Saturday, August 1, 2015

Try

 I'm trying to write today without using my laptop and only my I-Pad. Pictures don't load on this device so my words must suffice.
   Trying to connect this week has been a primary goal. I visited family and had long meaningful discussions. A highlight was meeting with a family that took care of my beloved aunt the years and months before she died. They were such good stewards of her land. What I learned from my visit is that they were so very loving and still hold her memory sacred. I felt that her natural family could learn from their devotion.
   A touching story was told by one of the daughters. She lived in my aunt's house after her death. The move from their old home was unwelcome for this teenage girl. Throwing her shoes angrily into her new closet, she became aware of a presence in the room. She felt it was my uncle, long passed away. He seemed to communicate with her the assurance that this home was a sacred place to my aunt and uncle. He admonished her to be at peace and value her opportunity to stay there.
  The Nielson Family taught me to remember and honor my family. Making a yearly visit is a way I try to accomplish that goal.

Friday, July 24, 2015

Ten

   I'll give you ten reasons why I love the word ribbistrate.

  1. It is not in the dictionary.
  2. My friend introduced me to it in the middle of a women's meeting lesson and then we all ribbistrated together.
  3. I chose it as my word for 2015.
  4. People do it when they are extra, extra excited.
  5. Nature does it best in the Spring.


      6. Songs incapsulate it within their lyrics.

                         Hello Sunshine, it's been too long since I felt your warmth on my face.
                                                   Oh, my lovely, shining for me
                                                    Let my eyes see all the beauty.

                                             Beautiful Dawn Album by  Mercy River

     7. Ribbistrating is really fun in the rain.

                                               I did something you would not have thought

I grabbed my polka dot umbrella
And I opened the door

And I danced in the rain 
I let my dreams know I hadn't forgotten them 
I let my heart take the lead and 
I told my hopes to get themselves up again
And I danced, I looked, yes I danced in the rain

I invited my worries to step aside
I needed room to see in front of me
As the raindrops fell on my overcoat
I let em roll right off of my back

And I waited for the rainbow
Cause Heaven and me we both know
This storm's gonna pass.

                                         
        
        8. I love to do it on a trampoline.
        9. You do when you feel good and it feels good to do it.
       10. Snoopy does it the best.

I write on Fridays with a large group who inspire me. Only five minutes and without much thought to perfection. I write, prompted by one word that sends my thoughts to the keyboard and hopefully make sense.




Thursday, July 23, 2015

Buried Treasue- My Recycled Board Book


This post is buried treasure from my posts a year ago. I love the subject matter and sometimes I wish I hadn't sold it at the gallery show where it was displayed. That is why the pictures are a treasure.

From October 2014
 Some weeks back I was invited into my friend's art studio to work on a new project. With recycled children's board books we created new journals.


    My theme was easy to identify because I'm reading 'Daring Greatly" in a women's group online and offline with my daughter and friends. I wanted a little journal to remind me of the most important messages of both "Daring Greatly" and "The Gifts of Imperfection".


      I started off with the three gifts, courage, compassion, and connection. These gifts truly are real.


   I want to remember that compassionate people are also those who honor boundaries around themselves and those around others.


   "We are wired for connection." I find that connecting to others who may seem different or far away from us brings unexpected joy. The best treat of doing my online class was making a friend from Michigan who reached out and surprised me with her interest and openness.


     I don't see myself as a perfectionist but this definition encompasses my response to many things in life. Perhaps another way to look at it is a process of self-justification. Perfectionism moves us along a path of suffering. Riding the "hot wheels" of perfectionism is grueling.


Simplify! I need these words as I head into the next two months of holidays.


   Perfectionism rides with shame.  Shame is a big subject. I want to remember that a shaming experience becomes bigger when we don't talk about it. 


    Solving problems is a God given gift. After all, when Adam and Eve partook of the forbidden fruit God gave them options to solve their problem. Part of being creative is seeing another way to make the whole beautiful.


    Staying humble and vulnerable is something I must take in small steps. I do a lot of backsliding and getting back in the game.


   Wow! Numbing is big for me. This week I tried to eat at the table at every meal to avoid numbing feelings with food at the TV. I only made it once a day. I will try again this week.


   And, lastly, my mantra for the next while. Courage over comfort may be the hardest thing I have ever tried to embrace.


     I love my little board book. Thank-you art friend for sharing your idea and time.

