Last Night I Touched the Sky

Nature called
I stepped outside
what I saw shocked me
like a pretzel I leaned back
lungs expand as they touch the sky
half the world was at my fingertips
white dots that slow came into focus
last night I touched the sky

So my first night back was similar to a sleepover at a friends house. I was giggly with excitement . Turning the power on in the studio opened a world that is now embedded in my DNA. I was like a child in a candy store touching this and that, blowing dust of tools looking in bags of quick retreats. I found a bronze spoon that I had cast from a carved one that B had carved from our cherry tree. It was still there with a perfect round smooth rock resting in the cup. I thought that it should simulate balance so I drilled a hole just deep enough to rest on the rod of stainless that was fixed to a stainless base. Before you know it I had created a new piece from sections of old.

The reflecting pool was my next stop, lying on the cool grass I watched with such joy all the tadpoles swimming about. Taking so many photos trying to imprint feelings onto digital.

Sitting on top of the world I watched the sun fall to sleep as the nights coolness covered me like a blanket. Lying in bed with windows and doors closed I could still hear the crickets and frogs singing themselves to sleep. All of my senses were  magnified. Thus the not sleeping till the early hours.
This morning I received an email that a friend of mine is approaching her final days. I will put everything on hold and go to give her a proper send off. For this is what should be done for people that have lived and survived.

I did not sleep till I could hear the morning crickets call.

How Do You Pack Up a Life

Packing up a studio is sort of like creating a time capsule. To place things in boxes. To show importance and respect. You have to be trusted to do this and also place trust in others to do the same for you. My job is a difficult one because I place such great importance on history, the past. If we don’t cherish that past how will we ever respect the future. This summer I am packing and I will be emotional at times but that is what makes my job a great one. For I can be trusted to respect the past.

In order to get to the place of packing I had to first pack up from the city to the country for the summer.  At First I did not want to bring my paints. Well you can imagine what I would do, yes you are right I would paint and enjoy myself. I was not going to. Really I wasn’t.  No honestly. Why don’t you believe me?  ….   ..  /////

Ok you may have been more insightful then I. At the end, after packing all of my underwear, socks, stretchy pants, tea shirts, skirts [?] drawer of toiletries  I thought…hummm what harm will one container of essential paints do? Why not pack two maybe three canvases after all I can’t pack ALL THE TIME.

The first paragraph here is in a sort a retaliation of someone telling me that it has become apparent that I don’t keep my intension. Meaning that I promise to everyone but in reality I can’t do for everyone. So why is this a bad thing? Why do people continually try and forge you into this thing  that is impersonating a sane person.

I don’t feel any strength in anything,, still.  I correct myself I feel strong when I create.

I have to mention that this month I have seen former friends from my husbands time in care. I felt different at first. It’s always strange when you don’t have your deceased one with you. After a bit of strange time you settle in to what you know and feels right. That feeling when you can be open and its not corrected or judged. When your not pushed into pretending that you have moved on and you have taken your life in hand and you have started to make future plans and you now clean your house and you don’t drink that much wine anymore and you don’t need those sleeping pills anymore and you don’t think of him when you fall asleep at night holding his ring on his silver chain you wear ever day and you have started walking and doing yoga and you are no longer eating an entire box of six apple turnovers while sitting in the parking lot. Ya,,, hell your ok.

Sure you are.

When I visited another friend whom still is caregiving and at a very full time. I felt so comfortable. I could not leave. To remember the patients that is required  just to wait for their replies is meditative. I remember just having to focus on my husband. That was all I did for three years. I focused on his eyes to tell me if he was having a headache. I focused on his hands if he was feeling cramped or sore. I don’t think I have ever felt so needed and loved. I know that it can never be recreated nor would I want anyone to have to go through what he went through. But oh do I miss B.

So You may read many posts this summer while I go through the ups and many down days of packing up a persons life.

Please comment if you have questions. I welcome communication especially if you find yourself in the same situation.