Painting Resurrected

People always ask when did I start painting. I don't understand what bearing that has on anything, but the fact is that I didn't begin learning how to paint until I was about 36 or 37 years old... and I really didn't learn a hell of a lot then since my painting (and drawing and design and pottery) teacher was in actuality a sculptor. ::sigh::



I began life as a 3D artist. The world of pottery and sculpture were my purview and I never looked beyond that... Something about beating the crap out of an object and creating a piece of relative beauty, well, that really floats my boat. Ya know? LOL However, when I went back to once more pursue my degree in the fall of '92, I had already developed some problems in my right shoulder and in my back, beating things was no longer an option... It was now relegated to my fantasies as I suppose it should be. So, I had to find another outlet and that was painting.


And, let me tell you, that first year? I produced nothing but crap! I thought I had to be "intellectual" and "deep-thinking" and all of those other attributes that critics assign to art work. Nonsense! One day, when I was "in a mood", I had a quite pleasant bonfire of my earlier work. Somehow I missed just one, so I still have my very first painting... And it's pretty bad! LOL



I was lucky, though. The following summer I discovered a dream world... WORKSHOPS! Wow... What a rush! It isn't that all of the ones that I went to were the stuff of artistic fantasies, but I was (for the first time) LEARNING things and that was awesome.

Also, at the end of that first school year, I was solicited to attend a local university that was trying to repopulate its art department and given a full scholarship. Good things were beginning to happen.







Nope, not so much... Well... It wasn't ALL negative. I had an awesome design teacher as well as full access to the sculpture and pottery classes. My painting teacher and I? We kind of butted heads on a daily basis. I wasn't one of his groupies and he didn't take kindly to that fact. Also, my son's health became an issue and I had to leave school.



Back to workshops! That following summer, I attended a 3 day portrait seminar and discovered a self-taught artist. I then "studied" under him for the next year. He wasn't very good in the design department, but OMG his technical skills were incredible! I learned more that year than at any other time before or since.


The years have passed and there have been times I've not painted and other in which I've done nothing BUT paint. I'm one of those people who have to be in my "happy place" in order to create. I can't feed on the depression and angst of the world like others in the field. I want to bring peace and beauty. We need more of that, don't you think?















So, here are a few of my pieces in a somewhat chronological order.

Hope you enjoy them!

A Story of Epilepsy

The following story is true. This is one of those "the names have been changed", etc.

"On March 20, 1983, my son was seven years old. He was home from school, sick with a bit of flu... nothing serious, just a low-grade fever and some intestinal problems. At any rate, he was lying on the window seat in his room while a friend of mine and I were in there, straightening up and keeping him company. All of a sudden, he was glassy-eyed, turning blue, and shaking violently. What the hell was happening? Had my son choked? Was he dying? I screamed at my friend to run get my husband from next door. Within moments, he was there and uttered those first damning words, "he's having a seizure".

A seizure. With those two words, our lives had changed irrevocably.

You have to understand, I had never in my life witnessed a seizure. Knew nothing about them. I can look back now and say "this is what happened" or "that was wrong", but I was ignorant and helpless at the time.

The next four days and nights were events from some twisted nightmare.

My son (we'll call him "Michael"), my 7 year old little boy was immediately admitted to the hospital. The room into which he was placed had a tape-wrapped tongue depressor attached to the wall beside the bed. I have no clue why that horrified me so much that the memory stands out to this day, but it did.

My husband and I got about five hours of sleep each throughout that time. We had to constantly watch Michael so that we could alert the nurses whenever a seizure occurred. And they happened. Oh, God, did they happen!

They'll tell you that during a seizure, the patient is not cognizant of what's occurring. Not in this case. Michael was fully aware during each and every one. His seizures were usually violent, what they called at the time "grand mal". And he would scream "Mommmmmmy!"... I'd climb behind him in the bed and try to support him, keep him from harming himself on the rails of the bed.

A typical seizure will last just a few minutes. Not Michael's. His would begin "gently", then progress to the violent "grand mal" that most people associated with epilepsy. One particular seizure was going into 45 minutes before serious action was considered... An injection of Valium.

The nurses couldn't get a hep-lock in due to the spasms, so they ended up shooting the Valium straight into his vein. I'm told that it's like liquid fire. All I know is that his screams pierced my heart. Later I would ask myself "why didn't they simply insert one upon admittance". Hindsight is 20/20.

