reading the sari shop, somehow i keep picking up books that take place in india. the culture is alien to me, but i love to get taken away to a different world while still in my family room with max’s cartoon movies on and his little toddler body busy with his toys. mm, armchair travel. late last night i went through several chapters trying to tire my eyes out. the wind was howling and blowing on the windows so loudly, i don’t know how anyone else in the house was sleeping. i went through a couple luna bars all curled up under the covers, it was delicious.
listening to snow patrol and ella fitzgerald, the last few trips to the library have produced stacks of cds that i have been adding to itunes. there isn’t a large selection at the main street library, but there are enough jazz albums to give me something new to paint to. my favorite library to visit is over in yorktown, more of a drive, but i can pick up as many stacks of magazines as i fancy and they have no return date, which is lovely! sigh, i love libraries. where else can you go where perfect strangers are all silently choosing information that moves them…i love old libraries and new libraries, anywhere with yards of books to select for free is a treasure for me.
this morning we went over to visit a friend, max and i, and since i was running a little late, i decided to take my old bike. we peddled over there just in the nick of time, when she was expecting us. and it ended up that we were in a hurry to make it back home too. max’s nap clock was ticking faster and faster so i had to get him home to his crib. so there i was, super mommy jumbling the backseat seatbelts across his little belly and ready to go. i started to turn the bike around to face the sidewalk when all the of a sudden, the weight pulled away from me like an oceanliner was sinking in the back of the bike and it was all i could do to keep my little guy’s head from crashing into the concrete walkway on the ground! i was barely keeping it up, awkward and holding up the contraption by the handlebars…poor max was completely parallel and getting scared when whoosh! a neighbor jumped out from behind the screened in porch where he had been smoking, shirtless and lazy, but completely rescued us from what most definetly would have been terrible toddler turmoil. thank goodness for good neighbors. boy did that guy get his laugh of the day. he could have been a grandpa himself. i still can’t believe how heavy max feels on my bike…i can barely sit on my seat anymore because his little legs overflow into my back when we go on rides. he is growing so fast. soon he will be following me on his own little bike, and i will be taking off his little riding seat from mine. he is now fast asleep, and safe in bed.
Goethe said it: “Whatever you can do, or dream, you can begin.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now.”
there are some days that come by and offer something to us when we do not expect anything. we get an idea for an adventure or new way of doing something, and however small, it is enough to get a bubble of excitement in your chest that reminds you of when you were small and fearless and thought that you could do anything when you grew up. beginning the dream is always enough to feed the excitement for more adventures.
yesterday, while sitting on the porch with max, i noticed the weather was the perfect amount of sunlight and occasional breezes. realizing that the summer would be coming to a close soon, i felt like celebrating the last few weeks of it right at that moment. we set up his little slide into his empty sandbox and filled it with hose water, making a little waterpark to enjoy in our swimsuits that he didn’t leave until it was almost dinner time. i got in a lot of good reading and was satisfied for the break from rushing. its been a long time since i have had an empty day free to do whatever i pleased, and i felt satisfied that max and i spent it just enjoying the backyard together.
max is the perfect little companion on most all of days, as he gets older, i look forward to times when i can show him the beautiful things that i love about life. he is always eager to play, see and be a part of understanding. he is my little miracle, and teaches me more than he knows.
today~listening to the postal service, again.
“The faculty of creating is never given to us all by itself.
It always goes hand in hand with the gift of observation.” ~Igor
Stravinsky
i cannot believe that it happens, with all the gadgets and guards that are surrounding art today, but it happened…in oslo, norway, two armed guys ripped off one of four versions of munch‘s scream right in broad daylight, right off the munch museum wall, in front of visitors and everything. they even wore black hooded masks and onlookers thought they were terrorists! apparantly, all one had to do was tear the painting, frame and all, right out of the wall. not only did they grab the scream, but they had the time to get munch’s madonna too, then made a break to their car, easily getting millions worth of valuable history. gone. just like that. sheesh. silly norwegians. protect your art. It usually takes between five and seven years before some works gone by art theft reappear…but sadly, there have been many works of art that have been stolen in the past that have never been recovered. and the ironic thing is that munch’s scream has already been ripped off, in 1994, but thankfully it was recovered shortly afterwards. you’d think that might have given the museum the hint hint to protect the thing a little better.
one thing i really wish that idiot theives would take away from all of us is all of the cartoons and t-shirts, plates and napkins, coasters, and crap etc. that has been made of brilliant works of art like the scream. or van gogh’s starry night. people seem to get a smug surprise to find out that van gogh is one of my favorite artists. and i think their reaction has a lot to do with the fact that van gogh, like munch, has been the sad victim to a mass produced and commercialized exposure. i guess people expect more out of me, like they expect me to answer with some obscure painter that only an art lover like me would know about. well, if they want the long list i will give it to them, but i just really adore vincent and have many reasons why i do, and none of them have to do with him being the first name that surfaces in my mind from art class in elementary school, or that insane guy who chopped off his own ear and committed suicide. but because they feel like they know van gogh, and his starry night, like he’s some generic overated artist, and not the genius he was, they shrug it off. an interesting and sad thing about these types is that they are textbook people, only seeing what they think they are supposed to see and what they were taught in school. this is this and that is that. i guess this is one of those times that i am annoyed that something great has gained popularity, and to the masses, it has no credibility or originality anymore. i guess this goes along with anything i love, i take great pains to avoid the hype, and get annoyed whenever there is hype around something that deserves more reverance, less lemming thought, and more consideration for what it is to someone personally. i want to put my hands on the textbook’s shoulders, gently turn them around in front of some of van gogh’s more unknown works and ask them what they really see.
but in the end, i’ll admit that i am not an elitist when it comes to viewing art, and that’s what museums are for, to bring us to a world where we mere mortals would not otherwise have access to. i would much rather see someone have a dreadfully banal and superficial approach to viewing art than none at all. artspeak and education from an institution does not make someone more skilled at seeing art, i have heard many beautiful critiques come from the most inarticulate of guys. they remind me of those incredibly sincere prayers that come from someone who has just found christianity, though there is no formality to their words, what they are saying is straight out of their hearts and into heaven.
