Showing posts with label Reruns of artwork retrospective (1966-2008). Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reruns of artwork retrospective (1966-2008). Show all posts

Friday, March 31, 2023

Night song / Everyone and Everywhere / A request for "Here Comes The Sun" / Reruns March 21-31, 2007



 “Every time we train our most sophisticated tools upon the central questions of our existence – Who are we? Where do we come from? Where are we going? – the answer comes back clearer: Everyone and Everywhere.”

-- James Bridle

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My friend who is so much more than her Parkinson's diagnosis is in her fourth day in an extended care facility where she will undergo physical therapy and occupational therapy designed to allow her to return to her small apartment and live independently with support from various agencies and friends.  It is sobering to see so many people our age who are living in nursing homes permanently or temporarily like my friend.  

I played the frog song video for her.  

From her bed she can look out at the sky and trees above the one-story extended care facility buildings.  She can hear wind chimes when the window is open.  A musician friend of hers brought his guitar and played and sang Beatles, Leonard Cohen, and Harry Nilsson at her request.  


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Reruns:

(65th and 64th Month weren't photographed)


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Sunday, March 19, 2023

Theme for March 19, 2023: "The Listeners" read by Pádraig Ó Tuama / Am's artwork retrospective 1966-2008 revisited: March 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 2023 / MealTrain for Janis



This painting was chosen by the owners of the Blue Horse Gallery for the flyer for my March 1990 show.


"The Listeners" read by Pádraig Ó Tuama 

Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;

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Dream from March 14, 2007:

Last night I dreamed that a small plane fell from the sky and crashed, nose down, into the bed of daisies my father had planted on the north side of the house where my family lived. A calm and unhurt letter carrier from the U.S. Post Office, holding his mail bag, stepped out of the plane and handed us our mail as we stood at the sliding glass door which opened onto our covered porch. We then helped him drag the undamaged airplane onto our porch and invited him into our house. I went outside on the porch to look at the plane. I realized that it was a handmade plane, built from plywood and painted a flat grey. I thought to myself, "Hey, I could build a plane like that."

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The beauty of things was born before eyes and sufficient to itself; the
heart-breaking beauty
Will remain when there is no heart to break for it.

(from "Credo," by Robinson Jeffers, Stones of the Sur, p. 144, with photographs by Morley Baer)

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EVOLUTION OF FORGIVENESS

In this silence
I am looking for relief
Trusting grief
Loving the child never conceived
Loving all the shattered children
Who dared not trust, love or grieve
Loving the silent holy night
The wild blue sky of day
The courage of redwood trees
The beloved ocean
Still mirroring our wild hearts
Always calling to us:
Trust grief.

(poem begun in 6/17/2000, completed 8/26/2003)

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My post from March 19, 2007:

I've been feeling depressed lately in the way that I did when I was at a loss as to what to do with my life, during the years I was living in a marriage that was never meant to be. Taking an antidepressant was not the solution. The solution was to make a decision to leave the marriage and then to leave. Facing my fears was the solution. Changing my life was the solution. I have never regretted my decision. The depression lifted. I was no longer living a lie. The joy I had once felt in living returned. I entered the most creative period of life up to that point.

Now it's not so clear what it is that is behind this recent feeling of depression. I believe that the solution is the same. I need to make a decision to face my fears and change the course of my life again. Am I again married to something that was never meant to be? What is it? I hope these are the right questions. I know what it is to feel joy, and I hope to feel that again.

Mid-February to mid-April is not the best time for me because of pollen and mold allergies. I no longer suffer from severe upper respiratory symptoms, but I do experience a feeling of malaise in late winter and early spring that is at odds with the beauty of this time of year. As the days grow lighter, I don't feel better. If anything, I have reverse Seasonal Affective Disorder and don't feel well again until after the summer solstice. I have chosen not to take antidepressant medication because my depression is situational. My experience is that it always lifts.

A book that I have found helpful with depression is The Zen Path Through Depression
, by Philip Martin. I need to get that book out again.

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Revisiting the beginning of my blog has been a revelation.  Although this isn't my favorite time of year, I am feeling stronger than I have ever felt, able to help others, despite a series of small but relentless challenges since last September.  The latest challenge is not small and involves helping the first friend I had in Bellingham.  Janis is having serious acute and chronic health issues.  Like many of us, she is in her 70's, low-income, and has no husband or children or nearby relatives to help.  What she does have is friends who are stepping forward to visit, bring food and offer to stay with her until she is stronger and her primary care provider's referrals come through and she can get home health care and possible acute rehab care placement through her Medicare and Medicaid insurance.

MealTrain for Janis


Janis is a dancer with the kindest heart imaginable.


Friday, March 3, 2023

March 3, 2023: Working on Mandala #77 (non-dominant hand) in the context of "All Along The Watchtower" and a mystery / Reruns: February 27, 28, and March 1, 2, 3, 2007

 

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Mystery:


This easel belong to R.  Inside are paint brushes and tubes of oil paint, acrylic, and watercolor.  It was with him at the Palo Alto VA Hospital in the last months of his life.  It came to me after he died.  In 2021, I let go of much of that which I had been holding on to in connection with R.  I thought that someone might like to take up painting and would enjoy using R's easel.  I felt sure I would not be painting again.  Besides, I had never used oils and rarely used acrylics.  After I left the easel in our condominium mailroom on the free table, I found that it was gone the next day when I checked back.  

This morning when I went to the mailroom, I was startled to see R's easel leaning against the wall next to the free table.  Out of curiosity, I opened it up and found that whoever took it had never used it in any way I could determine.  The case was a little dusty.  The photo of R which I had put inside the easel was still there.  I'm not letting it go again.

I'm taking this as another message from R:

Two thumbs up! 

Yesterday was a particular difficult day for me.  Coincidence?


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Reruns:



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Music from 1989:


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Sunday, February 26, 2023

February 26, 2023: Another mysterious left-handed mandala / Reruns: January 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 2007 ("The heart forgives when it accepts and acknowledges conflict without blame.")




These mandalas are on white Bristol board, but the white background on Blogger is a much brighter white.  Maybe they will look more white when I get them professionally scanned.



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“After the Fire” 

You ever think you could cry so hard
that there’d be nothing left in you, like
how the wind shakes a tree in a storm
until every part of it is run through with
wind? I live in the low parts now, most
days a little hazy with fever and waiting
for the water to stop shivering out of the
body. Funny thing about grief, its hold
is so bright and determined like a flame,
like something almost worth living for.


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Reruns:



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With music from 1988: