Epiphany

I am distracted. I know this. I do it to myself. I don't get to work as quickly as I should. I spend hours on Facebook and feel empty afterwards. I watch TV instead of reading. I stare into space and feel my heart beating too fast and I worry about strokes and heart failure and I feel crippled. I feel sort of alone but I avoid the distraction of people purposely unless I am certain the interaction will be short, positive and affirming. Yesterday I heard a scientist on the radio and I downloaded the first chapter of his book and read it straight away and he quoted my new favorite author Haruki Murakami and I felt a loud snap in my head and my eyes started watering and I suddenly realized what all those dreams about houses and rooms and climbing into small tight spaces and striding into open light spaces mean. This fear of death I have is resistance, the preoccupation with this part of the self is such folly, it is sucking the life out of me and I am letting it. I am inviting it in, offering it tea and banana bread, stroking its hair. This morning I woke up early, easily and wrote and I felt like the possibility of entering all those rooms could be the answer to everything.

Long vs Short

The trouble with writing longer posts is that they take time which seems always to be in short supply. Shorter posts are like taking my pulse on any given day and if this blog is what I think it is, a record, then maybe there should be both types. Long thoughtful posts and short quippy ones. I won't sacrifice one for the other. What I worry about of course is that I will discover that I am only interesting in short bursts and when I have time to think about things more thoroughly the results will be akin to eating butterless day old toast. I suppose this is a risk I have to take. At any rate I am being a good girl and reading my book and knitting and going for walks and I have been dreaming like crazy and not waking up suddenly and suspecting I am dead. So that's something, and you heard it here first and it was efficient.

Hair Piece

I ran into a woman I sort of know from a long time ago in the Co-op. She has untreated bi-polar disorder and had that look of crazed focus on her overly thin tan face. She called my name down the frozen food aisle which surprised me and invited me to a party she was planning, a blues band would be playing at 2 the following Saturday afternoon. I asked her where she lived knowing she had lost a house recently because she was unwilling to stay medicated. She told me the neighborhood and then went on to say why she was having the party. It was for healing she said, to heal the neighborhood trouble with heroin and deceit. I said I would be busy with my reno-project and she said oh no you should come, it will heal you. She had a point.

In my dreams last night I met up with her again and we exchanged scalps and hair. I took my freshly washed hair off and gave it to her and she did the same, it was as if we were passing caps between us. Try mine and I will try yours. I ran my fingers through the hair that was now on my head, knowing it was not mine and wishing I could have my clean hair back but she was still enjoying it.

Dream

A close friend of my family of origin is gravely ill. She has been battling cancer and last night I dreamt about her. She was in a lot of pain and was thrashing around. I held her in my arms and whispered into her ear, be still, be still, it's going to be okay.

They're Back

It started again Friday night. I woke screaming and flailing, scaring the hell out of my sweet husband. It's not even a dream that does it, it's more like a sudden awareness that I am about to be attacked. What is this energy that plays in my brain at night? I used to love going to sleep but these days I am becoming more reluctant about falling into bed. I laid down for a nap on Saturday and was visited by that uneasy feeling of death brushing past me on the couch where I lay. I have been so calm lately, feeling good and yet when I lay down and go to sleep all the anxiety seems to seep out. Will think more about this and get back to you. Right now I have 4 decades of a timeline to finish in the book I am designing on the NW Washington Fair. We had a great pre-production meeting yesterday and I feel like we are in good hands with the printer but it wasn't enough to buy me a good nights sleep. My bed was a mess when I woke up today, twisted sheets and blankets, pillows strewn, ample physical evidence of my elusive terrors at play.

Putting out Fires

I have a lot of work at the moment and feel like I am in a full scale juggling competition, the goal being to keep everything aloft and fluid. The items being juggled include my work load, daily exercise, domestic chores, and my responsibilities as a mom. Yesterday this included playing badminton for half an hour and taking a walk with Pearl and a friend. Not so bad.

In my dream life my letterpress caught fire. I saw the smoke and immediately turned it off the press, I stuck my head in underneath the feeder board and could see the source of the flame was the little open oil reservoir. The flame licked up against the timpin and I thought about all the flammable things within it's reach. I raced out of the studio running full speed across the yard to the house where I keep my fire extinguisher, I tried to call ahead to Mark but I could not speak. I grabbed the extinguisher and turned back to the studio imagining how I would spray the white fire smothering chemical onto the press so as not to harm it. I woke up, chest heaving from the dream running.

The message of the dream; I can put out the fire. So bring it on.

