Tag: resilience

poem: Love left me

Love left me
undone.

Everything deconstructed,
all the was left
were random patterns
of cells
and electricity.

But, then,
Love returned
in an entirely new guise,
flying
on brilliant wings.

Kindly,
Love
helped me
rebuild,
using whatever we found,
all we had at hand.
Like magpies,
we incorporated
the impractical and shiny,
along with the clay,
wood
and steel.

Still, something broke
that could not be fixed,
a matter of perspective,
an understanding
of irrelevance.
Every illusion
of control
shattered
beyond repair.

This hodgepodge
of being
Love and i created
laughs
and weeps,
following the tides
of time
and sensation.

Unmoored, bobbing about
without a rudder,
yet this movement
does not seem aimless,
or perhaps
these perceived patterns
of incremental progress
are the final fiction.

7 may 2016

a month

13411862_10208363446235263_2117676587360267764_oIt has been a just over four weeks since everything changed.

Honestly the transformation started nearly eighteen months ago, sped up considerably this time last year, but the past four weeks have accelerated the process to the speed of light.

As i write, i have a job, one that requires 40 hours a week and will pay me regularly, and for that i am on my knees with gratitude. The stress of trying to make it solely through art, alone, with my health suffering for so long, was intolerable. i was breaking down.  It made my art – especially my writing – suffer.

For most of this job search, i was afraid on so many different levels.  i am an artist, an acquired taste, a round ball of strange.  To find a place that can tolerate all that – and the terrible staggering awkwardness that my body often adopts instead of graceful movement – is fantastic.

But this is a blog about the business of art.  And, thankfully, that business continues.  In one month, i have written (and typed in) a notebook full of poetry, done more drawings that i can remember, finished writing a novel, and begun working on a short story that amuses me more than i can express.  i have never written from the POV of a planet before.

Today, as i gallery sit in Southwest Harbor, i feel more centered in my calling than i have since Darwin the dog died.  Going into my studio has been hard, and something for which i have had very little time.  13483087_10208363947087784_3077929633202552197_oAs soon as i could throw again after surgery, my kiln died, so the pottery side of everything has been stalled rather horribly.  i await a paycheck or art sales to get new elements and relays, and then, i will be back up and running after this year and a half long stream of catastrophe.

i imagine i will release a deep sigh as that first kiln begins to click and heat up.  This will be the physical proof of my breaking out of this confining suffering and into a new, (glorious!) stage of life.

Indeed, it gets even better: sometime in early August, i will be teaming up with another artist and potter. He is phenomenally gifted and i am truly honored he wants to work with me. This is an endless source of personal delight, but will alter the flow of my life (and creativity) again.  This change could not be more welcome; it will be wonderful to have the studio being used more frequently. i cannot wait to see what art pours out of its doors.

Honestly, i have begun to realize that this recent journey through the darkness has given me wonderful gifts.  Somewhere underneath all the poetry and daydreams, there lies a core of tempered steel.  It can flex and move without breaking. As long as i remember that this resilience resides inside my core, especially during moments of overwhelm and despair, i think i will be able to survive.13490800_10208368963573193_3510292570587586590_o

Also, i needed to prove to myself, and maybe to the source from which my art flows, that i can actually do the hard work of life.  i have been scared and anxious for so long – to have fate force me up into a standing position, to demand such sacrifice from me, was deeply uncomfortable. Yet, i am standing.  i am slowly, haltingly, moving forward as an artist and as a woman.

Running this business for so long, alone, had left my confidence gutted.  i did not have all the skills that i needed to be successful.  This is not a whine, this is simple truth. i have grown too tired of self-recrimination to give myself a hard time over this anymore.  We all have our abilities, our talents, and i cannot keep hating the fact that there are aspects to running a business – especially finances and marketing – to which i am not equal.

Also, perhaps, i have grown a bit wiser – not many people can survive flawlessly alone.  Why would i think that i am any different?  The condition of lonely solitude had gone on for so long, i forgot that i could reach out and ask for help.  Now, i know i can.  There will be hands to catch me.

So, today, i am simply grateful. i had a wonderful dog, i have had all these years where i was married to making art.  My body is tired but functioning; my mind, likewise.  And here i am, once more, handing poetry and art to you in my open hands.

 

 

missing days

It had been my goal to blog every single day remaining in 2015, but i missed two days for no reason other than overwhelm. In eight days, i am going to have an appointment about a hysterectomy and now i’ve discovered there is a serious issue with my hips that has been causing much of my pain walking, sitting, standing and generally moving. i knew i had a problem with my legs, that is what drove me to the doctor because i was desperate with pain and my right leg to stop farting off and not working, but really thought there would be a non-surgical option – “if you just do exercise a, you will get all better.”  Alas, that is not the case. So i will definitely have one, maybe two and possibly even three surgeries this winter.  If it weren’t for friends, i would have fallen into a puddle of self-pity.

