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Soy un perdedor, an old '90's song. Sometimes being vulnerable makes you feel like a loser, so do it anyway.

8/30/2014

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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.




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An Unapologetic Rebel

6/8/2014

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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. 


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Awareness

2/11/2014

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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.
  

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

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The Story of a Rebirth

10/29/2013

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I can't believe I didn't write the Stag Dream down in this blog. Well, its not like my mind has been clear. But tonight, I have to get the story down so I can go to sleep. 

On September September 12, Stephen and I had the same dream about a White Stag. Here's what I put on facebook: "Y'all know metaphysical isn't unusual for me/us. If you're around me long, you know weird stuff happens, its part of my normal life and always has been. OK, so yesterday morning, I wake up from a weird dream and wonder what it has to do with anything. 

It fades into the daytime and I don't think much about it. Stephen said later: I had a weird dream as I was waking up, but i was awake. We took Mom home where she could "go" and not be in a hospital. We took her to her back porch. A huge stag, a buck was bowing down in front of Mom and he had does around him." 

I cut him off and asked "He was white or really light, too. Did yours have fuzz still on his antlers?" his eyes got big and he said yes. I asked if he was huge, I mean enormous and healthy-- and also welcoming her? He said yes, he was bringing peace. I said... and the antlers were rounded on the tips and there were does and babies around them, too. I know, I had the same dream. Something in the dream told me that it had something to do with Jesus."

I look up stags, white deer and found that they are messengers from the "otherworld" in Celtic tradition and also are symbols for Christ. Other names for the stag is "Hart". Her doctor's name is Hart and the trauma doc is named something like Hartlong. Here's what else we found: "Allegory/Moral
The stag is a symbol for Christ, who tramples and destroys the devil. As the stags crossing a river help each other, so should the Christian crossing from the worldly life to the spiritual life help others who grow weak or tired. As the stag is renewed and sheds its horns after drinking from the spring, so those who drink from the spring of the spirit are renewed and shed their sins." Here:http://bestiary.ca/beasts/beast162.htm

They gave her a breathing tube, a feeding tube and new antibiotics to give her all the resources available to fight this bug. So, lets hope the Stag opens a can of you know what on that devil ♥"


OK. Backstory: It was as if All of nature was welcoming her. The Stag wasn't Christ himself, but a manifestation of Christ Energy. Gosh, that sounds so weird, but thats what it told me. It was Majestic, frightening in the awe it carried. Light eminated around it and we were aware what a treasurable gift this was to experience. . 

Allright, so here it is October 28 and so much has gone on since then. If you continue reading FB (or this blog, lol), you'll see that there were ups and downs, denial, contradictions, declines, changing diapers- adult and a baby's, doling out morphine, dilaudid, atavan, a weeks worth of diarrhea diapers and MEDS that didn't touch it, nausea, throwing up, itching, with trial and error. I had told her over and over it was OK to go, we would be allright. She was so weak. 

She had such a hard time letting go, and this may be why: My Mom's life story

Now, this is what happened last night and today: 

Here is the actual link of what I wrote on facebook but below is copied and pasted. 
"This past weekend was spent telling Mom all I wanted her to know. We listened to CCR and Janis Joplin yesterday. I danced for her with Bun, made her comfortable and talked with her some more. I asked her, when she does go, please send me some vision to know that she is OK. Mom hung on and hung on.
 
Last night, from seeing her so pitiful for so long, I "nagged" her... "Mom, I love you so much and will miss you so much, but you've got so much more waiting for you that is beautiful beyond description- you've got Aunt Betty, Uncle Milford, Aunt Patty, Grandma and Dad waiting for you. There is so much joy and love waiting for you...PLEASE don't hang on to this little sick body that is too small for you. Don't think this is the best you're going to have. God has so much more for you, please accept it with open arms. But you're going to have to let go, first. Now, I'm going to sleep with you all night, and when I wake up, although I love you, please don't be in this little body anymore. Good night, Mommy, I love you." 

At 6 am, Stephen woke up, come in and checked on us. I was in the bed with her and could feel her heartbeat through the mattress. I went back to sleep. Sometime before 8 am, I heard a soft voice say: "She looks just like she did when she was alive." I thought it was Stephen, so I woke up and patted her... and she was gone. I don't know who that was, but it was a soft voice. 

So, I go tell Stephen. He comes into the kitchen and sees a Mama Deer and two older babies...... walking right up Mom's steps. Just like our shared dream in September. I cried and told Stephen "I told you they'd come for her. I guess The White Stag had showed up earlier." Stag is the symbol for Christ. Right now, I am so humbled that God, our Shared Source, saw fit to share this experience not only with me, but with him, too. No one would believe this. I am brought to my knees in the awe of this experience and validation. 

We are a part of All that Is and It is magnificent."

