Archives for posts with tag: being and becoming

Life as Art

April 28, 2015 //

A quality of The Art of Being struck me with force yesterday; there is no ‘blank canvas’ once we get started, not generally. We only get the one blank canvas, and ever after must add, correct, adjust, change, modify, paint over, or enjoy the work in progress, as is it is. I’m not complaining; it’s the biggest canvas ever, and when we get started it seems as if there is no likelihood of filling it with our vision – it’s that huge. When we start, we lack vision, we lack composition, we lack technique – but we also lack doubt, and we are not self-conscious about The Art of Being; we begin the thing fully engaged and present…and doodling, metaphorically. I mean…few of us are, as children, what we will become as adults.

“Broken” 14″ x 18″ acrylic and mixed media with glow. 2012

Yesterday, a bad bit of earlier work beneath some lovely very new work on the canvas of my experience produced a predictable enough moment of misunderstanding. I’ve spent enough time wading through the wreckage that it feels fairly normal…I forgot that it is ‘wreckage’, and shards of chaos and damage. Violence and ancient pain have left their mark on me, and although most days it’s just a smudge on the corner of my canvas, yesterday it was as if India ink had been spilled, blotting out a bit of the good work of later years, seeping through from underneath. For just a moment, it felt as if perhaps the whole piece was ruined – it can so easily look that way if I forget that my metaphorical canvas never dries, and is never completed.

“You Always Have My Heart” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas with glow. 2014

The challenge, and the life lesson, are once again about attachment. Attachment to outcomes, to emotions, to people, to moments – however lovely, moments are still quite fleeting, ephemeral, and in a sense quite unrepeatably unique. Life is always ‘live’. People persist in being quite human. The shadows cast by past violence are but shadows, however ‘real’ they feel in some later moment. Then there’s this; because so much of my experience is ‘made up’ content built of my assumptions, my thoughts, and my memories, filtered through my values, prejudices, and perspective, I am very much at risk of becoming attached to something that doesn’t really exist, isn’t what I perceive it to be, or isn’t shared in the way I may want it to be. The Art of Being is art because the limitless power to create even who I am has no rule book, no instruction manual, no single scalable process with a reliable error-correction cycle, no universally shared measurable quality that all agree is ideal…I choose who I am, I choose my words, I live my life…but it isn’t ‘paint by numbers’, and some days it obviously lacks technique, or skill…some days the art doesn’t move me, some days it isn’t pretty.

Unfinished canvas…what will it become when the moment arrives?

Take a moment to consider how little technical mastery, great design, composition, fame, or expertise actually matter when we see something that delights us aesthetically. I have been as captivated by a child’s unskilled painting as by a masterpiece; the engineering and craftsmanship are not the defining qualities of ‘art’, although some art certainly shows amazing engineering and craftsmanship. I am finding this true of life as art, too. What moves us isn’t always easy to understand. Certainly, what moves us isn’t always understood by others.

“Kuwait; Oil Fires” 26″ x 48″ oil on silk. 1992

The Art of Being as an approach to learning life’s lessons, living beautifully and mindfully, and being the woman I most want to be is a powerful act of self-compassion, and self-nurturing; as a metaphor it allows me to take a step back, and view life from another perspective, as an artist at work on something wonderful might be inclined to do, reconsidering something on the canvas, and taking time to touch it up, or understand it differently.

“Communion” 24″ x 36″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic details 2010

Today is a good day for a metaphor. Today is a good day for life as art, and to study The Art of Being. Today is a good day to feel pleasure in spite of heart ache, and to love the canvas in front of me enough to keep working on it – and to do my best work, mindfully, and with love.

“The Stillness Within” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas with glow. 2014

Tags art and the artist, be the change, being and becoming, can you show me?, emotional self sufficiency, Life as Art, love and lovers, meditation, mindfulness, painting a picture with words, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, the map is not the world, what I'm trying to say is, what matters most?, who am I?

