Buried Treasure 2011

It's time, once again, for Seth Apter's Buried Treasure. To take part, all you need do is repost one or more of your favorite blog entries going back to the beginning of your blog. I believe this is my 3rd time joining in, if memory serves. This time, I'm not going back very far. This post was part of the A-Z Blogging Challenge 2011 that I took part in. Thanks for stopping by!

The following was orginally posted on April 26, 2011. I didn't have to go back very far this time to find a favorite.

Veil (n.) A cover; disguise; a mask; a pretense.

There are many things in this world hidden behind a veil. For a multitude of reasons, often fear, people hide parts of themselves from others. We fear someone may not like what they see and may ridicule or alienate us, and most everyone yearns to feel they belong somewhere. Our own government hides behind pretenses, to keep us uninformed and controllable. That's not conspiracy theory; you're kidding yourself if you think they tell us everything.

i can understand sometimes feeling the need to keep a part of yourself tucked away, safe from mocking and misunderstanding, but more and more i seek to let out those "secrets". i'm finding the release necessary to feel that i'm really presenting myself as who i am, and also necessary towards making strides to becoming the me i am and am meant to be. Often, when we share a hidden part of ourselves, someone else feels the courage to respond with "Me, too!", and instead of feeling alone, you both find common ground and let out a little sigh, thinking, i'm so glad i'm not the only one. By remaining behind the mask, we isolate ourselves. If we are free and open and honest, we make connections.

But let's say you pull aside the veil and someone doesn't like what they see? All you can do is be honest and true to yourself, and if someone has a problem with that, better to find out sooner rather than later.

If more of us let down our guard and shared those things we most fear sharing, i think we'd find we're a lot more alike than we think. We may find common ground with our worst enemies, and maybe, just maybe, a lot more people would feel less like weirdos or freaks or outsiders. A small connection can go a long way towards understanding and compassion, and the world can always use more of both.

Reflections on the A-Z Blogging Challenge

i saw tonight (it being May 1 as of this writing) that Arlee Bird over at Tossing It Out has asked that participants of the A-Z Challenge do a reflections post, so i thought i'd play along.


i didn't really have any expectations of the challenge. i first heard about it through my dear friend Barb over at her blog, Black Ink Pad, and thinking that i really ought to write more and keep my blog up to date, i just jumped in without thinking it over much. i told myself i had to stick with it, and i did. i sort of cheated on O and X, but i'm not about to beat myself up over it.


i didn't give much thought to gaining followers, but i'm happy to say i did. i don't strive to have a huge number to display, but it's awesome to know people would want to hear what i have to say. i talk to myself, a lot, so blogging can sometimes feel a bit like that without knowing there's someone on the other side, listening.


Another positive outcome was feeling the old writer in me awaken. That feels very, very good. (i wonder if i'd talk less the more i wrote...hmm. My family might appreciate that.) i originally began this blog as a way to mainly showcase my art projects, but i've enjoyed its evolution. While art is still my main focus here, its also satisfying to delve a little deeper. i hope my readers have enjoyed the journey thus far, and are interested enough to stay to see what's around the corner.


My only disappointment in the challenge is not taking more time to read more of the blogs of other participants, but i plan to try and search out my fellow players more as time allows this week. Many thanks to all who took the time to stop here and read, and to those who chose to follow after doing so.

Will i do it again next year? If i have the time, i just might. But that doesn't mean X will be any easier. Of course, i've got a year to come up with something.

Z is for Zach.

This letter may have been the easiest of all, for me. Z is for my creative, intelligent, hilarious and unique son, Zacharius. He is 11, and my only child.

i gave birth to Zach after suffering with a deep depression for 2 years straight. After he came into this world, the fog in my head lifted, and i devoted myself to him completely. He was an observant and very happy baby, though it wasn't long before i saw signs that depression and anxiety seemed to be in his future as well. i guess that's to be expected, considering my own battles.

