look again

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during my breaks in french class, i have a habit of going to the bathroom just to take pictures of myself in the long, dirty mirror.  i don't have a full length mirror at home so i rarely see my entire self all at once.  i am always broken up in to bits and pieces;  a fractured image, shattered glances.  or maybe i'm just fucking vain.  ;)

i'll admit i like looking at myself.  i like seeing which parts of my face i inherited from my mother.  though my lips aren't quite as full as hers were, i have her mouth.  i glance at my posture and can see my father standing there.  i have his calves and shoulders.  i have my mother's eyes (all her children do) crowned by my father's evil-arch eyebrows.  i have his pale skin and her freckles. 

but i return to the mirror expecting to see something different.  i'm not exactly sure what or why.  maybe i've never learned to trust my own image.  there's something the mirror lies about or simply can't reflect-  the changeability of my face.  my sister has this quality too.  we look like totally different people in different slants of light or even simply from different angles.  each side of the face is totally different from the other.  despite my absolute love for it, i have an absolute lack of symmetry.

but that isn't really it.  it's the desire for my outsides to match my insides and i'm not sure that they do.  for however open i might seem here, there is so much i keep quite and safe from the light.  there is so much i do not share.  not with anyone.  it all lands in the diary and then slowly is reworked in to drawings or poems or blog-posts or blankets.  this morning, becca and i texted back and forth about autumn's slow arrival and the call to spend long evenings in bed knitting(her) and crocheting (me).   we talked about the urge to return to sweater-making, the ritual of black wool twisted around a hook, and the knots that work together to comprise a solitary work...  a piece of clothing which one cannot buy, but only make for oneself.  there is a comfort and a loneliness contained in such an act, in such a display of patience.  the ache is belied.  and though i may wear all my secrets emblazoned on the tshirts and sweaters i make for myself, when i cry it is for an audience of One.  i have the only seat.

it's an image of me i no longer offer face to face.  i will be silent and still.  no flutter of heartache, no betrayal of need or fear.

i like the blurry photograph in the middle the best.

here we go!

September! eeeeeeek! the big 3.0. is right around the corner! 2 days away and i am totally looking forward to collecting it.

i am (weirdly?) one of those people who hate their own birthday. i didn't think i was in that crowd but, about 5 years or so ago, i noticed the pattern of letting the day roll by without any sort of real celebration or acknowledgement. it was more than enough to get the obligatory 'happy birthday' phone call from friends and family. i'd take the day off from work (i am a firm believer that no one should work on their birthday unless you've got a jobby-job you absolutely adore) and usually stay home and paint or write. and get sad. it is the horrible cycle of The People-Pleaser to feel like you haven't "accomplished enough" in your life... especially on traditional markers of time like birthdays, anniversaries, and New Years. this is a habit that needs breaking. because, to put it plainly, it sucks. ha!

and last year on my birthday, the stars aligned in such a way as to show me that there were some pretty deep changes i needed to make in my life... that for all the wishing and crying i'd done, the only way to move forward was to go inside, clear the bullshit out of the way so i could actually see the path i was standing on. and i had to be able to see it in order to know which direction to head in. i made the decision on my 29th birthday to get re-acquainted with myself and to stop worrying about Time so much. not an easy thing. and i realized that my path is specific to me and that i make a mistake when i compare my life to other people's. i decided to do the clean up that was so clearly necessary.

the first thing to go was drinking. i had a glass of champagne last year on the night of my birthday. i was at an art reception for a show i had some work in. and i haven't had any alcohol since. it isn't that i thought i had a drinking problem, i though i had a thinking problem and i've wrestled my entire life with Sadness. for me, drinking compounded those issues in a way that was pretty much dangerous. and insofar as my practice was concerned, it stalled me in my tracks. and that made the level of depression i was living under all the more heavy. a depression i had been living under for 2 years straight and was only getting worse by the day. in fact, September 2nd (tomorrow) is the anniversary of a total Collapse.

my birthday seemed like a pretty opportune moment to start digging myself back out of that pit and that's exactly what the last year of my life has been all about.

The Almighty Jog, re-learning how to trust my instincts again, trust my own internal rhythms, focus on my own loves, my own values, my own beliefs. and to let my wrestling take place there. and i found a ton of out-dated maps and notions and ideas that i desperately needed to abandon.

i made the decision to approach my practice with love and gratitude, to take it day by day, and to locate images and words and the work of other artists and writers that resonated with me and what my life had been. i began to see what my true values were and how long i had been shelving them in order to "help" other people. i had had it drummed in to me that that's what you do when you really love someone. after making the decision to confront myself, i saw what a load of horseshit that actually is. and i spent a long time feeling alternately mad and sad about having been taught such an extremely damaging lesson. very mad. very sad. and rather than hide my sadness (which is what i typically did) and put on a Happy Face, i allowed my sadness to sit on the surface of my being. you can see it even here on this blog. i'm not ashamed of that. i don't think struggle is something a person should ever be made to feel ashamed of. ever. and so i don't allow myself to be ashamed or be shamed by others anymore. and that's probably the biggest step i've taken this year. shame had become quite a nasty habit. the only thing i've found that conquers Shame is Honesty. hard Honesty. Honesty about myself.