Medieval Bestiary : Stag
bestiary.caThe stag is the enemy of the snake. When the stag discovers a snake, it spits water into the hole where the snake hides, draws the snake out with its breath, and tramples it to death. If the stag is ill or old, it draws the snake out 
of hiding and swallows it. The stag then finds water and drinks la...

Occasionally, waves of sadness hit me so hard that it feels like someone is kicking in my throat. We had the most incredible journey with my Mom... filled with laughter, sadness, fear, anger and numbness. For her, the journey may have ended, but for me, it still goes on. 

And so will this relationship, I just know it. But those waves are a kicker. It will level you in a heartbeat-- and it doesn't care if you're in Walmart, church, a business meeting or dancing on the moon. When it hits, you don't have control over it. Just go with it and allow it to move through you... anything else is to block it and make loving and opening more difficult for you later. 

Thank you Mom for being the instrument for making me. You've touched the lives of so many and I am so honored to have you in my life. I love you. 

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We knew they would be coming for her. They never went up the steps to our knowledge before this... she'd been gone for months and we'd been back 10 days, so why do they go up the steps this particular day? To be the validation they knew about the safe passage. God bless.
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The Visit

10/13/2013

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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. 
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Learning and Applying

5/5/2013

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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.
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Hey creative people out there, don't let anyone devalue your gifts to the world. 

4/2/2013

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"I took one for my creative team." Thats how I choose to look at it. We've all been there with our creative work, pearls among swine-- but how you deal with it is up to you. Confront right there, hand out a flyer, give 'em a walk off... but just don't stand there and allow it to happen to you.

My creative team is all those wonderful artists of all kinds out there who deal with this daily and can never say a word- and even for those that do say something. You're my sisters and brothers from the same Parent.

The first day I was tired and mildly annoyed. As time went on, my subconscious kept nagging at me, so I had to take the previous post and make a flyer out of it. I feel so much better now.

I wasn't as irritated with the people because they just *didn't know*, but I was really ticked off at myself for buying into that stingy attitude. I guess I was ignorant, too. Next time, I promise that I'm handing this out to people who complain because I'm not doing "free" work. Cuz.... I won't be mean, but I'm not letting it slide even tho I don't have the time to stop and discuss it right then.

If any other creative person wants the template for the flyer below, just let me know and I'll take out personal stuff and hand it over to you to change as you need. Just post a comment down there with your email and its yours.

Thank God my head finally shut up :) Moving on...


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So now what? Was the disintegration positive?

3/29/2013

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In a word, YES. It took a long time, much fearful insights (not fearless. Courage comes from being afraid and doing what you know is right. Fearless is just... stupid. Fearless people don't have the sense to be scared, ha ha. BTDT in the teen years).

Now, life is good. We still have money troubles, an argument here and there, but the internal conflict and resolution are much easier because the agitated anxiety taught me to be open no matter how armored and spikey others are, to respect my value system, to stay away from people that don't "get" me and head towards healthy people who do. I also was gifted with the foresight to do what is right according to my conscience and for the greater good (can't even walk past litter w/out picking it up), so hopefully my art reflects this wisdom gleaned.

My art of the time is meant to be scary, funny and freaky. Thats how the situation was. My art now? Somewhat the same, but in a much more beautiful and spiritual context. God uses all sorts of experiences for his art supplies :)
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Art and People: The Ultimate in Soul Work; The Culmination of All Experiences

3/28/2013

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This is about both #DaringGreatly & #vulnerability. This topic is the basis of courage (lifetime and creative) through vulnerability and it will take a while, so I may jump some abstract steps. This is the thing about anyone that makes other people comfortable, connected to others and themselves- and simultaneously its the thing that scares the hell out of others. It is a given in our culture that vulnerability is considered weakness (and women aren't any different than men here). Just through day to day life, its evident that many people see this as a risky venture.

Yet, this is the thing that makes art- paintings, movies, music- all breathtaking.

Case in point, I was honest at a public talk that I hated to give talks because I have a speaking phobia. One lady told me that I "didn't have to tall that". She was ashamed! It was so evident from the look on her face that she also had a speaking phobia and the thought of admitting she had a vulnerability triggered her own fear. I hugged her and told her it was ok. The more I thought, the more I realized many of my strong mentors are like this. Another anecdote are my friends who may laugh at bawdy jokes- even tell a few, love funny, risque cards, but to have one on their personal pages given by a friend? I thought I'd give someone a heart attack. IMO, I think that is sad. They were so afraid that they would be unfriended by something I (a stranger to the others) did, that they scrambled in fever pitch to get it off at 2 am. So afraid of judgement.... who would judge? Church people? Family? In-laws? How sad to not be yourself no matter where you are or who you're with. Take it from someone who has had the best and worst of friends and family: if they can't handle a curse word, they won't be there for you in hard times. If a word freaks them out, they're not worth the worry.

