My inner skunk

Today I’m getting in touch with my inner skunk.

They don’t attack. They just hold their ground. People tend to leave them alone and not cross them, because their bold coloring warns who they are.

I’m getting tired of people thinking I’m a pushover. I’m getting tired of feeling like I’m doing it all and everybody else is slacking.

Today I told the annoying page to pull her cart out of the walkway. I didn’t even care if she got mad. She gets mad all the time. She can say “Excuse me?” in a way that sounds like she is saying “Screw off!” She says “Excuse me?” when she wants you to repeat what you have said. She says it in just such a way that you never want to ask her anything ever again.

But today was it. I’d patiently waited for her to pull the cart out of the way on her own before, and thanked her for it, and explained how it is totally in my way when she puts her cart there. I did it that way because otherwise there would have been a confrontation. It went well for a while, but today it was halfway into the walkway again. There is at least ten feet of space she can work in, and she chooses the worst possible section that is totally in the way of traffic flow.

I am desperately trying to not say what I’m thinking too. This has been going on all day.

I don’t have any patience for people who only get movies. I’m jealous of all that time that they have. Then I wonder why they waste it the way they do. Then I wonder at the people who are there all day, who are my age. Don’t they have jobs? If not, why not? I’m jealous.

I’m angry that I’m angry. I’m in a bad mood about the fact that I’m in a bad mood.

I think about the teachers and counselors who have told me that I’m angry, when I didn’t feel like I was. The fact that they said that I’m angry when I don’t feel like I’m angry makes me angry.

Maybe “angry” is my normal, and I need to get used to it. I need to learn that this is who I am, or at least who I am right now. I spent so long letting people (especially my brother and boyfriends) walk all over me and push me around. I’m waking up from that stupor.

Skunks are seen as antisocial creatures, but they aren’t, really. They just don’t want to put up with anybody’s nonsense. They don’t start fights, but they don’t walk away from them either.

Art project as a distraction.

 

          So I started an art project.  Some people would call it redecoration.  It was an intentional plan to distract myself, and to give myself something that I could focus on and see progress.  I can’t fix what is going on with my parents-in-law, so I wanted something that I could fix.

          It started off as a need to fix a problem.  We had some ugly grout-tape in the bathroom.  Instead of caulk to bridge the area between the shower surround and the tub, we had this stuff that was in a long strip and it stuck to both things.  It kind of worked, until it didn’t.  It was peeling apart from the shower surround, and mold was developing.

          I was a little afraid to deal with it.  I was concerned that it meant that there was water damage behind it, and this was going to result in a really expensive remodeling project.   Water is as destructive as fire, but slower.   I kept trying to stick it back on the wall, and it kind of worked.  I asked my spouse to fix it and as usual it got put on the back burner.  And as usual, I slowly worried about it more.

          So I did what I do when I worry.  I got books.  Knowledge is power. I got every book on bathroom remodeling that my library branch had.  I decided that this was now a Project.  We’d save up our money and then we could do this right.

          Fortunately, when my spouse got around to pulling the weird tape off, there was no evidence of water damage.  There was a lot of mold, though, so I’m glad that it came down.  He put caulk in there instead.  It looks a lot better.

But by then I’d gotten the bug.  Thankfully it wasn’t an expensive project, but it could still be a Project.  We didn’t have to rip out the entire bathtub and shower and re-frame and put new tile.  That would involve hiring professionals.  There are things we can do, and that kind of stuff isn’t on the list.

          But I saw a picture while I was looking through the books.

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It was beautiful Tromp l’oeil.   It is a koi’s eye-view of a pond.  I went running with it.  But I like goldfish and aquariums.  So that is what I’m doing instead. But you can’t do that to start off with.  Remember – paint the background first.

          So then there had to be a trip to Lowe’s hardware.  I went on my lunch break and picked up a few paint samples that were in the neighborhood of what I wanted.  I brought them home and gave the spouse a choice.