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Start To Finish

Attention Please!   
Tomorrow I'm reposting a favorite story of an art project from last year. This repost is part of Seth Apter's Buried Treasure Day. Think of all the great posts that are hidden in the archives of our blogs. You can connect to other artists right here tomorrow and go on a treasure hunt with me.  


Now On to My Latest Project

 Intuitive Painting can be exhilarating or frustrating depending on the level of trust in the process. I show here my latest painting from just marks on a canvas to defining an image and finally developing a composition. I saw the teepee first in a triangle shape on the left side. When I committed to that I felt the desire to paint a canoe in a similar way Veronica Funk brings Northwestern Art to life. The trees emerged from the background and I conceived of the pathway to The After Life going off the painting on the right. Narrative in the images is not new to my art. I have a narrative to many paintings. The narrative is always very personal and makes the painting very dear to my heart.
 
     I will do more intuitive painting. It is now a tool I have in my back pocket. The tool has not been tested over time but it is precious and I will care for it as a pathway of expression.

Friday, July 17, 2015

Free

   I have more free time in the summer. Piano lessons are less numerous because people are on the go. That leaves me with time to observe and think. Although not always good, thinking and observing brings up both satisfaction and disturbance. I can't entertain disturbing thoughts unless I have free time. These thoughts are prickly and spiky. They need time to sort out. 


    I spent some time at my favorite bakery, watching. They have a lovely new outdoor space. The sun warmed tired souls and they visibly relaxed. A fruit danish just lifts the spirits.


   It lifts the spirits of the sparrows, as well. They rush around under the table pecking up crumbs marveling how much free time these humans have to sit and visit.


     I didn't solve any issues  but I did feel my free time allowed space. Space to admit that my life has some holes.

I write on Fridays with a large group who inspire me. Only five minutes and without much thought to perfection. I write, prompted by one word that sends my thoughts to the keyboard and hopefully make sense.


Friday, July 10, 2015

Hope

           Four, sometimes five days a week I go to the gym. In the winter it is dark but a few glorious months of the year the sun greets me as I enter. The light gives me hope. Not just hope that I will do my workout but hope that all the missed stitches of life might just in the end be sewed together.


     I approach my mat with stiff muscles. They mirror the stiffness of my mood sometimes. Arms go overhead and they stretch to the right. Ahh, I feel some release. There is hope. The left side opens to the stretch and I extend just a little more. More hope. My legs go up and I watch just how far they want to go. I hope after a few minutes they will go a little farther overhead.
    I am so grateful for hope. That feeling that lifts the heart and stills the soul. I believe in the author of that hope. He is my Savior. He meets me on the yoga mat and whispers to me that I can.


 It Might Be HopeYou do your work the best that you can
you put one foot in front of the other
life comes in waves and makes its demands
you hold on as well as you’re able


You’ve been here for a long long time

Hope has a way of turning its face to you
just when you least expect it
you walk in a room
you look out a window
and something there leaves you breathless
you say to yourself
it’s been a while since I felt this
but it feels like it might be hope.

Mercy River is here with a link to this song. It is worth listening too.


I write on Fridays with a large group who inspire me. Only five minutes and without much thought to perfection. I write, prompted by one word that sends my thoughts to the keyboard and hopefully make sense.


Friday, July 3, 2015

Favorite

   This summer is unseasonably hot. Today, as I checked the temperature I thought how this is three weeks in a row with over 80 degree weather. With that perspective in mind I thought I would like to recall my favorite parts of the day.


    The morning is the absolute best. I get up around 5:00am and hit the gym at 6:00am. I do yoga and then ride a recumbent bike. I find legs up the wall to be divine. As the wall is mirrors, I see the balls line up above me creating a red parade of spheres.


   Watering time is nurturing. I greet my gerber daisies and tomato plants and give their parched leaves some hydration. The smell of warm earth wafts over the the plants and I feel grateful.


   The afternoon allows for some reading. I close the shades to prevent the heat from encroaching and lay prone on the couch with my favorite book. This week it is "A Fall of Marigolds" by Susan Meissner. 


    The evening invites some walks to see the bluest of skies. A sight unusual in the Northwest. Soon enough the clouds will swirl in and leave that salty air close to the ground. But, I digress, those are favorites of other seasons. For now I am content to enjoy mornings and evenings outside and midday in  a darkened house.

  
I write on Fridays with a large group who inspire me. Only five minutes and without much thought to perfection. I write, prompted by one word that sends my thoughts to the keyboard and hopefully make sense.