Saturday, December 17, 2022

A Peaceful End...




 ... to a crazy year.

It hailed three times, two tornadoes, and one month straight of 100+ degrees weather during a drought that brought an onslaught of aphids and their sticky excrement. No rain to wash that syrupy poop off my camper, car, and door steps where it got tracked indoors in spite of hosing things down. Then came the stink bugs to feast on the aphids. They invaded all the campers here in this campground like something from an Alfred Hitchcock movie. They were followed by the Asian Beetle that shouldn't even be on this side of the planet. After a two month long Bugaggedon, my camper was splattered with little yellow stains (from the Asian Beetles) and smelled like a sweaty metal working shop (the stink bugs). I'm not sure who won. I'm still finding their carcasses everywhere. 

For the first time in my 3 years of being a full-time RV-er, I was not a happy camper. But, I'm over it now, and these pic show why. They were all taken walking distance from my camper door.

Tuesday, December 13, 2022

Tangled Zen

 


Tangled behind a trained conscience

That’s holding firm

Good Bye forms cryptic blotches

On a journal page

An intuitive process for what can never

Be read or heard

As I make a conscious effort to deny

My treacherous heart


Zen - a state of calm attentiveness in which one’s actions are guided by intuition rather than by conscious effort

Wednesday, November 9, 2022

Overlapping chapters

 


Organize. Sort. No time. Just wing it. Gotta keep going... Where's life going? Organize. Sort. No time. Just wing it. Gotta keep going... Where's life going? It never fits neatly into chapters. 

Wednesday, October 19, 2022

Outsider


 Today, being the outsider is a good thing.

Monday, October 10, 2022

Today


Today
The Radio reminded me of how lonely I am
So, I opted for road noise instead
I Prayed
To fight fervent feelings for only a man
Who paved a highway inside my head

Caught in
A daydream as my car carelessly swerves
Peaceful pastures speed by unseen
Forgotten
Destination on winding, hilly curves
Frivolous burning of gasoline

Today
I'm thankful for a serene swim in the clouds
Cool, clean reflections of past mistakes
I've Prayed
Repeatedly through anxiety shrouds
Emotions exposed in glass lakes

Forgotten
Conversations meant to manipulate
Road noise that's easily dismissed
Caught in
A wave of guilt that only dissipates
When his perception starts to drift

Today
I can see him more clearly than before
But the Radio plays the same
I Pray
For a peaceful new road forevermore
A clean swim to erase the shame

 

Sunday, October 9, 2022

Wishes

 


Bird song
Wishes flying high
In between notes
Separate you and I

Flawed thinking
Five years are gone
Wishes that echo
An impossible song

Empty wishes, empty heart
They're voiceless, vain, and trite
Remember when you said
Things would all work out?
Wish you could've been right

Sunset song
Wishes collide
A beautiful friendship
Washed away with the tide

Flawed thinking
Devoid of sound
Lamenting wishes
 Fall to the ground

Empty wishes, empty heart
They're voiceless, vain, and trite
Remember when you said
Things would all work out?
Wish you could've been right


Thursday, December 26, 2019

Some More from the Doodle Journal

Twisted Perception

Twisted Perception

This rock turns in on itself
Parched and no pity
For those God condemns

In a dream
The old man is beaten and stoned
But not dead

I think they were wrong
But it’s my job
To clean up the mess

12-15-19

Tuesday, November 19, 2019

Happy Camper



My life is changing dramatically now. I've left everything behind, bought an RV, and moved to a campground in the middle of the East Texas woods. There are some kinks in my plan that still need ironing out, like internet connection problems and no phone service, but I'm so happy to be away from Houston that these things don't bother me.

I have no address now, though. Does that make me a homeless person?

Monday, November 11, 2019

I Crack Myself Up

Waiting for Lab Results
Here I am, nesting in my big comfy box of confusion, with antennae up, waiting for Lab Results. Even the snails are moving faster than I am...

Wednesday, March 20, 2019

I don't do mornings...

Some more from my doodle therapy.

Dialogue Abstruse

Dialogue Abstruse

Every morning formulates
Dialogue abstruse,
While Logic slumbers.

The to-do list erupts,
Foams chaotically, and
Shouts orders without priority.

The needs-fixing list
Seethes abruptly at
All the defunct remedies.

