I'm one of those...

Self-knowledge avails me of nothing. Yep. I said it. The human services teacher and professional. Its true, at least in my life. Awareness, alone, does nothing unless it is paired with action. I'm sure some of my colleagues will be jumping up and down, demanding that I retract the statement, but I won't.

I am a person who has difficulty with excess. Sometimes, I explain to people that I am, in fact, a true addict. In other words, if I find any activity pleasurable, I will pursue it to the ends of the earth. I will abuse it. I will make myself sick with it. No, no amount of will power will save me. No amount of singular knowledge will improve my circumstance. I believe, and the newest research seems to confirm, that there is something different about the wiring of the pleasure centers of my brain -- they are overactive, overstimulated, and they create a craving that is undeniable. No, its not about willpower. Its about chemistry, and neurology, and genetics.

You see, I actually come from a very long line of people who are as compulsive and excessive as me. They have wrought havoc in their small parts of the world, pursuing addictions (yes, that is the word for the excessive pursuit of pleasure) to the tune of disjointed families and damaged children. They've destroyed promising careers and businesses, wrecked above average brains, been imprisoned, and died prematurely. Some of them did minimal damage in their compulsive obsessions, creating morbid obesity and concurrent health issues related to that state. Some drank alcohol or smoked pot only at home, devastating the family income and relationships, but doing little damage outside the house. Most took their insanity into their communities, causing a range of injury to self and others.

I'm no different than any of them. In my pursuit of substances, I punished my family for imagined violations of my carefully crafted, anal-retentive plan to make the outside believe that we were the epitome of normalcy. I was cruel to an extent that thoroughly shames me, but hasn't entirely left me. There were jobs and houses lost, careers and educational paths abandoned, cars totaled, and so many more things. My particular brand of pleasure: numbness. Emotions overwhelm me. They can be painful and unpleasant. I don't like unpleasant sensations. Being a hedonist to the extreme, I seek pleasure. My flavors of pleasure vary and include a wide variety of experiences that some may consider painful, but pain brings numbness, too. In fact, all things in excess eventually create numb. Numb is, in my brain, the ultimate pleasure -- the complete absence of sensation. And, I can make it happen via most roads.

You can, in fact, eat until you are numb. I've proven this. I've eaten in a pattern that can be described as nothing short of a frenzy until I was blissfully empty and absent, unaware of my surroundings, or operating in such a foggy state, that my behaviors were automatic and dead. This is the state of oblivion that I desire above all else. And, the roads to this state are so many -- lust, shopping, relationships, exercise, knowledge, exhaustion, reading, fantasy, spirituality, drugs & alcohol. Oh, yes. Positive things, in excess, are not positive anymore. Restricting your diet to the point of starvation is not healthy. Exercising to the point of physical injury is clearly misguided. Reading for days, devoid of sleep or food, is specious at best. Avoiding sleep for any cause for 72 or more hours is unquestionably unsound. Working incessantly, beyond the level of reward or incentive, is truly foolish. But, I am guilty of all of these.

And, it always, always begins with the craving. Something in my brain tells me that I am in a state that is unpleasant -- boredom, anxiety, discomfort, stress -- and that tiny inkling of craving begins. Its like an itch that is in the one place that you cannot reach, cannot describe, and no amount of pretzeling your body makes it accessible.

And, it gnaws at you, like a little mouse in the corner of your belly, or the soft part of your brain. It gnaws. And, it keeps gnawing. It never sleeps. It moves and scurries and stirs and bites, and you bleed. One little mouse begets more little mice. They spread from one end of your body to the next.

Eventually, the hole becomes so large that the pain is intolerable. You can no longer bear the blood loss. You're anemic with it. Your head begins to spin. You're dizzy and unable to focus. You can think of nothing but the pain, the craving. The sensation of panic begins to spread through your nervous system as if you were confronted by a hungry lion.

