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.
Saturday, June 9, 2018
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
Sunday, March 18, 2018
Post 31 of 92
4:50pm. Every day I think about writing, compose stuff in my head, and every day I don't. So be it.
All in all however, not too bad here. I've been drawing a lot. A lot. Have had a few things on the go. Nothing nicer than to wake up in the morning and look forward to working on something. Just about the nicest feeling there is. Spent weeks on a drawing, overworked it, ruined it, cut it in thirds as thought I could kind of make do with part of it. Natalia, one of the cats, played with it, walked on it and creased it. Just as well. When something is stuffed it's stuffed and just because there might be thirty hours work in it, is no justification for keeping it. If it's shite, it's shite.
Drawing is a solid ground of joy. There is something undeniably seductive about making something which wasn't there before. It's a bloody miracle. Every moment of every day, I realise, is the same creative process; a word spoken, a thought thought, a meal made, steps taken, always a movement from the past to the future that is never anything but right here, yet creating something tangible from the mind, a kind of testament to the past and future coalescing in a visual record of the infinite now....
Gad, I know what I want to say but I can't say it. The more I try to pin it down the more elusive it gets. Suffice to say, it's a gift that I am so grateful to make use of.
And now it's time to take a walk. 5:05pm
All in all however, not too bad here. I've been drawing a lot. A lot. Have had a few things on the go. Nothing nicer than to wake up in the morning and look forward to working on something. Just about the nicest feeling there is. Spent weeks on a drawing, overworked it, ruined it, cut it in thirds as thought I could kind of make do with part of it. Natalia, one of the cats, played with it, walked on it and creased it. Just as well. When something is stuffed it's stuffed and just because there might be thirty hours work in it, is no justification for keeping it. If it's shite, it's shite.
Drawing is a solid ground of joy. There is something undeniably seductive about making something which wasn't there before. It's a bloody miracle. Every moment of every day, I realise, is the same creative process; a word spoken, a thought thought, a meal made, steps taken, always a movement from the past to the future that is never anything but right here, yet creating something tangible from the mind, a kind of testament to the past and future coalescing in a visual record of the infinite now....
Gad, I know what I want to say but I can't say it. The more I try to pin it down the more elusive it gets. Suffice to say, it's a gift that I am so grateful to make use of.
And now it's time to take a walk. 5:05pm
Sunday, February 11, 2018
Post 30 of 92
8:37am. Have spent too long reading Maria Popova's blog, Brain Pickings (https://www.brainpickings.org/) and now the sun has topped the eucalypts and is arrowing, with brilliant intensity, straight into my eyes.
Ah, but what a refreshing dip of the toes I've had into the admirable minds of writers, artists and philosophers. Gives me a kick up the backside too for it is too easy to let yet another day pass without making an entry here.
Had a chat with my stepson a few days ago about a practical matter but was relieved and heartened by his acknowledgement of Richard's decline. Neither son has really spoken of it and although I've said a few things, it is the elephant in the room that everyone pretends isn't there. Except it is and the elephant has morphed into a mastodon. Hearing him say that he loved me and that he knew how difficult it has been and how difficult it will be made me feel I wasn't entirely alone.
I realize how it must hurt them too to see their father change and this only a couple of years after their mother died. It's a raw deal all around. Strangely, the one person who seems least affected is Richard himself. In some twisted sort of humanity, the worse he gets, the less he seems aware of it. What has bothered him most is not driving. That he is slowly losing his ability to communicate effectively, that he can't remember names (even of Mikaela who he adores), that even his body is losing it's sense of itself and becomes 'frozen' until prodded into the next moment; none of that seems to depress him. Rather he is becoming more childlike, happy with the purrs of his favourite cat, with tasty meals, with warm clothing on a cool morning, and a warm bed at night.
On the distaff side, he digs his heels in about things that aren't important. We are looking to buy a VW Caddy to carry hay. I spent 20 minutes yesterday explaining that they do indeed have turn signal lights near the headlights. Finally found a photo online which showed it.
