Dreaming Paris

Since I can't find a job that suits me, I'm attempting to develop one that does. This requires that I be serious about being an artist. After all, one can't sell art if one doesn't have art to sell. I'm still an adjunct teacher of College Success courses, which is an enjoyable job, and fulfills my need for change. I have new students every 4 months, and an opportunity to change up things that didn't work or find new material. Unfortunately, it only pays a few of the bills.

I'm in the midst of an existential crisis. That's what Dr. Phil calls it, and his description fits me perfectly. I'm not a big follower of Dr. Phil, but he does, at times, hit the nail on the head. I thought my problem was that I didn't want to be married any more, but it goes deeper than that and is rooted in what feels like a loss of myself. For two thirds of my marriage I was wrapped up in religion and "doing the right thing" regardless of whether or not it fit who I really am. All I wanted was to be a nice person who didn't hurt others, but I also wanted to be in touch with God in a way that meant I'd have a roadmap for my life. I hate being in the wrong. That right there is the source of all my trouble because life is nothing but trial and error, it's practice that never brings about expert status. As soon as you think you have something mastered you get thrown something new that blows your whole worldview.

I have taken up studying Buddhist philosophy. I can't be a Buddhist because I can't get into any of the doctrines/dogma/rituals. My life as a Christian has set me against practicing any kind of religious have-tos. I am convinced that each person's spiritual journey is as unique as the individual, so I'm discovering/uncovering those things that work for me as I continue to understand myself better. I do believe that there is more than the physical aspects of things we can see. I realize that perception can be distorted and our minds/bodies are amazing chemical experiments, but that doesn't mean we don't gain insight when we see beyond what's really here through those distortions and chemical "imbalances" or when we follow what we call our intuition, that knowing from deep within.

My deep within knowing has been plastered over with years and years of shoulds and have-tos. Years of worrying about being wrong instead of just living out what it means to express me, right or wrong. I've made attempts to break out. Well, that's what this last decade's been about, actually, and it's why I've even questioned my marriage.

Anyway, that was a long way to say that it has also affected my art. I know that within me is the ability to produce impressions that express just what I want to express about a subject, but instead I've been caught up in trying to "get it right". And when it's clear that I can't get it right, I get frustrated, I struggle, and though the painting itself, the mixing and laying of color is the most wonderful thing in the world for me, when I am completely at peace and feel that I am exactly where I'm supposed to be, doing what I was born to do, I get upset with the end result. I can't let go of the need for control, to know where I'm going, to GET IT RIGHT.

I'm working on this piece right now:

When I started it, I was copying the picture as closely as I could, but I placed a few things just enough off to throw things out of whack, so I finally began to loosen up a little and just improvise. The problem is, it's part improvised, part right, and the right part looks stupid. For example, even though the street sign is placed where it should be in relation to the building behind it according to the source picture, somehow the pole that holds it rests smack in the center of the sidewalk at the corner, which is so wrong. Yet I didn't see how wrong it was until I scanned it. It's funny how you can miss the obvious.

Also, why was I so determined to include that concrete pole that splits the canvas practically from top to bottom? I should have improvised that right out of the painting. What did I do instead? Because the sidewalk is off a bit I couldn't show as much of the street lamp that should be showing, so I painted it peeking out from either side of the concrete pole. How stupid is that? Get rid of the pole and show the whole street lamp, woman! Well, I will do that. I'm going to fix these things that I can now see, but the painting still does not express what I really want it to express. It's simply a copy of an image instead of an expression of what I felt that day when I was down there walking about on my own, enjoying the day and taking pictures.

I'm too uptight in the painting of my pictures, more concerned with the details than with the composition and how it feels. Literally not seeing (or expressing) the forest for the trees. I'm so concerned that I get each tree right, I completely screw up the painting itself. And that's what I've been like with my life as well. So afraid to make a wrong move that I end up not moving at all or basing decisions on what seems to be the best, the right, thing instead of on what's right for me.

There was more I wanted to say, especially about how being more mindful has helped me to put things in a better perspective, but I'll stop for now and save that for another day. I have a painting to finish and a new one to start. I have some ideas that I want to experiment with. The operative word being experiment. I've been too concerned with having a completed work of art when I finish a painting that I haven't allowed myself to play/experiment/practice/fail and develop my own style of expression. I've been a copyist, not a creator. And it has been killing me, both in my art and in my life. I'm not here to copy others. I have my own life to live and my own way of expressing it. If I could just figure out what that is, maybe I could get on with enjoying what's left of it.

Well, I'm enjoying what I can while I go about figuring it out. After all, it's not like there will ever be an end to the process, will there?

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So my daughter and I had Subway sandwiches and talked a bit before going to the doctor's office. It took awhile because they couldn't get through to our insurance company, but finally, an hour and 15 minutes later I'm staple free and on my way home. But get this-there was another piece of glass in my head! I'd noticed it last night when I was messing with my head because it was itching and I was gently feeling around in an attempt to relieve some of the itch. I noticed a piece that seemed harder than just a bit of dried blood. When my husband looked at it, he couldn't really tell if it was just a scab or a piece glass, so I mentioned it to the nurse, and sure enough, she tweezed a bit of glass out of there. Not one, but 2 pieces, though the second was smaller. She did a good job of looking around for more, though, so I'm pretty sure I'm glass free now. And now it's raining a typical subtropical rain shower just like it's supposed to and for the moment, at least, I'm at peace. I think I'll take a nap.

