Grounded

Grounded doesnt have a very good connotation. A teenager being grounded, an airline pilot grounded, electricity grounded, someone who has just fallen: grounded. To me, being grounded is a matter of being productive on this earth plane, or going insane. Ive rediscovered how I need my connection to the earth, to its creatures, and plants. I must place my hands in dirt, walk barefoot upon the earth, breathe the fresh air. It is my lifeline. The only thing that keeps me here. Without it I would float away up into the atmosphere so high, I would explode. Ive had nothing to do with my garden or potted plants because it would cause me to go into a deep dark depression. I have to leave it in October. My babies! I have pushed them out of my mind and memory. I still cant handle the garden, but the pots on the deck have become my rediscovered sanity. I walk by them and they cry, "why do you not even look at us anymore"? Ive decided they are coming with me, and I will love them again. I brought my favorite rocking chair out there and placed it under my big beautiful elm tree. I placed a clock out there, because its very important to me to keep track of time. I spend alot of time out there now, along with my cups of coffee and my dog Lily, who must always sit on my lap when Im rocking. Im repotting, watering, repositioning, and gazing upon my green friends. They are who I am. I am the nature girl. I am being fed again. I was starving. I was floating away. Being grounded is home.
In my studio, I will have as many plants as is possible. I will even try to have a bit of retail space for them, as I propagate and grow them from seed and cuttings. My studio will also have a space to sell vintage items, collectibles, and antiques. One of my favorite things to do is go to garage sales looking for treasures. I also have been known to have done a bit of dumpster diving, along with roadside retrieval of items that have great potential for a rehab. Good at that too, and I love doing it. I can not believe what people throw away! Along with my art and possibly others art, it will be a haven for anyone lucky enough to walk through the door. But it begins with dirt, upon which I shall build my foundation.

Dream

I dreamt last night about my studio. It was in Santee. It was in a strip office park. It was warehouse like, 1,000 to 1,500 sq ft. It had a loft for my bedroom, very small kitchen, bathroom, all window in front, an anti back room with a back door. I would have to build a stairs to the loft. Best of all, it was only $100.00 a month, including utilities. Oh and it was air conditioned, very important for me. At only $100 a month, I was still thinking how I was going to make the rent, that age-old struggle still embedded in my psyche. I thought I could rent wall space to other artists, and have monthly changing art shows with artists receptions. I was really scared, but knew I had to take this leap. Everyone told me I was crazy, but I knew I had to do it. For once a happy dream!

Slipping

Its hard to stay positive. Its hard to stay happy and act as if nothings wrong. And when you go to dream, reality bites. I cant escape my circumstances at night. The truth teller emerges and shows me whats really inside. You cant escape your dreams and you cant run from your nightmares. They are there when your defenses are down in sweet retreatful sleep. There is no hiding or lying. There is no place called home.

Jealous Of A Dog

My mind really gets to thinking about strange and long ago things. It just occured to me for the first time, why I hated dogs. Yes, you read right, HATED DOGS! When I started living with my boyfriends dog, I suddenly became obsessed with them, especially afghan hounds ( by the way, an afghan is not a good first dog choice). Up until then I was cat woman, and just as obsessive in that love as well. A switch turned on or off ( I choose to see it as turned on), and I was a dog freak. I ceased being a cat freak. I even started not liking cats. Hmm, interesting. Why did that happen?
I was watching a program this morning about therapy for dogs, and I thought, geez, even I cant get therapy for injuries, and yet people will pay out big bucks for their dogs. Now that was an old thought pattern, and it quite surprised me, because now Im one of those people who would spend anything on my dog and not even question it. How did this happen? Why did this happen? My mind then flashed back to when I was in foster homes. They had dogs. And the dogs were loved more and treated better than I was. You just cant imagine how that makes a child feel. And I was in a precarious place to begin with, needy. I felt no one loved me or cared anything about me. I was there because the household needed more money. As more money was needed, another foster child would be taken in. They had money to spend on their animals, 2 dogs, a cat, and 3 horses. I didnt see my money in the care I received. I basically lived on jello, and no snacks ever. I still have nightmares about scrounging around in their kitchen looking for something to eat. Because I was so hungry, I was willing to chance a punishment if I was caught. I learned to despise that boxer who they studded out, and fawned shamelessly on. Yes! I hated dogs. I later had a girlfriend who cared more about her Yorkie, than she did about me. I saw it everywhere. This unatural love for dogs.
The saying "Love me, love my dog" became a reality when I moved in with Marc and his BIG and LOUD dog. Something happened to me. Maybe because Marc didnt love his dog more than me. Or maybe I developed a relationship with a dog that wasnt colored with jealousy. I began to long for my own dog. And of course my taste goes towards the exotic, thus my first dog was an afghan, Selena. A love so natural developed. There was no learning curve. I fell into it like a duckling into water. What took so long? I could have had this joyful bond all my life. But wait, no I couldnt have. I was never allowed to have a pet. If I did somehow acquire one, it was promptly given away or killed.
I was jealous of dogs and I also could not let myself get attached to one because the relationship would only be a temporary one. It hurt too much. Avoidance was the cure. Now I cant imagine my life without at least one dog. My maltese, Lily, is the most precious thing in the world to me. Oops! Did I just say that? Am I by chance, becoming one of those humans who love dogs more than people? I hope not!

