benefiting greatly from the experience. Enjoyable has not meant ‘easy’, although it has been very restful and nurturing time with myself, it has also been emotional. The benefits in these circumstances are that I am forced nudged encouraged to listen more deeply to myself regarding what I need, not just of this weekend, but out of my own life, and out of living alone. As usual, there have been verbs involved; I’ve had to repeatedly choose to turn away from brain candy, to listen deeply to my own heart. Tenderly caring for old wounds, and looking at some of love’s challenges from a different perspective has had profound value. I still have more questions than answers – but the questions I have right now are particularly good ones to ask.

One of many creative endeavors - and satisfying without being messy.

A well-spent evening.

I spent yesterday evening meditating and sketching pen & ink note cards for future correspondence. It feels good to work artistically, and it is definitely one purpose of this solo space – more room and time to paint is how I have phrased it, but without intending to limit my creativity to paint on canvas. I have spent a lot of time this weekend meditating, and simply sitting quite still in this quiet place. Oddly, the love seat that arrived Thursday seems to help with that; I find myself sitting there far more often than at my desk. I thought to ask myself why the chair that was already here, in the living room, did not also have that effect? I have no answer, but it is true – I spend much less time at my desk now (and my back thanks me).

Some things don’t work. Quite a few things, actually, and my first draft this morning focused on things that don’t work, from the title to the last word – when I realized I don’t really want the day to be about that. My mouse, for example, is apparently dying… fresh batteries are no improvement. Cleaning it didn’t help. Highlighting more than one word is currently an exercise in managing frustration, as is clicking on a link, which now requires a very careful, deliberate, thoughtful action to be at all successful. I had been, as is my way, just ‘working around it’ and didn’t quite  understand my mouse to be dying – I thought it was something about me that had changed somehow. It was my traveling partner’s frustration with my mouse, and his firm advisement that the mouse is dying, that got me thinking about the experience differently; a needed change in perspective. With some small amount of sadness, I have ordered a replacement for it, and even paid to have it arrive sooner. I like this mouse… it seems to have an image of a naked woman dancing on it, rather abstractly, in the design, and the mouse itself is small and fits nicely in my hand. I feel sad when I replace things that have worked for a long time; this is also part of who I am. There have been other things not working, for days, for weeks, recently, over time – it’s part of life that some things work well and easily, and others less so. It sort of goes without saying, doesn’t it? Even with love…some things work, some things don’t. How that experience fits into life’s narrative remains largely chosen, and changeable – subject to interpretation.

As with so many journeys, it isn't always clear where the path leads.

As with so many journeys, it isn’t always clear where the path leads.

I have a pleasant morning ahead of me. A hike. Brunch with a friend and a visit to a nearby farmer’s market. Coffee and conversation about art, later. An afternoon of housekeeping and taking care of me before reluctantly facing the ongoing truth of having sold my life and effort for 40 hours a week to the highest bidder; tomorrow is Monday, and I must return to work.

I miss my traveling partner a great deal. I wonder when I will see him again? (And what of the wanderer? I have been missing him, as well.) We have plans for next weekend, and I am already eagerly looking forward to dinner with him – ‘dating’ my partner is great fun, and we didn’t do much of it when we first got together. It’s a strange place to be with life and love; appreciative of what we have together, and aware that I want a great deal more from love than what he has to offer, right now. I suppose loving with my whole heart while also leaving my loves free to love in just such measure as they are able to is something to celebrate – sometimes, though, I miss reciprocity, and wonder what I can do to love more skillfully, more tenderly, more passionately, as if doing so would result in being more well-loved… Forgetting, perhaps, that love looks very different seen from their perspective; love has many faces, and all of them are beautiful. Still… I miss romance, and touch, and intimate laughter. I am eager to welcome love home.

Tending the garden in my heart.

Tending the garden of my heart.

Today is a lovely day to be present, and engaged, and real. Today is a good day to love.

This weekend I’m taking time with me, doing something I love, and enjoying the sensation of time slowing down as I linger over what feels good in life. I’m in the studio this weekend, between other bits of this-n-that, laundry, time with family and friends, yoga… All of it quite pleasant and wonderfully positive and enjoyable; the outcome is in the art work. I had planned to hike this morning, and even looking forward to it at the very moment that first one, then the other, of my partners spoke up that they would each, and both, enjoy a morning with family, hanging out and being in shared space. I still smile thinking about that moment; I felt very wanted, included, and valued.