I want to include him in decision making but it is getting more difficult as he doesn't understand. What is worse is not understanding him. Sometimes he says things to me and it's not that I don't understand the words, but because he can't remember the word for the thing he wants to say, he substitutes another word and I have to decipher what he means. Frustrating for both of us.
But we're good today. And that's enough.
Ah, but what a refreshing dip of the toes I've had into the admirable minds of writers, artists and philosophers. Gives me a kick up the backside too for it is too easy to let yet another day pass without making an entry here.
Had a chat with my stepson a few days ago about a practical matter but was relieved and heartened by his acknowledgement of Richard's decline. Neither son has really spoken of it and although I've said a few things, it is the elephant in the room that everyone pretends isn't there. Except it is and the elephant has morphed into a mastodon. Hearing him say that he loved me and that he knew how difficult it has been and how difficult it will be made me feel I wasn't entirely alone.
I realize how it must hurt them too to see their father change and this only a couple of years after their mother died. It's a raw deal all around. Strangely, the one person who seems least affected is Richard himself. In some twisted sort of humanity, the worse he gets, the less he seems aware of it. What has bothered him most is not driving. That he is slowly losing his ability to communicate effectively, that he can't remember names (even of Mikaela who he adores), that even his body is losing it's sense of itself and becomes 'frozen' until prodded into the next moment; none of that seems to depress him. Rather he is becoming more childlike, happy with the purrs of his favourite cat, with tasty meals, with warm clothing on a cool morning, and a warm bed at night.
On the distaff side, he digs his heels in about things that aren't important. We are looking to buy a VW Caddy to carry hay. I spent 20 minutes yesterday explaining that they do indeed have turn signal lights near the headlights. Finally found a photo online which showed it.
I want to include him in decision making but it is getting more difficult as he doesn't understand. What is worse is not understanding him. Sometimes he says things to me and it's not that I don't understand the words, but because he can't remember the word for the thing he wants to say, he substitutes another word and I have to decipher what he means. Frustrating for both of us.
But we're good today. And that's enough.
Saturday, February 3, 2018
Palindrome Post
4:10pm. If anyone was going to see a UFO I think it would be me. I spend so much time looking at the sky; admiring clouds, admiring stars, ogling the moon, it seems a bit of bad management on the part of UFOs that a committed skywatcher like myself should fail to see one. And now, in the age of cheap and available drones, almost any anomaly in the sky will be suspect. I seem to have missed my chance. I suppose if some truly remarkable vision akin to something CGI and Hollywood could make presented itself I could accept that I'd seen one.
Sadly I don't think that's going to happen.
What prompted this was not something I thought I saw but the extraordinary number of people I see who walk while looking at the ground. Perhaps these people, with their necks tilted at 45 degrees, are thinking deep and profound thoughts. Perhaps they are thinking of the conversation they had with the salesperson at the supermarket. What they aren't thinking about is the stagecraft of the world around them. Whether it's nature or a city street, the world is a fascinating place. And it's big, truly big. There's enough going on to keep the most jaded observer endlessly entertained.
Perhaps that's the problem. It's too big and looking up invites a form of agoraphobia so looking down keeps the sensory input to a manageable level.
Whatever the reason, I'll bet my bottom dollar that if a UFO is sighted in this area, the groundlooking person will look up just in time to see it while I will have just missed it.
Sadly I don't think that's going to happen.
What prompted this was not something I thought I saw but the extraordinary number of people I see who walk while looking at the ground. Perhaps these people, with their necks tilted at 45 degrees, are thinking deep and profound thoughts. Perhaps they are thinking of the conversation they had with the salesperson at the supermarket. What they aren't thinking about is the stagecraft of the world around them. Whether it's nature or a city street, the world is a fascinating place. And it's big, truly big. There's enough going on to keep the most jaded observer endlessly entertained.
Perhaps that's the problem. It's too big and looking up invites a form of agoraphobia so looking down keeps the sensory input to a manageable level.
Whatever the reason, I'll bet my bottom dollar that if a UFO is sighted in this area, the groundlooking person will look up just in time to see it while I will have just missed it.
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