Deepest Desire

Da Vinci question: What is my hearts deepest desire? I could just answer this with one word. HEAVEN. Heaven for all. Deep down, isnt that the only thing we all want?

Im Touched

It happened again. Last night an energy was stroking my hair. This was not a dream. I was awake. Within this month I have had several experiences, all different. This does not frighten me, just the opposite. I think its cool as hell! I wished I wounldnt have shoed it away. It was a reflex reaction, as when an insect is bothering you. I should have just laid there and let it continue. I wish I would have talked to it. Last night I also heard a male voice, but that was a waking dream. Even though its valid, I have to throw it out, because I dont know if it was dream or real. Im very scientifically minded. I dont just go on blind faith. It has to have some sort of proof involved or make sense to me when added to what I already believe. Ill be the first one to say "prove me wrong". Im not interested in being right. I want the truth.

How To Serve Mankind

First of all, lol! Next da Vinci question: How can I best be of service to others? I like this one. I will say that we are all here on earth to serve others. Doesnt matter who you are or what you do. Some of us get paid better than others for being servants, but that gets into a whole other wackadoo I dont want to talk about right now. If you think that you couldnt possibly serve in your given circumstances, youre wrong. An example: A terminally ill child is in the position to give the greatest gift of all. First of all, theres no making any sense of it by the child or any other observer. The child can accept the condition in grace (which they usually do), and everyone learns, they soften, they care, they think about the real meaning of life and perhaps decide not to waste it. This would apply to the mentally ill, the boy raised by wolves, the spoiled brat who doesnt have a clue because theyve never been taught. Of course any one of these individuals can decide to be a troublemaker. That has a whole other set of lessons for the rest of us. You really cant get out of being a teacher. You were born a teacher either in the form of the observer, or in the form of the mirror. And by the way, we do role reversals quite often, so everyone gets to play.
So how can I personalize this? Im following my heart, and that is the heart of an artist. Im doing what Im best at and in doing so, I inspire, excite, and make this world just a little more beautiful. But my ultimate goal has nothing to do with art, and thats to be the best possible role model I can, to give an ear where needed, offer a shoulder to cry on, lend a hand whenever possible, and at all times speak the truth to the best of my knowledge. How to serve mankind? LOVE.

Addiction

Wow, two blogs in one day! I gotta get a life. Im addicted to Facebook.

Unsafe

I was watching a commercial this morning that got me thinking as to why it makes me so uncomfortable. Its about young couples in the act of romantic marriage proposals. Trying to put myself in the womans place, I found it hard to really believe and trust those feelings of being taken care of, of feeling safe. Ive never had anything that resembled that in my life, either through my parents or in my own life. There was nothing I wanted more growing up then the that fairytale life with a man who cherished me, was responsible, who held a job, who wanted a family with the house and everything else that went along with that scenario. A man who had a reason to get up and go to work, me. I wanted to be that reason to my dad, and later to my husband. I wanted to be someones reason for doing their best in life, because they cared about my welfare, my safety, my sense of innate security, that every child, every adult has a right to feel. I thought the sky was always falling because it always did.
This ties into art because I wouldve probably started an art career early in life. I probably wouldve gone to college for art. Do you know why I didnt? Because I was too busy surviving and that life would have made me feel unsafe. I didnt have it in me to work full time at a job and get an education. I would have had to do it all on my own. It just didnt seem as important to me then, as I was busy surviving. I tried to be practical in my choices of earning a living, and art didnt fit, depression the bill. I would learn to make nice pictures and then what? Its the same problem I have now. I make nice pictures, now what? Sure, my artist has finally been fed, but I still feel hungry, insecure, and unsafe. The depression some days is more than I can bare. But I have art, right? Yes, and thats all I have. Right now, my life depends upon it literally. Its all on me. There is no strong shoulder to lean on, or a warm home to come home to. All I have is art. And you know what? That would be enough for me, if it werent for the stiffling, paralysing feeling of insecurity. My mind continues to tell me Im unsafe. Its all my mind has ever known.

