Doing everything I can to procrastinate. The Queen of Procrastination. A recurring, even dominant theme throughout my life. It's a form of self-sabotage. I don't understand why but suspect, when all is said and done, it is fear which underlies this weird action resulting in non-action.
I know a man, an extremely creative man. He paints and his paintings sell, he composes and his compositions are played in the public arena, he writes and his books are published. Obviously he is naturally, one could say preternaturally talented, but he is also disciplined. He allocates time to each of his creative talents. He says it's because it's because he has a mortgage to pay but I suspect it's more than that. Being fearful and procrastinating is kind of shitting on the gift one was given. I'm no genius but I was always one of those kids that could draw - not as well as others in class but enough to get asked occasionally to draw something. (Colleen Moore, wherever you are, you were the one that could draw - what did you end up doing? I heard you took your drawing and your flute playing and went to Africa). At any rate, I admire this man and his discipline. I also find him a bit scary. He's as gentle and nice a man as can be but the will which underlies that discipline is iron. And he's courageous. Not afraid of failure, not afraid of having a go - or not afraid in any way that matters.
Joined a new yoga class this morning after a few tryout classes. This studio has mirrors. Oh the brutal truth of wall to wall mirrors. Looking out from behind these eyes, catching my image in the odd window or from the waist up in the bathroom (avoiding the mirrored doors of the closet) I thought, eh 62? not bad for my age. Oh, the lies I tell myself. The mirror on the yoga studio wall...the first class, after the initial shock, I managed to pretty much avoid seeing myself focusing instead on the floor or the ceiling, the instructor or some vague indeterminate point in the middle distance.
But the truth will not be avoided. In the scheme of things with war and famine and global warming my body image matters not one whit. And yet, and yet. It is everything too for it reflects the person I am - a bit lazy, a bit lacking in will power, a bit sloppy, a lot overindulgent.
So I decided today to look squarely at myself in the mirror. I was next to a floor lamp so couldn't really avoid it as I was well lit.
In my long life I have made many resolutions, some of which stuck, most of which have fallen by the wayside like so many banana peels. One thing I haven't done however is give up. So I try again, to not be afraid of what might be beneath this fear, this comforting layer of fat which I use to protect myself from life's hard knocks, and to - what a horrible phrase - be all I can be...or better, be all that I already am.
Oh scary!!
Tuesday, July 31, 2018
Sunday, July 29, 2018
Post 37 of 92
Had a fleeting but profound sensation of the unreality of reality this week. It's been a week, two weeks actually, of elderly cat dramas. One having a hiccup after a routine dental and the other having profound and critical pancreatitis for which he was hospitalized for 4 days. Matisse, the Siamese, has, I think and hope and pray, turned the corner. Brought him home yesterday, profoundly depressed as he is not a cat who copes well with changes in routine. and being sick AND being hospitalized has taken its toll. It's been a stressful and expensive two weeks ($2000+).
Yet, despite or perhaps because of this, while feeling weepy and overly sensitive, worried to the point of feeling sick to my stomach, there was this other sensation, The Observer, which saw this for what it was; ripples on the surface. The depths are unaffected. Save for taking note of the surface disturbances, nothing changes in the Is-ness of it all.
Feeling that helped somewhat - even though I am caught up in the drama of apparent reality and am reluctant or unable to let it go.
It's humbling to have your own advice dropped back on you. At the gym one day recently one of the staff was crying in the ladies bathroom. She was talking to the woman who oversees the creche and had obviously been crying for awhile as her face was very blotched and swollen. As I walked past I said, whatever it is I'm sorry. This woman, not hard and fit and smilingly conscious of her physique, on the contrary wears glasses, is slightly overweight and when she smiles her smile is genuine. Have always liked her. While the others seem decorative she exudes infrastructure.
I had my shower while listening to their murmured voices and the occasional hiccuping of a crying jag not yet finished. Had no idea what was wrong. It was none of my business but as I walked out I touched her shoulder and said, this too shall pass.
