I'm having a bit of trouble with the whole concept of time not meaning anything. Time doesn't exist in the spiritual realm. But it sure seems that I don't have enough of it anymore. The days are just not long enough to get everything done. The babies take up almost every moment. So I suppose that when the time is right I will gain the extra few minutes I need to catch up on so many things, this blog included.
I will say that I'm trying to be more present in the now more often. And I've started reading "The Course on Miracles." Heavy indeed. I've been stumbling over the language a lot. This is a book that needs some studying, which would mean more time. I wonder if the three or so weeks we have it checked out from the library will be enough time?
And I'm trying so hard not to judge and finding that I judge a lot. Even the simple judgments like "he's mad at me" lead to troublesome thinking. That thinking thing again. More than one person has told me I think too much. Certainly true. But when I'm trying to decipher everything from a spiritual perspective, I can't help but think, can I? I wonder who that is? Is it the spirit me or the ego me? Thinking takes time too. I guess if I give that up there will be more time?
While this post seems to be written in some sort of code or abstract, in my defense, I have been reading Eckart Tolle's "The Power of Now," and watching the Wayne Dyer DVDS when I feed the baby. My mind is trying to take all of this profound wisdom in, and then I have to apply it to my life. Hard work indeed to be on top of every thought, live in the present now, meditate to connect to the source energy, stop judging, and fight my ego.
Oh, and take care of the house and the kids. No wonder I'm so tired and time seems to be slipping away...
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Friday, June 13, 2008
Cleaning out the studio
Days blend into each other and I often don't know for sure what day it is. And the date? Forget it.
I'm still reading, still working on the photo project between baby feedings. It seems the little ones are on opposite schedules now. One's awake and one's asleep, which works great for giving them individualized time, but it's lousy for getting anything around the house done. And time for extras like working on the photos or art, or blogging for that matter, is down to the minimum. I usually spend the few free seconds reading.
But here I am for a moment. Even now, after I put Babygirl down for her nap, I can hear Littleboy squirming around in his vibrating seat, getting ready to wake up and demand a bottle.
My oldest girl is thinking of moving back home. She's eighteen now and should want to leave and be on her own. Not my girl. She left at seventeen and has been with the boyfriend (not so much any more) for the last year. Now, with her two cats, she wants to come home. R and I decided she could live in the building in our back yard (the old garage/storage room/fantasized about art studio...we've always called it the studio. Five years now and the "studio" has yet to be more than a place to collect junk.). The condition is she has to live with my obnoxious screaming Amazon parrot, and she has to pay a meager rent after the first month free. No parties. No boys or men moving in and she has to get and keep a job. Unfortunately she has to come into the house to use the bathroom. And she will probably be eating with us. Laundry too. Maybe the rent will be adjustable. She agreed to these terms (Except the adjustable rent, which we won't really do) and is eager to get started. Of course it has to be cleaned out, which means the room in the basement must be finished so we have someplace to put this stuff. So there, my other possible studio space is being taken away too. Not that it was ever to be finished. I guess in either case, when my girl does finally save enough to get her own place, the "studio" building will be cleaned and ready for claiming. I hope I can act fast enough. Maybe I should leave a few artsy type things out there.
So, yesterday we began sorting and removing stuff from the studio. Exciting indeed. All the stuff I've kept to make sculptures out of, remarkable. I put a couple of my sculptures in the yard as yard art. They won't sell anyway and they bring some visual interest to the yard.
The building is about half cleaned out. At least we can get to the drywall for the basement now. Maybe tomorrow we can get back to this project. Hopefully it won't become some half finished thing that becomes forgotten in the day to day.
Ah, there's the little man now....
I'm still reading, still working on the photo project between baby feedings. It seems the little ones are on opposite schedules now. One's awake and one's asleep, which works great for giving them individualized time, but it's lousy for getting anything around the house done. And time for extras like working on the photos or art, or blogging for that matter, is down to the minimum. I usually spend the few free seconds reading.
But here I am for a moment. Even now, after I put Babygirl down for her nap, I can hear Littleboy squirming around in his vibrating seat, getting ready to wake up and demand a bottle.
My oldest girl is thinking of moving back home. She's eighteen now and should want to leave and be on her own. Not my girl. She left at seventeen and has been with the boyfriend (not so much any more) for the last year. Now, with her two cats, she wants to come home. R and I decided she could live in the building in our back yard (the old garage/storage room/fantasized about art studio...we've always called it the studio. Five years now and the "studio" has yet to be more than a place to collect junk.). The condition is she has to live with my obnoxious screaming Amazon parrot, and she has to pay a meager rent after the first month free. No parties. No boys or men moving in and she has to get and keep a job. Unfortunately she has to come into the house to use the bathroom. And she will probably be eating with us. Laundry too. Maybe the rent will be adjustable. She agreed to these terms (Except the adjustable rent, which we won't really do) and is eager to get started. Of course it has to be cleaned out, which means the room in the basement must be finished so we have someplace to put this stuff. So there, my other possible studio space is being taken away too. Not that it was ever to be finished. I guess in either case, when my girl does finally save enough to get her own place, the "studio" building will be cleaned and ready for claiming. I hope I can act fast enough. Maybe I should leave a few artsy type things out there.