And so those four days passed... Either my husband or myself drowsing on the uncomfortable little sofa while the other was beside Michael's bed. Neither of us slept much, too frightened to consider it.

During that time, he had an average of probably 3 seizures a day and was put through the typical gamut of tests. It was finally decided that he did, indeed, have epilepsy. It was the neurologist's opinion that Michael had had an encephalitis-type virus and that the seizures would shortly disappear. He prescribed Dilantin for him and we all went home.

You know how when you're really tired, you experience those annoying jerks? They're called hypnic jerks and are a type of myoclonus. It seems that the more tired you are, the worse they are... neatly keeping you from the rest you so desire. That's what it was like for us when we all finally reached our beds. A few days of rest and we were okay in that respect. Now, our lives had simply adopted a new surreal aspect. Simple? Not really.

With the use of AEDs (anti-epilepsy drugs), there comes a new term called a "level". It determines how much of the drug is in the body's system at any given time. "Trough levels" are usually the go-by. It's a blood level drawn and measured during the period of time just before a dose and defines the lowest level of the drug present.

The liquid Dilantin that Michael was prescribed was difficult to keep properly maintained. We gave him his doses religously at 6am and 6pm. Hell, we even set an alarm to make certain they were never a second late, much less missed.

After many adjustments, we finally DID maintain a proper level and, after some time had passed (I doubt if it was a year), our GP told us to simply stop giving him the Dilantin... which caused Michael to seize. We put him back on it. Sometime later, again the GP told us to stop the Dilantin and, again, a seizure.

It occurred to my husband, a pharmacist, that something was wrong with this protocol and researched it (we had never before thought to question a physician's orders). Should a person without a seizure disorder take an AED for a certain period of time, then suddenly stop, they'll have an episode. It's just the nature of the beast. So, when Michael was nine years old, we slowly eased him off of the medication and everything was fine. The seizures seemed to have stopped and life returned to what it should be.

During Michael's sophomore year in high school, he was sick a lot... complaining about his stomach and "feeling funny". He missed so much school that he was place on home bound... That's when the parent has to come to the school each day for the student's assignments and he has to go to school only for his tests. He had an upper and lower GI done, but all they could find was a potential duodenal ulcer.

Then, one day when we had gone to the grocery store, he was helping me load the bags into the car and he suddenly froze. I called his name and he answered in some sort of nonsense language. I said his name again with the same result. Finally after a few seconds that seemed to last forever, he was back to earth and tired.

In October of 1991, I took him to a different neurologist than the one we had used years ago and she told me that what I described to her was a complex partial seizure. She prescribed Dilantin again and, again, we had difficulties maintaining a level. It was changed to Tegretol. The dosage had to be raised several times, but control was finally attained...

Until October of the following year when Michael had a tonic clonic (grand mal) seizure at school. That was the year that we all began our visit to hell. The months following that seizure were a time of constantly changing dosages with only temporary results. His doctor changed him to Depakote. Before it was realized that he wasn't going to achieve any control with it, he was taking the medication SIX times a day.

Looking back, I think that Michael's seizures probably never stopped when he was a child. In fact, I think that the first seizure we witnessed may not have, in fact, been his first. That maybe they were something that we didn't recognize as one. There was no literature out there for people outside of the medical community, so we didn't know that epileptic seizures were anything other than the grand mal people acquaint with the disorder.

Michael had been complaining for a year of "feeling funny" at times, but we all blamed it on his allergies (he's allergic to almost everything that lives, breathes, or grows). I now know that he was having seizures at these times... In other words, on a daily basis.

In March of 1993, I finally called the Epilepsy Foundation. I was hysterical. Michael seized almost every day, had gained A LOT of weight from the Depakote, and was severely depressed. We were exhausted and held little hope... We were at the end of our figurative ropes. The Foundation listened and gave us the name of two neurologists who specialized in epilepsy, "epileptologists", at two different hospitals, both within 150 miles of us. We chose one and were immediately granted an appointment. The doctor there has been a part of our lives ever since. In fact, I'd feel honored to call him "friend".

Doc changed the rates of the Depakote and had the seizures controlled right off the bat, but Michael continued to gain weight and developed tremors from the med, so it had to be changed. We went back to the Tegretol, but it eventually failed again. It was on to Neurontin, which made Michael sick. Felbatol was fantastic because it didn't slow Michael like the others, but the possibility of aplastic anemia wasn't an option... One last stab at Tegretol and it was back to Dilantin. Lamictal was added not too long afterward.