Categories Art, art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War

More or Less

April 17, 2015 //

I am enjoying a lovely quiet evening. It is very different from what I may have expected – a good lesson in letting go of attachment to expectations. It is also very different from I might have planned; having not made specific other plans, those thoughts are irrelevant – the very essence of thought: lacking substance or reality of its own, but seeming unarguably valid. Certainly, the evening is different from what I may have said I wanted, had I been asked, and again the thought lacks relevance, circumstances being what they are; pleasantly calm, quiet, and solitary. Funny that such a quiet evening of contentment and study wasn’t higher on my list of possible desirable evenings… I consider wondering why it wasn’t, but quickly realize that what matters is to enjoy it as it is, without criticism or judgment, and to trust that practicing being accepting of, and kind to, myself on a quiet evening requires no excuses, justification, or defense.

I have my challenges. I find myself struggling to let go of attachment. I have a loyal, kind, and generous nature that leaves me open to exploitation, too tolerant of poor treatment, and with a brain injury that limits my ability to set firm boundaries, or reliably communicate clearly in the moment. It seems strange to admit it so simply; I have refused to acknowledge these traits for so long, out of shame for being weak and broken. I have been hesitant to be vulnerable out of fear of leaving myself open to ridicule. I could be kinder to myself, and benefit greatly from it. I still have a lot to learn, and much to practice. Hard, too, is the inevitable discovery that things I enjoy in myself, and qualities I choose to nurture because I value them, may not be similarly valued by others; it requires strength and persistence to choose me, and to show myself the loyalty, kindness, and generosity that is so much who I am.

Where does this path lead? I am in unfamiliar territory.

The path to emotional self-sufficiency seems also to be the path to The Art of Being, and a path that speeds to creative freedom, satisfaction, and a less chaotic day-to-day experience. More choices, fewer reactions. More day-to-day calm. More likelihood that I will be able to meet my needs over time.

…Here’s the thing, though, at least for me; my choices really matter, and it is critical that they be made again, and again, and again, even when I am uncertain of the outcome, or experiencing insecurity or doubt. It’s how practice works, and there’s no short cut; I still have to do the verbs. I don’t always get the outcome I’m after…sometimes that seems to matter, at least long enough to blow my heart off course, sometimes it doesn’t matter at all. So…it’s not without effort, or failure; I fall, I get up, I go again…I learn, I grow. I gain perspective, and try again. It’s enough.

Tonight, I make good choices; I complete a project I committed to, and spend the rest of the evening in gentle solitude, enjoying my own company, my own moment…also, very much enough.

A lovely sunny spring day becomes a quiet somewhat chilly spring night. That, too, is enough.

Tags being and becoming, choosing me, emotional self sufficiency, enough, enough more or less, good self-care, have a heart, I am my own cartographer, I am only an egg, kindness is a free service, meditation, mindfulness matters, perspective, sufficiency, taking care of me, The Art of Being, there are verbs involved, walking it off, walking my own path

Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Love, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Being and Loving

April 16, 2015 //

Yesterday turned out to be a strangely difficult day, and the difficulty of it confused me; I had all the ingredients of a very good day, and yet, the day unfolded so poorly. Amusingly, the title for yesterday’s post remained relevant throughout; it was all very subjective, and it was clearly a matter of my own unique perspective on matters. The color of the day wasn’t a factual matter at all, it was pure emotion. One very awesome thing about yesterday? It’s yesterday. It is not ‘now’. 🙂 I am okay right now. That’s enough.

Growth can't be forced; I unfold like a flower, opening my heart on my own timeline.

Growth can’t be forced; I am a flower, opening my heart on my own timeline. My journey and my seasons are my own.

My traveling partner takes being supportive and makes it his own, showing me the depth of his love by giving me space when I need it; that’s got to be hard for him sometimes, knowing how he adores me, and enjoys being with me. He misses me even when what separates us is not a matter of miles in distance, but more about my chaos and damage piling up between his heart and mine. This morning I take time to smile gently, grateful, appreciative, and content to have the strength of his love, even when I haven’t got strength enough of my own to be easy to share it with.

Love is always 'there' for me, when I recognize it sources from within.

Love is always ‘there’ for me, when I recognize that it sources from within.