And so it does. Joy, grief, excitement, ennui, love and loss. All surface ripples over the serenity of the changeless depths. Even sick cats. They either get better or they pass away.
But I'm glad he's on the mend.
Yet, despite or perhaps because of this, while feeling weepy and overly sensitive, worried to the point of feeling sick to my stomach, there was this other sensation, The Observer, which saw this for what it was; ripples on the surface. The depths are unaffected. Save for taking note of the surface disturbances, nothing changes in the Is-ness of it all.
Feeling that helped somewhat - even though I am caught up in the drama of apparent reality and am reluctant or unable to let it go.
It's humbling to have your own advice dropped back on you. At the gym one day recently one of the staff was crying in the ladies bathroom. She was talking to the woman who oversees the creche and had obviously been crying for awhile as her face was very blotched and swollen. As I walked past I said, whatever it is I'm sorry. This woman, not hard and fit and smilingly conscious of her physique, on the contrary wears glasses, is slightly overweight and when she smiles her smile is genuine. Have always liked her. While the others seem decorative she exudes infrastructure.
I had my shower while listening to their murmured voices and the occasional hiccuping of a crying jag not yet finished. Had no idea what was wrong. It was none of my business but as I walked out I touched her shoulder and said, this too shall pass.
And so it does. Joy, grief, excitement, ennui, love and loss. All surface ripples over the serenity of the changeless depths. Even sick cats. They either get better or they pass away.
But I'm glad he's on the mend.
Wednesday, June 20, 2018
Post 36 of 92
Just back from Kyogle where we took Mikaela for a teeth clean and polish. Cheap as chips going to a country mixed practice vet rather than a town small animal vet. Dachshunds everywhere (vet's wife has 5, plus 2 of her sons that she's looking after). Reception was clean and simple, no clever tech advertising stuff to sell you stuff. Felt like home. Mikaela fine with good breath and squeaky clean ears.
And that's all I've time to write as R came.
And that's all I've time to write as R came.
Saturday, June 9, 2018
Post 35 of 92
Wow, two posts in two days.
Up early, well before dawn to do chores before attending an Iyengar class. My second. Went last week and didn't like it. It's referred to as Furniture Yoga with good reason; blocks, straps, cushions, bolsters, folded blankets, ropes attached to walls, chairs (for some). Got a little impatient and muttered, I hope inaudibly, under my breath adjusting the blocks for the umpteenth time so I could do shoulder stand, a pose I have no problem doing.
The reason I am going today is it seems to be helping my neck. For months now my neck has been getting progressively stiffer, so much so that I was having to turn my upper body to check for traffic while driving. Gave up headstands thinking that might help. It didn't. Didn't know what else to do save go to a doctor which I have managed to avoid for about 15 years now. So went to class, came home happy to have given it a try but knowing it wasn't for me. Except. Late that afternoon while walking suddenly realized I'd turned my head to look for a bird singing in the roadside and I had almost full range of motion back again. Still hurt to turn my neck but not nearly as much.
Might be coincidental or it might be Iyengar is popular for a reason. Even the woman who introduced me said she disliked it at first but adores it now. Has lots of books for me to read if I'm interested.
One of the many unlooked for side effects of yoga is introducing oneself to the extreme bias of the body. Never understood how crooked I was, even to how much weight I put on each leg, until doing yoga. I'd hoped consistent practice would help to make me more even-handed or footed, but although I think it has helped, it hasn't cured. Perhaps this form of yoga will help.
This is all part of me saying Yes to things rather than no. More on that in another post.
Up early, well before dawn to do chores before attending an Iyengar class. My second. Went last week and didn't like it. It's referred to as Furniture Yoga with good reason; blocks, straps, cushions, bolsters, folded blankets, ropes attached to walls, chairs (for some). Got a little impatient and muttered, I hope inaudibly, under my breath adjusting the blocks for the umpteenth time so I could do shoulder stand, a pose I have no problem doing.