The road has not always been easy or free of hazards. Being a parent has been the most difficult thing i've ever done. Also the most gratifying, yes, but don't let anyone tell you it's all peaches and cream, because it just isn't. When once my decisions could only harm or benefit me, i must now consider, with every step i take, the impact it will have on him. i wouldn't change any of it, and he has given my life so much joy and laughter and purpose, but there are also dark days when i have no idea what step to take next. It's all worth it, of course, and i am more than grateful to have such an amazing person in my life, and to count that person as my own flesh and blood.

My son: the reader, the comedian, the history buff, the dreamer. i was blessed the day he came into this world, and hope beyond hope i can do right by him. For in the end, being his mom is the most important role i will ever have. i love you beyond all words, Z. You are my heart.

Y is for yesterday.

How many yesterdays make up a life? So many memories, millions of moments, many forgotten, some treasured, some changed by the mind over time, some burned in, some devestating, some beautiful, some mundane but stick with you, for no apparent reason, some life-changing. It's hard to capture the truth of a moment on film, but sometimes you get lucky.



These are just a few moments i was reliving today while skimming the pages of one of my photo albums. So many yesterdays that brought us to today, this moment. So much to treasure, yesterday, today and tomorrow.



XOXO

Hugs and kisses, because i am completely stumped with x. i have higher hopes for y. See you tomorrow, then.

W is for Watts.

Not long ago, my brother pointed me in the direction of Alan Watts, and i'm so glad he did. i'm including a few videos here of some of his speaking engagements. So much of what he says rings very true with me. So, grab a cup of your favorite beverage, sit back and enjoy!

See behind the veil.

Veil (n.) A cover; disguise; a mask; a pretense.

There are many things in this world hidden behind a veil. For a multitude of reasons, often fear, people hide parts of themselves from others. We fear someone may not like what they see and may ridicule or alienate us, and most everyone yearns to feel they belong somewhere. Our own government hides behind pretenses, to keep us uninformed and controllable. That's not conspiracy theory; you're kidding yourself if you think they tell us everything.

i can understand sometimes feeling the need to keep a part of yourself tucked away, safe from mocking and misunderstanding, but more and more i seek to let out those "secrets". i'm finding the release necessary to feel that i'm really presenting myself as who i am, and also necessary towards making strides to becoming the me i am and am meant to be. Often, when we share a hidden part of ourselves, someone else feels the courage to respond with "Me, too!", and instead of feeling alone, you both find common ground and let out a little sigh, thinking, i'm so glad i'm not the only one. By remaining behind the mask, we isolate ourselves. If we are free and open and honest, we make connections.

But let's say you pull aside the veil and someone doesn't like what they see? All you can do is be honest and true to yourself, and if someone has a problem with that, better to find out sooner rather than later.

If more of us let down our guard and shared those things we most fear sharing, i think we'd find we're a lot more alike than we think. We may find common ground with our worst enemies, and maybe, just maybe, a lot more people would feel less like weirdos or freaks or outsiders. A small connection can go a long way towards understanding and compassion, and the world can always use more of both.

Uncage.

i'm finding it difficult to type a long post today as carpal tunnel has rendered my left hand useless, so, i'm cheating a bit and just posting some U related art to minimize how much i need to type.

T is for Taj.

As in Taj Mahal, the musician. He's been one of my very favorite musicians for a long time. My dad has been a fan for 40+ years, and i can remember him playing his albums, as in records, when i was very young. His music weaves its way through most of my days. i've seen him live 3 or 4 times now, and am hoping to be able to again this summer. His live shows are consistently good. Aside from his music, his good looks and deep voice make me melt, oh my... Here are some of my favorite songs of his.



S is for salad.

i love salad, be it of leafy greens, veggies, pasta or fruit. Lately i've been on this antipasto salad kick - romaine or iceberg lettuce, salami, ham, provolone, parmesan and pickled vegetables (carrots, caulifower, celery...), tossed with my basic vinaigrette. One of the most refreshing salads i know of is my great grandmother's very basic recipe. It's iceberg lettuce, olive oil, red wine vinegar and salt. That's it. So very simple, yet delicious with a loaf of crusty Italian bread and some chicken cutlets. My mom gets a bite of salad and a bite of chicken on the same fork, and i now follow suit. Sometimes the simplest of foods can be the most delicious.

i thought i'd share two recipes today. The first is not my family's; it comes from a place called Mazza's Restaurant and Lounge in Mount Vernon, OH. My aunt worked there years ago and shared the recipe with us. We've been hooked ever since. The second is prefered mostly by my mom and i. If i'm remembering correctly, my Italian-born great grandfather made this salad, or possibly one of my great uncles. Regardless, it's been passed down.