Failure To Launch

Interesting title. Its been playing through my head along with wondering and fear. I guess it applies to what Im feeling. My disappointment in energies outside my line of control. Ive tried to manipulate, cajole, bribe, even threaten. I wore my raw crazy insides like a coat, only to be dusted over lightly like a lazy maid. What will it take? Were going down, I with him. He is busy keeping the fantasy alive and its not even my fantasy. Ive decided I must become a spectator of the soap opera called my life, and make myself comfortable for the show, maybe pop some popcorn. This ending is going to be phenomenal. Ill laugh. Ill cry. And It might not leave me with a warm fuzzy in my tummy. A cliffhanger? I hate cliffhangers. Its just a reason to make a cheezy continuance of what should have been put to bed long ago. Put to sleep even.

Hypocrite

As I sit here eating my chicken, I contemplate my hypocrisy. Im against killing or abusing any animal for any reason. Hmm, whats wrong with this picture? I hate it that I believe I have to eat flesh. I despise myself for it. Ive tried many times to be a strict vegetarian and failed every time. You see, I get sick. My mental illness wallops me over the head, and the only fix is to eat pure non carbohydrate protein. Works right away, so I know thats what the problem is. No, its not just in my head. How could it be when theres nothing I want more than to stop eating meat. I literally cry when I think of animals getting killed for food. I feel like a reluctant vampire who has nothing but love in its heart, and yet must feed on human blood to survive. The self disgust I feel is at times overwelming. And yet if it came down to killing an animal myself versus dying, I would choose death. I will not kill anything for any reason other than defense of self or others. This is a real spiritual dilemma for me, because I believe it is a matter of spirituality and evolvement. Even though I truly believe this, I cant fault anyone else for eating meat either. This is a true conundrum for me and I really do not know how to deal with my hypocritical self. Yes, it does add to my depression. I feel really bad about it. The thing is we are all animals. And we are also spiritual beings having an animal experience. Its got me confused. How about you?

Am I Psychic?

Last night something really shocking happened. I heard a hound dog howl loudly right next to me. Obviously, what made it shocking was that there was no hound there. There is no hound in the neighborhood. And I know beyond a doubt what a hound sounds like, as I had two afghan hounds who howled just like that. I also was stone cold awake. I have been really upset lately over leaving our afghans graves in the back yard here. I had promised them that this was the last stop and we would all be together forever here at Gardener Park. But the bank took Gardener Park away from me, and I have to leave my precious dogs graves behind. Now Im not saying this is why I heard that howl, but could it be? Possibly. In my life, I have heard things at times of great change or danger, a clarion call so to speak. It certainly got my attention and has me wondering whats coming down.
OK, I am somewhat psychic, and at certain times downright psychic. I have amazed myself at what was told to me. I believe its not me, but an outside energy needing to tell me something. You can call that energy anything you want, angels, ghosts, God, I dont know. But incredible it is! And I assure you Im sane. Ive been certified sane.
This leads me to the subject of my art and artists. I usually express these experiences in my art, and Im sure many other artists do also. I think we are just generally by nature, more sensitive to subtle energys in our environment then others. We feel this need to make it manifest in this so called "real" world for others to experience. I use dreams as inspiration as well, because sometimes they make a great impact on my life. Its exciting, and I just have to tell someone, in the form of visual communication. I have found that the viewer of my art will usually experience that energy, and that really makes me happy. I have managed to be an interpreter and ambassador of the other side. How cool is that? Ive always wished I was the kind of psychic that could sit down and read for total strangers, helping them in very deep ways. But this is my gift to myself, as well as to give to others... my art. For this I am truly thankful.