So, yesterday we began sorting and removing stuff from the studio. Exciting indeed. All the stuff I've kept to make sculptures out of, remarkable. I put a couple of my sculptures in the yard as yard art. They won't sell anyway and they bring some visual interest to the yard.
The building is about half cleaned out. At least we can get to the drywall for the basement now. Maybe tomorrow we can get back to this project. Hopefully it won't become some half finished thing that becomes forgotten in the day to day.
Ah, there's the little man now....
Monday, June 2, 2008
Those old family photos
A friend of mine stopped by today with her three little children. They played with Babygirl in the back yard. It was great fun seeing them all. I wish I had more time to go and visit my friends. I've been thinking a lot about old friends lately.
My oldest girl asked for some baby pictures of herself last week and when I dug those out it, only seemed natural to update the baby books and photos. What a nightmare. In the beginning of my life as an adult, I thought I would stay on top of it and label all of my photos right away with names, dates, events, etc. and that way, many years after I die, when someone comes across a box of old pictures, they might be able to figure out the history of my family. That which I know. My part. I still have old photos of relatives I don't know, people I can't recognize. It won't be that way for my children and their children. Or so I thought. When did time get away from me? That stack of photos that was waiting to be labeled became two or three stacks, a whole shoe box full of snapshots, and I have spent my free time in the last week (I know, I should be painting) trying to remember, trying to figure out how old my girls were in many pictures, not recalling the dates. I have lost a whole year. I can't for the life of me recall 1999. Are there any photos from this time frame? How can I know? My children are changing less and less every year. Which year is which? It's out of control. But, I won't give up. I refuse to give up. I want to redo my albums in a more orderly fashion. I want to tell my story.
But what parts of my story are relevant? Does it matter what friends I had in grade school? The skater boys downtown in 1987? What about snapshots of cars I thought were cool? And the pets? How about my toys? Those were favorite subjects for many rolls of film. Should I just include family members? So, I don't know for sure. I've eliminated most of the pet pictures, nearly all of the toy portraits, most of the old boyfriends, and repetitive scenery shots of the mountains. I kept anything that gave me good memories, even tucking some extra pictures behind the ones I chose for the album. I tried to keep at least one of each important man in my life. Some I wish I had more of.
So, as I relabel the mislabeled Christmas pictures and re-travel the well-worn path down memory lane (I live in the past, and often the future too. I'm working on that whole now thing.), I'm trying to put my life in perspective. I know my children grew up too fast, and I couldn't grow up fast enough (although I grew out quite rapidly), and I find I don't hate my sister quite so much now.
What pictures do I keep? The ones that mean something and the ones that show the history of my time. The ones with the people and the places that I love.
Oh, and, I'm still searching for 1999.
My oldest girl asked for some baby pictures of herself last week and when I dug those out it, only seemed natural to update the baby books and photos. What a nightmare. In the beginning of my life as an adult, I thought I would stay on top of it and label all of my photos right away with names, dates, events, etc. and that way, many years after I die, when someone comes across a box of old pictures, they might be able to figure out the history of my family. That which I know. My part. I still have old photos of relatives I don't know, people I can't recognize. It won't be that way for my children and their children. Or so I thought. When did time get away from me? That stack of photos that was waiting to be labeled became two or three stacks, a whole shoe box full of snapshots, and I have spent my free time in the last week (I know, I should be painting) trying to remember, trying to figure out how old my girls were in many pictures, not recalling the dates. I have lost a whole year. I can't for the life of me recall 1999. Are there any photos from this time frame? How can I know? My children are changing less and less every year. Which year is which? It's out of control. But, I won't give up. I refuse to give up. I want to redo my albums in a more orderly fashion. I want to tell my story.
But what parts of my story are relevant? Does it matter what friends I had in grade school? The skater boys downtown in 1987? What about snapshots of cars I thought were cool? And the pets? How about my toys? Those were favorite subjects for many rolls of film. Should I just include family members? So, I don't know for sure. I've eliminated most of the pet pictures, nearly all of the toy portraits, most of the old boyfriends, and repetitive scenery shots of the mountains. I kept anything that gave me good memories, even tucking some extra pictures behind the ones I chose for the album. I tried to keep at least one of each important man in my life. Some I wish I had more of.
