I truly believe we are in for a very difficult passage this year. But such is life on the earth plane. If we incarnated during this time, then we are karmically and dharmically right for this time. We face the rebalancing with an open heart, and a deep breathe as we let go of our attachment to the "known". I toast my loved ones with uncertainty, and meditate on the Law. All is as it will be , should be, is was and will be.
Join me in a glass of red wine if you will, and play a video game. What the heck. Human conscious living should be fun if it is anything as we learn to let go and deepen.
So , when my sister sent this chain letter to me - I thought - wonderful. This too shall pass as wisdom, and why not?
I happily share it:
HANDBOOK 2010
Health:
1. Drink plenty of water.
2. Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince and dinner like a beggar.
3. Eat more foods that grow on trees and plants and eat less food that is manufactured in plants...
4. Live with the 3 E's -- Energy, Enthusiasm and Empathy.
5. Make time to reflect.
6. Play more games.
7. Read more books than you did in 2009.
8. Sit in silence for at least 10 minutes each day.
9. Sleep for 7 hours.
10. Take a 10-30 minutes walk daily. And while you walk, smile.
Personality:
11. Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
12 Don't have negative thoughts or things you cannot control. Instead invest your energy in the positive present moment.
13. Don't over do. Keep your limits.
14. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
15. Don't waste your precious energy on gossip.
16. Dream more while you are awake.
17. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
18. Forget issues of the past. Don't remind your partner with His/her mistakes of the past. That will ruin your present happiness.
19. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.. Don't hate others.
20. Make peace with your past so it won't spoil the present.
21. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.
22. Realize that life is a school and you are here to learn. Problems are simply part of the curriculum that appear and fade away like algebra class but the lessons you learn will last a lifetime.
23. Smile and laugh more.
24. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree....
Society:
25. Call your family often.
26. Each day give something good to others.
27. Forgive everyone for everything.
28. Spend time w/ people over the age of 70 & under the age of 6.
29. Try to make at least three people smile each day.
30. What other people think of you is none of your business.
31. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends will. Stay in touch.
Life:
32. Do the right thing!
33. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.
34. However good or bad a situation is, it will change..
35. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up..
36. The best is yet to come.
37. When you awake alive in the morning, be thankful.
38. Your Inner most is always happy. So, be happy.
Last but not the least:
39. Please Forward this to everyone you care about, I just did.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Sunday, September 6, 2009
The Life of an Artist
The life of an artist is a very strange thing. We travel through the minds pathways into the emotions, and back again. Our images are born somewhere in the ethers, and we translate messages that even we do not know the meanings of . True art, at times is so painful to produce. We risk so much in the bridging of consciousness to bring up our ideas. I wonder if that is why we need the down time. The marination period. To regroup. To rest. Until the friction gets too much, and we need to create again.
I'm in such a period. Its fascinating when I ponder it from afar. And it makes me cry when I get too close. As if the old shapes are flat and lifeless. A dream that has lost its meaning. I know a new medium is burgeoning. I can see the work .... almost. If I try to hard, it disappears. It is similar to when I have psychic blasts. I can sense what will happen, as if in the distance, but not quite see it. And yet though it has no sense of time it has presence, and shape, more than shape, it has a smell of its own. I turn my head, and try to view it from my peripheral vision. It smells like seaweed. Not ripe not rancid, alive and unformed. Ah, my love of the sea. My latest paintings, before I gave up the Chelsea studio were of the inner sea, the primordial soup.
I have spent a good part of the last two years teaching and mentoring others. We reach a place in our careers when paying if forward is a calling unto itself. Driven to listen, with an open heart, be present and share from lifetimes of experience. But not creating. Not yet. Showing, selling, but not creating. I find it torturous this weekend, no room of my own anymore.
Late afternoon yesterday, E and I sat on the two person swing in the backyard. Barbecuing family fun. Watching the smoke rise from the red lid, waiting for the ribs and the fish to finish. He put his arm around me and joked that I had become like everyone else. The Bohemian artist mother he knew now worked for a College, and went in 9-5. And I started to cry. I feel lost without my images. My studio.
He felt badly, and hugged me - how ridiculous the mother crying on the shoulder of her just about adult son. And yet, it was beautiful. E reminding me that he was taught by one his favorite teachers in High School, Mr. Roper, that ideally we all reach the highpoint of our lives when we can teach others from our own experiences. That's where you are Mom. "You're still an artist Mom", he reassured me. You can paint out here, the wild backyard is your domain.
The life of an artist. I sit on the swing. The yard is huge, half of it a jungle of wild life. It is beautiful and peaceful. Perhaps I'll start to sculpt again, out here. Or paint. Or work digitally. I don't really know - until I know. Until the friction calls my name, and the seaweed wraps its wings around my heart and floats. Lifting me above myself.
I'm in such a period. Its fascinating when I ponder it from afar. And it makes me cry when I get too close. As if the old shapes are flat and lifeless. A dream that has lost its meaning. I know a new medium is burgeoning. I can see the work .... almost. If I try to hard, it disappears. It is similar to when I have psychic blasts. I can sense what will happen, as if in the distance, but not quite see it. And yet though it has no sense of time it has presence, and shape, more than shape, it has a smell of its own. I turn my head, and try to view it from my peripheral vision. It smells like seaweed. Not ripe not rancid, alive and unformed. Ah, my love of the sea. My latest paintings, before I gave up the Chelsea studio were of the inner sea, the primordial soup.
I have spent a good part of the last two years teaching and mentoring others. We reach a place in our careers when paying if forward is a calling unto itself. Driven to listen, with an open heart, be present and share from lifetimes of experience. But not creating. Not yet. Showing, selling, but not creating. I find it torturous this weekend, no room of my own anymore.
Late afternoon yesterday, E and I sat on the two person swing in the backyard. Barbecuing family fun. Watching the smoke rise from the red lid, waiting for the ribs and the fish to finish. He put his arm around me and joked that I had become like everyone else. The Bohemian artist mother he knew now worked for a College, and went in 9-5. And I started to cry. I feel lost without my images. My studio.
He felt badly, and hugged me - how ridiculous the mother crying on the shoulder of her just about adult son. And yet, it was beautiful. E reminding me that he was taught by one his favorite teachers in High School, Mr. Roper, that ideally we all reach the highpoint of our lives when we can teach others from our own experiences. That's where you are Mom. "You're still an artist Mom", he reassured me. You can paint out here, the wild backyard is your domain.
The life of an artist. I sit on the swing. The yard is huge, half of it a jungle of wild life. It is beautiful and peaceful. Perhaps I'll start to sculpt again, out here. Or paint. Or work digitally. I don't really know - until I know. Until the friction calls my name, and the seaweed wraps its wings around my heart and floats. Lifting me above myself.
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