Love sounded like it would be ‘easy’ when I was young. Easier still because I really wasn’t sold on it as a notion; it didn’t seem likely, or real to me, and I had had no experience of it to show me otherwise. Love, then, was a fairy tale. When I did eventually meet love, I was as a child bringing home some wounded animal and attempting to keep it as a pet; I didn’t know what I needed to know to treat love well, to nurture it, to grow with it. It quickly diminished, and eventually died, leaving me wondering how real it ever was. I probably had other chances at love, and didn’t even recognize them, after filtering every experience through my chaos and damage, and taking life coaching advice from my demons. I spent some portion of my life snarling ‘fuck love’ and striding purposefully through my experience without regard to my heart, on a campaign to stamp out emotion entirely.

Love being what it is, I did not succeed in stamping out my emotional fire. We are creatures of both emotion and reason; crippling one, mocks the other. Love, being what it is, gave me another chance to open my eyes – and my heart. I’ve managed to muck it up now and then, pretty badly, nonetheless. I’ve been frustrated more than once to make such an important journey without a map…or a rule book. Love does have rules, it needs to be built, to be nurtured, to be invested in, to be taken seriously – and not taken seriously at all – in order to thrive. Where romantic love must be reciprocal to thrive, love itself – the fundament of love, the foundation of love, the essence of love – all that must come from within, and it’s hard to get to the best that romantic love has to offer without doing the important work of loving myself, preferably first…but certainly at some point. ‘Now’ serves nicely.

If we don’t know how to nourish our love, it withers. When we feed and support our own happiness, we are nourishing our ability to love.”

How to Love, by Thich Nhat Hahn

The journey ahead winds through the chaos and damage, and no mystery there; love touches everything within me, every hurt, every sorrow, every shard of broken dreams. Like a rope thrown into a well, it’s up to me to pull myself out of the darkness and it looks dreadfully difficult sometimes, but the opportunity is there, the choice is mine, and with patient practice, and the will to do the verbs…well… I can see the light, just ahead…

Love is a living, breathing thing. There is no need to force it to grow in a particular direction. If we start by being easy and gentle with ourselves, we will find it is just there inside of us, solid and healing.”

How to Love, by Thich Nhat Hahn

Easy? Gentle with myself? Why does that sound difficult? Is it only because my skill is limited, and I need more practice? Is it because I am still fighting off demons, and wading through chaos and damage? Is it because old programming and negative self-talk get in the way? Is it because I sometimes overlook that will, choice, and action are required, moment to moment? Is it because when I am hurting I still punish me first?

Why, yes. All of those things. There’s good news, though; I have choices. 🙂

My path takes a turn I don’t expect; the way ahead holds so much promise.

Today is a good day for love. Today is a good day to change the world.

Tags a student of love, being and becoming, finding my way, good self-care, hello love, if I always love me I always have love, learning to love well, meditations on love, mindful love, practicing the practices, show me love, The Art of Being, the map is not the world, the rules of love, the word is not the feeling, there are verbs involved, welcoming me home, what is love made of?, what matters most?

Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

The Art of Being

April 5, 2015 //

I woke gently this morning. I woke slowly. My consciousness unfolded in a lovely way, without anxiety or stress, or residual negative emotions left over from unremembered nightmares. I woke feeling very little pain, minimal stiffness, and feeling comfortable in my body. I woke feeling beautiful, well, and pleasantly sensuous, enjoying the sensations of skin against sheets, blankets, pillows, and the softness of the morning air. No headache. Heart soaring. Feeling inspired and eager to face the blank canvas on my easel – and metaphorically, the blank canvas of my day, and my future. I woke loving, and feeling loved, in the quiet solitude of comfortable surroundings, content and aware that love does not require proximity outside my own self-imposed attachments.

I woke to a quiet household. I contentedly made my coffee, contemplating what things I might get done today, and feeling artistically inspired – today is a good day to paint, and I’ve got a number of concepts sketched out that I am ready to make come alive, even some new notions this morning that I am eager to sketch and get started on. It is, in nearly every respect, an ideal day to paint. Currently, there is simply no room to do so. The space set aside for me to work has filled with another project, which has stalled temporarily due to real life happening, in spite of plans. On some other day, this could result in a lot of suppressed resentment festering in the background, and find me feeling unimportant, lacking in value, not well-cared for, and not understood. Today is different. Sure, it’s frustrating, and I earnestly want to live in an environment that truly supports me creatively, one in which ensuring I can paint when I am moved to paint, write when I am moved to write, listen to the music I love, sing, dance, and simply be this specific human that I am, is among the highest priorities of the household day-to-day. As with so many things, there are verbs involved, choices to make, and I am my own cartographer on this journey.