So, as I relabel the mislabeled Christmas pictures and re-travel the well-worn path down memory lane (I live in the past, and often the future too. I'm working on that whole now thing.), I'm trying to put my life in perspective. I know my children grew up too fast, and I couldn't grow up fast enough (although I grew out quite rapidly), and I find I don't hate my sister quite so much now.
What pictures do I keep? The ones that mean something and the ones that show the history of my time. The ones with the people and the places that I love.
Oh, and, I'm still searching for 1999.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
For my daughters, with love 5-29-08
They don't get it.
They are far too young.
They need age and experience
Behind them
To understand.
Unfortunately
They must get burned,
Cry a thousand tears,
Wallow in a dark cave of utter despair,
And pull themselves together
Piece by piece,
Never suspecting
The end product
Would be a stranger.
The final goal
To find themselves,
Looking for lost youth
In between motherhood
And old age.
And if the universe smiles,
They might find more
In the spaces and stillness,
In the pause from adventure
When they take the time
To just breath.
-K
They are far too young.
They need age and experience
Behind them
To understand.
Unfortunately
They must get burned,
Cry a thousand tears,
Wallow in a dark cave of utter despair,
And pull themselves together
Piece by piece,
Never suspecting
The end product
Would be a stranger.
The final goal
To find themselves,
Looking for lost youth
In between motherhood
And old age.
And if the universe smiles,
They might find more
In the spaces and stillness,
In the pause from adventure
When they take the time
To just breath.
-K
Thursday, May 22, 2008
A moment
Still reading..."Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert. Wonderful. I may be getting it, finally. I tried meditating while holding Babyboy, who was asleep. I felt a connection to something. It felt like there was an energy running through me. And I realized this "thing," be it God, or connection to our own spirit, our soul, it will be different for everyone. The awakening will fit each person. I can never expect R to see things in the same light that I do. It is impossible. I cannot force his awakening, although I can nudge him by suggesting books on that path.
I have been contemplative lately, wanting to write, but not sure what. I have been writing in my journal, remember that good old paper thing--so old fashioned. I love the feel of the pen, the look of the ink, how the white space fills up with my thoughts. Is writing like talking to spirit? Talking to self. I have used it as a form of communication with my self. Who is the reader, the writer?
I think art is a form of communication also. I certainly feel connected to something when I paint.
And we got the dining table set up. R and teenage girl worked on that together. Something about earning money for a haircut. It looks nice in our old house. I'm glad we kept it.
The birthday bbq was a success. Only family. Awkward with my mother and sister, but not too bad. Everyone got along and seemed to be content, if not happy.
We didn't get approved for a loan. No new house. Not yet. Maybe next year. But we have been working on the landscaping of or old Victorian. R has gone crazy on plants, spending a small fortune. We have been putting in a lot of xeric plants that should do well in our climate. That is the plan. The yard is looking nice. Babygirl follows me around with her shoes until I help her put them on so she can run around outside. I enjoy wandering around the yard just looking at the plants. We bought a patio table, but the squirrels are eating the cushions on the furniture. Or, they are shredding the pillows, pulling out the stuffing and running off with it to build posh squirrel nests. I'm developing a strong dislike towards the cute little woodland creatures.
Oh, times up...here's the little one now with her shoes and jacket.
I have been contemplative lately, wanting to write, but not sure what. I have been writing in my journal, remember that good old paper thing--so old fashioned. I love the feel of the pen, the look of the ink, how the white space fills up with my thoughts. Is writing like talking to spirit? Talking to self. I have used it as a form of communication with my self. Who is the reader, the writer?
I think art is a form of communication also. I certainly feel connected to something when I paint.
And we got the dining table set up. R and teenage girl worked on that together. Something about earning money for a haircut. It looks nice in our old house. I'm glad we kept it.
The birthday bbq was a success. Only family. Awkward with my mother and sister, but not too bad. Everyone got along and seemed to be content, if not happy.
We didn't get approved for a loan. No new house. Not yet. Maybe next year. But we have been working on the landscaping of or old Victorian. R has gone crazy on plants, spending a small fortune. We have been putting in a lot of xeric plants that should do well in our climate. That is the plan. The yard is looking nice. Babygirl follows me around with her shoes until I help her put them on so she can run around outside. I enjoy wandering around the yard just looking at the plants. We bought a patio table, but the squirrels are eating the cushions on the furniture. Or, they are shredding the pillows, pulling out the stuffing and running off with it to build posh squirrel nests. I'm developing a strong dislike towards the cute little woodland creatures.
Oh, times up...here's the little one now with her shoes and jacket.
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