sunday sermon

Honor your own complexity.

Mark Gerzon

Coming Into Our Own

karma sucks

There are some people I know only online. We've never met. We just "talk" through email. I've met them through this blog, through etsy, and through other people. Sometimes we do business together. Sometimes we just chat. Those are my favorite. Sometimes it's a lonely life when you spend hours in front of the computer. (I'm not complaining. I love my life!) But I do get lonely, especially when J's with her Dad. Most are enjoyable and ongoing. Some end abruptly - like in the middle of a conversation. I don't get that. How do you not even say goodbye. 

Recently I have had an ongoing conversation with another photographer. We hit it off immediately. We "talked" everyday, sometimes back and forth for hours. After about two weeks of this, we found out we live near each other. We met for a drink and had a great time - just like online. I thought I had found a new friend...Since we met, he hasn't contacted me. I wrote and got a "been busy" answer. I know a brush off when I experience one. It's cool if he doesn't want to be friends, although I'm not sure why, but wouldn't it be respectful and nice to actually end things. Not just disappear.

So here's where karma comes in. It's obviously a peeve of mine when people just stop writing - or calling, or communicating in any way - without some kind of closure. One of these online relationships is with someone I don't really care for. I've been politely communicating, but I no longer want this person in my life. I'd like to just stop writing!!! Of course, I can't do that. I hate it when people do it to me. So, how do I say goodbye respectfully and nicely? 

monday madness or things I'm afraid to tell you

There’s a revolution happening in the blog world. Many are feeling frustration between reality and “reality” as presented on blogs. People are tired of hearing about perfect lives, seeing perfect homes, and feeling bad about their own. After reading an article by Jess Constable, Ez at Creature Comforts, along with other bloggers, has created the challenge to share “Things I’m Afraid to Tell You.”

I’ve struggled with how open about myself to be on this blog. The early posts were raw and real. I want to live honestly. I’ve stopped sharing the nitty gritty, though, figuring who cares? Now, more often than not on the blog, I focus on beauty and gratitude, because that is how I live my life – always looking for the beauty and the gift. While that is true for my life, the flip side is not pretty or easy.

I can share my art. I can share stories of my daughter. I can share stories of the animals. I can share what touches my soul. I haven’t shared what touches my everyday life.

So, in honor of the bloggers who have bared their souls, I will bare my everyday life to you – and will continue to do so in bits and pieces as I find the courage.

Who am I? In the eyes of the world I am a complete and utter failure. I have never succeeded at anything. I am financially insolvent with huge debt that hangs over my head. I don’t have a “real” job. I am supported by photography work, the sale of photos and also stitchery patterns, public assistance (how I haaaate to admit that), and my extremely generous and kind mother. I am overweight – which has been causing health problems – and at an age no longer considered prime – whatever that means. Every day, to some degree, I deal with depression. Some days I am fully functional. Other days I use every bit of energy I have to mother my daughter and care for our animals. I was born depressed. It wasn’t diagnosed until my early thirties when I almost killed myself. My house is a mess. I dread the possibility of someone dropping by. Oh, and I am well on my way to being the crazy cat lady who lives down the street.

Please, don’t get me wrong. I am not an unhappy or resentful person. I am extremely grateful for everything in my life and everything I lack. I firmly believe that when we give something up, we gain something in return. I am incredibly blessed. The Universe has never failed to take care of me – through my mother, through friends, through the government, through miracles. I strive to be financially solvent and self-sufficient. I accept what I need. Humbly – and honestly, with shame. I am extremely spiritual, though not religious. I believe my journey has a purpose – though I’ve yet to discover it! I try to walk gently upon the Earth and live simply and with gratitude. In my heart, I am just who I am.

Thank you for reading this. If you’ve gotten this far, kudos to you! It is so much easier to be real than to pretend. Thank you.

later

frankie

Taking a break. Be back in a week - hopefully. Be well.

done

"There are years that ask questions

and years that answer."

Zora Neale Hurston

Their Eyes Were Watching God

Within those years that ask questions, there are days when you think you just can't go on one minute more. Today is one of those days.

stories

My life had such potential, she told me,

before I found out how much work was involved. 

Brian Andreas, Story People

Have you ever heard of Brian Andreas or Story People? I "discovered" his art many, many years ago in a small, quirky gallery that no longer exists in the still artisticly thriving town of Cambria along the central coast of California. At the time he created sculptures of wood with stories printed on them (Story People)and matted prints of his artwork with accompanying stories - his product line has expanded considerably since. I bought two matted prints that day - both cat related. I still treasure both.

Pig Cat                                                        Old Cat

A self-described "artist and storyteller," some of the stories are his, many are collected. He has amassed his collections of stories and drawings into a series of books - simple books, very tactile, no color, very affordable. I have all of them. If you get them, you will hold infinity in your hands - that's how I would describe it!