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Is it like this for everyone? It's not even as if I had it that bad. A cut on the head. A few staples. Some shaking up. It's not fun to lose the car, of course, but I've been in that place before, too.

Am I just getting too old for this kind of thing?

So today my son comes over so that I can take him to work and keep his car so that I can go and get the staples taken out. This is his car.

5 on the floor, no rearview mirror, no air conditioning, and the passenger side window won't go down. (Remember I live in Florida, and the weather's finally acting normal.) Oh, and the front windshield looks like it's going to fall in on you at any minute. This is what I'm expected to drive for the very first time of getting back into the driver's seat after the accident....to the doctor's office.

Now my husband would have been perfectly willing to do the driving had I asked because he's nice like that, but I figure I have to take care of myself, right? This is no big deal. It really isn't. So why does my mind make it seem like such a big deal? Why, when I get into the car, CAN'T I EVEN REMEMBER TO STEP ON THE CLUTCH TO GET IT INTO FIRST GEAR? Why do I have tears running down my face as I'm getting ready to pull out into traffic, my heart beating so hard it's like to push through my chest? Why does every little thing that I do seem so very, very hard?

I make it home, and now I'm dreading that I'm going to have to drive this thing to the doctor's, but I'm going to do it because that's what you do. You push through these things, and they're really nothing. Absolutely nothing.

It's what's in my head that makes my world what it is, though. So you know what we're doing, my daughter and I? We're going to turn this into a mother/daughter day. When else will we have a car with a chance to get away?

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The title of my post is a book I just finished by Pema Chödrön. She's a Buddhist nun, and of course it's full of being nothing gives you everything kind of talk that has me being mindful of what I'm thinking from one moment to the next, though I have no idea what to do with any of it, not that it's even necessary to DO anything with it when you're a Buddhist, just be in the moment and observe what's true for you. Yeah.

Some of you know the bigger picture of what's going on with me, some of you only know the recent slice, but regardless, right here, right now, in this moment, my neck and head hurts and all I want to do is cry and nothing else matters but that I DON'T THINK AT ALL for just a little while. Because that's all I've been doing for weeks since before the crash, and ten times more so since. I'm living in some kind of slow-motion existential nightmare with cherry blossoms blooming all around me. Last night I lay in bed and thought loving thoughts toward my husband and the others in my life that I love, hoping that they may in some small way pave the road ahead of us with just a little less pain because no matter what happens, we're in for a bumpy trip. We're already on it, and just like my body is literally battered at the moment from the shaking I took and my neck is stiff and aching, so are our emotions.

My husband and I rode his motorcycle to the theater today. A matinee we decided to treat ourselves to. The theater is only a 3 minute drive down the road, but as I was on the motorcycle I was thinking what nuts we were to be riding such a deathtrap just for a bit of entertainment. We could go down in the blink of an eye, and be all battered and scraped and in pain, maybe die, and for what? And yet, I did it, and didn't care. Well, I cared enough to think about it. We watched How to Train Your Dragon. A lovely movie with the predictable youngster doesn't fit in but is vindicated and accepted kind of story, and yet it triggers all my thoughts of not feeling like I fit in, doing the unexpected, disappointing those I love, etc., etc. A silly kids movie and I'm personalizing every little moment of it, even the brushes with death because no matter how I try to accept and live with it, I could have died 6 days ago and I have to work through that in my head in whatever way works for me, sometimes by joking, sometimes by crying, sometimes just living the next moment, but it's always there now, and I have to settle what that means for me somehow.

When I came out of the movie I felt lightheaded again. Sensory overload, I think. When we got outside I asked my husband if we could sit down on one of the benches for a little bit. The sun felt nice and warm, but I was all shaky inside and didn't feel I could sit on the back of the motorcycle yet. And then I just started crying for no discernible reason. I couldn't stop it. I haven't really cried much since the accident happened. A couple of times because my daughter cried first, and a few momentary tears here and there, but I couldn't stop this. It didn't last long, but I still feel it almost 2 hours later.

My life is very strange right now. Very, very strange.

I got a letter stating the 3 workers in the ambulance who hit me were injured in some way and the city insurance is subrogating against my insurance. Okay. They told me at the time no one else was injured, but I imagine they got a bit of a shaking, too. A friend said the ambulance didn't look damaged, but the police report gives it about $4000 worth. Sigh. One wrong turn. One moment of missing the road signs. It's all so weird. I want to go out there and look at where it happened. I haven't been able to yet. I want to see where it says the road is one way. I want to know why I didn't notice it. Where was my head?

Caught up in my thoughts, as it is so often, probably. Oblivious to the world around me. I haven't been oblivious this week, though. Mindful. Slow-moving. Watching. Waiting.

No answers.

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Haven't even been very active on FB. But I thought I'd post a health update. I've now lost a total of ten pounds since I changed how I eat. I've also been incorporating more activity, though still not a regular routine. But I feel better overall. Still have those downer days, but they're manageable. I think I'll do even better now that the holidays, along with getting back into the swing of things after the holidays, are over. I did binge a bit during and after, but not so much that I gained anything, which surprised me! I managed to maintain, and then finally begin losing again. So. I'm teaching 4 classes this semester and keeping busy with house stuff, painting (yes, I'm painting pictures again!), going to French meetups and art events, and the general everyday things that keep one busy. But not so busy that I can't relax, which is what I'm soaking up.

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