“Remember that everyone you meet is afraid of something, loves something, and has lost something. Regardless of the situation, react with class. Let some things remain mysterious. Don’t let weeds grow around your dreams.” ~ H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
today we strolled over to main street to visit our new british friend, natasha, the most kind of people. she has two little ones that didn’t warm up to max till it was time to go home, but they are coming over next week to try to play again. she gave me a tour of the 1919 home, and i noticed that we had identical tile patterns in our upstairs bathroom too, hers just a green version. i love these old houses. her husband had just finished redoing their whole kitchen, i was so envious in a motivational way. she had tile countertops and a new shiny sink, and oven too. she served tea (mine herbal) and biscuits and great conversation while the kids ate their peanut butter sandwiches. which brings me to my latest mommy scrupple, can max really go another meal on just peanut butter sandwiches alone? its all he has wanted to eat for the past several days, he refuses anything else, even for breakfast! he wakes up in the morning and says, “want a butter butter?” (his own name for the simple culinary delight)
in the ipod today: yo la tengo and built to spill
listening to jen wood today. i am suddenly finding myself all dressed down in my soft pants and just a tee, ahhhh. m is taking over max duties for the remaining hour till his bedtime while i rest. this is my version of rest, writing. just enjoyed some organic lentil soup and warm bread for dinner. it’s the best remedy for overwhelming feelings of ickiness, soup and pjs. and i am so gone…this throat is hot and big and i feel just a thread of space to swallow in. dry stinging eyes and hot head…why? in the middle of summer? during my incredibly new healthy time and i get sick? right. i’m trying to tell it to bugger off, but by the end of the day of fulfilling endless toddler wishes, cleaning up and playing house, it all catches up with me. i wish it all away with magic sparkley dust…poof!
more watercolors today…i am head over heels for them for loosening my paranoid stale brushes. sigh* the best time in my day is when i am creating, making, messing and spilling. even if it is fifteen minutes, its enough to stoke my fire. i’ll take whatever i can get now. this morning was spent riding through the neighborhood and admiring all of the pretty little houses in the sunshine, man i love my bicycle. still looking for a basket to attach onto the front of the handlebars to top off its perfection. it squeaks, but i think i might leave that part.
well, more to write, but m is telling me to chill out and go to bed. i will compromise and watch some tv for the first time in (literally) ages and hopefully feel better tomorrow.
i’ve decided that its okay to listen to my intuition. because most of the things that have caused me pain in my life were the times that i ignored my voice. and looking back on them now, i think that while i would still have those hard times, i would have embraced those challenges better if i had only listened.
taking special care to give yourself that permission, that precedence, that top priority above all other opinions in your life isn’t easy. some people just take too much room. if you let them, you won’t have any space left for what you think.
i’ve decided to make it a habit to only surround myself with friends who aren’t going to sap my any creative energy that i have right now. its okay to be nice to them all, but lately little lights have been going off in my head as i have recognized some of the more critical ones around me. i have such a optomistic perspective that its difficult for me to understand why anyone would see life in a cynical way. it effects me so much, my environment. and while i love them all, my bunch of friends, i think that it will be a big step for me to draw a little line of emotional boundaries for those to step outside of. and to learn to trust myself more, i will be watching out for those people who like to pretend or say that they have my best interest at heart, but dont really. and no one will know but me.
i have been so busy with so many things lately that in order to prevent life to just plow over me without my say, i am purging down to the neccessities, the ones and the things that i can’t live without. the first step was a great one for me. eating. i have gotten rid of the dead food in my diet, an awesome week of living without any refined sugar, meat or dairy has passed and i love love love it. i dont think i will ever look back. in what i thought would be a subtraction has only been a great step in adjusting my emotional eating. there is so much more taste in my food, its amazing how quickly i noticed the difference where it all really counts. my spirit. i think this is the way that i should have been treating my body all along. while i wish i had learned this sooner, i don’t regret any of the way to this point because it gives me perspective knowing how sad i felt before, how energy sapped and ashamed i would feel when i ate like any normal american does. now i feel so much closer to what i should be. and ready to make more changes for the better. now i actually look forward to what will be next on the menu, i love to eat, and for the first time, i love the way i feel after a meal.
“At the center of your being you have the answer, you know who you are and you know what you want.” -Lao Tzu
sometimes it’s just getting the answer to translate into my actions that keep me from getting to the other side. and sometimes i just get tired form keeping the answers such a secret. i wonder if everyone else has the same hidden answers they hide from, and how they deal. but i guess having that mystery to me is what keeps it all interesting, the challenge in finding them is what makes me want to reach out and show them even more, become brave and discover the truth. a friend once related my mind to a closet full of shelves, each lined with neatly packed boxes filled with my memories. she told me that some of those boxes were packed and hidden away in such a hurry that my mind can’t be still knowing that they are there. but everytime that i try to open them, the mess falls out in such a dangerous pile that i can’t handle them and i throw them back into the shelf again and it never ends…she told me that it was okay to slowly open them, peek at them, one at a time…touch them, smell them, as long as i wanted to, and then fold them neatly inside the boxes again.
the closest that i can get to understanding the answers is when i have a brush in hand, and i can search in the colors, sort and fold into a visual solution. this is always the best therapy…but its impossible to feel permission to work it all out. i am so afraid of what i will find. but willing to find out if it means that i will be painting again.
