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.

 

It’s been 33 months

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This morning I was about to write a mind though, or mind blerp of ‘ what is the difference between grieving, depression or plain laziness’
This is something that I often wonder. Am I a natural born lazy person? There are so many days that I feel it might be the thing, then I roll over and go to sleep. I do know all the lines of grieving, take small steps, one thing at a time, concur it then go on, think of the future, be with friends, get rid of all their things that have memories on and on and on.

Many of you may have heard all these lines from very meaningful people.

Still the feet remain cemented to the floor.

The breaths become shorter, the eyes get so heavy and no matter how hard you make yourself do these things there seems to be no change.
The loss of a loved one could easily become a great excuse to just not do things.
Do the dishes really need to be washed?
Does one really have to change clothes ever day?
Surly peanut butter sandwiches have all the vitamins a person needs. Salads take so much energy to chew.
Is there really a set number of times that a person can watch the same movie?
All of you may be feeling this from time to time, hell I still loop this schedule at times, well possibly more then not.
There is one things that remains my life line and this may certainly be different for all but for me it expression through words, photography, painting and sculpture. For what ever reason when these creative thoughts fall into my mind I act on them. Whether they are selfies and more selfies! whether they are stories, blogs poems or drawings anything! if anyone of these things captures you then run with it. Do it till you have exhausted yourself. Till you fall to the floor and sleep with paint on your body! Yes the dishes will pile up but how many can you eat from at one time. Wearing the same thing is just good economy, you are saving water for heaven sake! This is the only reason I think that I may not be lazy. Is it?
Then there is the phone, that black thing that sits on the ledge with it annoying red blinking light. I feel that speaking sucks my energy what about you? The sun oh that annoying thing that brightens everything around you, so intense it hurts your eyes. I prefer the rain myself, always have even as a child. I could always breath better in the rain. Perhaps that is why I love to lie in a tub with only my nose above the water.

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At the moment there are so many birds outside the window that I feel there must be a feathered conference on this property. I just saw a brown bird with the brightest red beak! There are robins flying in and out of the garden with such consistency. My friend has the most amazing flower garden. I have discovered house sitting, it’s an interesting way to take a break from your own life. Its also a good way to try things like having pets. There is nothing like looking after someones pet to make you realize that it takes far too much energy for the long haul.
Well I don’t know if I have helped any of you reading this today or if I have given you reason to go back to bed ehehhe but if you can have contact with someone even if it’s this big strange world of the internet then I think we will all be ok for another day.
Myself I’m 33 months into it. We were together for 32 years when he died so I will cut myself some slack and try and give myself the time I need to be able to breath without him.
If I can offer any kind of advice at all I would ask you to have a journal for everyone can write words even if you don’t have any talent. Its important to document what you are going through because in the end we have to feel that we are important enough to write about. Even if we do it ourselves. I wish you all a day of breathing and writing even two lines. I do welcome comments remember.
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Moments to Remember

I know its simple but perhaps that is a good thing. Days left before my first solo opening night. I am excited and petrified. There is still much to do but I am very tired and sitting here talking to you instead. Talking to you is always a good thing heheh. I have always been the other person. The one that did the ads, photographed the work, mailed the invitations, pressed the clothes and pack the van. Now I still do most of that when I get it done that is AND  I have created all the art as well! It’s a lot, isn’t it?

It may sound like I am whining but I’m not. Being a bit of a control freak means that I like to do things on my own. There is something about putting the ice in the glass. I don’t know where that came from.

I must go buy a paper and see if I made the deadline time for todays paper. wish me luck.

“grieving is like being stuck in a revolving door”

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So here it is another year to tuck into our pockets. There is always this expectation of the new year being better then the year just past. I’m sure that even the wealthy have such expectations. So what does that tell us about ourselves?

The wants for more and better?
I have just completed one of those quizzes on line. What emotion is hidden. Well apparently mine is ANGER, yup apparently I am suppressing all kinds of anger.
With the stages of grieving so we have to go through all stages?
I know now that you can go through the stages over and over again. So what is the point of stages? They should call it the revolving door stages.