Mazza's Salad
Serves 2, 3...depends on how hungry you are and what else you're having

1/2 head iceberg lettuce, ripped or chopped into bite-size pieces
3-4 cloves of garlic, minced (more or less to taste, though too much overpowers)
extra virgin olive oil
red wine vinegar
feta, blue or gorgonzola cheese, crumbled, to taste (we prefer feta, i think original recipe uses one of the latter two)
salt

Mince the garlic and place into the olive oil. How much olive oil? i dunno'. i eyeball it. Maybe 1/3 cup? Maybe a little more? Let the garlic and oil sit for 20-30 minutes. Place the lettuce in a big bowl and add the cheese. Pour the oil and garlic over the lettuce and drizzle with red wine vinegar. No, i don't know how much. i just taste and add as necessary (i don't think i should ever write a cookbook...). Sprinkle with salt to taste. Make sure to have some crusty bread on hand to sop up the dressing. Warning: do not plan on much kissing action after eating this, unless both parties partake.

Italian Orange Salad
Serves 1 (because that's the only way i ever make it)

1-2 oranges, separated into segments
1 clove garlic, minced
extra virgin olive oil
oregano
salt

Place the orange segments and garlic in a bowl. Sprinkle with oregano and salt and then drizzle with olive oil. Not much, maybe just a couple tablespoons. Toss and enjoy. This salad is one of those things that sounds like an odd pairing, but for some reason just works.

R is for rain, and ramps.

Catching up on the A-Z Blogging Challenge, again.

i love rain, except when i'm forced to drive in a downpour, otherwise, bring it on! i love the sound of it on the roof, the smell, the vibrant green after a summer storm... i always find it amusing that even though i devote many hours to art and don't think much of it, on a rainy day i feel like i'm given a free pass to stay inside and create, or maybe curl up with a book and a cup of coffee and let the hours pass by. i harbor no guilt at all for a rainy day spent inside. What's up with that? i shouldn't even be feeling guilt over making art in the first place, but i am human, and also very hard on myself.

Come spring and the rain it brings, one can find a certain little treasure in the forests of the eastern United States, and up into Canada - ramps. Ramps are like a wild leek, but they taste, and smell, like a combination of garlic and onions. They are delicious, but an avid fan will warn you about the smell your kitchen (read "entire house") and yourself will acquire after preparing and eating. My mom always relates the story of my dad eating his fair share of ramps while in season, and how she would make him sleep on the couch for days after. (i wonder if that played a part in their divorce, haha...) Every year, my dad brings me a decent bunch that he's foraged that i add to cooking or freeze to use later when the season has passed. My family eats the meals i prepare using ramps, but they are not big fans of the smell that lingers. My son is, in fact, completely put out by the smell and will vocalize his displeasure over and over.

If you can get ahold of ramps in your area, either by gathering yourself or buying at a market (if you're lucky enough to have a local one carrying them), i encourage you to try them if you haven't yet. Their taste is definitely worth their lasting odor, believe me.

Q.

Back early from my blog vacation and playing catch up with the A-Z Blogging Challenge.

Q is for quiet, the deepest and most perfect of quiet, as found in the far off pockets of this planet, in the middle of nowheres, where streets, buildings and humans are few or none. i've discovered that breathtakingly beautiful quiet in many places, but the standout was on an empty moutain road in Alaska on the night of a full moon many years ago. Everything was white with snow, save a sky so clear it was as if the black were its own kind of light. Stepping out of our vehicle and into that cold, pristine hush...words cannot truly contain a feeling like that.

