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at L&L Creations page. We're getting it going!
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I got a nagging in my stomach, that same place that tells me what is going on in other ways was pulling me to practice readings. So... I posted on Stanwood Buy/Sell/Trade to do practice readings. http://www.hillartistry.com/free-practice-psychic-readings.html I won't ever charge for the readings, but still need the practice. I have a hard time calling it "psychic" readings because that brings to mind nutsos with glittery rocks and pricey 900 numbers screaming CALL NOW. That is so NOT what this is about. People with this gift are usually normal, but sensitive to other things, thats all. There is another sense I'm not sure everyone has... or if they do, they don't know what the voice is or how to translate it. This feeling and sense has always been there, but just recently I've learned what it was. Its like having a hand and never seeing anyone use it for anything, so you don't know what it is or what its capable of, so you get used to it just "sitting" there. ----------- 10 minutes later... So, I got two contacts! Already! How wonderful. The most peaceful feeling came over me, from that same spot in the solar plexus, and that tells me I'm on the right track. This feels right, I can't describe it. Well, so, here we go :)   3/8: Addendum afterthought, written the next day... Finding truth from the funhouse mirror effect in my own mind is the best analogy I can come up with. The below is the work I, with a certain gift set and personality style, have to go through to dig through intense reactions so they don't discolor relationships that mean the world to me. It is work. At least I'm aware and don't go through reacting with some reptilian brain at the first impression I get.
What kicks off these writing sprees is I realize present circumstances are being discolored through the pain-filter of the past and I refuse to "live" there and allow that experience to sit in my life, unchallenged. I don't dwell, but I do dig and try to, hopefully both- understand and heal it. This is nothing new, its gone on since I first journaled at 12. It should be said that how I see things sometimes aren't what my loved ones intend, that what I experience is filtered through a past of abuse at times, and leaves the world distorted. It hurts them and it hurts me. This isn't fair to them and I hate it for them. Sometimes I get so tired of having to work through the warped horror-house mirror to understand what they meant, if they're willing to talk to me about it. I sometimes doubt I'm worth the trouble of these uncomfortable conversations these loved ones go through, often over and over. I get so tired of it for them. Thankfully, I am surrounded with people, especially this person, that values me as much as I him. We both came away with an awareness and understanding and more closeness than I'd ever imagined. This is what patience and love is. What is left is love and understanding, strength and faith. 3/7 First realize we all have our stuff that comes from those first 10 to 20 years of our lives. Those habits started way back then can either effect your life a little (if your family was kinda healthy) or alot (your family was like mine.) These habits will follow us for lifetimes if we let it. But, don't kid yourself, it is harder done than said to eliminate some issues. And talking about it once or twice in therapy won't cut it, either. Sometimes, just sometimes, you just have to resign yourself to live with it. It means some suffering, but it is what it is. Ylanla Vanzant (my heroine, one of my fav authors) says that close relationships offer us mirrors that give us chances to heal. This is her quote from In the Meantime: “Sooner or later, we must all accept the fact that in a relationship, the only person you are dealing with is yourself. Your partner does nothing more than reveal your stuff to you. Your fear! Your anger! Your pattern! Your craziness!" God Allmighty, do I ever have so much to heal. How this manifests is a benign conversation that triggers a malign response in yourself (myself). So, two loving people are having a conversation about an opinion/feeling about someone. I see that the very important other person listening to me often takes the viewpoint of the other person in the topic, explaining them. Suddenly, I feel put on the lower realm of the proverbial totem pole. Between us, this syndrome has happened a bit, and it always strikes a chord- a pretty low one. Did I get angry? Maybe, but it hurt first. Why? Depending on what the hububs about, at those times, I hear "Your issue isn't as important as theirs, shut up." "Be better. Don't sink as low as to get irritated." "You don't have the same privilege they do to make mistakes." "You don't have the right to your feelings about this." and on a really bad day for me, "You don't deserve better." This strikes such a chord that tonight I cried, allowing myself to feel the pain of it, realizing the tears were old ones. I was almost tempted to promise myself to give in to others (later situations) for whatever reason I should-- or not bring up any conflict (strong feeling) involving myself with my love. (Side note, in this particular relationship, I believe the habit my love has about this is permanent- and I also believe my reaction to it is equally set and permanent, so this will be a healing area for me on an ongoing basis. Not such a bad thing, as this issue for me goes deep.)  Whats been going on, not much and a lot. For one, love life is interesting and complicated. Its good to be with my Larry, the love of my life and my ex is also happy. Who knew both was possible? Devyn is happy that everyone is happy-- kids are not as complicated as we are. They just want security and joy. When it comes down to it, don't we all?