The reason I am going today is it seems to be helping my neck. For months now my neck has been getting progressively stiffer, so much so that I was having to turn my upper body to check for traffic while driving. Gave up headstands thinking that might help. It didn't. Didn't know what else to do save go to a doctor which I have managed to avoid for about 15 years now. So went to class, came home happy to have given it a try but knowing it wasn't for me. Except. Late that afternoon while walking suddenly realized I'd turned my head to look for a bird singing in the roadside and I had almost full range of motion back again. Still hurt to turn my neck but not nearly as much.
Might be coincidental or it might be Iyengar is popular for a reason. Even the woman who introduced me said she disliked it at first but adores it now. Has lots of books for me to read if I'm interested.
One of the many unlooked for side effects of yoga is introducing oneself to the extreme bias of the body. Never understood how crooked I was, even to how much weight I put on each leg, until doing yoga. I'd hoped consistent practice would help to make me more even-handed or footed, but although I think it has helped, it hasn't cured. Perhaps this form of yoga will help.
This is all part of me saying Yes to things rather than no. More on that in another post.
Friday, June 8, 2018
post 34 of 92
Posts are getting further and further apart. So much for a few minutes daily to forge new good habits.
Since writing I have taken part in my second ever group exhibition (the first one over 40 years ago!). I sold 3 drawings and one painting - which almost makes me break even financially. But money making has never been the point. Although I must say selling anything I've created has never happened before. I've bartered, traded and given away but never sold. So that was a new feeling.
Another new feeling was winning an award for one of my drawings. I didn't attend the opening night (hundreds of people in a small noisy venue - my idea of crazy) and although a friend accepted the award on my behalf she didn't remember for which drawing. Understandable as only seconds before she'd won an award for one of her paintings, had just stepped off the stage and then had to return to get mine. Slightly giddy I suspect. Kind of a big deal as our little pop up gallery won two of the 9 awards on offer.
When I heard about it I was happier than I have been in a long time. Couldn't stop grinning. And even while I floated around the house showing lots of teeth, I was aware how fleeting this feeling was so tried to extract squeeze suck every ounce of joy from it.
Another friend had a showing at the Uki Post Office (Featured Artist). She asked for input from friends. What phrases, words, sayings had special meanings for them. She would take those and match them with one of her paintings. I submitted Gratitude and Trust. She used Gratitude. But there was another saying, which has been helpful throughout my life; through good and bad, through opportunity and disaster. This Too Shall Pass.
So it was with the joy of winning and selling. Oh, I lived that feeling, fleeting as it was. It is unbecoming to brag but golly gee it was nice.
Since writing I have taken part in my second ever group exhibition (the first one over 40 years ago!). I sold 3 drawings and one painting - which almost makes me break even financially. But money making has never been the point. Although I must say selling anything I've created has never happened before. I've bartered, traded and given away but never sold. So that was a new feeling.
Another new feeling was winning an award for one of my drawings. I didn't attend the opening night (hundreds of people in a small noisy venue - my idea of crazy) and although a friend accepted the award on my behalf she didn't remember for which drawing. Understandable as only seconds before she'd won an award for one of her paintings, had just stepped off the stage and then had to return to get mine. Slightly giddy I suspect. Kind of a big deal as our little pop up gallery won two of the 9 awards on offer.
When I heard about it I was happier than I have been in a long time. Couldn't stop grinning. And even while I floated around the house showing lots of teeth, I was aware how fleeting this feeling was so tried to extract squeeze suck every ounce of joy from it.
Another friend had a showing at the Uki Post Office (Featured Artist). She asked for input from friends. What phrases, words, sayings had special meanings for them. She would take those and match them with one of her paintings. I submitted Gratitude and Trust. She used Gratitude. But there was another saying, which has been helpful throughout my life; through good and bad, through opportunity and disaster. This Too Shall Pass.
So it was with the joy of winning and selling. Oh, I lived that feeling, fleeting as it was. It is unbecoming to brag but golly gee it was nice.
Sunday, March 25, 2018
Post 33 of 92
9:27am. There is a steady rhythmic thumping in the background. Our neighbours married yesterday. They are young with many young friends. The 'music' (I use the term with reservations) went on loudly until midnight and began again at 6:30am. I applaud their endurance.