There wasn't fear or trepidation in that silence, though it was humbling. Instead, it was ripe to bursting with promise, hope, beauty, breath, life. That silence contained everything, and nothing, and it was absolute perfection. That kind of silence, free of the constant hum of cities and vehicles and televisions and cell phones and airplanes and chatter is hard to find, but it's there if you seek it out. For many of us, quiet like that can feel very far away.

But what if we pulled the memory of that quiet, and the perfect innocent stillness it contained and applied that hope and promise within to this very moment? Like a grounding exercise, a way to bring us back to the present, the here and now, this moment, which is really all we ever have... Just a thought.

P is for purpose, procrastination and power.

Well, i guess O was for a day "off", and also for "on the road again". i had a busy day of packing and traveling yesterday and just couldn't squeeze in a blog post. And yes, today's post is late. Eh, such is life.

So, P. P is for purpose. i'm still fumbling through this life, trying to find what i believe, so i can't say with certainty that i necessarily believe we all were born for a purpose, or if it's all just random chaos. Really, for me, it almost doesn't matter. Either way, i'm not about to sit by and do nothing, so i seek out what i can contribute to not only my own life, but also the lives of those i love. i need a goal, a purpose, a project every day, or i'll go crazy. i need purpose, whether that means making art or cooking dinner, or, in looking at the bigger picture, someday teaching art workshops or writing a book. Purpose helps me take that next step. With a goal or deadline in sight, i do my best work. And as far as my greater purpose, some notion of why i was born (random chaos?), i just hope that i make better the lives of those around me, and that i'll be remembered as a kind and true friend, a loving and thoughtful mate and most importantly, a good mom.

Once i realize my purpose, or set a goal, there comes procrastination. Oh, my old friend procrast. Always there, keeping me lulled until the 11th hour when i then meet up with my old friend frenzy and make a mad rush to reach the finish line. i'm really adept at putting things off. As much as i love working on projects, i somehow manage to hem and haw my way there, doing "research" or reading up on new techniques before diving into the actual project itself. i have no idea why i do this; it doesn't make sense. But i'm working on it, sort of. i might work on it tomorrow, or this weekend...

Ok, so i have purpose, i'm working on the procrastination issue, so that means the next step is taking back my power. We give our power away all the time, every day, to each other, to the government, to society's expectations... Hell, sometimes we just refuse to claim it in the first place. i'm not talking about having power over others, i'm talking about the power and energy inside us all, the courage and determination and strength that makes up that part of us that keeps us strong. Claim your power, and try your best, hard as it is, to not give it away. And always use your power for good, that's important.

This is necessary.

Some things are just necessary. Take my glasses - very important. Without them, my whole world shuts down. Tonight (Friday, as i write this), my 6 or 7 year old frames broke while i was cleaning them. In half. Right between the eyes. My guess is, after so many years, they have become brittle and weakened.

This is when i discovered that the super glue i finally found after searching for 45 minutes (couldn't see, remember) was not so "super". In fact, i'd liken it more to"crazy" glue, as it's in line with the quote about the definition of insanity being doing the same thing over and over, but expecting different results. i tried at least 5 times to make the two pieces adhere, and no go. i then deemed the glue to be a word i won't repeat here and moved on to tape. This did not prove as easy a task as it would at first appear. Apparently, this job is easier if you can see, or if you have at least 3 hands, maybe 4.

And yes, at some point in my frustration, i realized the comical aspect of this entire scenario, but i was pissed, so i didn't laugh. i told myself i could laugh it up when i could see again.

See how necessary? Forget everything else i couldn't do without my glasses, like drive, walk down the street, cook...well, i might be able to cook, but i don't want to set the house on fire, either. But forget all that. Without my glasses, i couldn't even laugh. Of course, i should be blaming the frustration for that, i guess.

Where was i? (This is why people probably hate it when i call. i can't just tell you a brief summary. I want to give every detail, for the full effect.) Yes, necessary. i depend on my glasses every day. The very first thing i do every morning is put them on. They are essential to every part of my life, always there, but kind of in the background. You take them for granted until, like tonight, you lose the use of them. Now what? It's like someone turned the power off. i can see, but it's all fuzzy shapes with no distinction. i can see well enough to move about my house, but not well enough to do much otherwise.