I had a dream about Sam a few months back. It was one of those dreams that stand out so much more than others that are sure to catch your attention with their reality and depth~ and this one definitely did, just as they planned. I say they because it seems there is a behind the scenes crew guiding me and giving hints and messages and even sometimes jokes. (yes, jokes.) Sam was a racehorse, a huge one. He was black with some white in the middle of his forehead. I was a caretaker, one among many who worked at this training facility. Poor Sam was ignored and avoided by almost all traners, kept to an area by himself because of his temperamental nature. In the dream, I see this huge artwork sculpture of a creature and thought, “What a waste. All you need is to get that energy run out of you and you'll be fine. You're going to go crazy in here without any room to run.” I was the only one either brave enough or stupid enough to get into his area. So, I gathered courage, his reins, saddle and snuck him out. The rest of the trainers were scared because I had this “loaded weapon” on reins and he was chomping at the bit. I made a deal with them that if I could get him to “keep me on”, that we would try his speed and see how he does and afterwards, I'd put him back no questions asked and the owners would be none the wiser. So, we did. He went crazy, bolting out the gate so fast that I could barely hold on. After gathering my senses and getting a better grip, the speed was tremendous, as was the rush of flying on this massive animal's powerful back. When we jogged back to the timers, mouths were agape with wonder of his speed and realizations that he broke all previous records of the best racehorses on the premises. The owners of the stables had come back early, so I rushed to put Sam back without cooling him down. Unbeknownst to me, they'd noticed his heavy breathing and thought that something was wrong with him and they trailored him up and took him to a vet. In their minds, he was so much trouble and if there was a new medical problem, they would terminate him. I heard this and admitted to running him. I told them his speed and they couldn't believe it, even with the other witnesses. The end of the dream, we made a deal that I was allowed to be his trainer and jockey. The dreams meaning: The first was the name... Sam was an acronym for Spirituality And Magic-- and would be what powered my art. The more I allowed of that to show through, the better my art and growth would be. The second meaning is that Sam was a symbol for Larry, a temperamental sort who required some folks to tread lightly, but who just wanted to run and win. (His drive and ambition was what kept him on track, too.) So, all of that having been said, that is what I'm putting into my artwork: all the spirituality and magic that makes up my life :) So so so so SO much going on!
At A Guilded Gallery, Larry and I are trying to get the Aspiring Artists' Exhibit up and running... not much participation yet, but we hope to get much, much more going. We had planned to have signs and posters up everywhere public, but the tonsillitis and the cold I got afterwards a week after had put a major damper on my ability to do much at all. Larry had surgery October 16 and it has taken him a week to be able to move without wincing. We are behind about that, but doing our best. For more information, click here and invite the closeted creatives in your life. As a last ditch effort, I posted the information on every local facebook page I could. As far as my own art, I have several pieces finished, just need to frame/matt things. As with anyone right-brained, these small details are not my forte! I'd rather sell the things as-is and let the buyers choose what works best in their homes. That makes the most sense to me. The newest additions are created from modeled copper spraypaint (yes, spraypaint). Pictures to come! A barn/landscape old fashioned oil painting is also finished and I have to admit, for as tight as it is, I like it. What worked: the color scheme. What didn't: I painted on top of a colored canvas. It took me so long to cover it with enough paint to get rid of the red underneath. It would have been ok, but I didn't want red in a blue sky. Note to self... do not use colored gesso or canvases unless you're sure the color adds to the whole piece. Portraits, fine-- landscapes? Not so much. I've got a beautiful new piece in my head-- on the backburner, a spiritual one having to do with the dream I had :) Two more have to do with dealing with uncomfortable feelings, but will be COOL. The last one is paint as paint and is just because... and it'll be fun. I am geared up to go! So, I write when I'm down. Well, I'm down.