Progress

Several months ago I dreamt that a person in my sphere had disappeared and was known to have died. It was a young woman and while I did not murder this person with my own hands I knew that the actions I was taking in the dream would result in her death. I think she was left out in the wilderness.

I was appalled by this dream and immediately did some research on what it had meant. Of course dream symbols are confusing but they are also archetypal. I had exiled and done away with a part of myself, a part I no longer needed. I had to commit this act of murder to free a part of myself that needed more attention.

I have written here about my recent experiences waking in the night and feeling uncertain about what state I am in, alive or dead or somewhere in between. These incidents are lessening and I have slept well every night for about a week. It's a miracle to wake in the morning rested and relaxed.

It occurs to me that I was misinterpreting these night time experiences. I was taking them too literally, thinking too much of the death of my physical self and not so much about the life of my spiritual self. The night time death experience, I realize now is about the death of some part of me I no longer need. It's extremely hard to articulate but it comes down to this, we are evolving. We are growing up and changing and our consciousness is changing and this is a good thing.

Some time ago a sage friend told me that every 7 years our cells rejuvenate. It doesn't happen all at once of course, there is a dying off and then a building back up. I am not sure how cells work exactly but I see their development as a curved line and these little transitional moments represent the differential equations that determine the slope of this ever curving line. Some are steep and some are slight, they go up, they go down, but they are all worth noting.

I am trying to free myself of what has held me back. I am trying to shed that which has weighed me down in an effort to make way for what will propel me forward. I don't know what any of it looks like but I am open to it. Maybe it's art, maybe it's poetry, who knows.

Stay tuned.

Landslide

Feel free to think of the Stevie Nicks song while you read this.

In the last little while I have had two dreams about landslides. In the first one I was in a dry rocky valley and a landslide was chasing me down. I drove my car until the road disappeared and then I ran, pulling Pearl along with me until we were in a safe place. The air was filled with dust and it was hard to breathe. I could look up into the mountains and see the devastation above me. Last night was different. I was in a verdant environment and they were many people and I could see the imminent danger, a cliff edge that was soft and crumbling, falling away into a deep valley. Suddenly, I felt the earth begin to slip beneath my feet but instead of trying to fight it I surfed the moss covered wave, grasping at the tops of the trees as I fell. My only thought was that I hoped I would lose consciousness before I hit the bottom. I landed in another dream where I was at a wild house party and everything was fine.

Normal Social Anxiety

Social anxiety is a pain in the ass. I think we all have it to some degree. In the worst cases people just give up putting themselves in situations where these nasty feelings are triggered. As part of my little recovery program I am working on dealing with these feelings and it seems to be working because last night I went to a party and actually danced. I have not danced in years which is a real tragedy because dancing is fun and considering my enormous size I think I am an okay dancer. When I was in college I danced all the time. My fellow art students and I would drink Long Island Ice Teas at the Coconut Teaser on Sunset Blvd and we drove the boys a little bit wild. It was great. Then I got married and somehow we stopped going out and we never danced and then I started to develop the evil pattern of social anxiety that has been strangling me ever since.

Here's my plan. I don't worry ahead about the outing even if I happen to dream about it the night before. When I am there I work on being a good conversationalist, I like listening to what other people have to say and I have plenty to say myself, so that part is easy. I turn off my monkey brain that shouts insults at me and I take into consideration that everyone else at the party feels a bit nervous about something so we're all basically even. Then, and this is key, on the way home, I don't berate myself about what I did or didn't do or say I just think about how much fun it was. And man it was fun.

In the Flow

There is a natural ebb and flow to things. In work and in life things seems to flow easily if you let them. Worry does not seem to affect the flow except to distract you from recognizing it as it happens. Opportunities for work and advancement are everywhere but they seem hidden when you are looking for them directly. It seems that when you are genuinely in the flow that is when you become aware of the opportunities you need to act on. Because the universe is always watching, I choose to keep my head down and focus on what is in front me while listening with my ears and seeing peripherally what is shifting around me. I leave expectation alone and feed intent. I enjoy the feeling of flow from my head through my hands, pushing and pulling me along. The year is flowing down into the narrow passage of the transition to the new year, where the flow dissipates into a trickle only to burst forth on the other side. There is never any time to stop and fully restock your supplies to continue in the flow, you just keep moving, looking down while looking ahead, skimming along, merrily merrily.

Random Access Memory

I passed by this place today on my way home and sank into sentimental thoughts of what it would be like to run a little hamburger stand on a deserted road. I fell into some faraway memory of summer food stands at the edge of dusty roads under unforgiving sun. Heat rising up off Highway 16 heading south into the Fraser Canyon with my family on summer car trips. We drove past these places surrounded by dry hills and tumbleweed so foreign to home, and so exotic.