Through the story people website - a very fun place to visit, you can view and purchase all Brian's artwork and collections and most wonderfully of all - to me, at least - you can sign up to receive a Story of the Day through your email - a story, just a few lines, and incredible line drawings to accompany the words. With so much junk coming through my email on a daily basis, the stories are welcome jewels that shine like the sun. Check it out.

Story People website

Thought I'd share...Just hit on the story genie...discover your fate! let the magic Story Genie pick one just for you. This is the story the "genie" picked for me...

Second Thoughts

Fun...and a little close to home...

i love a piano...make that two

I love a piano, I love a piano.
I love to hear somebody play upon
a piano, a grand piano.
It simply carries me away.
I Love a Piano

Irving Berlin

Judy Garland (with Fred Astaire) singing I Love a Piano

from the movie Easter Parade

I'm not sure when my love affair with the piano began. Long before the first time I saw Easter Parade (great movie, btw) and heard Judy singing, I loved the piano. Maybe it began with my Aunt. Every Friday after school when I was in first and second grades I would walk over to visit my Aunt Mamie - one of the few relatives of my father's who was around. She was ancient - or seemed so to me - and everything in her house was a curiosity. Frugal to the core, she refused to buy one of those new-fangled color televisions. Instead she had taped across the screen tinted cellophane - yellow across the top, red in the middle, green at the bottom. Watching tv at her house was a surreal experience. She never threw anything away. My family never bought TV Guide - too expensive. We used the free guide. Aunt Mamie had every tv guide she had ever received - piles and piles of them. In her front parlor - yes, she had front and back parlors - was a gorgeous upright player piano. When I wasn't playing teacher to Aunt Mamie's student in the morning room, I was playing the player piano. Funny, I don't remember ever playing outside at her house. The indoors was such a treat.

Maybe it began even before Aunt Mamie's. In the back room of the house I grew up in (and in which my mother still lives), there is a very old, dearly loved upright piano. I believe my parents bought it used (they bought everything used) when my brother was a child - before I was born. He took piano lessons for about three years. Later, I took lessons and lasted about a year. Not because I didn't love it, but because practicing was so difficult. My family's house was built in the 1870s - the front three rooms, at least. In the twenties, the house was added on to. All the materials except the redwood studs were salvaged. The rooms have odd angles and the walls are plywood. No insulation at all. The house is an oven in Summer, and with only a standing gas heater in the front room, it is freezing in the winter. What we called the back room was added on a little later - maybe in the thirties. Unfinished, the only thing between you and the elements were studs and siding. The room is damp, dark, and a little scary. A small part of the front of the room was used by my mother to store canned goods and her sewing supplies. My father used the rest to store his inside "junk" - as we not so fondly called it. Boxes and "stuff" stacked to the ceiling with little aisle ways to walk through. One led to the piano against the back wall. In the winter, I practiced with sweaters and an overcoat on. I wore gloves with the fingers cut out so I could touch the keys. I'd come out at the end of my practice shivering and with a cold, runny nose. In the summer, I wore practically nothing and practiced with sweat running down by face and body. I'm surprised I lasted as long as I did. I've never been much for suffering through things!

I love that piano. I begged my father for it for years. He finally said it could be mine - my brother and sister didn't want it! By the time he gave it to me though, I had nowhere to store it. I was living in an apartment and the poor piano was in terrible shape. It has gotten worse. My father wouldn't repair the roofs when they started leaking. (My mother had them all repaired after he died.) And the back room flooded every winter for years. The piano is still there. I still consider it mine. At least half of the keys stick. Many of the ones that don't stick, don't even make a sound anymore. It needs a lot of tlc. Some day I plan to give all the love and care it needs to my precious piano friend.

All this verbage is leading to some super exciting news. J's dad's and grandmother's church is holding a yard sale. Somehow, this dear but usually very challenging man remembered that I have always wanted a piano. This morning he called me to say they were putting a FREE sign on an extra piano the church had somehow ended up with. Did I want to come check it out? I was there in a flash. It's mine!!! J and I are so excited. It's still in the church library until I can found some big men to bring it over. But we have a piano! It's old. It's an upright. It needs care. Where exactly I'm going to fit it into our very cozy (read tiny) house is a question. We'll make it work. I get to live with a piano!!! Can you tell I'm excited???

Here's a photo of the poor, mistreated, dearly loved piano still at my family home...

beloved

struck my fancy...

handsoap...get it? hand soap!!!



here

seen on abby try again

if not me, who?

A few years ago when it was the "thing" to google yourself...I did...and found my alter ego - living the life I dreamed of, serving in ways I sought to.

Rosemarie Brown of Sedona AZ - holistic social worker - offering medical astrology, soul recovery through shamanic journeying, and life coaching.

here

Tonight, avoiding making a mix tape I promised to do for a swap (which needs to be mailed tomorrow!), I was wandering through blogland and came upon a new-to-me blog - For Me, For You. In a post by a guest blogger was a beautiful room. The room was styled by Rosie Brown!!! Yet another alter ego, living a life I dream of, with talent and purpose I long to have.

