Category Archives: confirmations

These days of destiny…

The other day I wrote a FB post about those days when nothing seems to fit… “a day when the stars don’t line up, a day that ends in the same place as it began, just not much to say about it”. Plenty people responded with their own interpretations, validating this weird period of time when you seem to be off grid for no apparent reason and the day just is some sort of wash. Someone, Martha Hoover Crombie, even had a name for it… “Paul and I call those moments and days “13 o’clock.” Perfect.

Well, today is another somewhat predetermined day, it seems to be a day of reflection. I know it’s Sunday and that, in itself, warrants some sort of spiritual connotation for most of us, but this is more metaphysical than spiritual, this is a day of thoughts, mostly of people and looking to their lives for answers to mine. I have seen the circle, “the circle of life”, up-close. This keen awareness began with my mother’s death. My sister, Susan, and I spoke of it, this Circle, many times. We talked often about our mother’s life, her worries and joys and wants and needs and happiness and unhappiness, all of it, at least all of it that we knew. We referenced this “knowledge” whenever we came across a situation in our own lives and tried to shimmy it to fit our situation, to make the most sense, to make the best decision for us based on her life’s experiences. Sometimes we were successful, and sometimes we were just very human and made the same “mistake” she may have made, because sometimes this earthly life sucks you in and no matter how many times you have witnessed the Circle, you still pick the wrong door. I’ve told my kids many times, that if we all learned from our parents, by now, we would have the perfect generation…that obviously did not happen.

Anyway, today, I think of those that are not here in a physical way anymore. It seems to have been prearranged that this day’s thoughts will be devoted to those that are only in my heart. Just like the 13th hour day from last week, I am going with this, I am not resisting…it is obvious to me, that it needs to be done.

Please don’t mistake this for a sad day, it is not at all, it is a day to pay homage to people I love, it’s a day to purposefully remember.

I will, when it cools down, go back to the garden and cut okra and chase my chickens out and later, make supper, all the while, giving my thoughts to those I miss so much. And tomorrow, my thoughts will begin again and I will hope that I will be able to hear them amongst all of the toxic noise this world is currently making.

seeing the light


IMG_5417Tuesday was a day of tender hearts and tears here in this too Big Apple. I am sitting at the window of a Starbucks on Canal right now trying to put my thoughts in a straight line once again. I am here with honesty and today, which is going to be difficult because I have to peel back a layer, I have to reveal a bit more. I spent time at the Met yesterday, I was there with little expectation and a quest to cry, to be moved. Elizabeth gave me precise instructions and assurance that I could “do this”. I did. I made it Uptown with a Metro card and a bit of anxiety. I got off of the train on 82nd Street, a street lined with black Mercedes and Range Rovers and a small sprinkle of Teslas, manifestations of the “good life” from Park Ave to 5th. I watched as people funneled down to an elite sort of ultra-wealthy New Yorkers and I appreciated them. There were very old men dressed well as they did decades ago with stooped shoulders and small well groomed dogs on  leaches. Coiffured wives on their arms and tots in tow were no longer apparent.  I also saw plenty of babies being carted along the avenues by nannies equipped with cell phones and bottles and some sense of purpose, I suppose. Then there were tulips. The tulips on Park Avenue were different than the other tulips planted in small batches along the mere “streets”, these were bountiful and embedded in rich soil that gave them the best start. IMG_5416

Past the tulips and the baby carriages was the Metropolitan Museum, the Met. There were the steps I walked up 4 decades ago and there to the left was the Egyptian Art I quickly walked through in my youth, only to say I did it. I knew I would head straight to the European section…up the stairs to the2nd floor; if any emotion would stir, it would be there, amongst the lives lived in Montmartre in the late 1800s when artist began painting with light and met at Gertrude Stein’s to talk about it over absinthe and ale.

There it was on the left, a still life of apples and pears painted by Cezanne while in Aix en Provence; “With and apple I want to astonish Paris”. He obviously did.IMG_5427

IMG_5419Anyway, it made me cry. I suppose it was my memory of Nice and my friend Kathy. She was drawn to his work and I to van Gogh during those days of youth, I saw what she loved just then, I saw the light. I continued to the van Gogh room and saw his self-portrait encased and center stage and knew he painted it because he could not afford a model, he could not afford his life. I lingered and thought of mine.

The day continued in an introspective way, mostly walking through the streets of New York and thinking about things using the backdrop of this enormous city to compare. The size and population density helped me to put life in perspective, to understand how fleeting it all is and wondering why I worry so much. But I do. Mothers worry about their children. We start with counting fingers and toes and continue by counting minutes until they come home during long nights in Manhattan…




I just wanted to share this tidbit with you. It is in line with the many books I’ve read about the power of our subconscious mind – the place with all the answers. I hope you can draw from this…

“During his day, Edison would take time out by himself and relax in a chair or on a sofa. Invariably he would be working on a new invention and seeking creative solutions to the problem he was dealing with. He knew that if he could get into that “twilight state” between being awake and being asleep, he could access the pure creative genius of his subconscious mind.

To prevent himself from crossing all the way over the “genius gap” into deep sleep, he would nap with his hand propped up on his elbow while he clutched a handful of ball-bearings. Then he would just drift off to sleep, knowing that his subconscious mind would take up the challenge of his problem and provide a solution. As soon as he went into too deep a sleep, his hand would drop and the ball-bearings would spill noisily on the floor, waking him up again. He’d then write down whatever was in his mind.”

a place to rest a while

a place to rest a while

b u

p s

a confirmation

Good morning

In an effort to settle this internal struggle I am currently experiencing, this struggle of where to spend my creative time, I am reposting my first blog entry and re confirming why I began doing this in the first place; it was (and still is) an effort to post positive observations, thoughts, and sometimes experiences – nothing more – just a way to send out positive energy. I reconfirm this by understanding how, when our purpose is simple and pure (when commercialism and greed is not present), the path stays clear. Anyway, I am reposting for me (and for you if you care to read). As always, I hope there is a word or two in here that you connect to in a positive way.

May 4, 2008

To Begin With…

This is my maiden voyage, my first blog, and I am so anxious to get started. I hope to successfully accomplish my goal and alongside of that mission, meet some of you and share stories about art and nature and family and all of the things that matter. It is Sunday, and I have a busy day in the garden and in the kitchen, so I will be brief, but perhaps I can share something of interest this evening when the day has ended and I finally come inside; we can grab a cup of coffee and chat.

Till next time


b u
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