IMPERFECT Lady

Seeking to know is the key.

“When the bird and the book disagree, always believe the bird.”                                                                                   James Audubon

 

 

Some lessons require you to be in a position of unknowing, well maybe all of them do.  And maybe you learn more if you are willing to listen, instead of going in with a preconceived idea before hand.

 

Last week I had to drop off some of my Art at a local Gallery.  Along with two wall hangings, I brought purses and journal covers. 

 

This was the first time the gallery owner wasn’t actually there to receive my stuff, but I left it there with a woman and she seemed excited with what I had brought, or so I thought.

 

I was relieved to have some of my Art in a Gallery for the summer tourist trade.  Being an Artist one part is to actually make some money doing what you do.

 

So off I go, happy to have my Ladies out in public once again.

 

I received a phone call a few hours later, stating that the purses and journals were not accepted.

 

It took a few moments to register what she was saying.  I told her I would come back and pick them up next week.

 

A few days ago I head back up to the Gallery, this time to receive rather than deliver.  Inside my head I had turned this many ways, from being upset and indignant, to puzzled and wanting to know, to not wanting to know.  I had him as the bad person the villain, his gallery a place that only displayed what he liked, yet he kept my wall hangings, so around and around I went. 

 

I then let it all drop, and thought I will go and see what his demeanor is and work off of that, I would listen and see if it made sense to me.

 

I open the door and walk in, he greets me in his usual nice manner. I say Hi exchanging a few pleasantries, I am here to pick up my stuff.  And he ambles off to get it.

 

As he walked away, I said to him “I have to know why?”  And he said, “I will tell you.”

 

It seems that there is a fine line between Original and Commercial, where Art loses its distinction.  That even adding too much commercialization you can cheapen or dilute Art, really losing the Art itself, it gets hidden behind stuff.

 

As hard as it was to stand there and take constructive criticism, I knew I was learning more than if I would have been defensive.

 

Doing Art you become so sensitive to your work, your creation and imagination that it is hard to let it stand alone, all by itself!

 

With my Art lying on the counter, we poked and prodded, focusing on little points and how they were stealing the overall substance, I was learning more about my Art then I ever dreamed.

 

In fact I learned that I actually had Art.  That there was something there that could take away my Art showed me that I had Art!

 

When he said at one point, “Your Ladies stand alone, they do not need words.”  I was relieved that the “Ladies” were still alive and that they spoke their own message all by themselves.  They stood alone.

 

I thanked him for his lesson as I left.

 

What a great lesson in Life and Art. 

 

My journal covers covered journals that were generic, not fancy, just simple journals, for I felt I was “covering” them anyway, so does it really matter.  But Mr. Gallery Owner could see right away that my Art lay upon cheap material.  And in the end, you get exactly what is there, Art and cheap material.

 

And the purses had handles that he felt were not Art.  Imagine, he doesn’t just see the Ladies and the fine workmanship, but each little detail.  He said he rejects clay teapots if the handles are not Art as well.

 

What stayed with me that day and days since is that we too can put our selves in places that detract from who we are.  We can cheapen our selves and our lives by doing and being in places that are not suited for us.  And we become less in that moment.

 

While mowing our grass yesterday, riding along for hours, I was dreaming of all the places where my Art could go.  How it can be used to decorate or added to something to make a wonderful total package.

 

The energy of the Ladies are wonderful, their message is so unique, and I love that it wasn’t the ladies I had wrong, but just what I had partnered them with!

 

Life imitating Art, or Art imitating Life, I can’t remember how that goes, but just as I am no longer comfortable with cheap imitations of relationships, of people who are pretending to be something they are not, my Art too now will have standards similar than mine.

 

It is weird that “objects” such as Art have the same criteria as we do.

I found that amazing.

 

With the discerning eye of an Art Gallery Owner, I will now set forth with an even keener sense of what is required to be Art or the real deal, the authentic piece, to see how something is just not right.

 

He was right not to accept that as Art, and I appreciate his truthfulness and taking the time to tell me and show me my errors.

I now have a guideline to adhere to and I know now what not to do.

 

Yet it may only be possible to speak of others errors IF they are willing to listen, to change, to grow and understand. 