When we first met with Doc, he had spoken of the "new" surgeries being performed for epilepsy and that was a conversation that Michael kept with him always. He continually asked to be considered for it, but his father and I weren't ready for such a drastic step. April 8, 1995 changed that for us all.

We had all been asleep for some time when I awoke to a strange sound. My immediate thought was that one of the kids had left the tv on. I started to drift back to sleep, but something urged me to get up and check it out. It was 12:30 am.

I followed the sound into the living room and was jolted into action. Michael was lying on his back on the sofa having a seizure. He was spasming so hard that his body was jack-knifing off of the sofa at least a foot. He was cyanotic and, when I put my hands on him, he was icy cold. I tried and tried to pull him over on his side, ripping the loops off of his blue jeans, all the while screaming for my husband. Finally, we succeeded in rolling him to his side and fluids poured from his nose and mouth. He was still seizing 30 minutes later before I thought to call 911.

Several minutes passed and he became post-ictal (that's the stage following a seizure that can be quite similar to a mean drunk... at the very least, it's a time of disorientation and confusion) or perhaps the episode has morphed into a complex partial... I don't know. He was stumbling around with our support and touching things, his actions sometimes violent.

Another 25-30 passed and I called 911 again... seems they were having difficulties finding us. By the time the ambulance finally DID arrive, Michael was okay. He was just very very tired and had a severe headache. We sent them away.

That was the first of many, thus defining this new phase of Michael's seizures as "status epilepticus", seizures that don't stop. However, that first eerie episode made us know that our son was right, life couldn't go on like this. It was time for the surgery.

In August of that year, Michael was admitted to the hospital for a telemetry EEG. All went well and his seizures were identified as originating in the right temporal lobe. In October, the Wada Test results were definitive. His surgery, only the 4th to be performed in our state, was scheduled for December 11th and all of the doctors were quite positive about what the outcome would be. As I watched them roll my son down the hall, I didn't know if he would survive the surgery or if he would perhaps be somehow different from the young man I had raised and loved. But I knew without a doubt that whatever happened, it was the only choice we COULD make.

That surgery was 12 years ago now. Has he had any seizures since then? A few, but there was always a reason that his threshold had dropped.

ANY person can have a seizure under the right circumstances. One's susceptibility is called a "threshold". If a person is ill or injured or stressed unduly, that threshold can drop. An individual with epilepsy? You can pretty much bet that a seizure will occur when it happens.

The good new is that, so far, these episodes are few and far between... as much as two years have passed without one. The bad news is that they happen at all."

It is SO hard to live your life waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's like a constant knot in the pit of the stomach. And it doesn't affect just the person that has epilepsy... It affects the family and friends, work, school, and any social settings.

We need to educate people about it... take it out of the closet and put it on the table. So, let's do just that, people. It's time.

New Year's Resolutions...

Damn, we make it tough on ourselves, don't we? "I'm going to lose 500 lbs." "I'm going from couch potato to competing in triathlons." "I'm gonna quit a five pack a day habit in 2 days." "Yea, well, I'll get my GED, then my PhD." Gees...

Come on, people! Except for those few notable people (whom I secretly loathe) with EXTREME discipline, most of us are setting ourselves up for failure. And that's not a good way to start the new year. Believe me, I've been among the sinners with an alarming regularity myself, so here's my thoughts on the subject...

Let's plant a seed and leave a little room for improvement. Kind of like when you first start working out at a gym. You don't walk out of there ready to compete in Mr./Ms. Universe, ya know?

My theme (following the Buddhist state of being) this year is "moderation". My first task will be the easiest...

1. EVERY morning without fail, I promise to make the bed as soon as my spouse (yes, he still lives and breathes after the dye incident) arises. I usually wake at sunrise for some ungodly reason.

2. I will work on this blog every day. This doesn't mean POST every day, so you can release that scream of frustration you're holding! Some of my posts have taken days to write, either due to lack of concentration, constant distractions (oooo shiny!), or tough subjects that I want to get just right.

3. I will do at least 1/2 of my PT exercises every day. I realize that doesn't seem like much, but if I did all of them, we're talking about 2 hours of my day and I simply don't have that sort of focus.