And, with the panic, comes the shame. You should be able to manage this. You should be stronger. You're throwing all of your hard work away. How dare you squander what you have? Why would you do this, again? And, all the while, the little mice chew and chew and chew and chew until the pressure becomes so unmanageable that you do the thing you know will make it go away.

You do it and do it and do it until bliss comes and goes and emptiness follows. And, there you sit, devoid of any human expression. And, you are happy, for about a moment.

Then, the shame comes, anew. And it spreads. And the little mouse wakes up, where its hidden in its little corner.

And, the whole thing begins again.

The Valuing of Human Experience

I was sitting in a day-long training on Friday and a concept that had been floating around the periphery of my brain suddenly fell into clear relief. But, let me go back a bit:

The training was for lay persons on how to recognize and respond to suicidal ideation, depression, anxiety, and (in a very limited way) addiction. I expected to be thoroughly bored, having been trained and educated countless times on these same basic concepts; and teaching most of them in my own classroom.

Instead, I was quite engaged. The two gentlemen who conducted the training were dynamic and interesting speakers.** But, more than that, as a connected concept often does, it triggered some existing ideas to gather and gel.

It has always been my belief that, as a culture, Americans have an odd way of looking at things --

• if you cry, you're weak
• it is your responsibility to pull yourself up 'by the bootstraps' and move forward
• people with addiction, anxiety, or depression CHOOSE to be that way; if they just got up and DID something, they'd be fine, because its not really a disease
• the strong survive while the weak do (and should) perish
• people who are victims are somehow responsible for their victimization

I inwardly cringe every time I see those awful Facebook memes that tell you to just 'keep going' as if your experience means nothing. They say that you must become a 'survivor' instead of a 'victim,' 'powerful' instead of 'empowered.' Why? In our society, we blame the victim and glamorize the perpetrator. It is more important to be powerful than to be kind. Again, I ask why?

And, I realized, in a short moment that this has all come about because we grossly devalue our present, human experience. We're taught to live so thoroughly in the world of the future, planning for and moving toward imagined and yet unimagined goals, always ten (or two hundred) steps ahead; that we've become completely detached from our own experience. When we're victimized, injured, or otherwise hurt, we race to call ourselves 'survivors' by transcending this experience, distracting ourselves, and disregarding it. Why? 

EVERY experience forms us as people. We aren't formed only by those experiences by which we were successful, or those which are pleasurable. Research does, in fact, indicate that we are more highly impacted by those things that are challenging. Our society, as a course of its future-orientation, has created a world in which any and all life transitions are seen as merely inconsequential steps on the rung of the ladder which always climbs into the sky, beyond our sight, until the day of our death. 

Don't misunderstand. In no way do I suggest that we have no goals in life. Goals give us direction and allow us to determine our current behavior and path. Goals can be good. But, we aren't all goals. Our conscious cannot constantly live in the future and allow us to be healthy and well. When we devalue our current experience, several things happen:

• we will repeat the same errors because we've failed to learn the lessons associated with them, therefore, plunging headlong into the abyss, time and time again. (If you disagree with me on this, I'll show you any person who cannot maintain a job, relationship, etc...If we look closely, there will be common patterns and themes in their lives that impact them, repeatedly, and unconsciously, always undermining their progress without their awareness.)
• we will have a consistent sense of discontent, discomfort, and inferiority, because we've not taken the time to celebrate and grieve the transitional parts of life -- all transitions hold both positive and negative aspects which deserve equal attention
• as a society, we will behave in ways that demonstrate a lack of compassion, because our belief is that we must move continually forward without rest; that those who do rest are weak, foolish, or without value and should be left behind, labeled as 'lazy' and undeserving
• we will glamorize aspects of human behavior that we also punish (ie: violence, drug dealing, sexual deviance, etc.)