the passed year has gone by so unbelievably quickly. and here i am- a runner, an artist, a writer, a lover. from the outside, my life probably doesn't look very different today than it did a year ago, but it is. it is deeply different. i still get sad a lot... but life, at the moment, within my family, is pretty effing sad. and so it's normal. and i won't say i've figured everything out or that i have all the answers. i don't. what i do have is the knowledge that no one has all the answers and that that's actually a really great thing. i was thinking about that when i woke up today- answers and questions. and that maybe that's what art is? a practice of nailing down our questions rather than answers. and i like that. i like that a lot. :)

i'm excited to see where the next year goes. the only plan i have is to keep doing what i've been doing. keep running, keep writing, keep drawing, painting, making, exploring, excavating. keep trying. truly trying. and to not measure myself against other people's rulers. to live by my own standards and to practice a very brave, compassionate Honesty. i am removing the gag that i've lived with for soooo long. and though it is a very scary thing, i choose to be myself and to not writhe in silence anymore. i choose to be an artist and to let the expressions of my humanity be complete. i choose bravery.

anyway... GOOD MORNING! and HAPPY SEPTEMBER!!!!!! <3

tick tick tick tick

more and more, i've been thinking about philosophy- its relevance. its importance. philosophy as necessity. philosophy as NEED.

and like art, philosophy in this country is perceived as a pastime. something frivolous. something to take part in if you've got some spare time on your hands but not at all integral to daily life.

and how sad. how lost. ethics as an exercise in frivolity. it knocks the wind out of me.

and just as i think that an arts education should be mandatory; mandatory in the same way as literature and science and math, so too should be philosophy. how much cooler and progressive a world, a more humane world, if philosophy was part of standard education in high school. if philosophy was welcomed in to daily life.

i think philosophy is absolutely necessary- the ethic, well wrestled, well thought out, hard won code that governs a life. academia seems to be the only situation in which philosophic conversations are taken seriously. or the pockets it lives in when in discussion with close friends or colleagues who have a similar desire to live in a more conscious way, not just "go with the flow".

it is sad to me that in our common day-to-day existence, we are routinely asked, EXPECTED EVEN, to drop our philosophic code when it makes things even the slightest bit harder for others. and by 'harder' i mean less fun. what are ethics good for if i drop them when the tough times find me? isn't that when i need them most? when the temptation arises to skirt the hard responsibilities of my life and run? isn't that when a set of ethics is most needed?

but the trade is that sometimes you will walk the road alone. sometimes you will be Outcast. sometimes you will be Other. sometimes you will be Cruel or Crazy or Arrogant or Selfish. these are all titles that get applied in improper ways a lot of the time. it is not selfish to obey an ethical code. it's cowardly to not.

and all this is on my mind more and more. the more i read, the more i draw, the more i expose myself to the outside world, the more i find these deep pockets of discussion where art and philosophy are appreciated, nurtured, encouraged. and there is no rule that i must have all the answers RIGHT THIS SECOND... just that i try to head in a better direction. just that i am curious and open. just that i rinse the dust out of my eyes. just that i think.

breathe hard...

already with my black oil this morning. already. :)
and tons of scribbling in my notebook too.

but The Jog awaits and i can't let up when it comes to that. 5 months in and 2 inches disappeared from my waistline, not to mention the wonderful wide-open calm that rolls in after breathing hard and stomping and sweating my way through the big ol' morning vineyard.

there are NO TRESPASSING signs up now but the owner said they don't apply to me so i am thankful for those signs. no bad-mood tourists to ruin my day at the start. no grimaces and judgement. tourists are full of grimaces and judgement. at least the ones who make their way out here. they are covered in sneers. i have no clue what that's about but it's true. it makes no sense. i'm glad they've been barred. the air and space is mine and the signs ensure i don't have to share it.

i'm beginning to feel pretty again. it's been awhile since i felt that way and it's nice. i've missed my angles. i'm happy to see them returning. i've got the same insecurities most women have and, yeah i know it's all unreasonable and blah blah blah, but i'm finally starting to feel strong again... and that's the thing i've missed most.

before i slipped that disk in my back (twice!), i felt strong and capable and i knew i was able to defend myself if i had to. for the past 2 years, i haven't felt that way at all. i couldn't defend myself one bit. now, 5 months in and 2 inches lost and all sorts of leg muscles later, i've at least got a fighting chance. i can at least out-run someone. and just knowing that i can if i had to makes me feel better, more capable, more independent, a bit less fearful, a bit less worrisome, and a lot more pretty. it's a good feeling and a good reason to keep it up.

and my little girl dog loves it too. she bounces along at my side and smiles at the world and on days when i don't want to do it for myself i do it for her. her happiness and health is way more important to me than my own and i don't let myself off the hook when it comes to that. it's my job to love her and give her the things she needs. it's my job to make sure she is healthy and happy and has space to play in. she likes the smells and the birds and the shade of the tall vines. she is always so excited, full of endless happiness when we head out to the vineyard. i aspire to be more like her in that regard- every day is the best day ever to her... and i want to feel that way too. The Jog can (and does) supply that.

once again, it's a morning thing. part of my wake-up.
why wait til the end of the day to feel that the day is good?