4. I will cut down on my inhalation therapy. Yes, I'm a smoker. Don't bother writing me about the insanity of the habit. It's MY habit and I'll keep it, thank you. You really wouldn't want me writing this from prison after I killed everyone who irritated me, now, would you?

5. I'll work on the whole "I'm sad so if I buy this thing I've wanted then I'll feel better" mindset. Yes, I'm also a Pier 1 and book addict.

6. I will either a) lose 5 lbs. or b) drop a clothes size. That'll be a tough one since my body seems to have it's own ideas on how much I should weigh.

7. I will continue my campaigns from last year... Random acts of kindness, getting others on the recycling bus, and trying to convince my family of the benefits of healthier eating.

Baby steps, all. I realize that. But attainable, don't you think? I believe that the whole idea of resolutions should be that we become better people. If we're better, then we can help make our little corner of the universe just the teeniest bit nicer. A good thing all in all!

So, what is on YOUR agenda?

HAPPY NEW YEAR to you... May it be the brightest and best of all!

You Have to Laugh...

Just a few days ago, I was having a much-due little angst party about the vagaries of aging. Once I finished posting it, I looked in the mirror, got a pair of scissors and whacked my hair off short.

I then proceeded to Wally-world and the box of dye my almost-departed spouse has been urging me to get. Honey blonde. Nice, neutral, livable. Came home and applied it...

There must be one HELL of a jokester at the Clairol factory, because that's the only explanation that fits. When a person has a combination of white and grey hair and dyes it blonde, how in the hell does it come out RED??? I'm talking copper penny here, boys and girls! Okay. Deep breaths. I can live with it for a little while, right?

Do you know why my beloved spouse is almost-departed??? He's the one who wanted to me color my hair, right? I was perfectly happy with, at least, that part of my hair... When it was done, I asked his opinion (always a big mistake for any woman). You know what that slug SAID??? "It's weird." Thank you very much, honey. I love you, too.

Then not long after, someone I respect said that there was a possibility that a daily intake of Biotin and distilled fish oil might help...

Ya gotta laugh... or scream... personally, I'm all for screaming today... You??? LOL

How Did This Happen and How Do I Make It Stop???

Yea, yea... I'm angsting again! So, sue me...

I look in the mirror (when I can't avoid it) and wonder who in the hell is that woman? I KNOW who I am in my head, but the reflection doesn't match. It's weird... and scary.

I want my long hair back! Waaaaaaaaa... Can't wear it long anymore. Something with this aging shit makes it break off. And, I've always had fine hair, but now it's thin as hell as well (hey, that rhymes!). Argh!!! So I keep it short and that isn't right. I'm a long-haired hippy chick.

I read articles that say women over 40 shouldn't wear this or that. Screw that attitude! I'm a beach girl and we're all about blue jeans and breezy shirts, shorts and flip flops. Wish I could get away with the whole "cut-offs and bikini top in the summer" thing these days, but I don't want to scare the local population. Yea, I've seen women do that who really shouldn't and I am SO not gonna join that crowd. Can we say "ewwwwwwwwwww"???

And, then there's this weight thing. I'm about 25 pounds overweight (it sure looks like a hell of a lot more than that to me) and it won't go away.

The hormones and chemicals in my body are doing the electric slide... I freeze, then I sweat. I get happy-go-lucky, then I rage or get down... I mean I like being unpredictable, but that's a bit ridiculous... Ya think? I know... there's HRT. Been there, done that, had enough.

Another thing is that most people my age (the ones that I SHOULD adopt as my friends), well frankly, most of them are boring as hell. They all have these safe little niches from which they never venture. The few my age that ARE my friends are the ones that refuse to live their lives in a predetermined box. The rest of my friends... OMG Since they're so young, they must think I'm ancient and just plain weird... What a minute! I AM among the strange and unusual.

So... Who IS that woman in the mirror and what do I DO with her??? How do I make the outside match the inside without surgery or the fashion police or the men in white coats coming after me? Or my in-laws??? Now, THAT'S a scary thought!

When I was young, we didn't mind people staring at us (after all, we were hippy freaks)... In fact, I think that's what we were after all the while we were flipping them off for that very reason. I liked being unique. Still do. But, if anyone were to stare at me now, I'd like it to be for GOOD reasons, not "what the fuck is THAT?" And, if I remember correctly, that happened not too many years ago... little shit! I wanted to flip her off as well, but retained my dignity.