Role Models

da Vinci question: What are my most inspiring role models? At the moment, I cant think of anyone specific, although I know I have them. To generalize, it would be anyone who has a strong personal moral code, and is not afraid to stand up for it, even when its unpopular. Also anyone who has overcome insurmountable odds, on their own, and has reached out to others to help them. And people who have been blessed with everything in life, and yet realize that most of the world is not so fortunate, and has a conscious about that, and shares with others. Here I could name countless mega rich people who give of their fortunes, but I cannot think of anyone, in my knowledge, who gives enough in proportion to there wealth. Anyone who has to have countless mansions, an endless number of luxury cars, takes a private jet to Venice for dinner, spends thousands of dollars for one dress, is in my opinion, not giving enough. I personally could not live with myself or be happy, until I had lifted as many people up as possible. To think a child is starving to DEATH in Africa, would bother me. To be aware of the fact that our source of oxygen is being depleated every day at an alarming rate would, and does drive me crazy. And also, to know of countless animal abuse issues going unaddressed, because no one seems to care. If anyone in the world fits into this role, than they are my hero.

Get Paid?

Next da Vinci question: How can I get paid for what I love? Hmmm, good question. When you are an artist, its not good enough to create, and they will come, much less buy. This is the biggest bugger question that I have been dealing with right now. Lets just get the economy card out of the way first thing. Im not falling for that excuse. There are plenty of people who have plenty of money, and a good quantity of them buy art. Its all about getting into the right venue, and the right market. It is who you know and whether or not you have the cahonies to go for it in spite of what your checking account says. By that I mean in art, as in most businesses, it takes money to make money. Being an artist is expensive when you are promoting yourself properly. There are various dues and fees, art materials you must buy, advertising (yes, I said advertising), shipping costs, travel expenses, etc.... Oh yeah, if you are to do it properly, that is whats involved. And at the same time you must keep a roof over your head, food in your stomach, keep transportation (big enough to cart things around), and all the other necessities of life. And they are bare bone necessities. No dinners out, movies, lattes, new clothes, or any other fun things in life. It should be good enough for the artist to art. If you are not happy with that scenario, then forget about being successful as an artist. Admittedly, there are flukes of nature, like the paint thrower who is "discovered", or the artist that just happens to be in the right place, at the right time, meeting the right people, or then theres the person who is set financially already. That person will have to be particularly hungry to be an artist, because the biggest motivator is gone, making money to survive.
So to get back to the question, what do I have to do to get paid for what I love? All of the above and more things I was too lazy to mention, because there is more. I havent even touched on the emotional aspect of it all. And as you know by now, Im bi poler with depression and anxiety, so its double hard for me to fight the good fight. In my wildest dreams, I would say I want a patron, who believes in me and supports me in my baby steps to success, or a mentor who opens all needed doors for me. Wouldnt that be wonderful!
Oh, and I forgot, it doesnt matter much as to whether you are a good artist. Great artists are a dime a dozen. And there are plenty of artists who became successful by just throwing paint at a canvas, or leaving it blank. And yeah, that truly chaffes my ass (my mothers favorite expression). But life is indeed seemingly unfair. You can control it to a large degree, but its still a crap shoot. Life is what we make it.

Hitting Leo Up Again.

Time to hit Leo up again for inspiration for what to write about today. The next question is: What is my greatest talent? Well, its not art, although Im good at it. It would be my ability to suck it up and move on, and my ability to see the big picture, so to speak. I can make sense out of anything that happens, whether it be to me, someone else, or the world in general. It may make me appear insensitive at times or cruel. I just can take "me out of anything I experience and go to the place of understanding. Sometimes it takes me awhile to get there, as anyone of you know thats been following me this year. But I always arrive at a place of cosmic acceptance. You can think of it as, "what would God think of this"? Dont get me wrong, Im a lowly worm crawling around on this earth, trying to make sense of it all, just like everything and everybody else. But I have this ability to tap into MIND. Capitalized because it is all that exists. Theres even more beyond that. I cant make all the pieces of the puzzle fit, but Ive been working on it, and the picture is becoming clearer. I always feel wonderful when another piece fits. But sometimes the truth is hardcore for us humans to accept. I think one of the greatest lessons a soul can learn in life, is that life as we know it is impersonal. At the same time, it is all about us as individuals fitting into a working whole. I wasnt going to get this gosh darn into this question so deeply, but I cant help myself. Maybe I should stop now, or else I will go on and on.....