Then past failures seep in,
Bubbling up random sermons
With no outline or theme.

Reluctant Logic awakens
To the sound of Job’s wife screaming,
“Curse God and die!”

Ulcerated and burnt out,
Logic gathers the toxic spillage
And cries, “Everyone back to bed!”

Monday, January 28, 2019

Doodle Therapy

These are some of my doodles using the Automatic Drawing Technique that I mentioned in the previous post, where I try to draw without thinking about what to draw, and let my subconscious take over. I usually spend about 20 or 30 minutes on them, and then try to decipher any subconscious meaning they might have. The deciphering happens this way - When I open my writing journal and then look back at the drawing, I write down the first 2 words or phrases that come to mind. Then, I just start writing about my day. Generally the meaning starts to come to me, but then I'll either look up the 2 words in the thesaurus or some of the images in a dream dictionary, or both.

Processing Death - colored pencil

Regeneration - colored pencil

Alienation - ball point pen
This last one, I spent several hours on, because I had found that place again, that I knew as a child, where the hours would just slip away in peacefulness. It's been years since I've felt that way while drawing, and it felt good. When it was done, I remember thinking, "wow, I had forgotten how much fun this was."

I was talking with a friend about it the next day, and we came to the conclusion that as self employed business owners, we had gotten in the habit of planning everything, including our art. It's been about 5 years since I first started trying intuitive art methods with finger painting, and I'm just now starting to break that habit of planning everything in advance. It amazes me that what I took for granted as a child, has been such a struggle to get back.

Saturday, January 26, 2019

Intuitive Art Journey

I've been working on creating art intuitively for the last several years, and it's been a struggle. I wanted to get back to that peaceful place that I knew as a child, where I had no expectations or preconceived ideas when drawing. Finger painting seemed like a good place to start. It was magical fun when I was a kid, and I thought it would bring all that back, but it only frustrated me. Adult expectations kept nagging me.

Acrylic on scrap cardboard, 2017 after Hurricane Harvey

Acrylic on scrap cardboard, 2017 after Hurricane Harvey

Acrylic on paper, 2014


Next, I switched to crayons. The Crayon Monsters were a lot more fun. I started with just a squiggly line and let be whatever they wanted to be. Sometimes that worked, sometimes it didn't, and I would turn them into what I wanted them to be. But, it felt like progress.

I played with melting the colors into the paper with an iron, and then layered more color on top. Hoping to do something more abstract, I created these next two, but again it only frustrated me.

Crayon on construction paper, September 2018

Crayon on construction paper with Haiku poem, December 2018

Then, I watched a Youtube video about Automatic Drawing Technique, and it inspired me to give it a try. You're supposed to doodle without thinking about it, and it's supposed to relax you to help you improve creatively.

Anticipation, crayon on construction paper, December 2018


I caught myself constantly asking, "what does it need now?" And then, trying to go back to not thinking about it. When I was done, the words that came to mind when I looked at it were "tight" and "tense". Not relaxed. "This is going to take a lot of practice", I thought to myself.

I decided to write about it in my journal. I wrote the words "tight" and "tense", and several synonyms that caught my eye in the thesaurus, but nothing came to me, so I started writing about the 2 very close friends that I've lost in death the past month. I found myself writing the words "what's next". Then it hit me. I'm trying to recover before the next storm.

I decided to name it "Anticipation", and wrote this poem about it:


Intrinsic self preservation
Is an undetected strain
Arduously tilling neglected guilt,
Hardened clay from past storms;
Desperately scattering seeds
That bloom magnificently.

What’s next?
Forced recovery
Before another storm hits.

This has been the beginning of what I call Doodle Therapy, and it seems like the more I do it, the easier it gets. Just about every night, I spend 20 or 30 minutes doodling in my journal, and then I write about it. It amazes me every time, that what looks like a bunch of scribbles actually has meaning to my subconscious. The fact that it has meaning seems to be quieting those adult expectations. I think I'm on the right track now.

Sunday, September 23, 2018

Crayon Monsters


Diva Daphne has a cold.


Kaos is in a hurry.


Gilt is watching you.

Saturday, September 2, 2017

Houston Flood 2017

Refrigerators float.

She hated that refrigerator. It hummed and groaned twice as loud as the old one, and it's door handle had to be taped down even though it was still brand new. The old one lasted 30 years and the door handle never slipped off.