Today, I have a cold, pms, a yeast infection, stomach “issues” from stress and I've been harrassed by someone who has worn down my tolerance for them to nearly nil. The first four will resolve on their own in time and the fifth is going to be fixed with limited exposure. (Yes, Dr. Massong, I listened and learned. Your therapy did not go to waste :) ) Limited exposure... what does that mean? Not allowing someone close enough, time enough or space enough to say anything other than hello or goodbye. Thats it. Some people get more, but some people get less. You determine that by how much you'd like to set their feet on fire and clap as they dance. You can hang around with those who purposely irritate you, but why? This particular person is dead to any one else's perspective other than his own, so communicating in order to come to an understanding is wasting both time and breath. The high road. Some of us know what that is, some don't (don't kid yourself, they exist) and others avoid it when they think they aren't being observed. Me? I know what the high road is, take it until my patience is worn to the bone and then its “on”. Unfortunately, when that happens, there is no way to win because as witty and as biting as I can be, I still lose because I know what road I'm supposed to be on and I cut myself no slack. Gee, thanks, Mom. LOL So, back to the high road. And apparently the potty. So, the whole jest was this~ I was pregnant with twins. I didn't know that the dream meant anything else at this point, but the meaning of pregnancy/birth is obviously creativity, potential, giving life to something, a major life change coming into being. I was caring and carrying one experience of two entities. Birth is the utmost importance in a woman's life, one in which she would die for. I was showing it off proudly (I find out later it is us).
On the way "home" (forward motion), someone (who had no idea of the preciousness of the cargo inside and was only acting out of his own feelings- unaware and oblivious to their importance) was trying to run the car off the road. He was ramming our car and otherwise being dangerous. Without a second thought, I got out of the car (and it was an old one) and said, "I will NOT allow you to hurt them." I let the person know I would stop at nothing to protect them, not out of malice, but out of love. If it meant an ultimate sacrifice, I would do so without hesitation. (Somehow I knew he wasn't supposed to be there, on the road and going in that direction because he was impaired. Don't ask me how I know that, it was one of those "knowing things". I was also protecting other people on the road, so I took his keys, car, etc.) We left him there secure knowing that everyone was safe until he gained his "senses". Which somehow I knew he would and then he would be ok. So, after running him off, at home, the twins started to become clear. It was a gift they had, they were unveiling themselves and their magnificence. They let me see them through my skin that looked like a transparent and translucent veil. I asked others if they saw them, too... "Are you SEEING this??!" and they all said "no". I said that I could tell it was a boy and a girl. They said, "Stop showing off, we know you know things." ??? What is that supposed to mean? LOL Anyway, their beauty hit me with such a force of awe, humility and gratitude. I said, "Oh my God, they are so beautiful, I can't believe you can't see this. I wish you could see what I'm seeing". Their hair shown like gold lit up from inside, their eyes were clear. Angels fit the description, but they weren't angels. Somehow, I was gifted with the knowledge that they are what we are before we have to be clothed/prepared to come into the world. I realized this was something special they allowed me to know. Then everything around the 3 of us in the background fell away... there was nothing else but the two there inside the safety of me and me, outside of myself looking at them. I think they realized, for lack of a better description, I had passed an important milestone that had proven to them their importance to me and I was allowed to know the full scope of their significance. By protecting them, this brought them security to reveal who and what they actually were. I was in front of them, their heads, face to face at 3/4 pose as they looked at me sweetly, knowingly and with recognition, were in the shape of a heart with their bodies going down forming the lower point of the heart. On the left of them was a chunk of wood that looked suspiciously like a chunk of ivy Blown away, I started to ask them questions "How am I doing this???" and with a purity and an innocence I can't describe, they said, "Because you can." I asked "Why am I doing this?" (What is the purpose?) They answered sweetly, "Because you are supposed to." They imparted that the questions and answers had two meanings: this is what I was meant to do, see what can't be seen. Back to the first question, they imparted that double