The Deception

For Saturday Share at CPCCC.

Cards From Mary

Mary is one of the most thoughtful people I have met, and is a dear friend to me. She has sent me all of these cards you see below to encourage me during a difficult time. They are all her original artwork and photography. To see more of her work go here or here.









And here's yet another award she's sent me. Yea!



Thanks Mary!

Alibis

Another one for CPCCC.

Not Myself Lately...

...but seems to be appropriate for the season.

These were done for "Cheryl's Pals' Creative Collab Corral".

Summer Flowers '08

These were taken on my trip to Wisconsin last summer. I have more photos of flowers from this trip here.

Summer Sunsets '08

To see more sunsets from my summer vacation click here.

Blog Award

Atomicvelvitsigh gave me this award, and I am very honored! I've been going through a tough time lately, and my mind has been far removed from blogging. Velvet's encouragement could not have come at a better time. Thank you so much! The bright cheerful colors are a welcome addition to my side bar. She said for me to pass this award on to the blogs I love, and she would definitely be one of the blogs I would like to pass it on to. There are other bloggers that have been very encouraging to me, and whose blogs I love. Three of them are Mary, who has several blogs of wonderful art, Michael, who loves to digitally alter photographs, and Ashok, whose blog isn't really an art blog, but has some wonderful commentaries on the arts. There are more. Some of the blogs no longer exist, but all of you and your blogs have been encouraging to me. Thank you!

Hurricane E-mails

Here's some e-mails I've received from friends lately. Obviously there has been a lot of people with a lot of free time around here. What else is there to do while waiting for your power to be turned back on?

Top Ten Reasons Hurricane Season Is Like Christmas:

10: You decorate the house (with plywood and tarps).
9: Last minute shopping in crowded stores.
8: Regular TV shows pre-empted for 'Specials'.
7: Family coming to stay with you.
6: Family and friends from out of state calling you.
5: Buying food you don't normally buy . . . and in large quantities.
4: Days off from work.
3: You have lit candles and lights all over.
2: You visit the liquor store to party with the neighbors.

And the #1 reason Hurricane Season is like Christmas:

1. At some point you're probably going to have a tree in your house!


The hurricane grouch quotient can be calculated by adding the number of children and pets in a home without power, multiplied by the number of days quoted on the CenterPoint telephone recording, divided by the number of fans or portable air conditioners powered by your home generator, (however if you were last in line at Home Depot and have no generator then multiply by the daily temperature high for that day reported by the news), then add the number of trips to the washateria and add the days left until school opens again. Discount by the percentage of time spent at neighbors who have power and alcohol. Recalculate as often as necessary.

• No matter how many times you flick the switch, lights don't work without electricity.

• Calories consumed during a hurricane or power outage do not count.

• Vienna sausages and Spaghetti-Os only appear on the food pyramid during hurricane season.

• Despite protests, kids can re-live their parents' youth when there were only 3 tv channels!

• Houston without traffic lights resemble Mexico City, Rome, Los Angeles and New York City all rolled into a single snarl.

• A 7 lb bag of ice will chill 6-12 oz beers to a drinkable temperature in 11 minutes, and still keep a 14 lb. turkey frozen for 8 more hours.

• There are/were a lot of really big trees around here!

• People will get into a line that has already formed without having any idea what the line is for.

• Gas mileage is recalculated based on miles per fume.

• Telemarketers function no matter what the weather is doing. New Delhi does not check the weather report in South Texas before calling

• Most popular text message after September 13: do u hve pwr

• Twenty-seven of your neighbors are fed from a different transformer than you, and they are quick to point that out!

• Crickets and cicadas can increase their volume to overcome the sound of 14 generators.

• Dirty clothes in an unsupervised hamper multiply at an exponential rate.

• Coffee, spaghetti and frozen pizzas can be made on a grill.

• He who has the biggest generator wins.

• Tree service companies are under-appreciated, except after hurricanes.

• There are a lot more stars in the sky than most people thought.

• If you owned a store that sold only ice, chain saws, gas and generators, you would be rich.