This made me think of other aspects of my life that are necessary but maybe sometimes taken for granted. Obviously food, water, air, shelter. Aside from that, though. What else, having taken it away, would make my world shut down, in an instant like that? The answer is my family, and that includes some dear friends, not just blood. First and foremost would be my son. Take my son out of the picture, and my world would come to a crashing halt.

i try to tell the loved ones in my life how i feel about them as often as i can, but maybe it wouldn't hurt to tell them even more. There are other necessities in my life, but none, that i can see, as important as them. They give me strength, bring me joy, make me laugh, lend a helping hand, give me guidance and advice, and so, so much more. To be content, it is necessary to have them in my life, and the love and true friendship they give.

Oh, and by the way, my glasses are semi-repaired. Presently, they are taped but crooked, so everything looks like it's coming at me; my depth perception is all off. Being unable to drive means i can't attempt a crusade for truly super glue, awesome glue or even super-fantabulous-and-amazing-best-ever-fucking-buy-it-now glue, so i'll have to wait until my better half comes home from work and can assist. When he does, i'll be sure to hug him tight and tell him how much i love him, for he is very, very necessary.

These photos were taken during my walk about my yard this (Friday) morning, prior to my glasses breaking.

M is for Mom.

Mom, a photo by bluemama on Flickr.
My mom at 10 years old.

i am very close to my mom; we talk on the phone almost every day. Not surprisingly, a lot of who i am is thanks to her. She's an amazing woman - strong, passionate, generous, funny, creative... She built a deck behind her house a couple of years ago - she was 62 at the time. In fact, when my brothers and i were kids, we knew when you heard power tools amping up at 6 am, it wasn't dad, it was mom.

My mom has had her share of challenges in life - one being put into Catholic boarding school at age 8 - but those challenges made her strong, and i don't know anyone who can get one over on my mom. She'll fight tooth and nail for those she loves, too. i remember once, as i was in the midst of chemo at age 15, we went to the mall. i had forgone the wig i had been wearing (it was itchy and uncomfortable, and to me, looked ridiculous) and had decided to no longer hide my baldness. As we walked through the entrance, another customer stopped, turned and blatantly stared at me. My mom reacted instantly by saying, "Why don't you take a picture? It lasts longer."

i had both my parents full support while going through chemo, but as my parents were divorced and i lived with mom at the time, she was the one who took me to every appointment and treatment. She'd brag to the other nurses and patients how strong she thought i was, how i never complained about all the sticking and poking and sickness. (i never thought myself strong at that time, just felt i was doing what i had to; i was sort of in a numbed daze most of the time.) She was the one who took care of my daily needs through all of that, and i can never thank her enough for the selflessness she showed me, when certainly she was going through a difficult time herself, with her oldest child having cancer.

My mom has had many adventures, too. Her and my dad lived in a schoolbus for part of the 60's, moving between San Francisco and Washington state, and before that, sans schoolbus, Alaska. My mom was born in New York City, yet at 18 (sorry if i'm off on the age a little, mom) she moved to Wrangell, Alaska, a very small town at the time where all supplies had to be flown in. She may have been a city girl, but she baked, crocheted, fished, all of it, and wasn't afraid to get dirty. 

i greatly admire my mom's strength of will, her refusal to be pushed around, her generous and giving nature, and so much more. At 64, my mom has more life and vibrancy than many 25 year olds i know. And she looks fantastic; i swear, barely a wrinkle, if any. She could easily pass for 45. Good news for me!

Mom, i love you more than i can ever say, but hopefully you know.

L is for language.

Words can be beautiful. i often talk about crossing over from mostly being a writer to a visual artist, but obviously, as evidenced by my blog, i do still write. For the past several years, i have seen a disturbing trend grow and gain momentum, and it saddens me.