These things are so prevalent in our society and cultural norms that I'm saddened by them. I advocate for the following alternative:

• celebrate and grieve all life transitions, no matter how small. Take note of the inherent difficulty in moving from one expectation to the next. Find a circle of people to do this with you. There are lovely, but relatively unknown, movements in society who are trying to recapture this. The Red Tent leaps to mind. 
• try to be 'in the moment' whenever possible. Honor and recognize your own experience in this life. You are valuable. Feel what is. Allow yourself permission to process what is happening. 
• Educate and explain to others what you are aiming to do, so that they may critically consider this approach. 

But, most of all, live in a way that allows you to feel whole, complete, and present. Isn't that the point of it all? I will not race for the future so that my present is nothing but a blur. I will live where I am, a resident of my own mind, body, emotion, and soul, in the moment in which I stand. 

Blessed Be. 

**Please check out their organization. It is a worthy and valuable cause. If you need a seminar done on any of their topics, I would recommend them. 

Sea Hag

Mythos and the elements have been extremely heavy on my mind, lately. And, I've only really wanted to paint aspects of the elements which exist in popular myth. The canvas, this time, gathers the Sea Hag...

Sea Hag stories range from the Old World to the New...New Haven, CT, in fact, has quite a local history of their own sea hag. For them, the hag is a spectre that draws unsuspecting sailors to their death, pretending to be a damsel in distress upon the rocks. When the ships draw in to save her, they perish upon the jetty. 

The Celtic deity, the Morrighan, was said to appear as a crone, washing clothes in the river. The clothes she was washing would be those of the soldier about to die in battle. 

The Welsh had the Muilerteach, or the water hag. She was, in this persona, the goddess of the sea, but -- more so -- a personification of the sea, itself. Scottish mariners were quite frightened of her and often made sacrifices of their catch as tribute. 

And, of course, we know the stories of the Greek Sirens -- creatures with beautiful voices, who appeared to be stunning women, but were actually man-eating beasts. 

And, how could we leave out the Mermaid -- half fish, half woman. The sea creature who is often portrayed in art as beautiful and pale skinned. Unlikely. We all know what happens to our fingers and toes when we stay in the bath too long! I suspect the mermaid would be far more like a translucent ethereal being than a woman, but who am I to guess?

What does all of this tell me about my pondering and swiping of the brush on the canvas -- another side to water has become awakened for me. The dangerous side. The deadly side. The ancient side. Water holds the last truly unexplored place on our planet in its depths. The utter truth is that we do not know what it hides in the places we cannot go. 

The femme fatale lives in the depths -- a woman untamed, purely instinctual, entirely elemental, incredibly self-sustaining, dangerous, capable -- a FORCE of nature. This is what the Sea Hag represents for me. This beautiful, fearsome creature that does as she wills, with no regard. She is a part of me.

My Own Misery

Its a sobering moment to realize:

As an adult (without exception), every single time I experienced misery in my life, it was the result of a very few situations:

1. My own making (IE: I would do things that inadvertently set up difficult situations for myself. Common cliches: Slashing Peter to benefit Paul. I don't have a choice.). For instance, I would sabotage opportunities. When I had a new job, I would select unreliable people to babysit, ensuring that I'd miss time from work. Before people start doing that thing, "Well I only have so many options" blah, blah -- that's just not true. I had unlimited options. I wanted to not pay the money for a licensed day care, so I paid other people (family members, really) to watch the kids. I made my own problems through my choices. 

2. The inability to get out of my own way (IE: Doing the same things that have never brought desired results, but continuing to do them anyway. Lots of colloquialisms apply here: Its the way I've ALWAYS done it. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Can't see the forest for the trees.). I don't keep it a secret that I'm a person in recovery. I cannot begin to tell you how many times I drank too much at a work function, the night before an important event, or to manage anxiety over some perceived deficit. 

3. My own perceptions (IE: Blaming people, circumstances, or anything outside of myself for my experience. Applicable platitude: Its all YOUR fault. The whole world's against me. I've got no luck.). Every time that I've thrown my hands up in the air in my life and cried about not being able to catch a break, it was my own perceptions that created obstacles. I was having a bad day because the coffee maker was broken, the alarm clock didn't go off, or that jerk cut me off on the way to work. 