Riding the Storm Out

Friday afternoon, about 4 pm, I'm sitting at my desk with a local TV station streaming through my computer the latest updates on Hurricane Ike. The winds are already picking up, even though it's outer bands have only just begun to hit Galveston. Spring Texas, a northern suburb of Houston, is a good 90 minute drive north of Galveston. Thanks to the storm's surge, the flooding of the city's bayous has already begun, even though the rain hasn't. They're asking everybody on the north side to "hunker down" and ride the storm out, so that the people on the south side can evacuate. The freeways had started to back up Thursday afternoon, and really, where would we all go? The storm is 200 miles wide. So, here I sit... and wait.

My clients have cancelled, I've cleaned and put oil in the hurricane lamps, new batteries in the flashlight, moved all potted plants and out door furniture into the garage, and my refrigerate and freezer have been stuffed full of containers filled with drinking water. I did all my cleaning Thursday, the ice chest, bathrooms, kitchen, and laundry, because I'm expecting to be without water for a while. The only things left to do is one last shower, and then fill the bath tubs with water. I'll wait until the last minute to unplug and disassemble my computer, so I can move it to a safer place. The waiting, though, is pure torture.

I'm not waiting for the storm to hit. I know there will be some damage and fallen trees, but I also know I'll be alright. I'm waiting for the aftermath. In '83 when Alicia hit, we were without power and water for 2 weeks. In '05 when Rita hit, the temperatures were in the 100's. No work. No income. Getting ice or fuel was like beating buzzards off a meat truck. An entire city of [about 6 million] people who are hot, miserable, and haven't bathed for days - not my idea of fun.

Fast forward now five days to today, Wednesday. I have power and water! Yea! Unfortunately, I think my neighborhood is the only one in the entire metropolitan area that does. Living alone makes it seem like I haven't talked to anyone for days, so yesterday cabin fever and canned soup got the best of me, and I decided to go for a drive to the grocery store, hoping to find something else to eat. Whoa! I think every street light in this city is out. There were downed trees and debris everywhere. There were lines at the few gas stations still open that were about a quarter of a mile long. They were saying on my car radio that the lines in the grocery stores were just as long, and only imperishable goods were being sold. I was not going to wait in line for more canned soup, so I checked in on a friend and went home. No work for me this week, which will be tough financially. All I can do is daydream about Mexican food and margaritas, and tell my blog about it. Thank God for internet.

Other things I'm grateful for: The cool front that came in - no 100 degree weather, yea! My house is still livable in spite of losing shingles and water damage in my living room - no having to find another place to stay, yea! I've been able to bathe since Monday, yea! I'm definitely one of the lucky ones.

My brother lay in bed wide awake all night, the night of the storm, and waited for a tree branch above his bedroom to fall. It finally fell around 4 am, and the winds blew it so that it went through the roof of his dining room instead. He said after that, he could go to sleep. I heard a story on the radio about a man who, when the rains from the cool front hit, took his shampoo and soap out to his back yard and bathed. I guess if you could talk family members into holding up a shower curtain for you, that might not be such a bad idea. My greatest hardship was trying to avoid stepping on the crawfish while cleaning the shingles and tree branches out of my swampy yard. I thought to myself as I sat on my porch with my propane camping burner, heating up my soup, "if I ever run out of soup, I could always have a crawfish boil."

Unlike my brother, though, I couldn't get but a couple of hours of sleep the night of the storm. I think it was when the eye passed over us, because when I finally nodded off, about 5 am, the winds were still coming out of the northeast, and when I woke at 7 am to the sound of my fence crashing down and shingles being ripped off my roof, the winds were coming out of the southwest. I ran to the window, and I could see my banana trees were kneeling and praying to the northeast. They survived, although their leaves have been shredded by the wind.

It was a long storm. The longest I can remember. The rain started about 11 pm Friday night, and didn't stop until 5 pm Saturday evening. It seems like Alicia in '83, which was a category 3 [Ike was only a 2], lasted only about 5 or 6 hours. Maybe it was longer, but not as long as this one.

The picture above is of a sign someone posted at the only entrance to my neighborhood. In the 12 years that I've lived here, we've never had any looters.

For Mary

See Mary's here. Learn how she makes them in the comments here.

The Water Dance

I've had this computer for 3 years, and I'm just now finding this program. Duh.

Mike's Song

Photo Friday: Religion [Losing my...]

Perception

Sign painting upside down
The perspective distorts
The edges all around

Brushes are misshapen
There are exaggerated reports
From backward slants taken

How will I tell the blue from the brown?