It didn’t hurt that of the paintings I did yesterday, 3 of 5 of them are already spoken for by enthused and delighted partners. I can’t describe how wonderful that feels, every time it comes up. It takes being appreciated to another level. 🙂

"Where There's Smoke" 8" x 10"  acrylic on canvas with India ink; it's hers. :-)

“Where There’s Smoke” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas with India ink; it’s hers. 🙂

"You Always Have My Heart" 8" x 10" acrylic on canvas with glow; it's his. :-)

“You Always Have My Heart” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas with glow; it’s his. 🙂

I’m not disappointed about not hiking; I’ll likely still go for a walk with my camera, or stroll over to the Farmer’s Market. It’s a lovely day for all those things.

"Summer Breeze" 8" x 10" acrylic on canvas with India Ink; it's his. :-)

“Summer Breeze” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas with India Ink; it’s his. 🙂

The weekend has offered some moments of amazement, wonder, and great depth. In meditation, deeply involved, aware, and present in some moment I “walked the streets of The Nightmare City” by daylight, feeling safe and walking in wonder and observing all I could before twilight could over take me.  Imagination? Fantasy? Scripting? I don’t know those things. I recognize it is not the same order of ‘real’ as being awake, here-and-now, and able to touch what I see…only…it still matters, because thoughts matter, and what we fill our implicit memory with matters, and emotional content matters, too. Later today I’ll spend time writing a bit about my visit, as though it were something others could book a trip for, and get there, stay and visit for themselves.  I am hopeful that my own next visit to The Nightmare City is very different that my last, and even perhaps willing to allow the thought that it may truly have been my last visit to drift through my consciousness without clinging to it in despair and anxious yearning.

"Daytime in the Nightmare City" 8" x 10" acrylic on canvas with glow, glitter, and micaceous iron oxide. 2014

“Daytime in the Nightmare City” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas with glow, glitter, and micaceous iron oxide. 2014

Today is a good day for love, for lovers, for sharing the morning and for enjoying a lazy Sunday. Today is a good day to move beyond words. Today is a good day to smile. Today is a good day to face my fears fearlessly; in most cases I invented them both, myself, and can as easily let them go. Today is a good day to contribute only love to the world’s conversations. Today is a good day to change the world.

I like the comfortable safety of solitude. I know being alone is a different experience for each of us; for me solitude feels safe, calm, and vastly soulfully nourishing. The few times my anxiety has found me when I was solitary, it has been likely to be driven by fearfulness of others in my periphery, undetected, or uninvited, or imminent. In my worst freak outs, the best thing that can be done in the moment is provide me with solitude and stillness; for years I did not understand how easy it could be to calm me. I have the weekend to be solitary. I need this time very much right now; grieving is hard on the one grieving, and harder still, perhaps, on those near who are not themselves grieving, but cannot stem the flow of tears. I prefer to grieve in solitude, although… I like hugs a lot, when I’m crying…so…there’s that. Human beings are social creatures. I am, myself, even fairly ‘extroverted’…but I do love solitude, and crave substantially more of it than many people seem to…and rarely have enough.

This weekend my partners are away at a festival. I find myself smiling and wishing them well; I hope it is amazing. Work changed my plans and I am staying home. At this point in the week, I am not regretting the change. Festival attendance hardly seems appropriate to grieving – at least not for me. This week the world lost a young woman with all the potential in the world, and an entire future ahead of her. She was just 13. My cousin’s daughter. Yesterday, an Army buddy moved on to something beyond his mortal existence, at 60-something, having completed his mission in some sense, I suppose. I am not ashamed to grieve these losses. I still go to work. This is my way; in the midst of grief I grab onto what is practical and routine, and hold on to it. I tidy the house after work very attentively and mindfully, cherishing the sensations of touch, the subtle feel of space I am in, the motions of cleaning, straightening, moving from task to task. I commute, enjoying the sensations as summer shifts gears to fall, and people-watching with a curious and open heart. I work. Task after task, I follow each small routine of work and life with greater than usual care, walking a sort of emotional balance beam. As I do, I consider life and death, and grief, and honor the departed in my own way, silently eulogizing them, honoring the memories of shared experiences, questioning, reflecting, and celebrating what they brought to my experience. I am very aware of my mortality and the brevity of life when I grieve. This is my way. There are highs and lows, of course. It’s a process. There are tears. These are emotional experiences. It’s difficult, but feels fairly natural to me, the sense of loss, the hurting, the contemplation…and the pain diminishes over time. I am satisfied with the way I grieve. I suppose, now that I’m over 50, that’s going to come in handy.