It isn’t really a choice.  I had already decided on what to let him look at.  So no matter what he picked, I would be happy with it.  This is straight out of working with kindergartners.  Too many choices is a sure way to stop any work from going forward.

Then came time to paint.  The room is too small for two people to work, and he doesn’t really “get” painting.  He more than makes up for it in being able to fix minor plumbing and electrical problems, so I was OK with that.  But it took three hours.

I’d forgotten that we had a dinner date with friends on Saturday night, so that meant I had to get this done on Friday to give it time to dry so we could take showers.   That meant I got started on actually painting this project around nine, because we had to have supper first and there is always the prep work to do for painting.

I decided to do this without any music.  I figured that it would disturb him.  I don’t play my music around him, nor do I sing around him.  That is something to write about for another day.

So I was stuck, painting, by myself, in a small room, for three hours, in silence. It was a new kind of hell.

Instead of getting away from my problems, I was right up in them.  Everything I was trying to not think about was right there with me in that tiny room that smelled of latex paint.

I meditated on Jonah, one of my favorite characters who teaches me how to deal with problems.   And I remembered that he was stuck in that whale for three days.  So was Jesus – he was dead for three days.  You can praise God all you want, but you are still going to have to wait until it is time for it to be over.

That helped.  I was still in a foul mood, but at least I knew there was going to be an end to it.  It reminds me of the person who had a ring made that said “This too shall pass” as a reminder for the bad times as well as the good times.

The next day I painted the leaves on the walls, because that had to be done before the fixtures could be put back.  Scott was out of the house, so I put on music and sang along.  It helped my mood a lot.  It was also good that I started with something simple like long twisty leaves.

 

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The next day I painted some fish.  I didn’t think I could.  I was planning on drawing them on watercolor paper and then gluing them on, or printing some out on inkjet paper and doing the same.   I’m glad I gave painting them a try, because I surprised myself.

bath3           bath4

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I had gone online for some reference pictures and printed them out on my printer.  The resolution wasn’t that great, but it was a good start.   I transferred the outline of the fish to the wall by holding the paper to the wall and tracing the lines Really Hard with a pencil, so it made a dent in the wall.  Ideally, I’d have used carbon paper.  I didn’t have any, and I didn’t feel like slowing down by going and getting some.  Inspiration shouldn’t be messed with.  If I slow down, the whole thing could have come to a complete stop.

The transfer of the lines worked.  I mixed up some paint in a small plastic dish and went at it.  I learned as I went.  I used a dry brush technique for the fins.  I painted seven goldfish.   I plan to paint a castle, an old-time deep sea diver, a treasure chest, and a sunken galleon too.  Later.

Today’s the third day, and I feel better.  The room looks brighter.  I’m still not finished with the fish (they need eyes) but I’m OK with that.  The problems with the parents-in-law continue, but I’ve realized that isn’t my project.  I’m sticking with the stuff that is my responsibility and leaving that to their sons.

How to be an artist

Do you want to know how to be an artist? I can tell you in one easy step. Make art. That’s it.

It doesn’t have to be pretty. It doesn’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to have a plan. Just create something. Follow your heart.

Paint by numbers doesn’t count. Copying something doesn’t count. Both are training, sure. Both teach you how to use the materials. That alone is half of learning how to be an artist.

But to create art, you have to create. You have to make it up and make it happen.

What is in your head won’t be what happens at first. Just like learning how to do any skill, creating art isn’t easy at the start. You’ll stumble and wobble.

Just keep making art anyway.

Every day, make a date with yourself to make something. After a few weeks, you’ll start seeing real progress. After a few months, you’ll start getting really good. You still won’t be an expert, and you’ll probably try some new technique you aren’t good at or suited for.

That is fine too. Keep making art. That is all there is to it.

If you want to be an artist, just make art.

Immigrant / Refugee

These words are on the Statue of Liberty –
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

But they don’t mean anything anymore. They sound good, but we as Americans don’t really mean them. We like to think we do, but our actions and policies say otherwise.

