So much is going on so fast, but I love it. I am happier than I've ever been in my life, I believe to my soul. I'm where I'm supposed to be, about to be doing what I'm supposed to be doing. How many people can say they feel that connection with their calling so strongly? What a blessing when it happens.

I don't know what later brings, but if it gets better, I might just explode.

For one, I know Mom is at peace. Stephen is happy and feeling secure doing that male providing thing, Devyn is on the road to becoming the active and engaged little boy he's supposed to be and he's about to be put into preschool. Everyone is taken care of.

Apparently, the Energy we otherwise call God has blessed me with significant people in my life, essential people :) I suppose, the path has been laid before me to just GO. So, I will.

Some of the most bizarre coincidences have been happening... artworks in my head I may never get to, realizations of past, present and perhaps future have come into clear focus to show a masterpiece in the making.   

Read more about whats going on later by clicking "read more" below

Warning, adult language and really weird subject matter ahead. Stop now if you're not an adult or are either so narrowminded or conventional that information from "sensitives" scare you. You've been informed. 

Something odd happened tonight and, admittedly, I needed it :) I had a rough day. My Mom is awake, but she's not eating, she doesn't feel hungry. She says no to a feeding tube, says no to wanting to die, but says no to food by mouth. I mean to tell ya, it is a full time job making sure she eats something. 

Ok, so after today, I ended up pissed off. Most of the day was spent force-feeding mom, literally, with a syringe and ensure. I didn't want to do that, it felt disrespecting, but I kept asking her if she wanted to be ill from not eating (no), if she wanted to eat (yes), if she wanted to fix her low blood sugar (yes). She was so hypoglycemic that she was cold. I wasn't mean, I was stern and loving.

Good news is that after doing that, she was more alert and felt better. I just took the syringe and wiggled it in her mouth, through clenched lips and all, and gave her a squirt to the inside of her cheek. I'm used to this stuff with dealing with Devyn's GERD and that NAAAASTY meds the docs gave him. He had quit eating at all when he was 7 months old from the pain that esophagitis had caused due to the acid repeatedly burning his throat.

So I get home and I'm mad. Maybe it was justified. Maybe it was a pity party. How long is it going to be for me to have a life of my own? Am I willing to continue this at the expense of my little boy? Haven't I suffered enough by saving her life over and over? Hasn't she suffered enough? What fresh hell is this to work so hard to get someone to survive when they say they want to, but all their actions are going against survivability? And finally, just open your mouth and eat, dammit! I don't deny I want to spend the time helping her survive or saving her, but get with the program. (And, yes, I know that her mind is inhibited by toxins, but it doesn't make the feelings any better.)

Knot in stomach, heart in vice, I go to paint. Dev's having some sleep, I start writing all I feel and what I want to say on the canvas and start getting ideas of what its going to be. The letters' lines are going to cue me in on color change. Plus, I'm letting the poison out onto the canvas so it doesn't mess with me later. 

I take a break and walk outside and hear a bell, one sound, over and over. It feels like someone is trying to get my attention. I feel it in the pit of my stomach. I feel someone there. All of a sudden, I was compelled to say "I know you're here, I just wish I could see you." I then started to feel the other person's protectiveness and that I'm never alone. They don't want this dilemma for me or us. But I get the distinct impression it isn't one of my blood relatives. 

I ask Stephen who it might be on his side: the person is protective, not to the I'll take your head off extreme, but by way of getting in between an experience and the person and shield the person. He said that sounded like his Mom. "the person is also very "polite" and would never invite themselves in... they're waiting on being welcomed in. They're not boat rockers, but they wouldn't hesitate to be fierce if they needed to" so, I said it outloud... "hey here, Mom Hill, go ahead and come in. I hope you know you're always welcome here."

With that, I went to get a cup to make some putty and didn't think any more of it. While I was getting the cup, I was overcome with motherly love, all these feelings at once just flooded in like a tsunami... all for Stephen and what he was doing with his life, how he was handling things, how well he loved, what kind of father and husband he was. I was so full of sentimentality, pride and joy (like he was MY son!) for him that I started crying. For me, thinking of my husband as a child, my child, just doesn't happen.  

I stopped what I was doing and went to tell him I was sure it was his Mom and couldn't get out what (I?) she was feeling for him because I was crying too much. I AM NOT A CRIER. I listen to slipknot, I take blows like a champ- get ticked off about situations, not hard, but not mushy, either. Sensitive, yes, empathic and compassionate, but not this.
 
Finally, all I could do was hug him and tell him how wonderful he was and that she was so so so proud of him. She was proud of his choices . He was just a good man. 

I got ahold of myself and told him that was why she was outside, she didn't want to intrude (thats one of the feelings I got) and that if he wanted to be alone with her, he could go outside. Seemed fitting that was where she was "concentrated" seeing as how he was taking out the garbage a minute or so ago. 