I want to be me. I want to celebrate who I see in that mirror. Numbers don't matter to me, but that reflection sure does.

How in the hell did this happen???

Now That I've Had My WHINE and Cheese!

'WINTER'
a poem by
Abigail Elizabeth McIntyre

SHIT...It's Cold!

The End

Well, that post on winter was rather depressing, eh? We all have days... sometimes LOTS of them... during which we feel that way... Just kind of lost. I know I'm not alone in that. Why did I post something that whiny? Maybe so that someone else would feel a connection and understand. It's "normal" for people to get to that place now and then. Damn! Did I just use the "N" word??? LOL

It's a full moon, so I couldn't sleep but my brain has yet to engage, so let's just say I'll build on this post. Good Morning, boys and girls! Waaaaaaake up!!!

And here's a neat article to keep you busy for a bit while I put my brain back in: Full Moon Now, where did I leave that brain jar???

Don't you just HATE it when you have your own personal pity party??? Yikes! It makes me nuts. (Yea, yea, yea. I know. Too late.) Once it's over and done, I always wonder where that came from. Boredom and a desire to find that "something special" that's always featured in prose and songs, I suppose. I think we set ourselves up for that one on a regular basis.

So... Tis the season, boys and girls. Christmas, Hanukkah, Saturnalia, Kwanzaa... Hell, Howling at the Moon in the Depths of Winter... whatever you celebrate. It seems we all celebrate something at this time of year. Some primeval sense of "Hey, I'm surviving", perhaps? It's GOOD to come together, whatever the reason.

Saturnalia is the Winter Solstice. The longest night of the year. Since the dawn of humankind, it has been celebrated as the death of the old and rebirth of the new. The tradition that modern civilization partakes of on New Year's is appropriate during the Yule season as well. What better time to come together with those near and dear to us? To touch and reaffirm?

It's also a good time to do a little self-evaluation.

A friend of a friend has this expression that she uses whenever she gets the urge to cut the clutter. She calls it "de-shitting". Maybe this year, we can de-shit our lives? Cut away the crap that bogs us down and free up some personal space for those things that are really important, home and family (this includes our "chosen family" as well).

It sure sounds good on paper, doesn't it? Let's think about it...

Take this holiday season. How many of us get so wrapped up (hehe) in the holiday season that stress becomes our middle name? Now I ask you... WHY? It's like we're in this competition to get the newest and best for EVERYONE. That typically translates into "expensive".

Okay... this opinion doesn't count for the littles on our lists... well, maybe to a certain extent it does, because we go waaaaaaaaay overboard with them as well.

Gift-giving is supposed to be a joy, a mark to show we care, that someone is in our thoughts... It's a physical reminder of a bond. The price tag is NOT a gauge of that affection. So, why are freaking cars advertised as the perfect gift? I'd severely throttle anyone who gave a vehicle as a present!

It's time to rethink this strategy, to cut it back to a more reasonable possibility. My parents' generation didn't spend big bucks like we do today. One gift (except for the kiddies) for a few select individuals or a family as a whole and you were done. Wow... Just think of the breathing room that would leave, much less the pressure on ye olde credit card.

And I can't tell you how many homes with children have the appearance of a toy store explosion at this time of the year! Those "poor" babies don't know which way to turn or what to play with simply because there are so many choices. People! Less is more, particularly in this example. Let them have a few well-chosen things to treasure. Quality not quantity.

Turn back the hands of time. Especially now when we're all feeling something of a monetary pinch. Pare down that list. Lower how much you're willing to spend. Hell, let's go back to the handmade present. Or chocolate... Y'all can give me lots and lots of good dark rich... What was I saying??? Oh, yea... Lists. LOL

So in this season of commercialism, I give you something without price yet overflowing with all I am. I send to you all my deepest wishes for love and home... for a heart that knows its worth... for time to enjoy those things special to us... but most of all, for peace.

Happy Holidays!

Winter as Loneliness

Winter sets in as does the pain in my joints, so here I sit... either in my studio with the little space heater cranked on high or in front of a roaring fire in the living room as close to the hearth as I can. The only voice most of the time is my own as I talk to my small pack of dogs. I'm tired as I don't sleep well in these cold months... and I dream of summer... The hot humid days, the laughter of friends around me, and the beach.

Most of all, I'm lonely. I'm not one of those people who does well alone day after day. Oh, it's fine if I'm alone by choice, but when I'm not? I don't like this...

