Diagram of Me

Swirling.
There is a black dot at the middle of an empty page.
It is labeled, Me. It is not me but a representation of me.
Above it I imagined the heading WORK and a long pencil line connecting the two.
Me and work. I am imagining a diagram. A central mark with radiating lines.
Words on post-it notes. Nourishment and enrichment, two different things to Me.
Nourishment I imagine is painting, knitting, sewing. Not food. It sits below Me.
Food is represented by the word FOOD. It is to the right of Me.
Enrichment sits below work but above me. Learning and reading. Worthwhile.
I have another list that could dot the pencil line between Me and Enrichment on the way to WORK.
E-book technology sounds enriching but it stands to the left of Enrichment and lower down,
at the same height as Secret Signage Project to the right of Enrichment but higher than me. I could pull the trigger on that one any day now. HIKING sits to the left of me. It is a dreamy goal waiting for the snow to melt. MAKE SHOES sits next to Nourishment under FOOD. I have tried to hold all these things in my mind, putting them on paper releases the grip of my brain and frees it up to think creatively about the small steps that dot all the connecting lines. Impulses along thin pencil lines
on blank pages in endless notebooks. Journal entries dated and begun and stopped after one written
letter M—R—S. The page abandoned in favor of what? Items from the list that jump out and pull me away before I have a chance to record them or put them into the diagram where they might make sense. Does it count as a list if it never made its way from brain to hand into letter shaped pencil lines. I am thinking differently about the diagram. Rather than the long laundry list of things one must do. The diagram is a celebration of all that it is possible, radiating like a sun, and at it's center is Me, making it all happen. I have resisted lists as they make for messy pages in Sketchbooks but a diagram. A diagram is a thing to behold. As the diagram evolves I develop a deepening understanding for all of the activities I am engaged in and I can see where my practice lies. Working which is the key to my survival can be exactly what I want it to be. Nourishing, enriching, satiating and it's important to keep moving about, vigorously if possible. This is me.

Untitled #1

March 20th, West Spanish Banks, Vancouver BC

Nothing to say except that if you sit really still for a really long time everything is revealed to you and in the meantime if you have to get up and move around it is good to do a little sewing, carry a bit of firewood around and sometimes getup early and notice that the birds are singing and that you got through the winter, another winter without driving into a median somewhere.

I saw my dad today, his sweater had a small stain on it and it reminded me that they aren't as buttoned up as they once were and everything feels frail. We took a walk to the beach and I didn't talk to him about any of the issues, the big issues that are hanging over all of us. I just wanted to amble along next to him with the west wind blowing in our faces, hoping that it had already dropped its radioactive particles somewhere farther out at sea. And I feel more and more centered and unwilling to deal with bullshit because everything is fleeting and so I work on my knitting and chop the wood and hug my kid and at night I lay next to another human being whose dreams intersect with mine but aren't dependent on them. Tomorrow is Monday and I will rise and do and go and act and things will get moved along and it will seem purposeful and it will be, because I say so, because actions speak louder than words and that is what I am paying attention to.

Everything means nothing

Another good day today. It's so strange to feel good for so many days and weeks in a row. Of course there is always something to worry about just when you feel like things are making sense someone brings up the 2012 end of the world according to the Aztec calendar thing. And then you really start to think is this why people are assessing things and making meaningful resolutions because the end of days is just up around the bend. I don't know. John Boehner is speaker of the house in league with my pal El Diablo, the republicans have that nasty majority and seem poised to ruin everything that is good and fair including funding for NPR and food inspections. Oh spam, can I trust thou? But then that homeless guy Ted Williams with the incredible voice is discovered and some nice folks from right here in Mossville win Megamillions, and the sun came out unexpectedly today. On the way here tonight I couldn't stop looking at the clouds as I drove along, they were so beautiful. At a red light I noticed an opening to the west and the clouds were all yellow and glowing delightfully and then I noticed this Maxfield Parrish knock off was above a Shell gas station and further along the road I saw the same thing again above another Shell station and everything made sense in a demented way. We are but specks and what the hell did the Aztecs even know about time and dates and numbers, we're a blip here, sucking oil from the ground breeding incredible animals with deep voices who can tell our stories on radio and TV so that we can sit in meeting rooms and have things to discuss while the weather just does its thing around us and means nothing.