Remember when “immigrant” wasn’t a dirty word? Now, with the large group of Mexican children at America’s border, the word has shifted from “immigrant” to “refugee”.

That is what they are. That is what they have always been. They are looking for a better life. They can’t make it there, so they are trying to make it here.

This has always been a nation of immigrants.

The Puritans, seeking religious freedom.

The Irish, escaping famine.

The Chinese, in search of jobs where they can earn a living wage.

Layer upon layer, they come and add to the flavor of this country. This country is made up of mutts.

But Americans are scared. They don’t want “them” to take away their jobs or use up their resources. Public education and healthcare isn’t free – they are supported with tax dollars. If you are illegally here, you aren’t paying taxes. You are using resources that you haven’t paid for.

And then we gripe about having to change our signs and paperwork to be in English and in Spanish. That costs money too, money we don’t have.

We may say that America is the richest country, but we are in debt up to our ears. We don’t have the resources to take care of ourselves, much less everybody else. We don’t have room, or time, or much of anything else left over.

But what we do have is more than what they have.

Mexicans are fleeing drug cartels and police on the take. They are fleeing crushing poverty and illiteracy. They are fleeing lives where the only thing to look forward to is death.

For years they were referred to as “illegal immigrants” – but now with this huge group of Mexican children at the border, the term has shifted to “refugee” to garner sympathy.

So what do we do? Take them in? Adopt them out? Put them in foster care? Who is going to tend these children? Where is the money going to come from?

Should we make every Mexican in this country “legal” – drop all immigration limits and expect everybody to work and pay taxes and learn the language? Make a rule that if you want to come here, you have to pull your weight just like everybody else?

We all have to be on the same page.

We aren’t united. We are rather divided. And we are falling. We have a chance here, a choice. We have a chance to be “A Christian nation” like we like to think we are, and welcome in the stranger and treat our neighbor with the same kindness we wanted.

But how? With what money? We had to shut down the federal government for weeks last year due to no money.

We say we want to do the right thing, but when push comes to shove, we’d rather do what hurts less.

Epicenter

When something bad happens, people like to know where it happened. They want to know how close it hit to them. They want to know if it’s going to affect them.

If your house is robbed and you’re part of the neighborhood watch, they will ask what street you are on. They want to know how close the danger is to them. They want to know if it is going to hit them next.

If someone dies unexpectedly, people will ask “How did she die?” or “How old was she?”or they will wonder out loud if she caused her own early death due to not taking care of herself. They want to know if there’s a possibility that it will happen to them. They want to know if they are at risk for the same thing.

In both cases, they want to know if they should move away from the danger.

No matter what you do, you will get sick, and you might get robbed. Asking how close it is to you only insults the other person and says “You are not like me. I’m special.” It implies that you think that you are above the other person – more blessed.

The phrase “There but for the grace of God go I” is especially insulting. If there is a tornado that goes through your neighborhood and your house is intact and half your neighbor’s houses are flattened, it doesn’t mean that God loves you more. It doesn’t mean that God gives more grace to you and withdraws it from them. It doesn’t mean that they did something bad to deserve it.

Bad things happen to people, period. Not just bad people. What matters afterwards is how we deal with it.

“No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were: any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.”
– John Donne, Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions, “Meditation XVII”

Poem – Space inside

As if God
can be reduced
to things.

God is the
space between
things.

God is the
space between
us.

The atoms,
the neurons,
the quarks,

it is the energy
they have
that makes them work.

It is the stuff
inside the room
that defines it,
not the walls.

Likewise it is the energy,
the Spirit Within
that defines
us,
makes us
who we are.

Our bodies are shells,
our skin is just
a container
for the Spirit inside.

Skin color,
hairstyle,
clothing,
culture

– none of this matters.

Memory postcard 3, Me the astronaut

This is what happens when I remember a picture but I can’t find it. I put things together in a way that remind me of it.

me1

One of my favorite pictures of me as a child was me standing on my grandparent’s porch wearing a plastic astronaut helmet. I’m not sure why that was part of the toy collection. It was larger than my head by far, and had a green visor that could open up. So I could see the world with a green tint, or not.