The tolerance of friends are dwindling. I don’t blame them. I would dwindle as well.
Its the perpetual wave of tiredness. The fatigue that feels like lead pumping through my veins. A walk brings me a momentary high then my feet begin feel as if I am walking over warm tar.
I have to tell myself to take deep breaths. This blog is the only place left where I can get rid of all these feelings and words from spinning around in my shell.
Friends a wonderful and so caring and loving but they are full of their solutions, solutions that just make me feel less capable then before.
The music of Bach helps greatly and operas coat me with warmth and understanding.
I have a showing of 85 pieces to organize. Sculptures and paintings and writings. Whether there is success or failure I feel that it is a circle that I need to complete. Will it give me the energy I need to find a direction of my life?
Will it confirm doubts and make me hang up my drawing pens?
If its the latter there will be no purpose to go on. Am I angry? perhaps. Angry that I can’t afford to live in my own home.
From february 19 2009 I have been living in others pockets. I have looked after my husband with the utmost of love and care and diligence. My family have looked after me. Out of need I have tried to fit into puzzles but my own shape is fighting. I miss my life, my relationship, my friend B. When one person knows everything about you. When one person accepts you with all your thorns and loves you.
I don’t have the energy left in me to be open to another life. Understanding the makeup of hermits draws me to wanting to become a solitudinarian.
Most people would think this is a bad thing but I do not. We can not all be made of the cloth of survival and strength. Some may well just need solitude for to conform makes us tired.
That is how I feel today. What about you? How do you feel today.

There is a Saltbox House Waiting for Me

 

 

 

 

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There is a saltbox house waiting for me in Newfoundland. This will be my first trip alone. My first trip without B. This time it will be me sketching and painting. Will I remember things differently? Will I take things in differently?
To have all questions directed at me will and has been different. Before I would chose which I felt like commenting on, now I must reply to all.

I really do have a burning desire to create something. The shortness of two weeks to go builds excitement in me.
The decision to bring canvases or not is now an un-issue. I will bring canvas cloth then purchase 1/8″ plywood and paint if I feel the need to go bigger. I will not restrict myself when I get out there.

This week I was casting and finishing some castings for my series. It was this spring and last fall that I cast these but it has been taking me a while to finish them. I think that with every sculpture I polish the memories come alive. The fill me and often they absorb me. As the months tick on by I feel better able to not let them exhaust me so much.

Our Senses Take Us On a Long Trip

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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.

To Walk Down the Road You must First Be Aware of The Speed Limit

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I can barely see the reduction of things I must pack. This weekend there was a big neighbourhood garage sale so I leaped to the opportunity to relieve this house of things.

I had decided to create a living room setting for all the things I put there were of the living room left overs.

The white wicker chair.

The white wicker stool.

The white wooden ladder.

The white ceramic plate and white painted river rocks.

The stand up lamp and matching clip on.

The t.v., the dvd player.

Two ironing boards, with an iron on top.

Hot pink chair with 60’s pillows.

My sisters cabinet.

White baskets.

One very ugly end table, this did not attract any attention.

All the whites were loaded up into a small care by a woman I think I may become friends with in the future. She invited me to sit by the lake at her place about an hour outside of town. She spoke of mystical properties of soft edges river rocks. I told her that yes I knew of such powers but for me its the finding that gives me great pleasure. I am in transition and this phase means I have now reached a place where I am letting things go.

When you believe that purpose leads us to avenues and our choosing certain routes is part of our learning paths that sense of urgency for the most part is removed. I don’t mean to say that I sit waiting for life to come to my front door. Every day I try and understand the moment I am in. Saturday it brought two people here to look at the house. They did not purchase it but we had a personal discussion of the events that we had lived in terms of caring for loved ones and the family structure. So was it a failed viewing of a house or was it a needed side trip of emotional value. I chose the latter.

My siblings have an abundance of financial values so the sale of mom’s house is urgent to them for they just want to get on and possibly give their share to their kids. For me, well I do need the money but perhaps more so I need to cherish the moments of leaving mom’s house. I feel that as long as her ashes are here with me that we are still finding ways to say goodbye.

I know the right family will look at the house and see themselves build a life here within these walls. It’s well priced for a family but not for someone that just wants to flip it.

To conclude today I would leave on these points,

take the time you need! Grieving is a process of emotional inventory and filing in a way. As an artist my inventory comes from the hundreds of drawings I created and still create of my path. the filing is my choosing which gets transferred into a painting or sculpture or poem.

These past two weeks I have let go of so many of B’s clothing items. My only compensation was that he is in every sculpture and painting and drawing he created. He Is in every monumental sculpture that graces the city streets. But I still keep things like his pen that I found in his jacket.

When someone has been a part of your every day and breathe for 32 or more years or more, speed is not a word that suits at this time.