When I took Mikaela, prompt as ever waking me at 6:22am, to the A frame, I could hear the men talking and laughing, fresh as though they'd just arrived.
The newly married couple had the foresight, wisdom and politeness to warn us and the other neighbours of what was about to transpire with a letter drop. Otherwise the neighbourhood would be cranky with those 'young people and their crappy music'. As it is, we just wait. Eventually - tonight? - they'll wind down and go home to prepare for work Monday morning.
I hope.
Guess every generation is destined to misunderstand and dislike the music of the generation that follows. This music, as far as I can make out, is entirely electronic. There is no singing. The only voice I've heard is what appears to be a question and answer segment in some of the 'songs'. The accent is on the beat, like a quickened heartbeat, which is hypnotic as the other sounds (not melody) weave in and around it. At least it's not heavy metal and screaming guitars which, although disastrous for the ear drums, at least has emotion. This music seems to be a product of our digital age; precise, clean and entirely soulless. 9:39pm
When I took Mikaela, prompt as ever waking me at 6:22am, to the A frame, I could hear the men talking and laughing, fresh as though they'd just arrived.
The newly married couple had the foresight, wisdom and politeness to warn us and the other neighbours of what was about to transpire with a letter drop. Otherwise the neighbourhood would be cranky with those 'young people and their crappy music'. As it is, we just wait. Eventually - tonight? - they'll wind down and go home to prepare for work Monday morning.
I hope.
Guess every generation is destined to misunderstand and dislike the music of the generation that follows. This music, as far as I can make out, is entirely electronic. There is no singing. The only voice I've heard is what appears to be a question and answer segment in some of the 'songs'. The accent is on the beat, like a quickened heartbeat, which is hypnotic as the other sounds (not melody) weave in and around it. At least it's not heavy metal and screaming guitars which, although disastrous for the ear drums, at least has emotion. This music seems to be a product of our digital age; precise, clean and entirely soulless. 9:39pm
Thursday, March 22, 2018
Post 32 of 92
3:56pm. I have been asked by a friend to contribute a pithy one or two sentence saying to go with an art book she is putting together featuring her paintings. These words of wisdom have to have something to do with concepts she has assigned. I wrote back, one word. She has replied with a couple of suggestions as the word I suggested has already been assigned to another friend and another art work.
There is no problem with this but as I was pondering what to say I noticed that feeling within me, so nebulous as to almost slip by, of anger/frustration/resentment. Now why is that? Got it big time when trying to put together that art application, get it frequently when things go wrong with the computer that I somehow have to fix (an imploded modem is easy by comparison, just buy a new one). Experienced it the first time, that I remember, when i tried to balance a chequebook under Mom's tutelage. I just didn't 'get' how to do it.
And here it is again, a wasp's wing of rage, touching so lightly, so fleetingly it was almost gone before I noticed. Am I so spoiled that if things don't go smoothly the first time I have an inner tantrum? Have had my fair share of dramas in life and don't get that particular toxic feeling while dealing with them.
It's a mystery. Not a nice one either. Something smelly and sticky under a rock somewhere. In the meantime, guess I'll keep working on that pithy saying. 4:07pm
There is no problem with this but as I was pondering what to say I noticed that feeling within me, so nebulous as to almost slip by, of anger/frustration/resentment. Now why is that? Got it big time when trying to put together that art application, get it frequently when things go wrong with the computer that I somehow have to fix (an imploded modem is easy by comparison, just buy a new one). Experienced it the first time, that I remember, when i tried to balance a chequebook under Mom's tutelage. I just didn't 'get' how to do it.
And here it is again, a wasp's wing of rage, touching so lightly, so fleetingly it was almost gone before I noticed. Am I so spoiled that if things don't go smoothly the first time I have an inner tantrum? Have had my fair share of dramas in life and don't get that particular toxic feeling while dealing with them.
It's a mystery. Not a nice one either. Something smelly and sticky under a rock somewhere. In the meantime, guess I'll keep working on that pithy saying. 4:07pm
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