Here it is the Friday ahead of a solitary weekend. Here in this still moment I am content and serene. This ‘now’ is just fine, thank you. I will be, too. It’s a choice, and there are verbs involved.

Grieving is a very human experience.  Detail of "Emotion and Reason" 18" x 24" acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow, photographed in dim light. 2012

Grieving is a very human experience.
Detail of “Emotion and Reason” 18″ x 24″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow, photographed in dim light. 2012

How often have I heard it – how often have you – “you just…” or “you only…”, or “it’s super simple…” and subsequently found it a journey to new heights of frustration? It happens. Perspective matters. Experience counts. Aptitude gets to weigh in, whether we like it or not. What is obvious to one person, isn’t necessarily obvious to another. These are what make patience with each other, consideration, kindness, and compassion so incredibly valuable; we don’t all ‘get it’ with the same quickness, or in the same way, we don’t all learn at the same speed, and of course we are each having our own experience.

It’s been an interesting weekend to contemplate one particular very human duality, and finding balance between them. The first of these, and unavoidably so whether we recognize the truth of it or not; we are each having our own experience.  Recognizing that has been a big deal for me.  The other, and no less important generally; we’re all in this together. Yep. Interdependent, connected, social, and organized, one look at a global map of internet connections and it’s pretty obvious that we’re connected, by the communication of thoughts and emotions if not by flesh or ideology.

Each precious moment holds something worth cherishing now.

Each precious moment holds something worth cherishing now, something worth sharing.

This has been a good weekend to apply a number of things I’ve been learning over time. A good weekend to paint, to practice taking care of me, to invest in my continuing education as a human being, to invest in the qualities of mind that make me more who I want to be. The weekend went to ‘unscripted mode’ before I ever got home Friday night, though we’d had plans as a family that would have taken much of the weekend. I found myself undisturbed and content to let the weekend take me where it might, and I’ve been delighted with the outcome. Having space to paint set up and ready to go any time resulted in an easy and gentle switching of gears, yesterday morning, and it was as effortless as walking up a flight of stairs to be in another space, a different context, and enjoying my experience on my own terms. It was lovely.

"Summer Lamb's Ear" 8" x 10" acrylic on canvas w/glow.

“Summer Lamb’s Ear” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas w/glow.

It was so productive, and comfortably so, that this morning I woke already thinking of painting, although my calendar clearly shows I’d intended to hike this morning. My arthritis chimed in early, having been my wake up call, alerting me that today would be characterized by more than usual pain, and less than ideal freedom of movement. Hiking would probably help. Painting could wait until afternoon. I dither over coffee. What do I want? 

"Carried Away by Opinion" 8" x 10" acrylic on canvas w/glow, glitter, and googly eyes.

“Carried Away by Opinion” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas w/glow, glitter, and googly eyes.

Letting that go for the moment, I reconsider the somewhat peculiar weekend. I have been content, satisfied, serene… it’s been a lovely weekend so far, and I feel nurtured, comfortable, and secure. It’s peculiar because observation tells me that my partners may not be having the same quality of experience, themselves. Earlier plans falling through has seemed to find them discontent, and to my outside perspective, struggling with various levels of unhappiness moment to moment. That sucks. I see it. When I can, I attempt to appropriately support them both, and each, and nurture positive experiences, and treat them pleasantly, and compassionately. What I’m not doing this weekend is undermining my pleasant experience by adopting their discontent for myself. This is an area of life and relationship building where I find a lot of my challenges.  Ripping out programming that once drove me to make choices based on ‘well, if I really care, won’t I also be unhappy and share their feelings/experience with them?’ has been slow going; it feels somewhat disloyal to take care of me. That’s how programming works, though, it’s rooted in layers upon layers of internal dialogue, self-talk that uses key words and language to keep us in line, and it fights for survival as though it has an identity all its own.

Sometimes a change in perspective matters more than we can know before we get there. "Summer Lamb's Ear" photographed in darkness.

Sometimes a change in perspective matters more than we can know before we get there. “Summer Lamb’s Ear” photographed in darkness.