meaning, in that the answer had as much to do with the other things I know without knowing how. I can't call them babies because they were waaaay too wise, knowing everything with an impartiality and absolutely NO fear. They could speak with their souls, and that is what they were. They told me they were twins, soul mates. They have been together eternally in one form or another- it was this way yesterday, today and will be again. They also imparted that their wisdom was also eternal, they were aware of literally everything- past, present and future. Accidents have happened and they do get separated, but when they are separated, they don't judge, yet bide their time until they are reunited. It has always been this way and will continue to be. What they had was beyond love, it doesn't have a name, so we call it "soul mate", which means Twin Souls. They told me without words that two things are coming, but didn't tell me what. One had to do with wood on the left of the mental image (our business?) and the other is the culmination of the pregnancy (which is two entities in the security of an enclosed space, the womb is symbolic of the relationship.) So, I guess I couldn't physically take anymore. I woke up shaking, literally. I rubbed my hands over my face and every part of me was hot. My hands are almost always cold, as are my feet, but they were burning up. I think that is from their energy. Somehow, still in that open space, more information came in and I knew that only some people's psyches can tolerate knowing things and that is why not all of us can be clairvoyant. I think it has to do with judgement and fear. If we can grow past that, we are open. I also "found out" that experiencing the purity of our own souls and where we come from is almost intolerable to our physical bodies. It has a profound physical effect that we cannot contain. Its not an ignorance we're given because of malice, it is a protective measure. It felt like I couldn't contain this energy I'd absorbed, like being shocked by electricity, my heart was pounding so hard I swear the sheets and my shirt was moving with the rhythm. I held my hand out to take note of the shaking while trying to get my bearings and debate whether or not I should come tell you... you needed your sleep, but I also wanted you to be part of this experience with me. When I felt it was safe enough to get up and move, I got a beta blocker to grab the reigns of my heart and you woke up, so I told you But I could only tell you a little because it hadn't sunk in, I was still in shock. So, this was the rest of it Wow. This is the most significant and profound dream I've ever had.  OK-- so to anyone and everyone who wants to read about why, here ya go. Most of the time, I try to investigate why I'm doing something. What is my intent? My motives? Is it love? Is it to give? Is it to receive? Is it to amuse? Mostly all of those things. Sometimes I remember to investigate motives, but I do forget and goof up and goof up often... but this isn't one of those times :) So, anyway, why do I blog? First, if my perspectives and experiences can be of service to anyone, I offer them. I make a lot of mistakes and many can be learned by just reading and pointing your finger at me. Why make your own mistakes when you don't have to? I have learned so much from relating to real people and real stories that I decided to be one, myself, no holds barred. I tell you the truth from my very subjective perspective. It won't be someone else's, but its mine. If it helps anyone or even lightly amuses, wonderful. The point is that if there is any one thing that can be gleaned from my blog about life, art, spirituality, love, sadness or joy that will help someone become more secure in themselves to live openly and connect in their lives... then, wonderful. If someone, through my hard-nosed exploration can see the beauty in their own complexities and falliblilties, then this is worth it to me and I will continue to do it. I offer my vulnerabilities in love and with the intent of love only for that purpose. AA is this way, my Mom's saving grace. We'd both be dead if it wasn't for AA and how they handle life. They talk of struggles openly and about what helped them through hard times and it helps new people and the cycle of giving continues. Sometimes along the way, even with the best of intents, people's toes get stepped on. A note to my loved ones of past, present and future: Existing as someone connected to me, you will be vulnerable and this won't be comfortable to you. It will require you to be courageous when you feel you can't. Do it anyway and release the shame. It'll be ok. This is why I don't name names, although the names are easy to find if you look. But the real issue in this blog isn't the name, the person or even the event... it is the lesson learned in the grander scheme of the human condition. So, if these lessons of the human condition have been lost in my posts, then the person doesn't get it and they