Perhaps you wonder where are all of those that I love so well and who normally fill my life? Ahhh... there's the crux. Life happens. Regardless of what we do, there's an ebb and flow to everything around us. Right now, things are simply flowing in another direction. Most of them are involved in other aspects of their lives. It happens. But... DAMN! Did it have to happen to everyone at once???

I've learned to hate the cold cloudy days when the wind blows and the rain falls like tears. I used to find some contentment in this season... I don't know where that went. Emotions can be so ephemeral. In my case, they always are. I've been known to change with the seconds on the clock.

So what shall I do with myself in this dour season? That's what I ask myself every day when I awake. There ARE possibilities after all, but none of them sound appealing. I could paint... I have two canvases in progress. I could read... I have at least 10 books waiting for me. I could clean... (I have a REAL problem with that one. Love a clean, neat house. Hate the process.) God knows there's always cleaning to be done. I don't want to do any of those things.

I have no clue what's wrong with me. Maybe a case of SAD... (Boy, they named that one right, didn't they???) But that doesn't seem correct. It's one of those things that, when I try to grasp and define it, it simply slips away. Perhaps I'm merely too introspective? That tends to happen whenever I have so much time on my hands.

I know this is the whole "fantasy vs. reality" argument that I always present, but I see things on tv or in postings online and there's this huge happy world of friends and entertainments and interaction and LIFE represented. Where can I buy into some of that? Not all the time, just now and then??? I want that shared inside joke and laughter at goofy things. I want people around to tease me or chastise me over some small mishap. Damn it!

In the summer... even in the spring and fall, I can be positive. I can get excited and see the world as my realm to explore. I can even claim occasional moments of insight and wisdom. So, where has it all gone?

I just realized that my problem is I'm discontent. What right have I to that? There are so many who do so much with less... I'm a survivor. I have survived life. But, what else? "Now is the hour of our discontent"... Bull shit!

I create paintings that I haven't the means to show. I write words that perhaps might mean something, but I'll never know. I've raised my children... and they're good people. Now what?

No one will hire me because of my limitations. Don't you hate that word??? Limitations. Fuck that. I have a good mind and I love to learn. Hell, I have a couple of minor degrees. Whatever. I can organize and manage things like most wouldn't believe and have a knack for nailing problems on the head. Argh...

I've always been that person that steps outside of the mainstream and I LIKE that about me. I guess I'm the "black sheep" or the "red-headed stepchild". I don't care. That makes me interesting, don't you think? I'm that "other perspective"! LOL

Ahhhh... Humor, at last!

I have no patience for pathetic drama, especially my own. So, what can I do within the walls of my own home to create an effect? to bring interaction and the human touch? How can I bring purpose to the who and what of me??? I've lived more than half a century. There should be SOMETHING to harvest in that! If not, I guess I'm screwed.

If only I could grasp that ephemeral something I chase round and round in my head!

For now, I'll simply raise my glass in a toast to those ears out there that hear me. My deepest thanks!

Desiderata

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately and little writing. Sometimes that's just the way things go.

I've thought of hard times (haven't we all?), friendship, religion, faith (yes, they ARE two separate things), relationships, finances, politics. The list goes on and on...

It's strange how all of my thoughts have kept winding around to a bit of prose from my youth. This "poem" (it certainly isn't a story) struck me to the depths of my soul when I first heard it. It continues to do so still, so I thought I'd share it with you all. Perhaps it might bring you some peace as it does me.


Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

written by Max Ehrmann in 1927

Finis!

Woohoo! I finished it! LOL Looks much more impressive in person since the colors shift from every angle due to the layers of color. It's 36x48, so the size makes a difference as well. New subject matter for me, so I'm rather proud of it.

Now, if I can only get off of my ass and get a new canvas roughed in...

Buddhist Thoughts...

"The greatest achievement is selflessness.
The greatest worth is self-mastery.
The greatest quality is seeking to serve others.
The greatest precept is continual awareness.
The greatest medicine is the emptiness of everything.
The greatest action is not conforming with the worlds ways.
The greatest magic is transmuting the passions.
The greatest generosity is non-attachment.
The greatest goodness is a peaceful mind.
The greatest patience is humility.
The greatest effort is not concerned with results.
The greatest meditation is a mind that lets go.
The greatest wisdom is seeing through appearances."
Atisha.