Watery blur is what I find
Magnifying tears
Gog of Magog is blind

Not bridled by it's virtual desire
But sunken in obscure fears
I evade it's visual fire

Soaked in brown from peering behind

Haunted waters are glowing
With solid feet grounded
Opaque people are flowing

Underwater lenses are spying
Shapes and colors founded
But refusing to see they're dying

An eye patch focuses knowing and prevents showing

Journaling

My blogging friend, Ashok Karra, and I have recently had a discussion on journaling, and he asked the question, "Do you think it is essential for a life coach to get her clients journaling or blogging? " I thought this was an interesting question, and wanted to write a post about it.

As I'm interested in life coaching, but not one yet, I can only answer from my experience as a personal trainer, and from my personal experience. I have found through personal training that the clients who are most successful at reaching their goals, are the ones that keep a journal. All the research on weight loss shows the same.

The first session with a client is usually spent evaluating, and discussing goals and the importance of journaling. At one gym I worked for, we gave every client a free journal when they signed up. I have them write out their goals in the present tense affirmative, and they have to be specific. For example, "I will be able to run a mile without stopping within the next six weeks." Next they are to write what obstacles are preventing them from reaching their goals, and how they plan to overcome them. I help them with the planning and what they can reasonably expect within their schedules. They are then supposed to keep track of what they do daily/weekly to reach their goals, and if the goals involve weight loss/gain, they are to keep a food log, as well.

Just the act of putting their goals in writing, increases their chances of success. I read once that physiologically, writing takes an abstract idea associated with the right brain, and breaks it down into a logical process associated with the left brain, getting the whole brain involved in focusing on the goal. Seeing their own words in writing commits them, or seals their commitment to achieving the goals, like a contract. And then, there is the realization after they start charting their progress, that they don't always eat as healthy or exercise as much as they thought. For my clients who stick with it, journaling is an eye opening experience. So, I would think that for life coaching, journaling would be just as important, if not more to achieving goals.

I asked Ashok what his thoughts were on journaling or blogging to help him achieve his goals. He is currently working on his dissertation for his graduate studies in political science. Here's his reply:

"For me, blogging started out as a way of getting thoughts down. Thoughts don't just come without strings; they're always attached to other thoughts, not all of them good. When I first started blogging, I was really hurting because a girl I liked wasn't interested in me at all. And I wondered if anything I could do or be could remedy that.

So every time, in those earlier years, that I was reading a poem or watching TV or looking at art I would have thoughts of her, and my inadequacy, and thoughts of the object at hand. Blogging helped me sort through those issues: it didn't take me really long to realize I was writing for an audience, and they had needs. Slowly my more self-absorbed thoughts began to subside. They didn't disappear; it was just that the entries focused more on where my audience and I could meet, i.e. Robert Frost's "The Pasture," and the sentiment underlying the whole discussion was informed by the initial desire to express pain. But at that point, it might have been impossible to tell I was pained in any way :)

In terms of immediate organization/dissertation help, blogging has just made me that much stronger of a writer. It must have doubled/tripled the speed I write and edit. It's made me more careful about what words I pick. It's pushed me to explore issues from a number of angles before and while writing. The dissertation right now reads like the poem commentaries I have, except with more footnotes and a slightly denser style all around.

But the main thing blogging/journaling has done is give me a public capacity. Writing helps privately - I still keep a paper journal (I've had one since 2001). But being online and working to build the audience and writing for them is huge, esp. in an age where academics like myself aren't guaranteed work. I don't need anyone to give me a job; I know what mine is, and I'm at it everyday, whether there's money or not. This is my voice, my thought, and if the world doesn't want it, it's the world's loss."

I really enjoy Ashok's poetry commentaries. You can find an index of many of his commentaries here.

While I've seen that there is a correlation between journaling and success regarding physical and academic goals, I also believe this to be true with emotional healing and growth. Another blogging friend, Mary Taitt, has talked about 'writing her way out of depression', and has written a book called Morning Shadows. "Writing my way out of depression," here's where blogging comes into the picture for me.