 

I was nervous standing there with my errors laid out, my faults exposed, but soon as I could see it from another angle I understood he was helping me as an Artist, not hurting me.  He was making me better not tearing me down.  He too cared about my Art and its presentation, he cared, he cared enough to speak up.

 

And maybe I cared enough to listen.  I wanted to know more than I wanted to defend.

 

I think it is hard to teach someone who is so busy defending they are unable to hear.  I didn’t realize that in order to learn you have to be willing to hear. 

 

Teachers carry their knowledge and in order to hand the information over the student needs to be accepting, open, willing and seeking to know.

 

Seeking to know is the key.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Experience Stands Alone.

In the old days I think they used to call them Snake Oil Salesman, or the ones selling bottle of potions that held magic inside.

 

It seems in our day they are selling words, messages an idea, without a bottle.

 

How do you know if the idea holds up to the reality test?

How can you tell if what they are selling actually works?

Is it a mind game, a sleight of hands, words to actual deflect your attention from your reality or your body’s inner messages?

 

Who chased the wagon eager to purchase a bottle of hope, an ounce of dreams, a correcting potion that would undo years of desperate confusion?

 

Also, did the ‘seller’ believe in his goods?  Do they really truly believe that they hold the answer in their message without the bottle?

 

I am confused at best on this?  It would be better to believe that the ‘seller’ is oblivious to their errors.  For some reason the “forgive them they know not what they do” brings me consolation. 

 

I just can’t imagine that the sellers are selling false hopes and swinging around grandiose ideas and charging people to hear their words, knowing that they do not work.

 

Is the Seller better when She believes in her work?

And just because She believes does it make it the truth?

 

What can we as listeners of their words do to discern what we are hearing?

 

It seems to me, it is in the application or how it feels to your own inner truth?

 

But here is the problem, the speaker and the listener sometimes match in truthfulness, or awareness and they both can be a world away from reality.

 

I have heard that the Preacher is preaching to himself.  He is preaching to himself hoping to get rid of his inner demons.  You have to wonder if the listeners also have matching inner demons?

 

Does this also apply to our Speakers of workshops we attend?

 

What is their message and what are they trying to convince themselves of?  If we believe does that add credence to what they are selling?  Would the message stand by itself without someone listening?

 

Who would they be without a listening audience?

It almost seems that they need US to do their job.

Without a needy person, then what?

 

The needy arrive with money in their hands.

Looking for what?

What are they all looking for?

 

What do we want?

What do we get?

Who decides if we got our moneys worth?

 

I went out of curiosity I wanted to see if I could spot the message, the real deal.

I even asked one Speaker, for her message got tangle up and disguised somehow, it wasn’t in plain view.  She managed not to respond.  I let it go.

 

There is a saying from India, “if you see the Buddha along the way shoot him.” 

 

The Buddha lived his life and it will not help to follow his footprints, for there is only one Buddha.  You can have the same experience, but in your own way.

 

It is not the path, but the experience!

 

Maybe what I felt is that the speakers were discounting my experience wanting me to instead follow theirs.

 

I am so much happier just being me, not following along and to not have anyone following me.

 

For you can’t be me and I can’t be you!

 

There is comfort in that.  I am not here to teach others experience, and I love that we all are in the exact spot we should be in experiencing that which we are experiencing, a personal experience called life.

 

It is so perfect that experience cannot be sold in a bottle or given out, it is absolutely wonderful that there is no way to present experience.

 

Experience is the real deal.

 

I experienced a class that was trying to present experience, and it failed.

 

I love how you cannot imitate experience, like truth experience stands alone.

 

 

Receive Life.

 

Picture Perfect a novel by Jodi Picoult, is the dance of abuse between a husband and a wife, both seem unable to wrestle themselves free of the relationship, or able to change the behavior.

 

Love gets twisted up in the middle, and during the happy times seems perfect, and during the dark times lost.

 

The juxtaposition between love and abuse and the way it can survive in the same relationship boggles the mind.

 

How is it possible to love and fear a person in one relationship and call it whole?

 

It is a stormy relationship at best, the contrast of two fronts hitting up against each other, the calm before the storm, or the wreckage after.