Not so for me, I'm incapable of living differently at this point. The thought made me want to upload my own art therapy paintings that are not on the mainstream Art Pages and discuss them. But, I have a new painting in mind. I've got a few under my belt already, in Art and People...pt. 2, but this one is going to be different. 

The painting is an internal portrait, the happiest place I've ever been- not bubbly-rose-colored-glasses kind of happy or even one that doesn't come through hard work and slide-backs, but a true contentment and satisfaction that living one's true life path brings. Your own honest-to-God value system. This piece is going to have funny, bawdy, loving, disturbing stuff shaped into a beautiful and spiritual scene. Thats been my life so far. If people don't like it, they can take it up with God :)

This security is the absence of subjective, yet universal, anxiety that comes from being open, real and transparent. No one has anything to find out and I'm not ashamed of anything. It sounds like an oxymoron when I say that I still do have shame. As in all of us, its a constant work in progress and I'll write about it. I'm not alone.

We all have it. Its that fear that there is something about us that will stop other people from loving, accepting or connecting with us. This is the thing that keeps us from writing the depths of our hearts, losing ourselves by belting out the song to the point of spit flying out of our squinched up faces, giving that talk that makes our hair stand on our arms (and everyone else's) and painting our truths (beautiful or ugly) to the ultimate of our potential that cause everyone to gasp.

This is what Robert Frost meant by "No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise in the writer, no surprise in the reader." Of course! If you're scared to "go there", how can you take anyone else there? How can we, as creative people in no matter what we do, offer any kind of connection with deeper truths of humanity when we are afraid of opening up and seeing ourselves and allowing others to see us for how we truly are?

Back to Dr. Brene Brown (can be seen here), she articulates this part about human nature the best I've heard. Her book, Daring Greatly is just about that. I was taken aback when I saw her on Oprah's Super Soul Sunday because this is the thing that ended me up in therapy with a category 5 nervous breakdown. See Art and People pt 2.

If its not there yet, I'm working on it.... (as of 3/28/13)






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Life and Art: Put it in the LIGHT so you don't have to fear it. Be open about your pain and insufficiencies, as they will become your strengths. 

3/10/2013

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Do YOU compare yourself to others- or, even just as dangerously, yourself at your best? I used to. Wake up. You were never intended to stay who you were, thats why human spirits grow long past the point when they grow old.

"Put it in the light so he doesn't have to fear it". That is my LIFE and what this blog is about. That is my art. And I heard these words coming out of Dr. Robin's own mouth on Oprah's Super Soul Sunday, the flood of appreciation opened that God was giving me the validation that I am on the right path. This is why I chose to be open, honest and naked to anyone who will listen. I made the conscious decision that I hide nothing from myself, Stephen, friends or clients. It doesn't mean I tell things that are hurtful for no purpose (Your butt looks like two fighting balloons in those pants), but when it comes to myself, my experiences and my capabilities, I shine the light on it.

My life had been marred by so many things I hid out of shame. BUT you can't be hurt by something that you put in the light. You don't have to fear it, you don't have to fear being found out, you don't have to waste time, energy and worry about hiding it. This can be something as profound as being molested as a child, accidentally murdering someone while driving drunk, or as Dr. Robin and Oprah are talking about, Lionel Richie not being able to hit the same high notes as he used to. 

We were never intended to keep recreating what we were or what we already have. Thats not creation, thats copying. We are intended to create something NEW with our art, our lives and our spirits.

We as growing spirits must come to the realization that we create our lives as we move through this spiritual space-- and the spiritual space changes, so we must change and recreate accordingly. The mud-house doesn't hold tight in a rainy marshland, so rebuild your house and keep growing. The question is then, how?

By being open and honest about yourself. What you find out will influence your life and ultimately your art. Nothing that influences one doesn't influence the other, they are intertwined.

What is really going on now? What is my life made of now, what does it consist of, what do I need to feel completed NOW, what are my most basic needs and the needs of those that I love? KNOW yourself, who you are, your limitations and perceived inadequacies. Know your highs and lows and keep them in the light. When those questions can be answered clearly and truthfully, then the answers will direct you to a path that is yours in this time and space alone.

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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.

    I love God Consciousness, love to give and love the human spirit in all its forms. Nothing separates us, separation is an illusion.

    Its taken me a long time to feel comfortable in my own skin, scars and all. A past of neglect and sometimes abuse gave me issues I have to work through, sometimes here.

    What helped me most is to truly love and help others. You can't give what you don't have, but by giving, you will find that you already have all that you could ever wish for.

    My art, blog and life has been about "owning" myself along with all the mixed blessings that come with this thing we call life.

    Like the Velveteen Rabbit, I have become REAL.




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