I am working on getting into a live/work space that really meets the needs I have at this point in my life; choices are made, verbs are verb-ing in an appropriate order, and at a reasonable rate of progress. In the meantime, rather than blow a lovely day feeling creatively frustrated, I am feeling strong, feeling creative, and feeling joyful now, with what is. It’s a lovely morning. My coffee is hot and tasty. I feel inspired – and I am not limited to canvas and brush; I have all these lovely words, and ideas, and broad blue skies, endless paths to walk beneath them. It is a lovely Sunday to rise from the wreckage of my chaos and damage, and practice the beautiful Art of Being.

The humble dandelion stands out in a crowd; her strength unmistakable, her beauty her own.

The humble dandelion stands out in a crowd; her strength obvious, her beauty her own; it is no concern of hers that some see her as ‘a weed’.

Today is a good day to bring order to small corners of chaos. Today is a good day for good practices, and good self-care. Today is a good day to treat me well, and enjoy who I already am. Today is a good day for sketching, and laundry, and photographing the very first roses in my garden. Today is a good day to be, and to become, and to celebrate personal rebirth. Today is a good day to practice the Art of Being.

Tags after menopause then what?, are you going my way?, art and the artist, being and becoming, being my highest priority, emotional self sufficiency, finding my own way, finding sufficiency, I am, I am the cartographer, inspiration, live to work or work to live?, loved and loving, mindfulness, rise from the wreckage, taking care of me, The Art of Being, the care and feeding of artists, this one's mine, what are you perfecting?, words and pictures, you have no power over me, you're not my supervisor

Categories art and the artist, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Awake and In the Moment

August 23, 2014 //

The title sounds promising. It is, however, the truth and for the moment nothing more. It’s 2:11 am. I am awake in this moment. I was so incredibly sleepy, and feeling deep down tired when I went to bed, early, last night. I slept deeply, soundly, restfully… for two hours. Then another two hours. And another. This time, I meditated for a while but didn’t find myself feeling like sleep; I’m not anxious, so calming and soothing myself didn’t result in anything but a calm heart. Nice by itself, I’m not bitching. Yoga, too, did nothing to return my interest to sleep, but my back feels a bit more limber, and I am comfortable but for my throbbing ankle, which by itself would not keep me awake.

I wandered the house restlessly for a moment or two, and stepped out into the cool night air and looked for the stars. Living near a huge Intel facility that lights the night sky, seeing stars is not a given, and tonight the cloudy skies are illuminated from below; there were no stars to see tonight. I sat quietly in my studio (I love saying that!) for a time, contemplating the work in progress, and giving some thought to an idea developing in the periphery of my consciousness, and feeling ‘at home’. I am neither uncomfortably warm, nor feeling chilly. I am quite comfortable. I feel at ease.

Why the hell am I awake?

It’s a rhetorical question; there is no why. I am awake. The world is quiet and dark, at least from my current vantage point. No trouble-shooting required. I quietly amuse myself flipping through the evening’s Facebook feed. I am content with being awake, for the moment, and looking forward to the morning with friends at the Farmer’s Market.

Having read a considerable amount of the science available regarding sleep, I have my monitor brightness quite dim, and enough gentle room light to prevent the monitor from being a high-contrast light source. My intention is to prevent whatever I choose for entertainment or passing the time in the night from becoming something so stimulating that it actively prevents further sleep. I take a moment now and then for deep cleansing breaths, and a chance to observe the slow approach of the shores of dreamland. I’ve learned a lot about enjoying the wakefulness in the night without discouraging more sleep. I yawn. I smile. It’s coming…

I don’t know what tomorrow will hold, but poised wakefully in this moment between yesterday and tomorrow, feeling satisfied, balanced, and content, I’m feel ready for it. It’s been a lovely week.