Fortunately, I know (today) that none of these things are valid. I make every choice in my life. If I make a bad one, I'm responsible for the results and consequences. If I recognize that my way isn't the only way, I can seek other's advice and counsel when I can't see my way out of a situation, or I cannot come up with a solution. If I practice personal accountability, I know that I'm responsible for my own perceptions, values, feelings, thoughts, and behaviors. I can CHOOSE how I want to react in every circumstance. Sometimes, things break or don't work, and other people do things that affect me. I can always choose how and whether I internalize that event. Therefore, I can decide how I allow it to affect me. 

I am no victim. I am a powerful being who can direct my own life. Sometimes, things will happen TO me; but, how I respond is 100% my decision. 

Integration

I spent years struggling to accept my own duality. Once I realized that all parts of me -- opposite and alike --are equally important and valid, I then had to accept that other people also had the capacity for extreme polarity. This was a bit more difficult. But, I muddled through it, just the same. Hadn't I lived that experience most of my life? My husband, who is one of the gentlest people I know, can also be one of the most fiery. His extremes have been part of my reality for more than a quarter of a century. Haven't I verbalized them dozens, or hundreds, of times? Of course, I have.

So, I fought my way to this place of understanding -- that all people have the capacity for great joy and great hatred, incredible kindness and incredible cruelty. We ALL have that within us. This is a truth that I can accept. 

Then, as wisdom does, 
                                                  it deepened...

                                                                                                                    ...and, it changed. 

In a moment of "A HA!" a little over a week ago, I began to understand this truth in a different way.....there is NO duality. I am WHOLE. Every aspect of me is but an ability, an inkling, an inspiration, a tiny spark of energy without the motivation of movement. What I bring into the world is a CHOICE, a force of will -- sometimes conscious, sometimes Divinely inspired, but always mine. 

I am wired as I am to learn what I must in this lifetime -- I believe that with absolute conviction. I do not believe this is my first time on this earth as a human, nor is it likely my last. (I certainly don't herald myself an ascended master, so to speak, nor fool myself into believing that I've learned all I must in this experience.)

Instead, I've finally reached a place where I recognize that I have become HOME to myself. No matter my physical state, geographic location, emotional sense, I am always HOME. For the very first time in my life, I feel as if I belong inside my skin. I FIT. Powerful words. Engaging perspective.

Blessed be.

Pause

I've been on pause, lately, when it comes to my painting. I have 3 blank canvas up on my easels and 1 incomplete painting on a table. And............................................NOTHING's happening.

That's it.

Nothing.

Nada.

Zilch.

None.

Zip.

The 1 in the works isn't moving and the empties are showing nothing.

I have one large canvas that I must finish before the 3rd week of this month for an upcoming wedding. Today, I looked at it. And, felt uninterested.

Why does this happen? This lapse in creative focus? I have had lots of times before when I was diverted by some other form of creativity....the kind where I'm gardening or sewing or teaching. But, right now, I'm not doing any of those things.

In fact, it took me a while of sitting on the floor, staring at the blank canvas before I figured it out.
........................ I'm MANIFESTING.

Yep.

All of my current creative forces are in the process of manifesting for me a job that meets my needs. My 1st interview was last week. I had such lovely positive energy from so many folks. My second interview is Monday. My juicy creative passion is very focused on manifesting a full-time job that I will enjoy for myself, with benefits to take care of the few nagging health issues that I've been having (no need for concern -- they're more annoying than anything else). And, some dental things that could use some preventative function are in my mind, also.

Sometimes, I envision what I want through my painting. This time, I am focused on my inner vision rather than anything external.