shouldn't read any more. For example, the last two posts were about manipulation by people who don't necessarily look manipulative... to us or themselves. We do it all the time, all of us, and we don't even realize it. Myself, included. The posts were also about how our roles in relationships change depending on our strengths and weaknesses. So, about accepting our roles in those relationships... I accept being a bad-girl (blunt? insensitive?) sometimes to make someone feel better about themselves. (Its mental gymnastics to understand why I say that, I know. I've been a "guard-dog" for people who couldn't do it for themselves was one way.) I live based on how I'd like to be treated, adhering to the golden rule. I had rather have my feelings hurt with someone's truth than be placated with a sweet lie. I own being blamed (and criticized) for the repercussions of those things, willingly. I played a role in the victim/rescuer experience without blaming a soul for it but myself and I don't regret it or intend to whine about it. I don't want pity. I did it, I'm an adult and thats that. But I am also an odd bird, wild. My love runs rampant as much as the other extreme. I wear my heart, my weaknesses and triumphs on my sleeve, opting to be vulnerable all of the time. This woman is my hero, my example and she fully gets why I paint and live as I do. To understand "why" fully, watch this: Sure, I get hurt and some judgment, but its worth it. I am human and very fallible and just like you or anyone else you come across. I just happen to be an artist with a blog. (Not a CPA, secretary or accountant. An artist. Much of what I write about becomes paintings.)
So, about this blog, I had been slightly “threatened” that someone had “something” on me that I wouldn't want “out there”. I imagine, in retalliation for what I wrote. I'm curious what someone could possibly have that I don't readily admit on my back through an exposed, soft underbelly. Can't think of a thing. But, I am not, nor ever will get, into the habit of hiding anything. Our weakness IS our courage and the day we get that is the day we are whole. I bless someone in their endeavors to dig dirt up on me because its already been dug a long time ago. Airing dirty laundry? There is a spiritual principle behind this. Respect it or not, but watch Brene Brown's TED talk and then make your judgment. There's more of this post if you click "read more" down there to the right. I hope all who reads the above or anything from this unrepentant wild-child is blessed with the courage for a more authentic and loving life. They and Them exist. They are the ones who try to follow rules, the harmless ones, never pushing or exceeding outside of the boundaries established. They don't think for themselves or create themselves in the most authentic ways and resent others who do... perhaps they wish secretly that they could? That they had the nerve? When they take out on us, how do we deal with them?
I have no idea. What I may not necessarily like about myself, I've learned to accept and use to my advantage in art. I am insubordinate and rebellious as hell and tried for years to get rid of it. The first words I used had to do with rebelling. Also, I've been painting, drawing or creating since I was in diapers, my first complete sentence had to do with something about art. The two are as much a part of me as my eye color. I've been a professional artist for 20 years and know well the "rules" applicable to art-- and CHOOSE to break them and break them often. This doesn't go with their vision of what art should be (a random sampling of safe "Corporate Art" that looks great in libraries, public facilities, hard to decorate hallways or over couches.) Here's a hint: real art isn't copied from a photo, unless the pic is mixed with other elements to convey something. Real artists who are making the real art also communicate (a concept, mood, social issue, secret wish) with their art, too, or push a limit that has been too-long-enmeshed in our culture. Sad truth is that real artists will have to stifle themselves to be found in outwardly criticizing/inwardly complacent galleries, and will usually be shunned. We stand out like sore thumbs, which is a good thing. Whats happened to us is that we got so good early in our lives that we got bored and moved on into challenging realms. If you're not being shunned for something, you're doing it wrong. Whether its your subject matter, how your shadows fall across a wall or how its framed or isn't, get some kind of criticism and then be ballsy enough to either ignore it and/or make art out of the criticism. Its like a ladder: make one thing, take inspiration from their reactions and make another piece. Paint the cool stuff that happens in between, too: there is no such thing as a dry spell or artists' block when you do this. Respect. I can't listen to someone I don't respect about a subject that is close to me if they aren't more experienced in the direction in which I