Tags
Why is it we seem to have to go to the brink in life to awaken to ourselves? I don’t know anyone who escapes life’s tragedies and is wiser for that lack of experience. We seem to learn the most profound things from those big moments and near misses. But once in a while, if we pay attention, we get a moment of clarity that raises our awareness and appreciation for life, without the suffering.
Life is full of work and things to be done, or avoiding them and living down a rabbit hole—I choose the first one most of the time. By the time I exercise, clean the body, feed our household, do the most necessary of cleaning jobs and get what sleep I can, there is comparatively little discretionary time. And these days one of my joys is thinking about creating things rather than life’s big questions, which if I were going to be able to answer them, I probably would have in my 68 years on this earth. But I haven’t and probably won’t. I think about colour themes, about how to discern value more effectively, and what effects can be achieved on which kind of paper. And about trying to be honest and kind, both of which are challenging endeavours.
Some days I’m lucky enough that my morning walk helps me see a new corner of the environment to enthuse my painting sessions. In between all of the above I keep inspiring myself with new reading, listening and viewing of other artists’ works. One morning I was listening to a podcast interview with Andrew Greig, a Scottish poet and writer. I love a Scottish accent. (Must be genetic as my paternal Grandmother’s family was named Carlisle.) What captivated me was the title of the interview ‘When I’m dead, I will love this.’ He tells a story of running home in the cold and rain from the fish and chip shop, to keep his meal from getting soggy. And he thinks, as clearly as anything, as he is running, how wonderful running and a hot fish and chip meal would be if he was dead. I get it. It left me with shivers and tears on the rims.
We whir around in our complex world full of news stories and disaster and lists of jobs and people to please, when all the time we are doing the small miraculous things that humans do. We are spellbound at sunrises, marvel at nature, rejoice when we find a key we thought we’d lost, are amazed when our children are so much smarter than we were at that age…or kinder than we realised. These things we know. They are right in front of us every single day and we forget to look. We forget to think, ‘when I’m dead, I will love this.’
**This was going to be my last blog post. I had decided…or so I thought, I had nothing left to say. But after thinking it over the last couple of weeks I’ve decided this is the one place in my life I have the most control, where I can make up most of the rules. I even pay to keep the ads off this page so that you all won’t be dogged by those who glean data to try to sell you things. I won’t try to sell you anything. This is just my experience in the world for you to take or leave as you wish. I’m going to hang around for a while.
Thank you for this post. As so often happens, you find a way to elucidate and press publish aroundabouts where my thoughts have been taking me. Despite being busier than we ever imagined with the day-to-day stuff, barely able to actually cobble publishable thoughts together let alone channel through fingertips-keyboard-screen or create a dang creative thing… the minutiae of our life continues to feel worthwhile enough to forgive the fact that things -like pretty much everyone else- are not going quite to plan… then again when do they ever. We look around us and marvel that we are seeing the life we dreamed of, one that when I’m dead I’ll at least be able to say “dreams really do come true”.
Heart in mouth I began to read your final para. It’s not that I had considered not blogging but that I don’t find time… but your idea of a blog being my place in the world that I control… from where I can set forth words once they leave me over which I wonderfully have no control… has an appeal I had forgotten I once appreciated before it was lost among the barrage of information bites I’m constantly trying to navigate to stay abreast of things going on not-quite-to-plan.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I would love to know why in recent times I have to log into my own account to reply to comments. These and other mysteries plague our human day to day experience. Those are certainly not the ones I will love when I am dead!! Yes, it is an interesting paradox that on our own blog we have control of our words, but once they are out there in the world we don’t. Of course that is the danger of language anyway, once it is out of our mouth it takes a course of its own, or many courses is more likely. I too have struggled with finding the time due to my increased time with the pastels, but lately I’ve been writing several times a week and so I think if I don’t worry about the length of the piece, or having more than one illustrative image it is quite manageable. I love that I can make that decision and there is no one who can tell me ‘no’. Thanks for reading and commenting, Dale. xx
LikeLiked by 1 person
I marvel at “grass growing in rock”, or in cracks in sidewalks or asphalt parking lots. Nature finds a way despite the landscape and conditions. Your artwork is gorgeous! I can feel the roots clinging and struggle to survive in the scorching sun.