Ironically, I never kept a journal when I lost weight or started my exercise routine. In fact, I started blogging before I started journaling, but blogging was just a creative outlet for me to post art and photos to get feed back. I didn't know what a blog was when I started. I just wanted to participate in Illustration Friday. Soon I found others who were using their blogs to write about their personal problems, collect thoughts, or as Ashok stated, "sort through issues." I was inspired to start keeping a written journal of my own. That slowly started to spill over into my blog. Keeping a journal has been an eye opening experience in my battle with depression. Physically writing things down regularly, has helped me to see things more clearly. Like Ashok, when I post some of these things to my blog, it helps me all the more so, because I'm searching for the right words to explain my thoughts to others, forcing me to think things through.

Do life coaches recommend journaling? I know Carla does in her Wings 4 You challenges, and I've seen other blogs by life coaches that encourage it, as well. What do you think? Has journaling/blogging helped you to achieve goals? If you write a post or have written a post on this, please leave me a link to it. Thanks.

Nap Time and Boredom

When I was little, probably about 4 or 5, I decided I was going to run away from home. My reason - nap time was too tortuous. How could anyone just lay there for 30 minutes and do nothing? The boredom was overwhelming!

"Can I get up now?"
"It's only been 10 minutes! Go to sleep!"

If I drifted off into imaginary adventures, my mom always knew.

"Lori, if you don't lay down and go to sleep, you will not be let out or your room!"

How did she know? I would be so careful not to make a noise. Being sent to your room was supposed to be punishment, yet I had to endure this imprisonment every afternoon.

One afternoon, I snapped. I had a baby sitter that afternoon. Sandy Quist. I always looked up to her. She was so cool with her long golden hair, and the finger painting classes she'd have in her garage for little kids like me. None of that mattered, though, when she said it was nap time. I could endure no more. Being little must have been a crime. I needed to find a way to escape this horrible form of punishment. In a moment of desperation, I devised a plan for my great escape. It was to make a mad dash for the front door. Unfortunately, I was caught before I ever tasted freedom.

"Where ya goin'?" Sandy asked in confusion.
"I'm running away from home."
"Why?"
"Cause I'm never gonna take naps again!"
"Well... what cha gonna eat?" She was smiling now.
Hmm... I hadn't thought of that.
"Where ya gonna sleep at night?"
I just shrugged.
"Under a bridge?"

I nodded even though the thought of sleeping under a bridge seemed a little scary. Sandy was able to convince me that 30 minutes of nap time was better than living under a bridge. Now I long for nap time. My mother said that would happen one day. Laying there for 30 minutes is a lot easier when you don't have anyone scolding you for going on imaginary adventures.

Boredom. Now that's another story. I could be in the middle of watching Mr. Rogers, and suddenly be consumed by a feeling that everything in life was hopelessly mundane and boring.

"Mom, I'm bored."
"Well, go outside and play, honey."

Nothing I could do would make that feeling go away, and I really don't think that was poor Mr. Rogers' fault. As a teenager, that feeling turned into a feeling of unexplainable loneliness and boredom, and as an adult, hopelessness. I never understood that feeling, but always associated it with the color brown, and after a while, I began to realize that it's extremity was not normal.

It didn't take me long to realize that crayons seem to posses the magic I needed to keep the brown boredom monster at bay. On one of my nap time adventures, I was able to sneak into my closet with a box of crayons and create one of my first masterpieces on the wall. I thought I was pretty clever, because mom never realized I wasn't napping. Then one day, I heard her yell, "[my full legal name, middle name included]! Get in here right this instant!"

"What is this, young lady?!"

It seemed pretty obvious to me, as she was pointing to my masterpiece, so I thought, "does she know that I wasn't napping?"

Sensing my bewilderment, she announced, "We do not draw on the walls!"

Oh. What a concept. Little did she know, I would get paid to do that later in life.

I think that it was about this time when my mom said she realized that I would much rather make my own drawings than color in coloring books. She was pretty clever in that way. She started buying me colored construction paper, instead. She said it amazed her how I would sit for hours and draw, while the other kids my age would get distracted and wander off. As a teenager, I did so even more, including during class when I was supposed to be listening to teachers. School was unbearably boring to me. I usually understood the teachers the first couple of times they explained something. I would spend the rest of class drawing on my book covers. Like nap time, it was the only way I could make it through.