Now, the hated one lays face down on the kitchen floor, humiliated. She feels its loss. Tells a story about a man who once saved his family by removing the refrigerator door, laying it on its back, and then loading his family inside to escape flood waters.


This one, though, never served such a heroic purpose. It, and its rotting contents, have been washed over with a slimy layer of sewerage silt, in a house who's brief submergence devastated everything.  

Saturday, June 3, 2017

Artist Trading Cards

Some ATC's I made for a swap on Facebook.

Gold Fish - painted with metallic and iridescent acrylics.
Duck Feetn' It - same acrylics.
Fire Water - water color and ink.
Scenic View - water color and gel pen.
Bathing Fairy - water color and gel pen.
Eye to Eye and Whirlpool pointillism - ink

Sunday, February 12, 2017

90 Degrees (32 C) in Februrary


Went to Mercer Arboretum yesterday. The trees were covered with a bright orange moss in one of the oxbows, adding cheer to the winter grey. I guess the unusual weather has created perfect conditions for this.


All the locals were sunbathing and napping.


The water was oily from all the Cypress leaves.


The warm breeze gently blew the bog's damp musty aroma across the Cypress knees, providing the perfect escape for the day.


Friday, December 9, 2016

Blue Hat Bluesman


It's been a couple of years since I've posted anything here. Didn't realize it's been that long. Sorry.

My latest interest is pointillism. This is a drawing of bass player Robert Stapleton. I watched him perform at the Navasota Blues Festival, and fell in love with his blue hat.

Monday, June 2, 2014

Water-girl Dreaming


This piece of aboriginal art was painted by Amy Gunawarri. To quote the literature that came with it: The story tells of a woman who was banished from her tribe and forced to live in the sea. Eventually she grew fins and scales on her body like a fish. She saved any of her tribe unfortunate enough to fall into the sea and unable to swim.
  
From what I remember learning about aboriginal spiritual beliefs, dreams are a glimpse into the after life.  It's interesting to me that the artist chose the name Water-girl Dreaming. I imagine she had a deeper meaning in mind when she painted this story.

Here's my version:




Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Morning Pages

This is a repost from my other blog, Awakening the Sleeper.


I awoke this morning to Errol Flynn making fun of me for being melodramatic. How ironic! The next half hour was spent arguing with him in my morning pages. This poor misguided drama king has not been properly trained for his role and has been given the wrong script. He's supposed to keep me real, yes, but not to the point of blocking my writing. After three pages, I believe I have won round one. - Day 15

I've been reading a book called The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron that was written to help people unblock their creative side. The author refers to the block as a little voice in your head that tells you there are more important things to do, and you're not good enough to be wasting your time on these creative endeavors. She calls it the “Censor”, and says that it's part of the “Logic” brain. Some people may be more familiar with the term “left brain”.

One of the exercises she recommends is the “morning pages”. You're supposed to write three pages of whatever comes to mind when you first wake up. It's not supposed to be good. It's supposed to be a release or vent of all the whiny anxieties that “stand in the way of your creativity”. I call it getting-all-the-crap-out-so-I-can-focus-better.

It's interesting to note that writing requires the use of both sides of the brain. The left brain or logical side is needed to put words into a logical order of structured sentences, and the right brain or creative side is needed to find the right words to convey the thoughts. The act of writing helps unite the two sides for a common purpose, creating more of a balance between the two.

I am not a morning person. My mind is anything but peaceful when I first wake up. Sometimes, there's an entire army of negative thoughts marching around in my head. I usually try not to pay attention to them; try to force myself to focus on positive things. When that gets too difficult, I daydream; dream up happier places to go to. All of this is done without realizing it. The morning pages have made me more aware of my thought patterns and habits first thing in the morning.

On some days, I write 3 pages of rants, on others, it's a 3 page pity party. On my better days, it becomes a list of things I need to do that day or hope to accomplish sometime in the near future. I find that I am able to think more clearly throughout the day, and remember things better, since I've started this.

Not long after I first started writing morning pages, I had a weird dream with Errol Flynn over-acting a scene where he was supposed to be relating a sad childhood story. He was dressed as one of the Three Musketeers with a sword in his hand. The acting was so bad it was funny. While I was writing about the dream in my morning pages, I realized he was making fun of me, especially the sword-pen connection. At that time, I was still putting this blog together, and still writing my personal weight loss story. My “Censor” was trying to tell me that all of this was a waste of time.