Happiness

Helmet Head Family

Just a few quick words. I have been writing outside the blog again and since I am generally in a mood of decreased anxiety these days I don't have such an urgent need to purge every little feeling I experience. This is a good thing. Calm is good for me, a much healthier state of being.

My little family has been skiing of late and I just wanted to say here how happy it makes me. I grew up skiing on Hudson Bay Mountain in Smithers B.C.. My family back then was bigger, there were 6 of us and in the winter we skied, religiously. While other families worshiped together we fueled up on pancakes and then piled into our VW van. My dad had his own version of preparation anxiety and would occasionally yell and slam the basement door expressing his frustration with his troop of ill prepared kids. Skis! Boots! Poles! he would yell while pulling out of the driveway. Once on the mountain though, all that anxiety was replaced with gratitude for the place and the activity of wooshing down hills under clear blue skies filled with sparkling ice crystals. These are the happy family times that I am modeling my own family experience after.

Pearl's skiing is coming along. She is careful and moves methodically down the hill. Mark goes ahead of us sometimes for a blast of speed but we both take turns taking up the rear, skiing behind Pearl, protecting her from fast moving snowboarders. Even though I can ski aggressively I am enjoying the slow pace, savoring the turns, keeping my shoulders pointed down the hill, marking each turn with yogic precision, shifting my weight from one leg to the other, gripping my toes in the imaginary sand. My lungs filled with clear mountain air add to my euphoria.

Riding up on chair 8, in plain sight of Mt Shuksan, I am overwhelmed with love for Pearl and Mark and with happiness that the three of us can have this experience together. I say over and over how happy I am. I can't help myself. They roll their eyes behind their goggles but I know they feel it too.

Walking Meditation

The walk begins. Luna is pulling like a maniac so I stop several times in the driveway to remind her I have the power to stop the whole thing, she complies, somewhat. My hands are cold. It's sunny but cool and I have not brought my gloves, why do I do this. I think about this for awhile and the whole idea of always trying to be prepared for everything. My shoes are wet from yesterday's walk in the rain and my nice dry socks are redistributing the moisture closer to my bare skin. I left the shoes in my bag last night instead of putting them by the heat vent in Mark's dining room. Again shoddy planning. We go along Trethewey toward snow capped mountains, I have brought my new camera but I don't bother trying to capture the mountains they are too far away and the picture won't say what I feel about them. I tell Luna to walk nice every 3 steps. She has no idea what I mean, I say it anyway.

Past the soccer fields in the municipal park I walk along under the power lines and take a few pictures of them. I've taken many pictures of them against the cloudy sky. I don't think about why. I wonder if anyone sees me and wonders why I am taking pictures of high tension power towers. I remind myself I am in Canada and no one cares. I encounter another dog/dog owner who I have encountered earlier on the circuit. His dog has a strange manner I don't like and I step in between him and Luna. The owner tries to assure me his is a good dog. I say the dog is exhibiting strange social behavior. This statement is lost on the dog's owner. He has a piece of rope for a leash.

I am on a mission. I continue on the Discovery Trail away from the playing fields. There are crows everywhere and big puddles, it rained hard yesterday. I put Luna on the leash because the road is near the path and I don't trust her not to run into the road. We go past the Agrifair grounds, there is nothing of interest here for me to take pictures of. I go through the tunnel that allows the Discovery Trail to cross under Trethewey. The street has a different name here, I don't know what it is. I pass two men coming out of the tunnel and think about whether I am safe or not. I think about safety again at the opposite end of the park. I can be a nervous, cautious person.