Stephen got some things and went outside. And, apparently, so did she... because the tidal wave was gone. I was done and was by myself to do what I wanted and my mind was quiet. What was left in her wake was contentment, gratitude, serenity. Something I'd needed all day long. What a huge gift to the both of us.... she is still mothering both of us :)

I've always considered, probably because of my upbringing and the shame surrounding that-- that I was not the kind of girl one takes home to mama. But oddly enough, as blunt, wild, bossy, outspoken and fun as I can be, but I got the distinct impression she did approve of me :)  I am honored. 

How and when do you feel God's presence? How and when do you feel the most connected to Universal Energy?

So, every now and then, I get to have art time alone here at home. I watch tv, do art, sometimes blare music. Today was a TV day due to the warm weather and feeling compassion towards my neighbors :)

So, I'm often insecure that I'm doing what I need to be and have doubts about whether or not I'm contributing in favor, and honoring, the many faces and names of God. Because our collective Father doesn't really manifest and pat us on the back, I imagine this feeling is common among us.

Being a spirit experiencing humanity doesn't help. Just because you're spiritual and connected to God consciously doesn't mean that you don't have days when things are on your nerves in the worst way and that you aren't at your best. It doesn't inoculate you against sometimes being the not-so-wonderful part of yourself, what it does- however- is contrast that experience sharply. It is not who you are, it is a reaction to what is going on and we do forget that. Its only in the quiet spaces are we left with the ability to realize our connectedness and see the core of who we are in separation from our reactions.

So, I let my gut guide me to what I need to hear and see today. I put on something I've taped and its a Super Soul Sunday show and here is the conversation between Nate Berkus and Oprah about whether or not Design is spiritual:

"There really is no difference between Art and Prayer.... and when you're creating Design, it really is an offering. Its a gift. In order to do it well, you have to be in alignment with That which is the Creator."

I was left speechless and grateful, touched and humbled by the validation from our Creator.

That is all I ever wanted and want every day. To be in alignment with That which is the Creator. I believe I got the answer that I am.

Here's the dry part of art that does exist, even for me, the lofty, hippy goob.

After uploading the latest paintings, I've decided to paint the stories that make up my life, one. Lil' Dood was so wonderful to paint and remember, he was such a character.

Two, I need to do more big shapes with color to bring the viewer to the painting and then spend the time doing detail that sucks in the viewer further. This latest landscape is big, yet will really work well in a small space-- because its mainly made up of nothing but detail. Its gorgeous, but the contrast and shapes in the second tree from the left is the real star of the show-- and that teaches a lot.

Three, I LOVE contrast and trumped up color, and that fits with all the happenings in this life and in this body. Seems that is what this path is about, no matter how I want to steer it down a quiet road, someone comes with a bullhorn and shocks me back to... reality?? Is there any such thing. Reminds me of Tesla's
Heaven's Trail (No Way Out) lyrics.

Rude awakenings, ha ha. Remember this post?? All I want is two or three months (ok, I'm pushing it now) of *nothing* happening but forward movement (you know, people getting sick, houses falling apart, computers smoking... but then there comes a kick in the balls. (Well, powers that be, now I'm expecting it, so I got a sports cup and I'm gonna paint about it. Its fodder now.)

I'll take a lesson from Frida Kahlo, and those others wiser and greater than me, sure. Muse. A-muse. There ya go. God, I'm not taunting You--- just what that thing in fate is that keeps kicking me as soon as I try to get back up. Fine, I'll make money from it.   

I'll also do the great stories, too, the ones that are quiet and sweet. The last several days HAVE been quiet, thank God. If you don't count Devyn's trip to the ER and then doctor for impaction and the issues after that... or the possible cold he's getting now. Phew. I'm just grateful thats over! Best advice I've read this past week is: Life is not an emergency. My hair has been set on fire so often recently that I'm waking up automatically, patting myself on the head. If you get some serenity, thank God and keep it as long as you can. Nothing lasts forever, joy nor suffering.

But its been so beautiful. Sunshine. Oh, breathing in the sunshine. Getting outside to do something as mundane as washing the truck was a joy--- and seeing Stephen run after Devyn who was bookin it down our street. No one was on the verge of dying again, no one was needing an ER :) and being aware of it. Meeting Abbey and Justin across the street and Holly, Michelle's friend from New Orleans- about kudzu, voodoo, hummingbirds, labels, conservatism, liberalism, beer, clemato-beer (lol, it is good), listening to music that brought back memories of Tbone stealing cassette tapes for Susie Harrison and I :)

Bun and I going to the Women's Conference to meet a therapist who supported me in starting up art groups again. I would so love that, had given up on it due to not having  any credentials. Its so important and integral for me to do this. 

For the first time in forever, I was aware of walking into a place without self consciousness, without feeling intimidated by the business people there. Without feeling out of place. Thank you, God. Fourty is kinda cool.