Brave Little Lyon

 

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they go off in the night

when the time feels right

to find a place that is soft and permanent 

a place, hidden from passers-by

a place where they prepare to die

it saddens me

to imagine him alone

walking softly across the fields

so far from home

is it a trance or a meditative state 

when they know so clearly 

when they prepare and  take the walk

do they sit in the dark and gaze at the moonlight

sending meditative signals to the afterlife

then wait till the porthole opens

somehow I don’t believe 

that they review their life

that they sit in a pool of regret  

counting the mice or chipmunks that got away

 

he became a memory of himself

so thin and yet the hunter never left him

seeing him walk across the field with a large gift in his mouth

laying it on the wooden planks 

an offering, a gift  a great achievement 

he would then lie down with his back to it

shoulders off the floor like a sphinx 

so proud and worthy of praises he received 

how something so little in size

could fill so much space in my heart

the gap leaves me feeling weakened 

so many lovely, sweet pets I love 

the auntie that loves them 

while their family travels

I believe that we don’t choose 

connections with humans or animals

I believe in my Buddhist teachings 

that a soul is a soul is a soul

whether we are human or not 

the soul is what connects us

this little guy knew of his place in my heart

to look into his little face and feel his thoughts

not word for word 

but understanding 

compassion and comfort

last night I dreamt of a baby

I held it, wrapped it for warmth

held it so close to me

each with tearful eyes

believing that my heartbeat would keep its heart beating

the room, the blanket, the rooftops all white 

sleep my prince, my friend

till we join hearts again

July 18 2018

Saffron On The Line

saffron hangs with folds of gold
the morning sun draws white lines on each fold
I fear my sunflowers will show their faces while I am gone
droplets of moister hangs onto the tip of the heavy leaves
transparent and delicate yet I can sense its weight

for a moment the air that surrounds me 
fills with a fragrance 
of a flower bidding good morning to the sun
my eyes, drawn to only one
amongst a wave of deep purple
only one looks back at me
fluttering in the still air

then it comes
sensing the opportunity
that moment when the world knows you are distracted
when it knows you feel at ease and secure
then it comes
like a hawk flying over his terrain
waiting for that moment
the moment when it is least suspected
when you have mindlessly left the door to your heart open
when you have let your guard down
it walks in and fucks with you
smiles, camouflage the dagger
I repeat myself
I repeat my self
I repeat myself
out of disappointment in myself
anger points only to me, 
for only I am to blame
weeks have passed where I have felt secure
feeling that I may be able to live
some kind of life
the universe knows when there is a soft spot
evil and good fly side by side
there is no real dissimilarity

what road must I walk next
must my entire life be the endless turning of pages
from a large book of lessons
perhaps, my moments of feeling secure
my naked feet on the warm earth
is the wrong path
perhaps I am not to get comfortable
I am not to be here
could that be the next lesson

I am so conditioned to please
so conditioned it that I feel I need to throw up
why is an open, extended hand perceived as weakness
perhaps it’s the old saying
survival of the fittest
there are no solutions
no crystal ball
just grin and bear it till the end

my saffron hangs on the line
all tangled unable to move back or forth
the symbolism is uncanny

Days When You Wonder If Your Sane

Possibly too much time spent alone can get you drifting into strange areas. If your an artist well then you may be accustom.

Its the aloneness of yourself.

You can’t spend time with people all the time especially if your not that attracted to company. Its that single person’s company that you miss. The one person that got you. The person with whom you did not have to explain things and that person who understood being alone.
Some people try and help but I don’t think anyone can help us at this point. I still feel that I have to walk this path for a reason. That there is something I might have to learn about myself in order to more forward. God is it this hard for others?  I know I will never want another relationship for this one has taken so much out of me. To have been woven together for so long. Our veins pumping the same blood to the same organs keeping us alive. Then one day each one has been severed leaving you to bleed out. Perhaps all this time is a process of cauterizing each and every vein so we can continue to live.

Lately I have been attempting to get our place up for sale. That is a job I tell you.

Things keep going wrong. I will not let myself get frustrated and angry because I just haven’t got it in me anymore. My emotions are tired. I have taken to writing dialogue as if I were speaking to B. Truthfully its kind of nice writing them. You may want to try it for fun and if it works, keep doing it. I have also included some fun photo essays I am working on to shake my brain up a bit.

THE difference in dealing with  things when your alone is that there is no one to say,
Hell I don’t know .What do you think?
Did you try the things ma jig?
Ya//
What about that?…
Ya…
Was there any pressure?
No..
Was the pump running long?
Don’t Know.
Did you get to make the coffee?
No.
Dam!
When can you call the plumber?
I was going to wait till 8am.
Call the Fu… now!
Na you have to be nice. the kid was very nice.
Ya but yo still don’t have water>
I know but hay its 8 I’ll try now.
Ok let me know.So what did the plumber say?