Now, I escape digitally into photoshop or one of my other programs. I'm finding, though, that I can use it for more than just an escape. It's helping me to understand the monster a little better. The escape detaches me a little from the overwhelming feelings, so I can look at it from a different perspective, especially if I'm escaping into a picture of something I really love. I think the more time I spend feeling positive, the better equipped I am to battle depression. Even if the drawing is negative in nature, though, the escape is still helpful in breaking down barriers, releasing the negative emotions, and in giving a positive feeling of accomplishment. It continues to amaze me how such a simple creative act can do so much on so many levels.

Here's a poem I wrote when I was probably about 16 for a class assignment:

I feel brown
Not a wood stained brown
Not a suntanned brown
Not a brown like the mantle piece
that only appeals the the guest's eye

But a childhood memory brown
Brown like the artist symbol of boredom
Brown like the mixture of
a dull, lonely blue-gray
and a sick orange
Brown like a forgotten feeling
that hasn't died yet

Not Quite Right

For Illustration Friday's Voices on 12-19-08

They all know
Everybody knows
That I'm not quite right
Their timid small talk dissipates
As I stare right through them
With empty eyes
I subvert their ease

Can't let them see
There's no control
Else I'll succumb to the madness
Concentrate my focus
Past their whispers
The worms
And the shadows

Determined to gaze long enough
For reality to be revealed
They don't realize that I understand
Perceive their discomfort
My concern with them is fleeting

Ignore the Whispers
The Worms
And the Shadows
Destroy the imagined
Before escaping past my lips
Fixate on the tangible
The alternative is a nightmare

Two months of fading
Through a disjointed world
Secrets leak without comprehension
Intellect is annulled
Desperate to fill the empty crevices
The spirit randomly dumps images
Else bereft of memory
I would perish

They all know
Everybody knows
My mother repeats the words
I once said
My memories crash in
On the crest of a wave
While hers are sucked out
In the undertow of Dementia

I watch her private fantasies
Tumble out before me
Like a play
Whose script was shuffled in the wind
Now the pages have all blown away
Nothing left to fill the empty spaces
I don't want to watch anymore

They all know
Everybody knows
My brother's uttered these words, too
"I've got brain damage", he jokes
Hoping to excuse his behavior
The voices tell him
He must lead with the right foot
The therapist stretches his mind
Twenty years of trying to see
That he needs to look away

I remember racing down back roads
He doesn't
I have to pretend it's normal
Afraid of the Whispers
The Worms
And the Shadows


Mary sent me a poem I really love called Edge Of Glass, about her mother's dementia. Check it out. You'll have to scroll down to the bottom to see the English version.

Perfectionism

Striving for perfection
Better to desire divinity
Arrogance begets the ambition

Will judging harshly bring improvement?
Determined and driven...
Into self defeat

Fighting in fear
Inferiority and mediocrity
Arrogance is inspired by insecurity

Is there so little faith
In abilities to excel
That I should abuse?

Layers of Orange

Layers of orange

I turn my back on it

Press against it

It pressed in all around me

Screaming past me

I try to push it back

Viscous

Visceral

Toxic

Lacking the crimson of blood

Which reaches depths of true blue

It besmears everything

Sheets of geodynamic dross

I'm left to peel

Vitiated

Free Software

Last Friday I downloaded Apophysis to make fractal flame designs, but couldn't figure out how to export the animations, so I went surfing for info or other programs to help me. I still haven't figured it out, but I found GIMP, which is a free photo editing program with some animation capabilities. Below is a link to my first project in GIMP. It was supposed to be for Illustration Friday's Electricity, but I didn't finish in time.



Does anybody know how to upload this kind of file to blogger? I've seen other bloggers who have done it, but I can't remember where.

Below are some flames made with Apophysis. I think the first one looks like an angry flying insect.



Same image, different colors. I love playing with color. I think this one looks like a butterfly with golden rings.



This last one started in Apophysis, then went to GIMP, and was finished in Photoshop.