When I was young, I did not think as much about when I’m dead as I do now. Living as we do, fairly isolated from the public, and self-sufficient in many ways, I tend to be thankful for the opportunity to tend to the land and grow food, connect with nature, and enjoy everything that is presented to me in a day. It’s a slice of heaven, truly.
I have thought about ending my stint with WordPress quite a bit lately. I used to think sharing about my life on our little ranch, especially our work with wildlife and being good stewards of the land, would inspire others and send a positive message. In these times, at least in my country, I no longer feel it is wise to express much of anything. For now, before I am dead, it could be best for me to watch and listen to what is happening around me, and perhaps journal to document what I experience and learn here.
LikeLike
Thanks so much Lori. There must be a genre somewhere about things growing out of rock because so many people seem to be intrigued by it. It is very common here, but still art-worthy to me. I have also noticed it isn’t always good to put one’s messages ‘out there’–of course there is always someone who will disagree with whatever you say, but fortunately this blog hasn’t had many detractors. I love reading your blog so I hope you will continue it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ardys, I love this. Your thoughts in this post are in line with those in a book I’m reading now — it’s called “The Comfort Book” by Matt Haig. Here’s a quote from it:
“Forward momentum is great. But we also need sideways momentum. For instance, I just sat down and ate a pear. I have no idea what the future holds, but I am very grateful that I am alive and able to lie on a sofa and eat a pear.”
He talks a lot about his experiences with depression and the lessons he’s learned about life and what’s important and what isn’t. I’m really enjoying it as a little book to pick up and read a few pages here and there…quite inspiring.
Lately I’ve been making big adjustments in how I live my own life. I’m greatly reducing my time on social media and trying to make sure I allow myself long periods of time in which I disconnect from external distractions so I can focus on my writing and things that make me feel more at peace. I spend time at home and in my garden instead of constantly running off to meet friends for lunch or whatever. I’m heading off to a remote cabin in a few weeks and I plan to just read, write, walk in the woods, and look at the stars…no other agenda or “to do” lists or goals.
I’m so glad you’ve decided that you’re not done blogging. I think you do have more to say, and whether you say it with words or with your beautiful art, I want to hear it.
LikeLike
Thank you Kim. I like the sound of the changes you are making, and that book by Matt Haig sounds like a good one…did he write The Midnight Library? His name sounds familiar to me. I hope you will feel like blogging about your time in the woods when you return. Enjoy!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, he did write The Midnight Library. This is the first one of his books I’ve read, but I don’t think it will be the last.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m so glad this is not your last blog post. I so enjoy the unexpected parallels in our thoughts, our day to day observations, our surprising similarities in such dissimilar environments.
LikeLike
Thank you Donna. I realised I was writing something several times a week anyway, and as long as WordPress plays nicely, it doesn’t take much time to create a post and it gives me a reason to hone the pieces a little–good brain exercise! xx
LikeLike
So glad you will continue to blog!!!
LikeLike
Thanks Jim, I’m glad you’re glad!
LikeLike
Hi Ardys:
I’m so glad you decided to continue to find the time to blog and share your reflective musings, and beautiful artwork and photography. We need your voice and creativity to brighten the world … or at least I appreciate it brightening my world in the opposite hemisphere.
May you stay well in body, mind and spirit to continue your work in the world.
Blessings. 🌸🌼🌺
LikeLike
Thank you SO much Valerie. You have been with me from the start and I’m so glad you are still here. I also believe we need beauty in the world and I hope my contribution helps. May you stay well also. xx
LikeLike