Foolish Me

This empty house of expectations...

When will I quit knocking?

Foolish
Foolish
Foolish
ME

Rest My Head

Dreaming of a place to rest my weary head...




Artwork - Pen
2.5 x 3.5 inches
Drawn yesterday - waiting for headache to go away.
Note to self: DO NOT work on black and white line drawings when trying to use art as a headache distraction. Contrast = visual vibration = nausea.

A Conversation

The Kind One asked, "Must I?"

The Beautiful One answered, "Yes."

The Kind One trembled, "I am so scared."

The Beautiful One replied, "I know."

The Kind One said one more thing.

The Beautiful One said nothing.

Stuffed Paper Doll

Brown Paper Grocery Bag with Colored Pencil

Approx. 16" Tall

I made this doll yesterday as my daughter and I hid away from the heat and created our own marathon of The Office.

Hypocrisy

I don't eat animal products.

Monday - Breakfast:
Steel cut oats with nutmeg, cinnamon, walnuts, cranberries, a touch of maple syrup and rice milk.

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday...the same.

Friday - Breakfast:
Fried egg and bacon sandwich with mayonnaise & a coffee with cream and sugar.

Hypocrisy - it keeps me busy!


Artwork - Pen & Ink, 2001

Legs

I was asked why my figures don't have legs.

They used to...
but not anymore.


Marker and Colored Pencil
2003

Just Before Bed

Just before bed, I smiled.

A tiny prayer that fluttered through my heart yesterday, came true.

Just before bed, I smiled and playfully wagged my finger at God and said, "Yooouuu," as if I actually know what He's up to.

I don't know.

Does my wish come true truly mean anything?
Sadly, I don't think so.
I am simply grateful that just before bed, I smiled.


Artwork - 2.5 x 3.5 inches
Completed while waiting for dinner to cook.

Set It Free

I shared this statement with a friend.

Freedom is a state of love; there is no love without freedom.

His reply:

If you love something, set it free.

Sometimes that's easy.
Sometimes that's terribly hard.



Artwork - colored pencil, 2006.

Autumn

Autumn.
I love you.

Wounded

Over the weekend, I bought a used book from the library.

The book is The Dance of Life, by Edward T. Hall.

You would think by the title that it was a self-help book.

In fact, that may have been the section were it was discovered.

Really, it is a book about Time and all the forms of measuring it.

Even more, it is about how cultures measure and observe Time differently, and the conflicts that has created throughout history.

For example, in our Western culture we think time heals all wounds.

In the Hopi culture, time does not heal wounds. A wound is a wound, whether it be 3 months or 300 years old.

That concept fascinates me!

Could that be why I still tear up when I think of kissing my grandpa good-bye as he was dying of bone cancer back in 1986? When someone speaks of their child that died, you can still sense their wound...fresh, even if it happened 20 years ago.

Someone hurts us, or breaks our heart - more wounds.

Can we take our wounds with us?

Can we carry them without dwelling in them?

What if we use our old wounds as mortar to build a wall so we don't get wounded again?

What if we accepted that a wound won't heal, but we choose to live anyway?

And love...how does love play into our wounds?

Usually we expect love to heal the wound, or fill the hole the wound has left. What if it can't?

What if love can only surround our wounds? And in the moments we fall back into the wounds, we can eventually choose to pull ourselves out - pull ourselves back out to the surrounding love.

I don't know.
I ponder.

My Attempts

Slowly, I realize my cheesy, or failed attempts at something are better than my fearful attempts at nothing.

Thank you to my 8 Followers.

I am rich!

Thank you to those who read.

Thank you to the one whom I assumed wasn't reading.

Brown Paper Bag

Watch the sweetness of life.
Watch the heartache, too.

Live by constantly dying.

Friday afternoon, I found a moment of Heaven on Earth with a brown paper lunch sack and a black Shaprie.

Salty Tears

Ouch.
Ouch.
Ouch.

Sigh.

Cry.
Cry harder.

Go to bed.

Tell yourself
that tomorrow you will go on a long walk and things will feel better. Ouch.

Fly Away

Found a Post-It today.
It has been hiding since July.

Scribbled words.
Tiny drawing of a bird.

...sing a song of things that fly away...
...if I never see you again.

I shared it with my mom.
She said, "Everything flies away."

The Window

My mom shared these words from Rumi:

Stop the words now.
Open the window in the center of your chest,
and let the spirits fly in and out.

I am trying. Some days are easier than others.
Sweetness.

Too Much Magic

I have been told I am a dreamer...a hopeless romantic.
I have been told I cling too tightly to the magic of life.

Well, why not?

Today, my friend, Elizabeth, shared simple words about the sweetness of life. I would share them now, but I forgot.

Poetic. Uncomplicated.

That is all I want.
That is all I wanted.

Come share the tiny sweetness of life.
Float with me.

16

That is my baby, Chloe. I think she is about 5 weeks old. And that is me...in the fine sweater. I am 21.

In her first few weeks, that was about all we did.
She would sleep on my chest and I would float in the tremendous love of motherhood.


Today, Chloe turns sixteen.
If she was here at this moment, she would be saying, "Ugh, Mom! Are you crying again?"
Yes. Yes, I am.

Chloe is a picky eater; she can be impatient and bossy. There is an icy streak that runs through her. My sister sometimes asks, "How did you give birth to this demon spawn?"

Chloe is also intelligent. She can be very self-disciplined and she has a great sense of humor. Deep compassion bubbles up from her at the most unexpected moments, but for the most part she lives pretty straight forward. Her heart is steady and confident.

I miss the early days. Time seemed to last forever and things made sense. My job was to love and nurture. I did it well.
Lately, life has been teaching me lessons of letting go. The lessons are one thing, but I can feel them coming several months before they arrive. It stirs something deep inside me, filling me with angst and uncertainty. I feel unsettled in my heart and in my belly. I cling.
Two of such lessons have arrived. My heart slowly heals.
But this one...this lesson of motherhood and letting go? Well, I don't like it, but I will do it.

Breathe.
Love.
Slowly letting go.
I love my Chloe.

My Feather

I found this feather today.

It will be added to my collection.

Unfortunately, my feather collection sits in a big, neglected heap on my art table.

Just when I think I right, I am not.

Just when I think I have evolved, I am still a jumbled mess.

Just when I think I know how to love fearlessly, I push away the things I love and the people who love me.

Just when I am ready to sit underneath a tree and cry, a bird craps on me. (Literally!)

Ha!

Oh, to get out of my own way!

Oh, to be able to get over myself.

Bread Crumbs

It seems I was asking for the whole loaf, but all I longed for were crumbs.

Really.

Look again.

Some Answers

Answers to the writing below: (Left Handed Meanderings #2)

Yes.
No.
No.
YES!

As I spoke to my sweet friend, Carolyn, I said, "There isn't paper big enough to capture my feelings from today."

Gary Dean Douris. I miss you.

I am honored to say you were my friend.
Thank you.

Left Handed Meanderings #2

Just before it's time,
will you hold me again.

Just before it's time,
will you find fault in my soul.

Just before it's time,
will you find reason to answer.

Just before it's time,
hold my heart tenderly...
and journey me on my way.

Written August 28, 2009
Paper Doll, Spring 2009