Weekly Wings Challenge 8 - Back to Your Future - Part Three

To see other Vision Maps go here

BluerPrintReview Issue #16

My post, "Life in the Sign Business" is in the 16th issue of BluePrintReview, which has just been released. Here's a letter from the editor:

a thief's trilogy and a discovered entry in a blog, that's what induced the theme for this issue - an issue that developed like a journey, went On Some Road, where it met Nomads Like Us, circled in a spot of Black and White, got Lost at Sea, went through bitter days, and eventually was Learning to Swim.

now it reached the point of completion, and is out there in space, its open pages waiting to be found.



blueprintreview #16 - lost, found & stolen


as so often, the process of putting the issue together revealed unexpected connections between the submitted texts and images - the same shapes in different photos, counterparting paragraphs in different stories. returning topics: the loss, not of things, but of one's way. the slow speed of time, ashen and sunfilled. the bolting spin of days.

it's always a bit of an adventure, to see how an issue turns out - you can't really plan it, and that's the beauty of it.

here the issue link: www.blueprintreview.de



but this lost, found and stolen journey isn't ending. just a moment, the blog that is connected to the blueprintreview, is continuing the theme. a first post is up there already - Forgotten - together with an invitation to join, and a note on the coming issue. here the link: just a moment - blog

enjoy the lost, found and stolen pages ~
and thanks so much for being part of this journey.
doro

Weekly Wings Challenge 7 - Back to Your Future - Part Two

Again, I find myself sitting on Anemone's front porch tired and aching. I rub the swollen joints of my hands without thinking. I'd probably never notice that I do this if it wasn't for the fact that so many people point it out to me, like Anemone does now as she walks out from behind her beaded curtain carrying a bowl of fresh cut fruits and vegetables, and two glasses of homemade pineapple green drink. It's evening this time. The ocean breeze is cooler than the first visit, and is carrying with it the scent of something sweet smelling growing up the hill from us. The sinking sun on our right is casting crimson sparks on the waves as they break.

"Take a deep breath," she instructs me. "Breathe in the energy of this ocean breeze, and then exhale your anxiety through your feet. Find your ground."

This sounds so familiar to me. I do as she instructs, and then timidly ask, "What do you see when you look at me?" I remember a time when I used to look at my past with harsh criticism. Instead, a familiar faded smile lightens her face as she takes another sip of the green nectar, and then she invites me to see for myself.

Through her eyes, I see a place very different from the one where we're sitting. A land rich in diversity, from rocky rolling hills thriving with thorny mesquite and prickly pear to muggy muddy woodlands densely lush and green. Far away on the horizon is the ocean. On one of the hills, water is bubbling up from the ground, and trickling down in all directions. Most of these tiny streams, though, are being channeled into a well eroded ditch that leads to a concrete retention pond where the water stagnates and evaporates.

"This is the watershed you're at in your life right now." She explains. "You're tottering on the edge where streams of energy still flow behind you as it always has in the past, and some are starting to flow before you to create new rivers and streams. Because they tend to travel the path of least resistance, you're struggling to move forward. The path behind you is well worn, but you've made it through the hardest part. You made it up the hill, against the current, to get here. Now you try to force the streams to change their directions by forcing yourself to move forward and hoping they will follow. You have already begun to damn up the old streams that you no longer wish your energy to travel, but now you need to gently guide them to move in the direction you wish to go, and then you will follow."

Back on Anemone's patio, I sit silently contemplating. She leans over to light one of the candles that still has some life in it, and then picks up our empty dishes to carry them back inside. When she returns, she is carrying cupped in her hands a light that takes the form of dolphins. She hands them to me, and as I take hold, she gently pushes my hands toward my heart. When I touch my chest, the light disappears.

"The ones closest to you right now, don't understand you." The gentleness in her voice eases my tension. "They don't understand why you don't just pick yourself up and move forward. Be patient with them and yourself." She stresses the latter. "In your dreams dolphins represent your spiritual energy. The gift I have given you is to remind you to feed them first, then your streams will change direction and take you where you need to go."

I want to thank her, but don't know how. She hugs me, and I realize that she already knows.

Anger

I wish I could be angry with you.
Your judgemental platitudes
Reveal self righteous attitudes
Beneath the benevolence you issue.

But, your molten shards so foolishly spew
From flows brittle with over use.
The scorching ignorance of it's misuse
Obstructs the steam that will surely ensue.

So, the watery depths scream in agony,
Pockets of empathy hiss under the pressure,
Cavern walls moan with self censure,
And fissures weep harsh judgements of the autonomy

That determine the fault line lies within,
And then punish the weakness rather than mend.