"Aware of the suffering caused by the destruction of life, I vow to cultivate compassion and learn ways to protect lives of people, animals, plants, and minerals. I am determined not to kill, not to let others kill, and not to condone any killing in the world, in my thinking, and in my way of life.”
Ven. Thich Nhat Hanh.

"When the mind begins to become still, we then begin to truly see it. When you first try to stabilize and pacify the mind, initially it will become very busy because it’s not accustomed to being still. In fact, it doesn’t even necessarily want to become still, but it is essential to get a hold of the mind to recognize its nature. This practice is extremely important. ... Eventually you will find yourself in a state where your mind is clear and open all the time. It is just like when the clouds are removed from the sky and the sun can clearly be seen, shining all the time. This is coming close to the state of liberation, liberation from all traces of suffering. ... The truth of this practice is universal. It isn’t necessary to call it a religion to practice it. Whether one is a Hindu or a Moslem or a Christian or a Buddhist simply doesn’t matter. Anyone can practice this because this is the nature of the mind, the nature of everyone’s mind. If you can get a handle on your mind, and pacify it in this way, you will definitely experience these results, and you will see them in your daily life situation. There is no need to put this into any kind of category, any kind of "ism."
Venerable Gyatrul Rinpoche

The Eight-Fold Path
Sila is morality — abstaining from unwholesome deeds of body and speech. Within the division of sila are three parts of the Noble Eightfold Path:
1. Right Speech — One speaks in a non hurtful, not exaggerated, truthful way (samyag-vāc, sammā-vācā)
2. Right Actions — Wholesome action, avoiding action that would do harm (samyak-karmānta, sammā-kammanta)
3. Right Livelihood — One's way of livelihood does not harm in any way oneself or others; directly or indirectly (samyag-ājīva, sammā-ājīva)

Samadhi is developing mastery over one’s own mind. Within this division are another three parts of the Noble Eightfold Path:
1. Right Effort/Exercise — One makes an effort to improve (samyag-vyāyāma, sammā-vāyāma)
2. Right Mindfulness/Awareness — Mental ability to see things for what they are with clear consciousness (samyak-smṛti, sammā-sati)
3. Right Concentration — Being aware of the present reality within oneself, without any craving or aversion. (samyak-samādhi, sammā-samādhi)

Prajñā is the wisdom which purifies the mind. Within this division fall two more parts of the Noble Eightfold Path:
1. Right Thoughts — Change in the pattern of thinking. (samyak-saṃkalpa, sammā-saṅkappa)
2. Right Understanding — Understanding reality as it is, not just as it appears to be. (samyag-dṛṣṭi, sammā-diṭṭhi)

May you find peace in your soul.

Coping with ADD

The other day, I had the misfortune of a long wait in a doctors office and had forgotten to bring along a book... Sacrilege, I know! I looked around, expecting to find ancient copies of Better Homes and Gardens (the New Victorian Craze!) or at least a National Geographic. Nope. Nothing. Nada. Just one half-shredded issue of Game and Fish in a basket full of "publications".

I don't know what to call those things... They haven't enough pages to be a magazine and they're too large to be called a pamphlet. You know the ones, all about various medical conditions. Well, lo and behold, there was one called "Attention: Information and Support for People Affected by AD/HD". Cool!

I picked it up and scanned through it. Lots about medicating and even an article in Spanish. But there was one particular article that caught my eye, "Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About AD/HD Coaching (But Were Too Busy to Ask)".

Back when I was young, ADD wasn't a known condition. I don't know if it was an available diagnosis, I only know that we never heard that term and no doctor ever suggested I might have it. When it was finally discovered that I am in fact ADD, I was already at that stage of my life in which I don't care for the idea of taking drugs for much of anything (there are a few exceptions, but I won't go into that here). Instead, I learned my own little coping mechanisms... All on my own! Aren't you proud of me??? LOL

Anyway, back to the article.

It seems that the idea behind this AD/HD coaching is sort of like AA or a Quit Smoking or Weight Loss program in that it provides the client with someone to back up the medication with a reinforcement regime and positive motivation. It's written by Nancy Ratey, EdM, MCC, SCAC (whatever all of those initials might represent!). What caught my attention (no pun intended) was her "Seven Coaching Tips".