want to grow. Talent, I've got. Talent and being good at what you do is the easy part. Being professional is also easy as hell. Courage. Where this inclination comes from is that I don't believe in authority figures (usually toe-the-line-traditionalists) and the world is full of those who think they are exactly that just because they can follow rules to a T. You've met them, the bossy ones who think they know it all, when in reality they're just talented hobbyists... playing around after retirement with no real blood, sweat, or tears translated into gutsy emotional investment for the world to see. They feel proud to have sold a piece or two without risking a damn thing and have stayed comfortable their whole lives. I'm interested in the hard stuff that makes me grow; I don't stay safe and would consider myself generally weak minded or insecure if I did. What helps this along from both a very personal and universal concept, this subject hits my rebellious streak where I get much of my best and highest selling pieces of inspiration. A message to "them": Bring it. I've been talented as long as I've had breath, so I'll paint my expressions of the situations you create (that everyone relates to at some point) and then make money off situations your criticism created. The reality of me not staying safe scares the shit out of traditionalists. I love it. This is how I play. Playing is risk, you have to show vulnerability to play and have fun at what you do. Remember? Lets see what this does, lets see what that does. Just watch a toddler with his mashed potatoes, you'll see. These other people had been harshly criticized for playing and lost the wonder and thrill of sating curiosity in the name of fun, so if their pictures aren't planned from beginning to end, they can't handle it. Here's both support and permission: Play. Be spontaneous a little. Then a little more. Say something inadequate. Have the hard conversations. Be vulnerable, then suck it up and put it on canvas, sculpture, music, or poetry. Take the consequences afterwards, too. You can handle it and you'll relate to someone who didn't know they wanted to say the exact same thing and they'll probably buy it, too. You just gave the voiceless a megaphone. Now, how good does that feel?? I know this, my toughest pieces to show were the ones sold first time off the chain and the ones who bought them usually cried in relief and happiness. Personal Investment. Unless someone has the cajones to invest their internal landscape into the one they've portrayed from their self-taken photograph, I won't listen because I know I've got the guts to be real and they don't. Some people are strictly business people who have some talent, but they aren't risking anything. Any monkey can learn to paint a picture, but can they put their personal perspective into it? Pretty. Sure I do pretty, but I can't respect pretty unless its genuine, and when they paint pretty to hang in the city hall or for your money, its not genuine. Sure, the world is full of pretty, but what are you conveying with it? I'm not saying all pretty art is inauthentic because I also paint beauty when I feel beauty-- but how many of us feel beauty all the time? Not any of us. Art is supposed to reflect life! Lets get real here, including art, by showing the totality of who we are. Nostalgic, romantic, dark, moody, conceptual, sweet composition pushing design... know thyself, bogus art making money chasers, and then paint the reality of that. Better yet, I'll paint you, at least I've got the guts. Well, its safe to assume that if told to do something, the answer is generally no. I don't bow to anyone, but will bend when I want to. And right now, I don't :) Rebels: Jesus, Ghandi, Monet, Renoir. Everyone that mattered in history had the balls to buck the established system. Think about that. So much going on. I have a new therapist and I love her and the changes I'm making. If you ever go to therapy (you don't need to be crazy, either) you'll find that when you change, everything else does, too. Your impact on others is better and somehow, these healers cause a domino affect that touches lives you'll never know. So, thats one thing. Another thing, every now and then you get a chance to be in the presence of someone that just feels like home. Take that to heart, its what life is about. How many of us get to meet our soul mate? If you do, don't ever give them up, either, under any circumstance. Mom is gone and she left a huge space that is allowing me room to focus on what needs to be. Life is changing and I'm ready for it, ready for what is next-- but much change tries our patience and I feel like a Ferrari stuck in the mud, but know its only a matter of time before I get traction and then, its on :) 
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Linda Hill
I am a life long artist, divorced from a 20 year marriage and a Mommy to a gorgeous little boy for 3 years. Archives
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