Wednesday, September 9, 2015

Simple Pleasure #100

Click on Video to see the Explosion

Simple Pleasure #100

Cattail Reed
with energy
 thousands of seeds

I don't know about you, but I LOVE this time of year, marsh grasses and reeds are drying up and forming grungy little seed pods (that I love to photograph!) 
Late Summertime

The cattails are practically bursting with their fluffy seeds. I like to occasionally help them along. It's such a simple little pleasure to give them a squeeze and feel the release of energy and watch them explode like one of those Fourth of July Snake bombs. Who knew that THAT many fluffy seeds could possible be compacted into a dried up cattail reed? 

Fly, be free! 

Monday, September 7, 2015

The Resurrection - My Blog and I


Wow. It's been over two years since I've written on this blog. I have a hard time coming back to it, because every time I do, I see my sweet pup's face and start bawling all over again. I didn't know I could miss an animal so much... but she was so much more, wasn't she? 

I'm not sure what I'm doing here. My days are filled with silence, my head is filled with noise. I find myself lately wanting to write. My usual medium is paint and paper and glue, my art journals are filled with color and lines and marks, a word here and there, a thought or a song lyric or poem. But I have so many WORDS filling my head and nowhere to place them. Maybe the words will turn into stories...

What has happened since I wrote the last post about my furbaby leaving me? Much has happened. The last two and a half years of my life have been really hard. Like, "harder than going through cancer" hard. I always said that being diagnosed with cancer is like being plucked out of your current story and thrown smack-dab into the middle of a foreign novel. Well, I've managed to learn the language, write more chapters, and come out stronger and braver and more grateful than ever. 

I guess the universe decided it wasn't enough, to throw me THAT curve ball. I was yet again thrown into another book "analytical calculus for geniuses" written in Latin, or something just as outrageous. I find myself once again navigating through foreign territory, trying to figure out what the hell happened to my life. 

One word: Divorce. 

Twenty five years... my entire adult life I was half of a marriage (sometimes less) and now I needed to make myself whole again. One year was spent feeling betrayed, angry, hurt, confused, depressed, resentment, and just plain stupid for not seeing it coming. I went through every single stage of grieving and have never cried so much in my life. 


The second year was spent healing. I moved into my own little place and made myself a home. It has three bedrooms, one for my daughter, one for myself, and one for an art studio. The finished basement contains my business. I picked out every single piece of furniture and accessory, and my walls are covered with artwork made by me, my daughter, and my artist friends. It's bright and cozy and faces a beautiful pond full of ducks and geese, herons and egrets, seagulls and fish. Nature heals.

Nature Heals.

I had a life coach, a good friend who was getting her certification, who helped my immensely. My job was to figure out who I was, what I liked and didn't like, what I wanted. Because during the last 25 years I learned to be apathetic about most things. It was easier that way. But now I was the boss of me, but had no idea what I wanted to do or who I wanted to be for the rest of my life. 

Flawed but Open
Of course I'm still figuring things out. I have a better sense of Self, but I still find myself every once in awhile waking up at three in the morning, my heart racing with anxiety. Up until July 2013 I knew what my future should've looked like, it was planned for and talked about and it was good. Now when I think about my future, I see a blank slate. So I take one day at a time right now, or I will slip into that blankness.  

Be Kind to Myself.
Yes, art heals. Just being surrounded by the art on  my walls is healing for me. Sitting in my art studio and rearranging my supplies has a certain calming effect. In my bedroom I have a big comfy chair and an IKEA Raskog cart filled with journaling supplies for when I need to curl up and release emotions. The living room has another big comfy chair and Raskog cart filled with sewing and hand stitching supplies, and my art magazines. I am surrounded by the familiar, my muses, my creativity. 

What's next? I carry on. I am working on reinventing myself, still figuring out who I am. I am working on practicing gratitude every single day. I am working on staying positive every day and showing my daughter how a strong woman handles adversity. And I am learning how to have fun and how to feel alive again. I'm even thinking of getting another dog. Maybe. Possibly. 

And guess what? I am a survivor. I got this. 

Like a Phoenix rising from the ashes... till next time. XOXO