New Book

I have had to move on to a new book, Visioning, 10 Steps to Designing the Life of Your Dreams, by Lucia Capacchione, Ph.D. I plan on finishing da Vinci, but this new book addresses my situation most directly right now. My life has totally changed, leaving me in that scarey, nerve wracking state of in between. Im very clear as to what I want, what I need, but as yet cannot enjoy the fruits of my imaginings. I wish it to hurry up, because I would really prefer a roof over my head, if at all possible. Funny how so many of us take things for granted, like a place to live, some abodes being more glorious than others.
The book starts out with making your dream visable and tangible by making a collage (Really? Whats that? lol). When I was 16, I made my son 4 collages of cut out magazine pictures on big sheets of paper. I had no money for paint or decorations, so I used what I had. I knew even then, that visual and mental stimulation was important in an infants development. Each collage had a theme, I dont remember what it was. Knowing me, I probably made it something that wouldnt be understood till he was 5, like things that begin with A, etc. I also desired to instill in him my love of color and design. I wanted him to take after Mommy. Another day, I will get into where that went, as I dont want to digress.
Anyway, Im no stranger to this idea. I really had made one already, just needs gluing down. So Im anxious to dive into this book and make things start to happen.

Life Is What I Make It

Yesterday held a possible promise of a chance for me and my career. But after sitting through long hours of hearing other peoples dreams, there was no space or time for mine. Another days wasted energy spent. I know Im not invisible, or else people wouldnt talk to me at all. They see me, but they dont see ME!. I simmer over with ideas and creativity. Im a great artist. I dont mean great as in an artist of note, but a darn good painter and drawer. Gosh darn, thats me, and I claim it. Theres nothing wrong with my confidence. Then what is wrong with me? Is it because Im not young and beautiful anymore. That held its own problems, because people still didnt see ME. I got their attention because I was nice to look at, and that is all. They never wanted to examine my brain. I am a woman of substance, and surface gratuity just doesnt do it for me. I refuse to be placated by being thrown a bone every now and then. I want this "show" to be about Me, for once in my life. Starts with ME and ends with ME.
I came home to a dismal existence and was very depressed. Later I had a panic attack because I couldnt stop obsessing about it. I feel like I have made a mental separation from my past, these last few days. Im ready and willing to let go of what I thought I wanted. I know now what I really want and it is crystal clear in my mind. Its almost like Im living it already. The problem is, is that my outside world does not resemble my inside world. What kind of magic wand will it take to make it appear before my eyes, because I know its there. I have been cultivating the life I want first, through the medium of Facebook. Im ready to take it to the next step. I will not be dismissed and ignored. Im not that sad little girl anymore.

Scared

My mind has been filled with beautiful dreams and ideas. I see my creation clearly. My mission is written in stone. The life I want can be had. What I want is not outrageous. But the hard cruel reality is: I could be living on the street in October, if something doesnt change. Ive been homeless once before. I lived 3 weeks in my truck with my cat. I have a new SUV, and the disability I get will pay for that. That will be my home. Me and Lily.

Vacated The Cocoon

Thinking this morning. Sometimes that gets me in trouble, but its mostly a good thing. I was looking in the mirror and realized that I havent been the same person since spring of last year. I in no way represent my former self at all! The worm has left the cocoon, and has become a butterfly. A butterfly whos wings arent dry, waiting for the hour to fly. Im getting ready. I can feel it. If there is such a thing as a "walk-in" then that must be what happened. I dont know how else to account for it. The on/off switch deep inside my soul has finally been turned on by unseen hands. If you know me at all, you know it hasnt been easy at all. But with each "problem", Ive shed another layer of skin. Not always a good feeling, but very freeing when its been done. Just as there is a time to die that no one can escape, there is also a time to live, just as elusive. Even though I dont believe in the concept of time, life on earth is more of a developing awareness of what is real. Even that is an illusion. Really-Ellary