Well I thought I would be getting his answering machine, instead he answered but he was at his cottage.
Well thats good did he come over?
No.. you can’t as someone to come home from the cottage to fix your tank!
Well why not?
Because I just would not feel right about it. He did tell me to prime it again and to check if there was a leak anywhere or if the well went dry.
That’s a stupid thing to as a client to do. I would never leave someone hanging with no water on the long weekend.
Well artists are more concerned with others then the trades.
So did you prime the pump?
No. I did lift the concrete lid and confirmed that the well was full nearly to the top.
So what are you doing?
I first wanted to retreat like a frightened fox but then I decided that the city was not a place I wanted to spend the weekend. I could not pounce on my friends again so I decided F”Kit I will go back to the cottage mode that ai was in before I had water.
I don’t want to constantly bore people with all this drama.
Well its not as if your creating the drama!
I know but everyone has their own drama to deal with.
So??? what you doing?
Well I did kind of melt back into bed like I was clued down from head to toe. A good part of the glue seeping its way into my brain allowing me to watch the little dvd screen with open deer kind of eyes with no brain activity.
I don’t know how you can do that. It would drive me crazy. I would have to be doing something.
Ya well that’s you. I looked at everything I have been wanting to do.
I pulled wet weeds from three reflecting pools causing my ass cheeks to ache. Without water. I trying to organize the kitchen a bit with boiled water and took it as far as I could. I don’t want to start painting the container for it would require good real water to wash afterwards. I can’t start my waxes for the dust in the studio is too much without running water to wash things and myself., Suffice to say. I will watch dvd’s and eat oranges.
No wonder you don’t get anywhere! You just don’t have what it takes to be a successful artist.
Well to hell with you.
Right back at you.
Talk to you tomorrow?
Ya sure.

OR I COULD JUST BE LOOSING IT HEHEHEH

As Long as We Continue To Wake Up In The Morning …..We Are Doing Just Fine.

I Ran To My Friends

 

As I sit here on the back porch looking out onto vast open fields ready for planting. I have just had my morning chat with the chickens and oh my goodness I am now watching a little bird building a nest from one of the chickens feathers!!! How wonderful is that?
So let me bring you up to date on how I got here. Yesterday morning I received an email from one friend telling me that our other friend would more then likely not make the weekend.

“Swallow that big lump that is now lodged in your throat” My inclination is to speed through this for my audience [if I can call you that, although I don’t feel you are] my unknown acquaintances how about that. I have always felt that I had to rush through my thoughts so as not to bore people around me , but these are details of my friends lives, my dear friends existence how can you rush through that. What do you  omit? This winded description for one

Days to leave and say goodbye. How do you even do that?  I changed my plans and got out of town as they say. Driving directly to her home. My inclination is to stop and shop at second hand stores I don’t know why I do that but I have an idea and a shrink could probably set me right. I remembered that  when my sister died B and I drove seven hours at speeds that I normally do not approach  but we got there and she was still breathing.

The  bed was placed in her dining room over looking her garden. The windows large and to the floor. It was like an offering. My sisters body on the alter being offered to what ever. I sat with her, held her hand and the memories went rushing through my brain like a speed ball. I was relieved that she had not died before I got to see her and tell her I loved her. It is unbelievably important to tell your loved ones you love them! Then I did something stupid. Thinking that I had days with my sister I agreed to go to a second hand store just down the road and look at things,  B was looking for a pair of open sandles for he forgot to bring his for it was raining when we left home. We puttered around then went back and She Was Gone…….

Just like that I drove at dangerous speed to get there then I went shopping and missed her departure. I can’t forget that. I think it was this thought that kept running through my mine as I drove to my friends house.

I stopped and bought apple pie and cheese for protein and a bottle of wine. It was not so much a celebration as hitting your emotions with sugar charbs alcohol and protein. I have experienced so many deaths from that first one that apple pie has come to be my comfort food. If you saw me you would think :Girl enough with the pies!” heheh

As it was my friend is still with us today whew. I took her dog for a walk but did not walk too far for its a small town and I ran into another friend who was sitting and writing in her back yard. We stopped for tea and a creative chat.

I wish you could hear the chicken in the background and I wish you could see the green grass opening up to  ghostly rows  in the open field . The sun feels glorious and healing on my skin. I don’t want to move from this spot I want to stay here through rain and snow and blowing winds I want to remain here on this spot to feel all the seasons sun touching my face.