Those 3 pages became a lecture to my censor, which I have named Errol. I spoke as a boss to an employee, or a director to an actor. I said things like: “Your role is a necessary role, but you have become confused about your job description. You are overstepping your boundaries. Stop blocking my writing!”

Therapists call this self talk. Affirmations are a form of self talk. There are some rules to remember with self talk. For example, the subconscious doesn't recognize negative words like “don't”, “not”, “no”, and “never”. If you say, “Don't block my writing.” It hears, “Do block my writing.”

Another is that you can't deny a part of yourself, because you don't like what it's telling you, which is essentially what I had been doing by ignoring the negative thoughts. If your finger was broken, you wouldn't cut it off. Likewise, the negative voice or censor shouldn't be cut off (or told to get lost), but redirected to function in a healing capacity. If I say that it has become confused about it's job description, then I need to redefine what I want it's job description to be, which is what I tried to do that morning.

It was a struggle first thing in the morning to find the right words to tell Errol what I thought he shouldn't be doing. I kept wanting to use negative words. And then, I had to figure out what I thought he should be doing. It took a couple of mornings to get it right, and may take a few more. Hopefully by putting it in writing, I'm forcing both sides of my brain to work together on this. I think it's paying off.

At the end of each day, I write a random paragraph about anything that comes to mind as an exercise for a writing group that I belong to. The paragraph in italics above was that day's paragraph.

Sunday, February 23, 2014

Victory



The humiliation of Dahlia's awkward ascent from the floor had been caused by muscles too weak to lift her and joints too inflamed to hold her weight. But, not today. Today, dignity lunges forward to take a bow on confident and empowered legs.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

New Blog - Awakening the Sleeper


My new blog

I have a new blog for my work as a personal trainer and wellness coach. I'm posting tips, recipes, and my personal stories relating to health and fitness there. The logo and mission statements are a result from the Wings 4 You exercises I worked here on this blog. My hope is for Awakening the Sleeper to be a continuation of the process I started back then.

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Photography Haiku

These photos seemed like a poem to me.



winter glass striates


defies lonely evening chill


mute rage radiates

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Whiny Drivel

This first poem was done for The Mag, but I didn't get it posted in time to link over there.
Danseuse ajustant sa bretelle by Edgar Degas
Gray

ethereal penumbra
aged gray
cast outside
curtain call

used merely
to incite jealousy

ephemeral ballet
lured backstage
dark maze of
theatrical vanity

he's embarrassed
to be seen with her


This next one was a picture prompt for the Creative Writers of North Houston group.
 


addiction

innocence fuels imagination
guilt draws a blank
one weekend we hold hands though we're “just friends”
the next, you find better things to do
one weekend we live in a fantasy world
the next, I'm pissed at you
forgiveness fuels imagination
anger draws a blank

sugary addiction feeds fantasy
roller coaster ribbons entangle strength
binding creativity in circus tents
round and round we go
as balloons float away
and rose petals drop to the ground


The last one was a picture prompt for the Word Crafters writing group. The picture was e-mailed to me, so I don't know who to credit or where to link to.
couch on road.jpg by ?

 
BFE

you'd like me to be adorned in gold
but you don't want to be the one to pay
what I've got will do for now, so...
you'd figure out the rest along the way

you found me thumbing a ride
and pretended to be going my way
hoping I'd save you from someone's crime
now I'm the one who gets to pay

watching life pass me by
living a lie
in the middle of BFE

were you aware
thatcha dropped me here
Mr. Generosity?

alone again, sitting in a ditch
smiling at asphalt to pass the time
I earned your trust, but lost your interest
still pay you honor, while I've lost mine

I call you friend, though clouds thunder
can't let go, though you were never mine
you're smile drives me with such skill and wonder
smoothly rolling through years of wasted time

watching life pass me by
living a lie
in the middle of BFE

did you realize
your lies would paralyze
Mr. Congeniality?

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Relief from the Heat





Well, I guess it's officially fall in Houston, though we probably won't see any fall color until December. I'm still working on writing everyday this month for the October Wine and Write, but not getting much done on the weekends. The weather's been too nice to stay inside and write.