 

Is love mixed in or is it just the thoughts of love are easier to look at then the darkness of abuse?

 

Can you keep both, or does one ultimately win?

 

My relationship with my mother had the signs of an abusive relationship, there were times when I was in her favor, but I knew where the boundary lay, to easily fall out of her kindness.

 

It seemed I was the one controlling her depending upon how I acted she would either smile on in approval or huff off in silence withdrawing love in her wake.  I had the power to make her like/love me or hate/dislike me.  She had nothing to do with it, it was simply my behavior.

 

To me love was something tangible that the other carried, it was a thing like a tug-a-war rope that was held between to people.  The one with the most power always had more of the rope of love!

 

It wasn’t something inside of me, instead it was a conditional thing that was yanked back and forth.  Depending upon the mood of the other, you had more or less of the rope in your hand.

 

In the middle of my unravel, or maybe it was more in the first 6 months, my husband and I felt that yin and yang of that rope, the fleetingness it seemed to have.  I was forever sitting in a spot of change, changes so great that I was sure that that last change would break the rope called love.

 

So with the thread of love seemingly thin, our marriage was precariously balanced on, we began saying “I love you today”, it seemed the most honest, some days we literally did not know if the relationship between us would hold.

 

The honesty on both sides, the willingness to accept changes beyond what either of us foresaw, kept us in a state of influx, but real.

 

Once we separated our selves from the relationship, once our sense of self was removed, it was just a marriage relationship, and there we were two beings not knowing for sure if we matched!

 

We matched at one time, and now our life’s circumstances were so drastically changed, there was no way it couldn’t affect the individual as well as the relationship between us.

 

The space that opened up for each of us to be ourselves, to see just where it was we now were, the freedom to not have to match that old relationship, was to honor each of us as we were today, and without blame.

 

And I literally would not have blamed him, if he couldn’t have weathered the changes both inside of me as well as my new behaviors. 

 

We found ourselves in a spot of reintroducing ourselves, and once again relearning what the other likes or dislikes.  A new relationship was being born in the midst of the same two people.

 

Without a divorce or death, we were made to renegotiate the terms of our relationship.  The roles of husband and wife took a backseat to the role of self. 

 

A willing partner is key of course, and we both had to grieve our loss, acknowledging the old person could no longer be.

 

When one changes so drastically, the other has a choice to either go along and accept, or refuse.

 

Relationships should never overshadow the individuals within them.  The two separate individuals are the key factors of any relationship.

 

If one is weak, the relationship is weak, if one is lazy, the relationship is lazy, it takes two to tango, and the quality of dance depends on both people, one individual should not be made to carry the whole.

 

I have walked on both paths, and highly suggest not losing yourself in the relationship, but instead find one that fits you.

 

My laziest relationship was with myself.

I allowed others to control me.

I let them have the switch for my behaviors and feelings.

 

I love that I am now riding along with my hand on the switch!

 

Can you have a lazy relationship with life?

Can we just sit back and let life decide just how we will feel and behave?

 

That seems unfair to life that IT has to carry us.

 

I want to dance with life, be a full participant and carry my part.

 

What is my part of life?

 

I think my part is to receive life.

 

 

Happy Fourth of July!

While talking to my daughter on her cell phone I was eavesdropping on a family picnic.

 

I heard laughter, and a voice echoing clearly across the air, a voice I haven’t heard in four years.

 

My mothers.

 

It was odd to hear it, odder yet to hear it be so happy and normal and the chattering going on, a loud laughter boldly falling, strong and accepted, it was like being dead and seeing that your exit had no impact.

 

My children go to be with cousins, Aunts and Uncles, my son tells me “I talked to your mom today.”  Was she kind to you I ask.  The conversation dies and settles back, two sides unwilling to convince the other of its view.

 

Camping families gathering together this Fourth of July, my children wanting to belong and do, they go alone without me, leaving me, knowing I would not go. 

 

The day that changed my life long forgotten and discussed, my absence I wonder how it is seen?  By now it is just a new ‘habit’ within our family, the crazy Aunt who stays away alone.

 

Amazing that I became the crazy one, the one who stays away! 