Yesterday  did not end up about comforting my dying friend, instead it was her mother that I ended up comforting. They have a mother daughter relationship what can I say. It has its ups and downs as all of us do but that does not mean in any way that there is not an incredible love in there that they have for each other its just a bit different and hard.

I’m not about judging anyones love I just want to try and make an avenue available for departing with calm. Death comes to all of us and we really should spend a bit more time thinking about it then most of us do. Our final moments in this galaxy should have some care unless of course you die from an accident and have no time.

I don’t want to wear you down with too much chatting for I want you to follow my blog with a little bit of excitement or anticipation of what the heck will she say now hehe. Now I hope I can manage to insert some photos I took of the chickens this morning. I had to get a new laptop and it has different features designed not to make like better but to test our nerves.

I love you all for you show good taste in reading my blog heheheheh

Big hugs. Please comment.

 

 

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.

 

Dates, What are these Numbers on a Calendar

wondering around the pages of my past

like an ant carrying a crumb of bread on its back
the ant likes to give the impression that there is something very urgent going on
with persistent determination it walks around or over around and over around and over
with this crumb of bread on its back
we look at this ant and clap and praise and cheer it on
we become like the ant
we take on its quest even if its just in the side stands
the ant soon represents everything to us
we pontificate our perception of this little ant as if we are giving a lecture or writing our thesis on the purpose of the crumb on ones back
all of this
in this little white box.

have you ever stood quickly and felt what we like to call a little freebie
little wisps of tornadoes dance in my dome
have you closed your eyes and tried to follow those ridicules squiggles of dust from the front row seat of your eye lids

dates are approaching
they do for all of us
dates do not care what they represent
dates don’t care that they may bring with them an avalanche
they are dates, simply dates that have no conscious, no sensors, no feelings
they are not a living thing
they just have one purpose which is to be there as we approach
there seems to be nothing we can do to slow them down or stop them
dates

many of us waste our lives by being obsessed with the thought of what we want
as if its something that is require in order for us to be given life
does the un fertilized egg fill out a questionnaire as one might expect sperm would
is it at this point that a union is determined in terms of compatibilites
the most important being … want you want
would it then be true that if you can’t answer that question, well you might just forever float around never having a union contact, never merging and creating, never living… is that so very bad

I do know however … what I don’t want
I don’t want to go
I don’t want to stay
I don’t want to live
I don’t want to die
I don’t want to have superficial conversations
I don’t want to not be heard
I don’t want my grandchildren to forget me

the easy part is knowing what I don’t want
the big problem is I don’t know what I now want

today is two years eleven months one minute
now two now three
you know what comes next
the three year mark
do you think that if you welcome those digital markers
if you let them pass through your body
do you really think
we will feel better?

this is probably not helping anyone out there that has just lost their love.
this may seem like there is no light ever
you should not see my observing myself like that ant as a bad thing.
I am one of those that has to poke my nose into everything even if its my own heart with the quest to find my way though this thing called grieving.

Grieving is hard but I don’t know if you can study for it. Everyone is different this I am told. I just wish there was a rehab that I could go to for this grief.
Grief today [for it changes every day] is like bobbing for apples in a container of ice cold water.

Maybe There Is No Summing Things Up

I’m sitting here in front of my computer screen, thinking. How do I sum up this month in NewFoundland?
I came with suitcases full of anticipation and direction. As I sit here wondering what it was that pulled me here, I can only make assumptions. Perhaps it is not so important why we are drawn to something or a place but just that we are.
Assuming that a distance place where B and I never went together would somehow put his image from my mind somehow in the background. Well it was anything but. Discovering a new place just brought him more in the foreground but in a different way I think. Again, as I write, new discovered thoughts emerge. Before I came here for the two years that I lived without his physical body in front of me, I just wanted to be with him. I welcomed the idea of crossing over to continue a new life with him.
This month I have walked so many new shores and speaking to B was part of it. It was no longer longing to be with him but accepting the new relationship we have. Him on the other side and me here discovering and enjoying the new experiences while still holding him near. I think that I have [hopefully] discovered a way that I can share and communicate with him but without sadness and longing.
B’s thoughts come to me clearer here, perhaps it’s the moisture in the air hehe. I have not spent time being overly sad. The gift of walking by the ocean daily is truly a wonderful therapeutic session.
Paining? Well not much of that got done, almost completed one 30×40. I will bring it home and then we will see.