It appears that language is being eroded, word by word, syllable by syllable, and replaced with text speak or the usage of unknowingly innacurate words. i don't claim to be a genius, and i myself could stand to learn many, many more words than i utilise currently, but rarely will you see me throw out an "lol" or an "omg". i don't intend to put down anyone who uses those abbreviations, but when they filter into speech or every bit of writing someone produces, i die a little inside.

Several months ago, i saw a commercial about an effort to save the English language, one word at a time. The movement's members were to each "adopt a word" that they agreed to keep from falling out of use. i'm still not sure if it was a joke or an actual attempt to keep less often used words alive, and i applaud their efforts if it is indeed for real, but i find it concerning that this is even necessary.

Have you seen the movie Idiocracy? The very first time i watched it, ofcourse i laughed, it's funny, but i also felt a little sick at the thought that i could almost see those very things playing out in the real world; i could see the path we're on gradually leading us to a world where everything is a billboard for advertisers (including people's names), where there was an entire channel devoted to videos of men getting kicked in the crotch and where a person's worth is based almost solely on sex appeal. It's far-fetched, i know, but parts of that movie are not so far out of the realm of possibility if things keep going the way they are.

Anyone who watches even a smattering of television anymore can see the dumbing down that is taking place. The clever, quirky and intelligent shows are often canceled, while reality tv - i'm thinking of stuff like The Bachelor and Jersey Shore here - prevails. i've never seen the Jersey Shore, but i don't need to see it to get the idea. i'm not saying i don't watch some less-than-breakthrough television, but when the most popular shows involve cat fights and nearly every scene contains a hot tub, i have cause to be alarmed. Entertainment is one thing - i can watch even the stupidest movie and still be entertained (watch The Room, seriously - it's so bad, it's good, as in, hilarious) - but the ratings that these shows draw in turn makes tv executives continue with the same mind-numbing crap, week after week, until the only thing on is...well, shows focused on a kick in the balls. As the audience, we should demand better. Really, they're only giving us what they think we want, or maybe what they want us to want? Ok, conspiracy theories aside, there would be a signifigant gain by the powers that be in the dumbing down of its citizens. The less informed and intelligent we are, the easier we are to control.

Even more frightening, many people don't read anymore, and don't deem it a priority that their children do. i have always loved a good book, and while the raising of my son, daily chores and even making art means i read less than i used to, i still try to fit a book in when i can. i began reading to my son when he was only a few months old, and while i try not to put any expectations on him, i did hope he would be a book lover, and i'm thrilled to say he is. Sure, he still plays video games and watches tv, but for him, a trip to the library always elicits excitement, and he almost never comes away from the outing with less than a stack of 10 or more books. i never really "baby talked" to him, and that coupled with his love of reading has led to him having a broader vocabulary than most children his age. He'll often toss a "big word" into his every day speach, as if it were nothing. i love that, and it warms this mother's heart. On the flip side, he has relentlessly been made fun of at school for different reasons, one being reading. As the other children played kick ball during recess, he enjoyed sitting under a tree with a good book, and he was teased to the point of feeling embarassed to be seen reading, so he stopped doing it in front of them. And that's really sad. Yes, children tease each other for all kinds of reasons, and yes, he needs to find that place inside him where he feels comfortable being himself, regardless of their reactions, but still, it makes me sad that the other children see reading for enjoyment alone to be weird or questionable behavior.

There is a way to turn the tide. Our technology has made leaps and bounds in just the last 10 years alone, and the internet can be a wonderful tool, but letting the machines think for us can also be dangerous. We can make good use of the internet and television by discovering and learning about other cultures and staying updated on world events, and even by laughing at witty and clever sitcoms, but they can also form a wall between us, until we're all staring into screens instead of into each other's eyes.

Help keep language alive. Go to the library, it's free, and will only cost you time, but it's time very well spent. Encourage your children to read, or read to them. Show them what a truly great story can be. Help them learn about a country or culture they may have never even heard of. Take time yourself to learn a new word every day - make it a personal challenge. And once you learn those words, it's use them or lose them. i'm guilty of that myself; i've forgotten many words i learned long ago, simply because i never applied them to my speech. And if we all do that, if we all forget and don't apply them anymore, what happens to language? Does it become an antiquated notion? Will we be reduced to mumbling lol speak to each other? i, for one, certainly hope not.