I don't have to paint every waking moment. I don't need to paint every day, or every week, or even every month. But, after a bit of focus on other things, the painter inside me beckons me back. My muse is gentle at first. But, swiftly, she becomes a screaming banshee, demanding my attention, a brush in my hand and paint under my nails. I abide her.

So, for now, I'll just breathe within my break. The muse will come again. And, she's likely to be as wickedly domineering as usual. I will enjoy the pause.

Blessed be.

Mixed Media, Expansion, Play and Real Artistry

I do believe my beautiful blue lady has found a finished place. Its not uncommon that a painting sits on a stand or an easel for months while I contemplate whether its finished with me.

Often, they feel done, but upon later inspection, they're not.

Sometimes, they call for new details, new pieces, new directions.

Sometimes, I paint over them and start anew.

This lovely lady just wouldn't let me be. Each time she seemed to be done, she called for more and more.

She just wasn't content in her mixed paints (acrylic, metallic, clear glue).

Instead, like her namesake, she wanted something special. So, special she did get...

Tiny, pink jewels create warrior paint on her lovely face.

The mythic Mother Goddess of the Tuatha De Danann certainly deserves nothing less than shine and sparkle. Metallic paint in highlighted areas, tiny jewels, glitter and clear glue offer a glow that appears under indirect lighting.

Arguably, the most ancient of the Celtic Goddesses, Danu is sometimes interpreted as both god and goddess, or the universal or complete Divine source. A goddess associated with the element of water (perhaps in connection with the Danube), art, craftsmanship, and creativity, she is quite right for those elements of change and transformation that continue to pop up in my own life.

Although, perhaps 'change' is too strong a word. Expansion would be more apropos, I think. There have been many opportunities for me to expand my awareness, my practice, and my personal life. My Danu is a prime example. At some point, probably in a middle school art class, I developed the thought that mixed media was somehow substandard and that 'real' artists only used oils. Now, I dislike oils as a medium. I always have. Perhaps, this is why I lost my painting practice all together for more than 20 years.

Recently, I've been experimenting more and more with mixed media in a very humble way. I add shapes and objects (fabric, plastic, and other materials), gems and glitter-based products, metallic paint to my typical mix of sharpie pen drawings and acrylic paints. I've been removing canvas from its stretchers and dry mounting and framing (something I would've never done in the past).

In other words, I've returned to a place of expansion -- where I can play and not worry about destroying a piece. Gesso does cover all ills. Well, most. And, what it doesn't cover, leaves interesting texture, for certain. Somewhere along my path, I'd forgotten how to play. I'm remembering. I don't know if I'd consider myself an artist. I'm just someone who uses paint to express herself. So, define that however you wish. In the interim, I'm just going to call it playing with paint and other things. And, I'm going to do it as long as its fun.

I'll leave you with a little verse from The Book of Leinster (1150 AD) telling the story of the Tuatha De Danann and how they came to Ireland:

"Ireland with pride, with weapons, hosts spread over her ancient plain, westward to the sunset were they plunderers, her chieftains of destruction around Temair. 30 years after Genann goblin hosts took the fertile land; a blow to the vanquished People of Bags was the visit of the Tuatha De Danann.

It is God who suffered them, though He restrained them -- they landed with horror, with lofty deed, in their cloud of mighty combat of spectres, upon a mountain of Conmaicne of Connacht. 

Without distinction to discerning Ireland, without ships, a ruthless course the truth was not known beneath the sky of stars, whether they were of heaven or of earth. If it were diabolic demons the black-cloaked agitating expedition, it was sound with ranks, with hosts: if of men, it was the progeny of Bethach. 

Of men belonging to law the freeborn who has the strong seed: Bethach, a swift warrior-island son of Iarbonel son of Nemed. 

They cast no assembly or justice about the place of Fal to the sunset: there was fire and fighting at last in Mag Tuired.

The Tuatha De, it was the bed of a mighty one, around the People of Bags fought for the kingship: in their battle with abundance or pride, troops of hundreds of thousands died."