 

The party continues, my absence unfelt, the gaiety is all still there, oblivious.

 

Simply beyond what my mind can comprehend and hold.

 

Holidays or days where families gather are interesting and lacking my full enthusiasm.  Where generations come together sharing hilarity from the past, with many remember when stories, all carrying their part to hold together the history we grew up in.

 

I feel like my history all died, and turned to ash, crumpled up and soiled.

 

My remember when stories no longer hold water or hilarity.  They are not to be laughed at loud and boldly, not picnic material, something to share around the bon fire while roasting marshmallows!

 

I am now saturated like my past, a wet blanket or party pooper were I to arrive.  A dust cloud that follows and surrounds the space I stand in.

 

The cloud of reality of no nonsense, ruining an otherwise perfect family, it is best I stay away.

 

There was a part of me that was still clinging to the hopes that her life just couldn’t be the same without me.

 

It died the minute I heard her voice.

 

I am long forgotten too, just like all the deeds my father did to me.  “Forgive and forget”.

 

I have been forgiven for ruining or trying to ruin an otherwise nice family, and I have been forgotten too.

 

An orphan, kicked out, all oblivious to me now.

I no longer exist to them.

 

I keep forgetting not to wait.  I forget not to love, forget not to remember, forget that I am no longer part of them.

 

I forget my family is no longer mine.

 

I am independent on this independence day and I am free to do as I please.

 

I am home alone with my husband……I will not forget to enjoy this moment!

 

Happy Fourth of July!

 

 

Deadly to reality

Fearless - oblivious of dangers or perils or calmly resolute in facing them.

 

Fear - A feeling of agitation and anxiety caused by the presence or imminence of danger.

 

When you read those two meanings, anxiety appears in the face of danger and we have two ways to deal. 

 

The acronym for fear is, False Events Appearing Real.

 

To me there seems to be two sides of fear, the real and the perceived.  Is it possible that you can become oblivious to real danger and then makeup a pretend danger?

 

In the case of dysfunctional families, the real danger is overlooked, we become oblivious or fearless in the presence of danger. We certainly are not resolute in facing our fears, for we don’t even know we should be in fear.

 

No one told me to fear my father, yet my body held the real emotions, anxiety, and uneasiness when I was in his presence.

 

It seems possible to become fearless in a dysfunctional way, oblivious to danger.

 

I have experienced the two sides of fearlessness.  The oblivious and the calm and resolute, the two are worlds apart.

 

One is to walk in step with reality the other is to be way off track.

 

I was pleasantly surprised in the meaning of fearless, to see the two sides.

 

When hearing others speak of fearlessness, what is it that they are asking you to do?  Is it to become oblivious, to overstep and slip around a real and present danger, or to see the danger and become calm and resolute.

 

Oblivion – The fact or condition of forgetting or having forgotten.

 

Isn’t that meaning incredible.  I am amazed and tickled that it is exactly as my experience.

 

I lived in oblivion, the condition of forgetting.  Incredible to me!  That is exactly where I lived for 46 years.  Amazing.

 

The land of forgetting!  My mother had a saying to “forgive and forget”, to move on.  It is the act of forgetting that is the key here.  She had to work magic to stay oblivious.

 

We are now the two sides of Fearless, she is fearless oblivious to danger, and I am the calm and resolute.

 

Well the calm part I am still working on, but I get there after much struggle. 

 

The thread that I was pulling on, the part that had me off kilter with two of the classes I attended this week, is that they seemed to be speaking of the oblivious side of fearless.  Or at least that is my humble opinion.  That is what left me so unsettled.

 

I am tickled beyond tickled to know that there are two sides of fearless, just as I am thrilled to know that oblivious is the condition of forgetting!

 

My handicap was that I was a good forgetter girl.

The perfect participant in the land of oblivious!

Fearlessly wandering in the land of danger unknowingly.

Blind.

 

“Her strength was her blindness” is what I say of my mother.

She is incapable of being in the land of remembering.

I can now see how she feels fearless.

 

Who would have thought there were two sides to fearless!

There always seemed a fine line, one word and two complete opposite ways of being.

 

Fearless can be so deadly to reality.