Are you going to throw that away?!

K is for keep. As a mixed media artist, i can find a use for the most random, seemingly unusable items. My family has gotten used to this over the years, and has been enabling me as well, almost always checking with me first before throwing away little scraps of paper or a broken toy or some such tidbit most would toss in the trash and then get it on with their day.

Awhile back, i taught my brother a new word - ephemera. What a great word, not only its meaning, but the sound of saying it. Go on, try it. Ephemera.

ephemera

1: something of no lasting significance —usually used in plural

2 ephemera plural : paper items (as posters, broadsides, and tickets) that were originally meant to be discarded after use but have since become collectibles

 

Essentially, i keep many things most consider trash. Vintage ephemera is even better, and rarer. i find such beauty in old advertisements, labels from bottles, ticket stubs, and so on, and all these things can be added to my work. In this way, i am reusing items destined for the landfill, and making something more lasting and beautiful out of them. Even the stickers you peel off fruits and veggies are fair game.

 

A drawer of scraps from past projects, including the transfer from a praying mantis soft block carving i recently did. i'm outgrowing my drawer, and that's after cleaning it out last year and attempting to organize it into a couple binders. Yes, i said i put "trash" in binders; what of it?

 

The only problem with the need to keep such things is that eventually, you have a lot of it, and it needs a home. This is why, right now, my studio is a bit of a mess. i'm a great organizer, but have yet to tackle this growing mountain of materials and trinkets. i intend to fix this situation sooner rather than later, because as wonderful as it is to have so many materials on hand, it's a nightmare sorting through boxes and drawers and not finding the one thing you're looking for, or even worse, not even knowing what you have in the first place.

 

See that butterfly on the bottom left? Yeah...i've been toting that around, from one abode to another, for years...but someday, i will need it, i guarantee.

 

i walk a fine line between "collector" and "hoarder", so i have to be careful. Sometimes i do filter through the piles of stuff and give things away, or sometimes, toss something, if i see that it really can't be used for anything at all, but the latter almost never happens. i always ask myself, Well, what if 5 years from now i'm working on a project and need this very thing? What if nothing else will work for the piece but this? Many items have been saved and never used because i love them so much, no project is good enough for them. It's maybe a little crazy, this need to have but not use, but i'm an artist, so crazy kind of comes with the territory, does it not?

 

Far be it for me to encourage anyone to start saving every bit of trash they come across - some things are indeed garbage - but think outside the box (har, har) the next time you're holding the empty box your favorite tea comes in. Now wouldn't that make a nice little mini-notebook cover? Or maybe a repurposed greeting card? And if you just can't find a use for it, send it to me, and i'll give it a home.

 

 

Just the facts, ma'am.

i had intended J to be about journals, but i've written about journaling several times, and don't really see the point in repeating myself (though i am very good at it) or boring my readers to tears, so instead, J is for me, Jessica. How about a few random facts about yours truly?

1. i had the great fortune to be able to travel a lot in my teens and early 20's, thanks to my dad's job at United Airlines. By 16 years old, i'd been to nearly every state, including Alaska and Hawaii, and made trips to England and New Zealand. These early-in-life travels helped shape me to be the person i am today, and gave me a perspective i might not have had otherwise.

2. i have driven across the country 4 times, and hope there's another such road trip in my future.

3. i'm a cancer survivor.

4. i graduated from high school, but opted not to attend my graduation. Instead, i asked to work that day, which my employers loved, because much of their help was attending graduation. i kind of regret that decision now...

5. i gave birth to my son without the benefit of any pain medication. i don't recommend it.

6. i met my mate when i was 15 through a pen pal ad in a music magazine. We started as friends, but eventually became involved, and are still going strong today, 18 years later.

7. i love history, and for many years planned to become an archeologist. In high school, i'd go to history class early just so i could talk about the subject with the teacher.