The weekend has been, for me, so far, quite wonderful. I have no idea where today will take me, and I have not invested in any expectations of it; spending the day on chores, painting, and study, and enjoying the companionship of my partners, would be satisfying and sufficient. I could enjoy investing time in keeping my image archive organized, or exploring my options for updating my webpage. A walk in the forest, camera in hand, would be lovely, too.

What do I want of my life, today? Whatever it may be, today is probably quite an excellent day for that.

Wow. What an amazing thing progress and growth can be. I overslept. Again. It’s not a big deal; I get up much earlier than my work schedule requires, carving out some time for me from among the quiet hours before dawn. No panic. No stress. No sky-rocketing blood pressure as I try to race through the essentials of the morning routine to ensure I still arrive at work on time. None of that. My lovely at-home partner called at a merry “Good morning!” as she headed down the hall. I woke, with a laugh and a groggy good morning back. I assumed I had forgotten my alarm. I simply went ahead and got up, taking the smile that remained of the laugh right along with me. It’s a lovely morning.

I’m appreciate of the additional sleep; I struggle with sleep disorders and insomnia. Beyond that, I appreciate how far I’ve come that a bit over oversleeping no longer launches me into overdrive, creating a level of panic and stress that will ride my ass hard all day long and leave me exhausted on the other side, cross, resentful, and generally with a nasty headache, and a worse temper.  It was my traveling partner who suggested (years ago) that I slow things down in the morning to eliminate that concern. I didn’t really buy into it at the time, but gave it a shot. It helped right away, and has been my practice ever since – but this? This morning right here? This is a real victory, because I am relaxed, still enjoying my morning, still taking care of me. Even if I choose to go into work a little later as a result, this works because I feel content, balanced, and rested. The value of rest, in my experience, can’t be overstated.

I’ve overslept twice in a month, though. It’s incredibly rare, and doesn’t feel ‘like me’. The last time was pure exhaustion, as I recall, and a short night. This morning I woke feeling sure I must have forgotten to set the alarm, but looking at it now I see that is not the case. This is how my wee alarm clock lets me know a battery change is due. Usually, that happens when I’m already awake, and simply notice it isn’t going off at the time it should be, when that time comes, and I’m sitting here noticing both the time and the lack of beeping. lol

A lesson learned, a successful application of new skills, a lovely day.

Yesterday was a lovely day, too.

Yesterday I felt restless all afternoon, my consciousness racing ahead of the moment eagerly wanting to get home to… paint.  I have already ‘moved in’ to the loft with my paints, canvas, easel, pens, paper, and inspiration. This is my first living arrangement with full-time painting space, and I spent a portion of the evening painting after work. It was lovely to just go to my easel, and have everything at the ready. The satisfaction and delight in being able to simply pick up a brush, and paint, and walk away to do something else without 2 hours of tearing it all down and cleaning up to ‘get the mess out of the way’ is indescribable. My partner seemed pleased that I chose to paint, and got some pictures and video. The whole thing feels like joy and wonder and… ‘just right’. I neglected my needs in this area far too long. I chose, again and again, move after move, relationship after relationship, to compromise on creative space such that I just didn’t have any. I made it my lowest priority. I made me my lowest priority. Fuck, it’s no wonder I’ve spent so much time mired in chaos and damage; I didn’t take the time I needed to work on it. I didn’t make my needs a non-negotiable priority for myself.

Even at 51, it’s never too late for a course correction, for a change of heart, for a new way. It’s never too late to choose to treat myself well.

Like summer flowers, our opportunities are not forever; like gardening, our efforts make room for more opportunities.

Like summer flowers, our opportunities are not forever; like gardening, our efforts make room for more opportunities.

This has been a wonderful week. I’ve enjoyed the closeness with my at-home partner. I miss my traveling partner, and I’m eager to welcome him home this weekend, for some longer time. Right now, in this moment, I feel content, I feel loved, and I feel supported and nurtured. It’s lovely. It may not last forever – in fact, based on experience, it likely won’t – but this is my experience now, and now is very good.  Now is enough.

“Enough”? Enough, indeed. I even have enough time this morning. I overslept, and still have enough time for an iced coffee, meditation, yoga, all the usual hygiene and grooming stuff…enough time for gratitude, enough time for love.

There's always time enough for love.

There’s always time enough for love.