1. Pre-Plan the Day Before
Always plan the next day before going to bed. This way you’ll have in your mind what you are going to do, when, and how. You will wake up more directed and centered.
2. Create Book Ends
Get up and go to bed at the same time each day. Having regular body rhythms, as well as predictability and consistency in your schedule, will help increase efficiency.
3. Exercise! Exercise! Exercise!
This is KEY to peak performance and to gaining focus and control. Don’t skip it ever!
4. Think in Terms of Threes
To reduce stress, ask yourself to name the three most pressing items for the day that, once completed, will make you feel a sense of accomplishment. These do not have to be BIG items; they can be returning a phone call, filing a file, etc. Write them down and keep that list in front of you. Cross each item off as you complete it. Then move to your next three pressing items.
5. Stop Avoiding
A well-known author once told me, “You become the first thing you do in the morning. If you want to be a writer, write.” People in general know which item on their to-do list that they want to do last. Identify that item and do it first. That is the first step in gaining control!
6. Park It
Distracted by random thoughts? Park them on a piece of notepaper to stay focused on the task at hand! By doing so you can go back to these items later and act on them if necessary. Often these distractions are just that distractions and not priority items.
7. Take Time to Play
Take time off as seriously as you do your year-end report. The cost-benefit of not taking breaks from today’s busy life only sets you up for burnout and loss of control.

Until I read this article, I hadn't realized that my personal coping methods were actually legitimate. I was amazed! And, here my kids just thought I was being anal. No. I've always told them that it's the only way I can get things accomplished since I'm so easily distracted (ooooooo shiny things... ). Here's my take on Ms. Ratey's steps:

1. Pre-Planning
At night before I do my boring little ritual (see prior post on ADD), I think about what I need to do the next day. Then I put these things into a sensible (to me) order. If I don't do it, then I don't typically accomplish much. It REALLY helps if I actually write myself a list, but that doesn't always happen. Witness, last night was an uncomfortable night for me so here I am writing this rather than getting to the things I should. I failed to create a plan.

2. Create Book Ends
I go to bed when I'm tired, so I guess I've never consciously tried this one. However, I usually wake up about the same time each morning and have my own morning rituals that I follow (read OCD!). After that, well, it depends on how well I've followed step 1.

3. Exercise! Exercise! Exercise!
Yuck! Yuck! Yuck! Yea, I DO have to have some sort of active period in my day. I try to make it something fun. Sometimes it's a game of musical furniture. In the spring, it might be musical garden! I had thought I'd reached the age at which I didn't need to move so much, but I recently had a friend nickname me "Pop Tart"... Guess I was wrong! Right now, I suppose my PT regime falls under the category of exercise (I can even read while I'm doing the routines on the Total Gym. Nifty, eh?). I've tried walking. Boring! Maybe someone out there can give me some pointers on this one? I've been forbidden to do yoga or real weights right now and can't do aerobics because of my knees. Frustrating!

4. Think in Terms of Threes
I've always kept a short list in my planning, then a list of "if I get this done, I can...". None of the things were as simple as the ones she suggests. But she has a great point about the short list. A sense of having met a goal spurs me on.

5. Stop Avoiding
Oh God! I am the world's WORST procrastinator! LOL Read this one over and over and over... It is a must!

6. Park It
Yup... Make those lists. There's a sign in ASL that can be interpreted as "off point", meaning to stray from the topic. That's me in a nutshell. I get so pissed at myself when I forget things I want to do. Definitely makes me a cranky girl and that helps nothing.

7. Take Time to Play
Did I mention that I'm sitting here at the computer rather than doing what I should??? I take my play time QUITE seriously. I blog, have pages on Myspace, Facebook, and Twitter, and I have friends with whom I e-mail on a regular basis. New comments and chatty e-mails are what make my day more positive and goad me on to do what I need to do. I also read and paint when the mood strikes me.

So, you see, my brain actually figured out something right all on its own. Amazing!

Whether you take medication for ADD or not, follow these pointers. They're great.

And, so I will leave you with a poem that I wrote back in 1992. This is really how my mind works... Scary, I know! LOL

I Can’t Think!

Firecrackers of color

explode in my brain.

Ideas plip-plop.....Wait!

What was that?

She said what?

I can’t do it!....or can I?

If I try?

What if I did this....

Frustration, confusion,

immense desperation.

INPUT........IN

PUT.....INPUT

Thousands of ideas

incomplete.

I feel another thought.....

I can’t believe he said that.....

What point was I making?

Who did what?

How could I......

But what should I......

I forget......

HELP!!!!!!