Through the tunnel Luna rushes an Airedale and tries not to get her butt sniffed. I acknowledge the dogs owner by stating this observation, we pass by without incident. She is faster than this dog. We walk in a westerly direction and I take a few more pictures of the towers, dry grass, and of Luna. It's sunny and the sky is blue, the trees are bare and beautiful and I take pictures of them too. The mountains appear to be even farther away now which is strange because I am closer to them. The pictures of the trees are similar to the pictures I didn't take of the mountains. They don't say how I feel about them. I photograph the baseball diamonds, the towers are in these pictures too, they are everywhere, the path weaves around through them. I like them, I like electricity, I like the lines cutting through the sky in gentle arcs.

I go all the way to where the park ends and discover that the last soccer field is filled with water. A fellow walker comments as he passes what a good skating rink it would make, I concur. Only a Canadian would say this, we are unified by our childhood memories of skating outdoors after sudden freezes. The water is reflective and the sky is twice as big at this end of the park. I decide this is my reward and head back along the path. Luna meets a friendly Beagle and an up-tight Schnauzer who she barks at and wants to play with only she is too enthusiastic and I worry she'll hurt him. I leash her up and we move past this interaction, heading east. It's getting cool and I practice telling Luna to walk nice without the leash, she does it but I still don't feel comfortable. When we get near the road I put her leash back on. We pass an older couple who smiles at us. The woman has a strange look to her and I wonder if she is suffering from something. There are a lot of elders in the area.

I put my hood up and adjust the camera strap around my neck. My stiff neck. We get through the soccer fields, Luna races back and forth on the path until she has to be leashed up again. She has pooped twice and seems happy about it. We pass the same couple again and the man says "hello, again" and seems to mean it. I say "hi" back. I relish fleeting interactions with strangers. I see the mountains again at the end of Trethewey as we turn into our complex. The road seems to lead right to them, a wave of happiness passes over me. Once inside, I check the time, we have walked for 1hr and 40 minutes.

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.

Dating Again

As part of my little program of recovery and reclamation via the Artists Way, A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity I am encouraged to make Art Dates with myself. Now granted I have been quite slack about following the book to the letter beyond doing my morning pages. I am quite diligent about those because I am experiencing a daily benefit from them and what am I if not driven by pleasure, results and warm feelings of virtue. I get the morning pages. The Art Dates are another thing. I took one a few months back and went to Seattle to see the Hatch Show Print Exhibit which was inspiring. I have been taking time to read which feels artful and I even did a little painting last week which also felt good. But I am really not sticking to this commitment of the weekly Art Date very rigorously. Today will be different.

Because I make my living being creative it is hard to make the jump from art for commerce to art for spiritual enlightenment. It seems a bit trite, a tad goofy. But, as the book points out, this is my censor's voice talking. The voice that has convinced me that nurturing this part of me is unimportant. So today I am having an Art Date to show that inner voice who's boss. When I started the morning pages I drew this picture, and it was cathartic. I hadn't drawn a picture in a really long time. Then I thought I wanted to make it really big and paint it. Several months ago I bought a big roll of paper, 10 yrds of the stuff and it has been sitting in my office unused. Sometime a few weeks ago I took the first step and I cut off a big piece and a week later I had Mark help me move a sheet of plywood over to my office, I had the idea I would put the paper on the wood like an easel. It's a big sheet. Do you see how simple logistics can derail someone from their path to creativity?

I have decided that today is the day I will make marks on the paper. I am astounded by how long it has taken me to get to this point. Logostics handled, there is the issue of the drawing itself. It's not quite a heart with wings but it's along those lines of art made by girls searching for something, and I will avoid barfing up all the negative adjectives about it before I move on to doing it. A little back story here. I was once married to an artist who was written up (favorably) in several national magazines, he successfully exhibited his work in LA and NYC. I have travelled in what was recognized as the real circles of contemporary art in America. I have met many famous artists and many very wealthy collectors, I know what real art is and yet here I am dabbling with pencil, paper and paint as a way of saving my soul. But! I am undeterred because the book tells me to do it and I will, I must.

I see the drawing as a diagram of myself, not really a portrait but a map of who I am, where I have been and most importantly where I want to go. My spiritual path to higher creativity complete with huge hair and bare breasts. Go figure.