Oh, but there have been miracles this holiday season.  For a week, i have help with the chores of life and business, and it has been delightful, but this temporary relief has explained why i struggle so much alone.  Having someone here to see the difficulty i have just standing up and walking much less trying to get serious work done, the pain i am in, my distracted focus, had the unexpected effect of making me understand i can be intensely cruel to myself. Friends have been saying this a lot, commanding me to “Stop insulting my friend this way!” when i go on a tear about how awful or lazy i am. However, it is different when someone sees you 24/7.  So much denial exists when i am alone; i can tell myself that i ought to be able to overcome anything, when i fail it feels like torment.  Looking about the house to see that which i have not finished, those jobs that i cannot manage, i give myself no quarter.  It has only through other, more compassionate eyes, that i can see, ‘Ah, yes, there is a reason for this.’ and ‘Oh, maybe this is not failure so much as a setback.’

In the next few months, i intend to get myself sorted – which, i can’t believe it so i will type it out again, will involve another surgery at least, but probably more than one.  The past twelve months have made me confront the limitations of my body in ways that i don’t particularly enjoy. However, denial has stopped working.  In order to be a fierce, strong woman i have to reclaim some health first.

Still, i cannot complain that much.  This year has been a miracle too. i have learned so much about myself, i have come so far from where i started this journey eight years ago.  The fact that i have gone through this financial and physical crisis without getting self-destructive is remarkable.  However, the biggest lesson needs to come to me in 2016: how to forgive myself for my weakness, how to forgive myself for what i see as failure (by redefining both failure and success?), and most of all, how to regard myself with confidence and treat myself with compassion.

From there, i believe the other things i need – better financial stability, a way to make my art feed me, writing a new story for myself – will fall into place.

As for tonight, the lesson is: i can fuck up and be forgiven. This is really miraculous for me.  Already i had learned that a tremendous amount of physical limitations and emotional chaos could be processed by others and they could still love me, but this kind of subtlety had been suggested but not proven. Yet here it is, proven tonight: i can make thoughtless mistakes, apologize from the heart, and be not only forgiven but still loved.

If another can do that kindness for me, then shouldn’t i aspire to do the same for myself?

poem: what drawings teach

They always have open arms.

i am the one
who has resisted –
keeping myself
from welcoming
every moment
with pure joy
or patient acceptance.

i have learned my lesson.

Come to me,
and i will embrace you.
i will find some purpose
to this dance
in which you lead me.

My heart
has survived
so much –
surely
that means
i can be
as open,
as willing,
and as generous
with bliss
and gratitude
as these figures i draw.

i render myself
within their curves
and smiles.

My eyes learn
fearlessness
from their gaze.

Art becomes reality
in small, hesitant steps,
a little more shading and nuance
added to the bare bones
every day.

If i can create beauty
and strength
on the page,
then what will i be able to do
with the plastic material of life.

18 november 2015

poem: like a fragile flower

Like a fragile flower
i am vulnerable to extremes.

Too hot,
too cold,
too hard,
too soft,
any deficit or surplus
can destroy the leaves,
the stem,
the petals.

My roots
do not travel down
far enough
to make much difference –
the wind can still
carry me off.

This is a path covered
with sharp,
unforgiving rocks
and i have no shoes.

Thus, i walk carefully,
with gentle slowness,
ever deepening my awareness
of where i am
right
now.

What do i need in this moment?

To remember
that for all my delicate fibers
i am stronger than i think.

What do i need in this instant?

To listen –
i bend to the whispers
of body and soul.

17 november 2015

poem: how do i live?

How do i live, Lord?
How do i find the strength
to keep moving forward?

This all feels too huge,
too impossible.
How do i keep going
when my whole being cowers?
What magic exists
when i doubt down to my marrow
my capacity to engender love
in another human?

Lord, i ask
from the depths
of my soul,
how do i keep going,
when i feel as though
all is lost?

24 november 2012

A poem about forgiveness and gratitude

thinking of youMy heart wants to tell him
how delightful this is,
now that i have 
waded
through the howling grief
and walked for a long spell
 in solitude.
My ability to get by 
on my own
continues to shock and amaze.

i would never have known
how resilient i am,
how deeply i could anchor myself
in hope and faith,
how much i am willing
to sacrifice for my dreams,
if he had not thrown me away.

My longing for contact
comes from a grateful place:
he is forgiven.
Honestly, he was a long time ago,
but now my contentment
has put meat on absolution’s bones.
My anger has spent itself utterly;
his betrayal still baffles me,
but preoccupies my mind
much less frequently.

Most of all,
i have come to realize
that his reposession of love
and the things he did and said,
do not define me.
Nor do any one else’s insults
or thundering judgments.
They are not the truth of me,
for in the desert,
i have blossomed and grown.

i still love him,
in a detached, light way,
but i am so grateful
to be free,
whole,
and me.