Understanding that someone you love does not leave you when they pass on is one of those things that you can tell yourself and god only knows others certainly find this a favourite phrase to tell us. I think now, that it comes when we have reached that point on our own. Thinking back in this past two years I can easily see how someone could completely loose themselves with grief. A friend say one day, grief if you allow it will eat you up. A year ago I would have said bon appetite! Today? As the sun just broke through the heavy clouds I would say, You don’t really want to eat me, I’m not very tasty heheh
Do I feel sad about leaving this island? Not today. With over 2000 photographs and videos and a laptop screaming NO MORE NO MORE! I do think I can remember the feelings enough to make me happy.

My playing by the ocean has brought me a new perspective in the views I look at. I have experimented with images and I do look forward to painting some of them out.

Always I hope that my writing this blog will in a small way help others not feel so alone and if I can find a glimmer of light I have no doubt that you can as well.

Our Senses Take Us On a Long Trip

I did not know that one person could grieve a house but apparently I am. I am not speaking mortar and wood and glass but more the feelings and memories that are lingering. this week and last I saw first hand how money makes some people seem as they have been possessed by evil.
I seem to be raw for all of these things hit me hard. I loose control over myself. I sob while driving. I sit by the water to find comfort but even it does not help. Often my head hurts and my teeth ache from nights of clinching my jaw, unbeknownst to me.
yesterday while waiting the the light to change at an intersection the smell of fat from kfc engulfed the van and took my mind back in time. I could see myself with B in the wheelchair waiting for the light to change and thinking how I was going to get him across two streets before the light went red. I remember what I was thinking and feeling as if I were living it for the first time.
When those times come over us there is no stopping them. They have a force that cannot be moved. I understand the feelings of desperation that leads people to building shrines of their loved ones. We don’t mean to create them into deities. For myself I remember a life so full of creating. To live with a true artist takes a certain kind of person. Watching the Pollack movie again with Ed Harris I understood. I felt the frustrations of Lee his wife and though B was not a drunk and filled with problems it was the creating that draws us to them like flies to light bulbs. It truly is as fascinating as watching a child being born.
Hearing Harris’s description of Pollacks desperation in getting out of him the creation of painting. I have been feeling as he described. Trying and ripping your chest open so it can all come out or be released! I have made attempts but as I look at the paintings now I can see that I have modified them. I have toned down the force and agony that I feel so the works might be better sellable. One has come close and I will post it today. Well I better try and get some work done.
Writing does help.
Painting does help.
Sculpting sure helps
I hope sharing helps you.

What If Our Heart Dries

I do wake in the morning with all good intentions.
Today I will do my yoga. I will go for a walk. I will do more packing. Then  I hear the clicking of the coffee pot and when I go to investigate I am so pleased that there is at least one more cup that I can squeeze out of it. The cup of coffee by the computer tells me its still morning and I have all day to complete everything I have not gotten to for weeks.
I get my sketchbook out, well if truth be told there is not getting out, my sketchbooks are all over the place! I can’t believe how many I have. 99% finished to the very last page.
I open the book and draw what I am feeling. At times when I do this it helps me to see where I am at and how I can physically help myself through this. This morning it was my body standing at a 60 degree angle with ropes wrapped around the chest. then extensions leading to message blocks all around. In these blocks I write what emotions are possessing me like a spirit from another world.
The idea that I obsess has come to me more often then I care to count. Is the mind of an artist a stable one? Probably not for if it was we would be doing something else that rewarded us with money and security. There are benefits though. The fact that I can look at these walls full of paintings is a real benefit! To see something of a solid matter that has come from pure thought and emotion still impresses me.
The idea that in the future I might even create something that is of full round acceptable beauty is a post-it on my mind. Would I even be interested in doing this? Truthfully, imagining myself painting flowers or scenes of  a foggy meadow kind of creeps me out.  There would have to be a partial animal scull somewhere in it or steps created by ribs leading to the distant skies. You see, it’s not a sunny day without a single grey cloud. Maybe I’m stuck or the artist in me is enjoying all the feelings of sorrow. Or maybe I’m screaming for help the only way I know how to.
There are many that know what I feel and are supportive. I don’t mean to insinuate that I am so lonesome creature in the bush living off the sap that I lick off the trees and make soup from mushrooms and grass that I pick. But, the mind does go there. Why does it go there? Perhaps it needs the emptiness and vastness of the forest to give refuge to these feeling. Letting them fly and be caught by a swirling wind that cradles them to great heights. Free them for they are too great and massive to live in our hearts. They possess such energy that they will eventually dry the heart out and it will parish. Disintegrate to ash with the slightest of pressure.
This image stops me, and I feel stillness. I try to breath with thought. My eyes feel frozen to those words.