Soft serve ice cream at the Tastee-Freeze in the town I grew up in. I never ate the food just bought cones for myself and occasionally my Irish Setter who ate them willingly only to throw them up minutes later. These memories are filled with floor to ceiling glass windows and stainless outdoor counters, window service and everything had a thin layer of butter fat on it. There was a parking lot next door and then the New Roi Theater, not the old one that was originally on Main Street. I never worked at the Tatstee-Freeze I just remember going there on hot summer days on my own, on my bike, with my red-haired dog.

Later when I moved to Los Angeles I met @americantoycoon at Art School and he invited me to help him work a few Saturdays at his job in Glendale at a place called Paul's Great White Hut. We sold chilli burgers and hot dogs and tuna melts. It was hotter than hell and when the lunch rush was on it made my head spin. Oscar wore a t-shirt that was considered subversive to the locals and at the end of the day he sent me home with slices of oily cheese. The hut was tiny, in the corner of a smooth black top parking lot which attracted the intense valley heat. We had to be careful not to crash into eachother inside when it got busy. Paul also owned another concession in Scholl Canyon. Years later when I was married we played baseball there with friends, I learned that the whole place was built on a landfill but it was beautiful on the surface, in that hazy palm tree swaying way that LA and dreams are.

Dreaming

I spent the day today working on preparing my taxes. It's not my favorite activity so I rewarded myself by indulging in a little fantasy thinking. A few years ago while camping at Alouette Lake in Canada with Mark and Pearl I came across a bunch of these teepees. They were set-up in a camp for at-risk first nations youth near the provincial campground. I was captivated by them. They are not only great examples of practical shelter they are totally sculptural. Perfect white cones. I want one. Sadly my cash flow is a bit drizzly at the moment so I can only dream about them. One day when the economy smartens up I plan on getting one and I am looking forward to sleeping out in it in the summertime.

Dreamy

I slept for too long last night. This morning I woke up around 6am and then went back to sleep for another hour. In that hour or maybe it was just a few minutes I dreamed I was at some far off space camp run by Arnold Schwarzenegger which morphed into one with the Obamas. They seemed to be in the white house although the election was not over yet. Barauck was in bed and I was sitting on the end of the bed drinking in the greatness of this upstart when Michelle came over and sat down. I noticed Baraucks feet were bare and he was being a bit wiggly and silly so I suggested to Michelle that we spill some cold water on his toes. She giggled and we searched around under the covers for his missing foot. Eventually there was a photo op and we all stood together but not until Michelle had adjusted one of her shoes which had developed a tear. As she bent down I noticed how thin all of their ankles were, His almost thinner than hers. The picture was taken and I ambled off into the crowd thinking, wow I am now one of those regular people getting caught up in all this excitement. I went back to the kitchen in search of something to drink.

A Life on the Water

We are trying to include Eddy more in our outings. We took him up to Baker several times this winter and even although he never left the comfort of the lodge and his wheelchair he was excited about his experiences. Imagining he had been skiing.

On Monday we went for a drive out to WWU's Lakewood Facility at Lake Whatcom, where for $35 (I would have happily paid $350) we got a family membership. I checked to see if they had handicapped access which they did and immediately my head was filled with visions of sunny afternoons spent at the lake shore with the 4 of us. Eddy could sit happily for hours and watch the comings and goings of people in boats.

Yesterday morning when Mark woke Eddy up he could see he had something on his mind and asked him about it. Eddy said he was considering his future in the Navy. Mark reminded him they probably weren't taking any 80 yr old conscripts. I think the lake will be good for his soul.

Current Work

So I am working on a new chap book. I've been working on it for 10 years. The duration of this project does not trouble me. I recently finished a quilt I had been working on for 10 years and I like everything about it, so it was worth the wait. Now it's the chap book's turn to tell a story.

I want the piece to be a collection of short entries, strangely similar to these blog entries— coincidence or fate—so that may be what you're reading for the next little while. Gotta multi task. I enjoy this blogging but I am a pathological achiever and I need a goal.

It's called "Safe Passage" and it's about the day my mother died.

I realized today the message of the dream from the other night is that I still have a long way to go on my path of discovery, each of these personal projects seem to increase my ability to be visually articulate. Am just trying to take one step at a time. One cocktail hour at a time.

_

Higher Ground

How's this for an archetypal dream image. The ground beneath my feet is cracked, deep fissures are appearing and I am trying to step over them to get to higher ground. Sometimes your subconscious makes it so easy.