I can’t find that picture, but I can find this one. It was from around the same time.

I considered making an astronaut helmet for me in this picture – watercolor paper and pencils, green acetate – but then I realized if I did that, my face would be obscured. There is enough of that in the other two memory postcards.

Here is a closer picture of me.

me2

Then I added the “Women in space” stamp. I’ve used a photocopy of it for another project, but here I’m using the real thing. I love her smile.

me3

Here are the fortunes.

me4

I included things to remind me of my childhood and also point towards the future. What instructions would I like to give my former self and my future self?

…message…
My aunt mockingly calls hearing from God – at least when my Dad (her brother) did it – getting “Messages”. I think that she mocks it because she has never heard from God.

…lost penny…
My Mom was big on shiny pennies. She’d give me them for good luck. I’d almost forgotten that. It also reminds me of the parable of the lost coin – how God will go out of the way to find it. We are the lost coins, and we are precious to God.

…Never be less than your dreams…

Seems like a good message for then, now, and future me. My dreams are something to aspire to. And, they are like the mustard seed – from small things can grow big things. I just have to remember that Jesus tells us we have that energy inside us. If God gives us the desire to do something, we can do it. It isn’t just a fantasy – it is the seed of a reality. We have to give it energy to make it grow, and trust the process.

Inuksuk journey

This piece is about finding myself in a land that doesn’t have any maps.

1

(better light)
9

There is a map on the left-hand side. It goes from being highly populated at the bottom to being barely populated at the top. There are a lot of place names for cities and villages on the bottom part of the map. But when you go further north, the place names get fewer and farther between, and they get different. The place names further north are the place names from the people who live there, and they are in Inuit.

2

They are harder for us to pronounce. Their alphabet looks entirely different from ours. It is full of circles and triangles. The Inuit did not have a written language for many years. The way that they explained to each other how to get from one area to another was with these huge stone sculptures, called inuksuit (plural of inuksuk). They aren’t art sculptures, they are assemblages of stones that are found in that place. The inuksuit are the only way to navigate in a land that is filled with snow and ice. They didn’t have cities and roads like we do, so they couldn’t say “Go 3 miles and then turn left onto Main Street.” There was no Main Street. There were no streets. It is a land of ice and snow.

3

(better light)
12

It is really rude that this land is called Newfoundland. It isn’t newly found. It never was lost. The people who lived there had found it. To say that it was found by new settlers means that no one was there at the time it was “found”. To call it Newfoundland is insulting to the people who were living there. It is to say that they are not people and that they do not own this land.

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I have used tissue paper to cover up some of the names and settlements of the people who moved in after the Inuit. I have done this to try and reclaim the land. I have also done this because I don’t want to look at those areas. These are scars upon the land. In a way, by putting tissue paper I am putting up a drift of snow. I am reclaiming that area. I am saying that area should not be in the possession of the white people. It should be in possession of the people who lived there before, and who still live there.

8

The inuksuk that I have used is a direction finding one. All inuksuit are different. One may indicate where is a good place to hunt, another where is a good place to find caribou or yet another that is a dangerous area.

 
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This particular one shows you where to go. You look through the big inuksuk towards the little inuksuk. It points the way. When the little one is in the center of your view, you know that is the direction to go. You are pointed in the right direction.

But think about the people who were there before you. How did they figure out that was a safe way to go? It was very kind of them to leave the stones for you to tell you that this was the best travel route. But think about it. In order to do that, they had to come back safely. They went to the trouble of figuring out a safe passage to start off with and then they came back to put up a marker.

6

It reminds me of a sponsor in AA. They have gone through the difficulty of becoming sober and then they committed to helping you find your way too. It is the same as in Buddhism. Someone who is enlightened, a bodhisattva, renounces going to Nirvana for the sake of everyone else. Instead of leaving this plane of existence, they stay so that they can help others find their way. They show you where it is safe and where it is dangerous, just like these rocks do.