Rosie Brown of Pittenweem in Fife, Scotland - designer, stylist, and founder of Papa Stour whose purpose is to expose and sell works of Scottish artists and designers.

here

fate

"Clara had a red fox in her breast that would gnaw at her heart.

She was born that way, and there was nothing anyone could do about it."

L’Ange hurleur [The Screaming Angel]

Anne Richter

via the ugly earring via writers no one reads via small beer press

super sunday

It was a very good day. A super day, if you will. Super Bowl Sunday, coincidentally. I received the greatest gift...I got to spend the entire day - from waking to night time - with my most precious girl. That hasn't happened in months and months. There is not one day in our schedule where I get that. Truly a gift.

As a really extra extra special bonus, my Mom is visiting. So the three of us enjoyed each other like we haven't been able to do in years. J and I lived with my Mom her first year, but, of course, J doesn't remember any of that - except for the photos.

None of us are football people - including J, although her father and his mother are ardent fans. We did watch the last 4 minutes of the game. In between Tinkerbell and Enchanted on Disney. During those 4 minutes, the tv sound was off, Hannah Montanna was playing on J's cd player, and J and I were dancing to the music. That's the way we watch sports! By the way, my Mom was doing word puzzles while J and I grooved.

A very good day. Yeah, yeah, there were a few tears here and there. Both by me and J - although for completely different reasons. But definitely, one of the best days ever.

via iPhone

funky me

Hate my photo. Always. Needed an avatar. What to do???

I feel like a caricature of myself most of the time, so thought maybe a cartoon would be appropriate. Googled "cartoon from photo" and found quite a few sites who will do that for free. Free is good. Had way to much fun with it. And, yes, spent way too much time on it. My favorite site turned out to be Befunky. I uploaded this photo:

Played around the site and created the following possibilities:

Now, which one will I choose???

old year, new year

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul -

and sings the tunes without the words -

and never stops at all.

Emily Dickinson

2010 in review -

Not one who looks back all that much. What's done is done. It has been a year of great joy and great heartache, of new friends and of friends who turn out not to be friends after all, of discovery and discovery of limitations. I have made good choices and huge mistakes. I have no regrets. Oh, maybe I regret not appreciating every moment of the journey as it was happening, not keeping focused on the gifts, and not taking more photographs. Otherwise, no regrets.

2011 looking forward -

Bring it on.

Never been big on celebrating New Year's Eve. Seems more like a night to get drunk than anything else. I suppose that is just me being judgmental! This NYE, though, is wonderful. I have gotten to spend the entire day with J. Just her and I. Bliss. We had plans - lunch at McDonald's playland, Yogi Bear movie, shopping at Target and Kohl's, dinner, baking cookies, and cuddling on the couch as we stay up till the new year. Not everything happened as planned. Let's just say, extreme temper tantrums will not be rewarded. Most happened though. Right now she is waiting impatiently for me on the sofa as I write this. One hour and 45 minutes to go, J's getting tired and a little cranky, but still hanging in there. I'm on my way.

Here's wishing every day of our new year is filled with love and loved ones, with moments to cherish and remember, with gifts so obvious even I can't miss them.

Happy New Year and Happy Every Day!

J and me

Salmon Creek, California Sonoma Coast - December 26, 2010

burn baby burn

I've been feeling out of sorts lately - since Christmas. Part of it is feeling everyone else's energetic let down after the holidays. Part of it is my own. I feel angry. I feel lost. I feel unloved and unlovable. I feel ugly. I feel hopeless. I don't like holding these feelings. I am not fully available to my daughter, to my art, to my life. I have been grounding and breathing. While it helps, the feelings of despair and anxiety remain. I know when I am in this energy, it affects what comes to me. People disappear. Opportunities vanish. I am unapproachable. So tonight I wrote a letter to burn. The only problem was I didn't know who to write it to. Who am I angry with? Where does the sorrow and disappointment lie?

It's all on me. So I wrote the letter to myself. A letter full of disappointment and disillusionment. All on me.

Burn baby burn.

 

Release. Release. Release.

more of the same

November was not good to me. Oh, yes, there were many highlights - reconnecting with old friends, fun times with my girl, surviving. There were also lows so low they're still weighing me down - broken heart, rejections galore - in so many forms, stolen money, disappointment, even devastation of my soul. I woke up this morning feeling free, hopeful, alive, and so happy. November was over. Tonight I've realized one day does not make much of a difference. My story continues much the same as always. Maybe January?

Who Is That Girl?

I tend to be a purist with my photos. Add a little color correction. A little contrast boost. And bleach them out a little. Little being the operative word. Never into all the Photoshop filters. Someone asked for a photo of me. A sexy photo of me. Well...no way. I took a photo. Not a very good one. And played with some of the filters. Hit posterize and came up with this. Kinda cool.