Archives for category: Relationships

CHANGE AND DIFFERENCE 04.

Fourth in a Series of Four.

Getting there:

10. completion

11. dissolution

12. acceptance

Moving right along.

sketches 1-3

sketches 4-6

sketches 7-9


CHANGE AND DIFFERENCE 03…

Third in a Series of Four… from a time of confusion and hope.

8. curiosity

9. resolve

10. action

Action carries us forward.

 

sketches 1-3

sketches 4-7


CHANGE AND DIFFERENCE 02…

Second in a Series of Four.

From a 25-year-old sketchbook of mine…

Change and difference are both good.

4. separation

5. interaction

6. fear

Progress is inevitable.

 

sketches 1-3


My friend John and I were hanging out listening to some live music a few weeks ago…

Open Mic night in a small local venue… Conversation? Out of the question.

I remembered my pack of ATCs (artist trading cards) and fountain pens. We decided to take turns sketching on the cards…

We each sketched for a few minutes, and then swapped cards and continued the drawing the other person had been working on.

Here you see one of the sketches. Maybe John will scan and post the one he kept…

I love that I can hardly even remember which lines are “mine”, versus “his”.

I often consider “my art” so personal, so self-expressive…

Giving away authorship on these sketches bumped me out of self-absorption and into a new understanding of the Emptiness of “art”.


CHANGE AND DIFFERENCE 01…

“Change and Difference” is a series of sketches I did in 1986, when I was trying to make sense of my feelings and intuitions about life.

I’m only now able to even attempt to put words to the images…

I’ll post these sketches in four strips over the next week.

Progress is Good.

1. awakening

2. stirring

3. confusion


For my friends Melody and Phoenix

I created this painting/drawing in 2001, during a time of much change, when I was yearning for a rebirth… of some kind, any kind…

I remember how I felt as it flowed from my hands onto the paper; and since then, I have had several friends share with me what they see in the painting.

For myself, it meant rebirth, the wish to retreat, the wish to start over, the wish to find light.

When one of my friends (we’ve known each other for over 30 years) bought the painting, he  – very passionately – told me: “I love this painting because it reminds me of myself and my life! I feel like a phoenix, rising from the ashes of my past mistakes. My life has turned around in recent years in ways that I could not have even imagined, and this painting will hang in my house to remind me every day that anything is possible!”

I was touched beyond words by his affection and enthusiasm, and his joy.

I also learned that even in my dark moments, I needed to share what was inside of me. It seems both joy and pain can bring forth beauty, and our pain can inspire and instigate someone else’s joy in ways we may not have anticipated.

As we come and go, things shift and change, and friends appear and reappear, as our companions and guides.

This beautiful, magical world is one enormously vivid dream.


Think about how much an active womb resembles a roulette wheel. The shape, the throwing of the ball into the bowl, the chances taken – all of it fits on some level.

I believe I know why I’ve never heard of a gambling-themed baby shower.

Just the same, I can think of three ways parenthood resembles a trip to Biloxi. Thrilling uncertainty: it lures even “practical” people into wild visions of delight. The chance of walking away with a “gift”: this appeals to anyone with a shred of longing. But the willingness to accept any outcome… now that, ladies and gentlemen, really brings the analogy home for me.

When we’re expecting, we examine many things, just as others examine us. Of all the wonderful explorations that occur around conception, birth and growth, my most riveting came from one question: “Am I ready to – consciously – surrender the rest of my life to uncertainty?”

Parents never discover the effect their little bundle of joy will have on their lives until it arrives. Then we often – unconsciously – commit to fulfilling all the expectations of others and ourselves. Most of these expectations catch us unawares after we’ve walked away with the winnings. Sure, we can make decisions. We can decide what numbers to play. But if we think that gives us control, we’re kidding ourselves. Children have an amazing knack for dropping into whatever slot on the wheel they pick, regardless of where we placed our hard-earned cash. Even when all the medical screenings come back bright and cheerful, and even if our DNA seems promising, we cannot predict how many times we’ll have to keep our cool in the toy aisle. Or take a deep breath when our teenager has a meltdown. Or watch our 3-year-old undergo general anesthesia.

If you can walk away from a table in Biloxi empty-handed and still say you had a good time, then you’re ripe for parenthood (and life). No matter the outcome, we can find ways to experience our children as amazing gifts and teachers. No amount of cash winnings can compete with that. Actually, children emerge to surprise and test us. This may come as a surprise, but your roulette wheel is biased. And it’s also all arranged in advance. That’s the funny part: we get exactly what we asked for. We just didn’t anticipate how our wishes would come true.

For instance, I went through years trying to figure out the cleverest way to please the most people, so that my life could be predictable and “successful”. In 2000, my son received an Autism diagnosis; he quite often rolls outside the region of expectation and predictability. Yet every time I stop cringing in dread of unpleasant outcomes and uncover my eyes long enough to see how we’re doing, what do I see? This beautiful boy instinctively understands and lives what’s important… and makes good grades too. Over the years, I’ve noticed that every one of his little “quirks” seems to directly address one of my hang-ups. One by one, he helps me release them. What a selfless gift.

The most powerful blessing arrives with the attitude that accepts whatever arises.

Can you imagine a roulette gambler expecting to control the spin of the wheel and the settling of the ball? Expecting to know how children will turn out creates a similar invitation to learn first-hand about odds. It’s so tempting to plan, hope, dream, and use our children to define ourselves. That’s the giddy anticipation part. Yet those expectations hold no sway over how life unfolds. Parenthood sometimes seems to imply responsibility for the outcome. I visualize gamblers glaring at each other once the ball settles onto its number, as if one of them made it fall right there, right then. Somehow, it’s much easier to laugh at that image than to chuckle at our own unvoiced expectations surrounding parenthood.

When we view parenting like placing a bet on a wheel, we give ourselves permission to have no idea what will come our way. ‘Permission’ plays a key role in how much we enjoy our spin of the wheel. Feeling permission to wonder, question, and observe liberates us. Releasing self-expectation is one of the most generous and liberating acts a parent can perform.

For anyone who experiences an exuberant moment, learning that she/he faces the prospect of parenthood, it’s worth also taking a pregnant pause. Consider the deep blessing of meeting uncertainty as teacher, and that you’re about to get your butt kicked by having your wishes fulfilled. Embracing the uncertainty of parenthood states that you’re willing to take whatever may come, place your bets, and continue breathing while the wheel slows and the ball gets ready to drop.


So, I was talking with my friend John the other day, and I mentioned that I tend not to like to have long phone conversations. His reply: “Yeah, I noticed…”

Food for thought.

I think that tendency comes from a few sources.

The first would be phone conversations with “boyfriend” in high school… You know the kind: “So, what are you doing?” “Oh, nothing.” “Yeah? And what are you doing now?” “Oh, just listening to you…”

The second source could be years of studying and practicing Buddhism, 4-1/2 of which I spent as a nun, while much emphasis was placed on avoiding “meaningless activity” and “meaningless speech”… I generally didn’t watch TV (which is why I still think of buildings first, when I hear the word “House” – I was an architect, too) or spend time on the internet (which is why I feel like a real dinosaur as I jump into this postaday thingy).

The third source comes from spending years as a workaholic single mom of a child with special needs – I often just didn’t have the time.

Now that I’m back “in the world”, I’ve got a lot to learn about it (especially as others experience it), and I’m learning the value of friendships and connecting with others.

Several of my new blogging buddies write about getting pissed off, the mind, and  dreams (one of my favorite topics and a new category to add!). I’m finding there are more people out there of like minds than I imagined.

So I’m getting back on the “phone”.

Cheers!