Weekly Wings Challenge 6 - Back to Your Future - Part One

I am taken to a place along the seashore, a small village with some crudely built apartments that have been carved out of the side of a cliff overlooking the ocean. It's surrounded by palms, flowering trees, hibiscus, and vinca. The apartments themselves are as multi colored as the surrounding flora. Along the eaves of this building are brightly colored glass bottles that have been broken and embedded into it's stucco walls. I climb a rusty metal stairway attached to the outer wall that leads me to her apartment. As I ascend past the floor of her front porch, I can see her in the open window typing away on her computer. Stepping onto the porch, I notice scuba gear strewn across a hammock and left in the warm sun to dry, two plastic lawn chairs and table covered with the remains of used candles, a bonsai, a hanging basket of vinca, and a hummingbird feeder.

She pauses briefly from intense concentration on a story she's writing, and spots me surveying her patio. With child like enthusiasm, she runs out to greet me, and embraces me warmly. I start to cry. She says nothing, just smiles a soft faded smile of understanding, then pushes the strands of beads aside that make up her front door, and signals for me to come in. She knows why I'm here and where I've come from.

The inside seems sparse compared to the front porch. There's a single bed in the corner with a lamp and night stand, her desk and computer in front of a window overlooking the ocean, an easel folded and leaning against the desk, and bookshelves with art supplies and camera equipment intermingled among the books. The room is filled with the smell of fresh pineapple that must have been consumed at lunch. The back wall has three small windows with frosted glass near the ceiling to allow the ocean breeze to blow through. Under these windows are hung her paintings. Some are framed, some aren't. On the window sill by the desk sits a small brown mouse she calls Bilbo, quietly grooming himself. There is a sense that everything is in it's place.

She doesn't offer me a seat, rather, she shuts down her computer and grabs her hat, braiding her long white hair while slipping on her sandals. Like school girls off to a slumber party, she grabs my arm and says, "let's go for a walk." She lightly skips down the steep stairs with excitement that makes me seem old and tired by contrast. We cross the street and follow a path through a small patch of jungle before stepping out onto a white sandy beach. We take off our sandals and run through the warm sand to the waters edge, and cool our feet in the sparkling turquoise water.

We are walking along the shore, wading in and out of the tide, when I ask her to tell me about her life. The sunshine illuminates soft color beneath the time worn lines on her face as she starts to tell me about all the interesting people she's met. Her face beams with passion while relating stories of their different cultures and the challenges they faced. She speaks of the ones she had become so close to, the ones that inspired her, and her eyes shine with compassion. Her tales are rich with sadness and joy, acts of courage and love, and genuine empathy.

"What do I need to know? What advise can you give me?" I implore.

"Keep searching for understanding." Her answer is as simple as her life has become, yet as deep as the emotions she so proudly carries.

She waves to a couple casting their nets into the water. I can tell by their smiles that they are good friends of hers. We come the the end of the beach where the land points it's rocky finger into the ocean. The tide is low. She climbs the rocks out toward the waves, and takes me to a favorite place of hers. It's a tidal pool nestled in among the rocks. She points out the different sea creatures, and knows them all by name.

"It's wonderful how they thrive in the turbulent ebb and flow of the tide", she says pointing to an iridescent anemone that reaches out when the water comes in.

"What name should I call you?" I inquire.

"Anemone", she replies.

For details on this challenge click here.

Photo Friday: Electricity

Mazatlan

Illustration Friday: Fail and Weekly Wings Challenge 5 - Take Courage!

depression - anger turned inward
anger - fear
fear - of failure
fear - becomes failure
failure - anger
forgiveness - facing the fear


for more on this week's Wings Challenge click here

For Lynda

To see the garden pics click here.

Photo Friday: Fragile

Weekly Wings Challenge 4 - You're on a Mission! and Meme

I originally told Mary that I would have to get back to her later on her My Best Possible Selves Meme, but this Wings Challenge I'm currently working on is similar in that I need to decide on some goals for my future. This has been difficult for me since my husbands death, because the way I had my life planned completely changed. I've been unsure about what I want, ever since. So, even though Mary's meme said to spend about 10 to 20 minutes on this, I've probably spent about the last 7 years trying to figure this out.