8. My mom chose my name before she even knew she was having a girl - the same happened with my two brothers, and she was right about the sex every time.

9. i have a secret (not a secret now) desire to be a singer, though my abilities aren't proficient in that area. It doesn't stop me from singing all the time, though.

10. i don't know how to swim.

Well, not an exciting post today, but hopefully it gives my readers a little background into me as a person. And now, the studio calls...

I is for idle.

Those that know me even fairly well know that the word "idle" almost never applies to me; hell, even when i'm sleeping, i'm tossing and turning, or talking in my sleep, or grinding my teeth... The things most people consider the stuff they need to get done so that they are then able to relax are what i do to relax, sort of.

i'm happiest when i have several projects going at once. Making art or gardening or cooking (unless it's a frenzied feast i'm fixing, with hungry people standing around asking, "Is it done yet?") are my meditations, my means of relaxation. i'm a frenzied bundle of energy most days (just ask my family), running around the house doing chores inbetween working in the studio. i do enjoy sitting quietly sometimes, maybe reading a book or watching a movie, but i have this need to accomplish as much as i can in a day. i want to fill my days with as much as possible, maybe because i have this fear that someday i'll look back and cringe at all the time i "wasted". To me, wasting my days is sitting for countless hours in front of the tv. At the end of everyday, i like to see the physical results of my time invested. i want to eat a great meal, or see a stack of handmade cards, ready to mail, or look over a finished canvas. Then, i can try my hand at the kind of relaxing most people do, maybe watch a show with my man or play a game of Rummy as we talk in bed.

i encourage relaxation of almost any kind - our days are hectic and busy, most of the time - but i also encourage action. The feeling of satisfaction you can get from a job well done makes the relaxation even more enjoyable, and having earned that relaxation time makes it all the sweeter.

And now i'm off to run errands, mail some cards, wash dishes and work in the studio.

H is for Henry...

...Miller, that is. One of my favorite writers. i could talk about him, but i'll just let him speak for himself:

To work a radical transformation all that was required, as we saw it, was to put into practice the simple injunction: "Do unto others as you would have others do unto you." No beliefs, no worship, no ten commandments, no ceremonials, no churches, no organization of any kind. No waiting for a better government, better laws, better working conditions, better this, better that. Begin this moment, wherever you find yourself, and take no thought of the morrow.

Today is like all other days. There is only today.

Death is not the end of life, much less the goal. It is but another aspect of life. There is nothing but life, even among the dead.

And so, regardless of their heroic behavior, regardless of their sublime motives, I have come to regard such activity as indefensible. Even from the purest of motives one has not the right to "molest" another. The effort to bring a man to God, or to bring him enlightenment, is an act of violation. It is even more reprehensible than to subjugate him bodily. Does not the whole art of living center about the practice of tolerance, of noninterference? Before it is possible to love one another, as we are so often enjoined, it is necessary to respect one another, respect the privacy of the soul.

What we learn, of value, we get indirectly, largely unconsciously. It is too often stressed, in my opinion, that we learn through sorrow and suffering. I do not deny this to be true, but I hold that we also learn, and perhaps more lastingly, through moments of joy, of bliss, of ecstasy. Struggle has its importance, but we tend to overrate it. Harmony, serenity, bliss do not come from struggle but from surrender.

We are getting nowhere, because (metaphysically speaking) there is nowhere to go. We are already there, have been since eternity.

...the real escapist is the man who adapts himself to a world he does not subscribe to.

Here in America, to be "different" is almost tantamount to being a traitor.

This is the only reality there is. If you can get it down on paper, in words, notes, or color, so much the better. The great artists don't even bother to put it down on paper: they live with it silently, they become it.

All of the above excerpts come from his book Stand Still Like the Hummingbird. These were sections i had highlighted when i first read it, back when i was a teenager. i had intended to go through many of his books, quoting my favorite parts, but that may take all day. Really, i encourage everyone reading to search out his books, in particular this one, and also Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch, The Air-Conditioned Nightmare and The Wisdom of the Heart.