7

(better light)
10

I like this particular inuksuk not only because it indicates direction but also because it looks like a torii gate. They are part of the Shinto religion in Japan. They are not gates to keep people out. Rather, they are an indicator that you have stepped from the secular into the sacred. They let you know that you are on holy ground.

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This is made with canvas, acrylic paint, a map of Newfoundland, two Canadian stamps, watercolor pencil on water color paper, tissue paper, and matte medium.

Here is a behind-the-scenes illustration of how I created the main Inuksuk.  (which is composed of two Inuksuit)

Here is the reference picture from a book from the library.

rock2

Here is my solution to how to “paint” it.  I drew the stones onto heavy watercolor paper, using watercolor pencils.  Once I was happy with them, I cut them out and glued them together on the canvas.  I essentially created my own stones and stacked them. This meant that I could edit an area without affecting the entire piece.

rock1

 

Hammer, screwdriver, and love.

Say you were given a set of instructions to build a house. All the pieces are cut out, all you and your crew have to do is assemble them. The architect thinks that you were provided hammers and some nails. But when you get to the job site, instead of hammers you have screwdrivers. You can’t possibly follow the instructions to build a house with screwdrivers. It just doesn’t work. It isn’t designed for that.

But you try anyway, because it is what you have and you have a job to do. Then the architect calls you up and asks you if you are finished yet. You say no, and he gets really mad. You didn’t know that you were supposed to have hammers. You think that screwdrivers are what you are supposed to use, because it is what you were provided.

You are way behind on the project and the architect is really upset. Somebody figured out how to use a screwdriver to dig out a hole in the wood and then put a nail in the hole, and tap it in with the other end of the screwdriver. It isn’t very good, but it is something. You’ve managed to put together a corner of the house this way.

After a few more phone calls and getting more and more upset and confused, the architect finally comes to the job site and he notices you don’t have the right tools. He sees what you have and how hard you’ve been trying with what you were provided, and he understands. He works alongside you for a bit, using the tool that you were given. He doesn’t have a way to get you any hammers, so he changes the plans and he makes them a lot easier.

God is the architect and we are the workers. Our human bodies are the screwdrivers.

We can’t possibly follow all of God’s instructions with the tool we were given. God had no way of knowing how frail and hungry these bodies are. They cause us to fear, so we don’t try anything difficult. They cause us to crave, so we do things we know we shouldn’t. Our senses are very limited, so our perceptions aren’t that great.

But then God the architect comes down to the worksite (Earth) to see us and work with us.

And God gets it. We can’t do what is expected of us. We can’t follow the plans the way they are written with the tools we were given. The only way God would know that was to see things from our perspective, in our limited, frail, needy bodies.

We aren’t off the hook, but the rules got modified. They were boiled down to the essentials. Instead of “eat this, don’t eat this” and “wash your hands this way” and “say this prayer at this time” and six-hundred-plus other rules, we got two.

Love God, and love your neighbor as yourself.

Which really is only one rule. Love.

We can build anything with that rule.

We can build houses for the homeless. We can build schools to teach people how to read and take care of themselves. We can build hospitals so people can get well. We can build farms so we can grow healthy food. We can build gyms so we can exercise and get strong.

Love.

And you don’t even need a hammer or a screwdriver to use it.

Fit and older

I do not understand someone who will go to all the money and time of making their house handicapped accessible but they won’t spend the same amount of money and time on making their body less likely to become handicapped. Sure, there are accidents that happen but generally the biggest reason that people become disabled is because they stop taking care of themselves.

Being infirm is not a natural part of becoming older. It is a natural result of stopping taking care of yourself. If you don’t use it you will indeed lose it.

There is no reason that older means less fit. Less active means less healthy, yes. Being active shouldn’t be something that just young people do. Being active is something that people should do. If you stop working, it doesn’t mean you stop moving. You don’t have a reason to anymore – so you have to make up reasons. Volunteer. Go to the Y. Garden. Stay active, or you’ll become immobile.