My first goal, and probably most important, involves how I see myself now and how I want to see myself in the future. I'm just beginning to understand that I have to be who I am, not who I think I should be, but I have to try to change who I am by seeing myself as who I want to be. It's easy to get the two confused. I want to be happy and healthy. Who doesn't, and why did it take me years to figure this out? Well, it's because I have been told by doctors that I won't ever really be either. All my life they've told me that I have a chemical imbalance due to genetics, that causes depression, and would have to be on medication for the rest of my life. They would say, " there is no cure for your depression." In addition, they also say there is no cure for Rheumatoid Arthritis [RA], a disease that began affecting me about 3 years ago. Over the years I've been diagnosed with a list of other ailments including, but not limited to, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Leaky Gut Syndrome, Raynaud's Disease, Attention Deficit Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, Hypoglycemia, etc. Currently, I'm not taking any pharmaceutical medications. I've been able to get rid of most of these ailments with alternative treatments. However, I'm still taking alternative medications for depression and RA, so I have a tendency to see myself as depressed and sickly, and to ignore the pain in an attempt to pretend that I'm not. I'm realizing now, though, that my illness is not who I am.

Who am I? I am a personal trainer who specializes in working with people who have special needs, like diabetes, high blood pressure, auto-immune disorders, cancer, arthritis and joint injuries, osteoporosis, and neurological disorders like stroke and head injuries. I've over come a drug addiction, as well as addictions to caffeine, nicotine, and refined sugars. I've changed my life style and eating habits to become healthier, and lose 70 pounds. I was told by a neurologist that I would need surgery on my neck, because of a bone spur, that physical therapy wouldn't help, and yet with a chiropractor and starting a regular exercise routine, I have all the feeling back in my right hand without the surgery. Hence, the reason why I became a personal trainer. I am a survivor, who can adapt my life to accommodate whatever is needed to reach my goals.

Through my work, I've had the opportunity to do a lot of research into auto-immune disorders. I was able to interview a couple of women who have cured themselves of Lupus, and Multiple Sclerosis [MS]. They were both selling products they believe cured them, but when I pried deeper into their personal lives, they both admitted that they had to completely change their lives, their way of thinking, and attitudes, as well as turning to their faith for help. My research is also teaching me that these diseases, including RA, characteristically have emotionally traumatic experiences in the past that make every day stresses the proverbial straw that triggers the disease. I believe that an emotional release of these experiences along with changing deeply ingrained thought patterns and habits will help me reach my goal of being healthy, and I am learning that my chemical imbalance is due to these same experiences, not genetics, so I believe this process will also help me reach my goal of being happy.

Because I've been able to work closely with clients who have Fibromyalgia, Lupus, MS, Chronic Fatigue, and RA, I've noticed that focusing on goals is difficult for them. This is motivating me to make my next goal of Life Coaching. I want to learn skills that will help me focus better, and then teach them to others. When I learned how diet and exercise could help, I decided to teach others, but diet and exercise only got me so far. Likewise, I can only do so much as a personal trainer. Life Coach seems like a natural progression for me.

Some other goals that are important to me involve my art. Over the years, I've seem to have gotten away from my art, and this blog has been helping me get back into it. I want to eventually turn some of my digital collages, that I've posted here, into paintings. It's been a while since I've done any painting. I also want to write a book about my life. I've started it, but I think it will take a while to finish. My Best Possible Selves Meme said to write about what we want our lives to be like in the next 5 to 10 years. I'm hoping to be able to accomplish these things in the next 5 years, since I've already started on some of them. Maybe in the next 10 years, I could be living someplace tropical, where I will be working on my underwater photography. These are my goals, why it's taken me seven years to figure them out, and why I can now see myself accomplishing them.

The last step of the 4th Wings Challenge is to write a Mission Statement using our goals, values, purpose, and manifestations. Here is my Mission Statement:

My mission is to awaken the courage, insight, and creative
abilities that have always been in me, and use them to
communicate to others the things I've been learning on
this journey.

The picture above is the logo that is goes along with my Mission Statement, which is also part of the exercise. I've been a trainer for 6 years now, and still don't have a logo for my business. You'd think that as an artist, that would be one of the first things I'd do, but I've had no desire or motivation to design one. I've decided that I'm going to use this one for my business. I may use it for my Life Coaching business, too, when I start one.

Illustration Friday: Save