On Dreaming (#3)

Warning! Remember, once you read this, it cannot be unread. The dream I am about to share will require you to look past the characters, which really are just temporary placeholders, and the minor details, which are more universal than most people are willing to admit. Instead, focus on the deeper revelation about me, because it is critical to understanding an emotional challenge that I have been facing for so long. One that I would finally like to overcome.

Because, in the end, that is why I had this dream: to draw focus on a longstanding shortcoming of mine.

And I am hoping that sharing this dream might inspire courage in me to change.

(Though, I am sure some of you might end up simply being amused--or disturbed--by all of it. That is the price of "exposing" oneself, I guess.) 

(I spent more time searching for an image than writing this post--I deemed my first choice not ready for prime time. However, I finally settled on these two by William Orpen. There is something interesting and beautiful about both. Slightly haunting, and intriguing. I don't know exactly. But I am glad I found them. Both women appear to have a story to tell, too--when they are ready.)

A Brief Interlude (#13)

For those who were wondering, the middle of last week turned into a hot mess; therefore, I failed to make time for my Wednesday post. By Thursday afternoon, events occurred that inspired me to collect the pieces, and rearrange them into something better. Embracing the waves of relief, levity, and serenity, brought on by positive self-reflection and several conversations, I made the decision to pass on my regular Thursday weekly checkup. Not surprisingly, on the eve of a busy weekend, following several days of physical struggles and emotional stress, Friday became my new sabbath. I took time to recover: I ate my way to contentment and equilibrium.

Alas, when it rains, it pours. On Saturday afternoon, while two close friends and I were discussing the consequences Covid-19 has had on our lives, news came that would require us to rush out and have our children quarantined and tested. I am not concerned for our children’s health; indeed, I suspect they will all come up negative. However, just being placed in quarantine, and handed so much uncertainty, has thrown planning for the next two weeks beyond clarity and understanding.

But in moments like this, you learn things about yourself. And, while a resolution to a current crisis may not be laid out in front of you, you realize that “just okay” is not a bad position to be in.

For the moment...

(The artist is Elizabeth Sparhawk-Jones, and this work, The Dreamers, is a later painting. I found two articles about her: The Girl Behind the Counter: Elizabeth Sparhawk-Jones, and Elizabeth Sparhawk-Jones: An Overlooked Phenomenon. I have not read them, though I plan on it at some point. There were a few other of her paintings that I  found intriguing.)

Meandering Thoughts (#2)

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.

    ~ Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

My Weekly Checkup (#25)

It has been another busy week, but this time around, I have been productive, too. Not as much as I would like, but then, maybe I need to curb my expectations in that department. Maybe. Meanwhile, here is something I want to share with you. It will not be for everyone reading this blog. Heck, I will be surprised if anyone reading this blog (all five of you) gets past the description I provide, let alone the first five minutes of the actual video. But should you decide to spend an hour of your life "experiencing" the video, what a trip!

At least scroll down and read my review of it: I reveal a small secret about myself.

Enjoy!

(Something beautiful and pleasant, in contrast to what is in the video shared below. Also, I just discovered Konstantin Somov tonight. Some interesting pieces. Click on the painting to discover more of his work.)

   

Meandering Thoughts (#1)

"No more words, 
No more words, it's a time that is dead
There are words
That are better unheard, better unsaid"
    ~ Valjean, "In My Life" from Les Miserables (the musical)

"You can't handle the truth!"

    ~ Colonel Jessup, A Few Good Men (the movie)

(I was looking for an image that conveyed solitude, and ended discovering and falling in love with these three. Okay, so the third one does not scream solitude, but there is this pleasantry and beauty to it that inspired me to include it.)

On Dreaming (#2)

For the past few months, I have been struggling with something. Well, quite a few things, but this something is the one that has been on my mind frequently. Mostly because it is connected with old habits I am looking to abandon, new habits I want to develop, and projects I want to complete. Last night I had a dream about it. And, because I did not budget enough time to write a long, thorough post about an important topic, I decided to share this short, but relevant dream.

My Weekly Checkup (#24)

A Collection of Some Things I Found, Some Thoughts I Had This Week

Strange week, which deserves some strange links. And that's what makes this moment all the more stranger: I have nothing strange to share. However, there is something I've been meaning to share, a podcast I try and listen to every weekday. But there is nothing strange, or even slightly unusual about it. Except the host. He sounds like he is having way too much fun, even when he talks about some really depressing stuff.

(I must confess, when I saw the thumbnail for this painting, I thought the person in the middle, digging, was a man, and I became immediately jealous of him, "Working hard in your garden while being watched by beautiful women. Awesome!" So, I explored this painting and its creator. Yes, I was slightly disappointed in discovering that all four people are women, but the painting is still interesting to me. But, I was very grateful for the opportunity to discover John French Sloan. There are about a dozen of his paintings I find beautiful, engaging, subdued, contemplative, and intriguing.)

On Dreaming (#1)

"Eames : They come here every day to sleep?

Elderly Bald Man : [towards Cobb]  No. They come to be woken up. 

The dream has become their reality. Who are you to say otherwise, son?"

From the movie, Inception

Last night I had a dream. It was intense enough to wake me from slumber. Haunting enough to leave me there, on the bed, exposed for some time. And beautiful enough to have me commit to memory what had transpired.

A Brief Interlude (#11)

I began this past week being busy, and showing little for it--two consecutive days of repetitive, tedious, unchallenging work, mostly from someone else's list. Then I continued to be busy, but this time also productive--two consecutive days of reflective, creative, rewarding tasks, and from my list.  Finally, I ended the week working nonstop--a busy weekend with mixed results. Thanks to good conversations with good people, I survived.. 

But, tonight, I am exhausted. So, I apologize ahead of time for this post. It came to me this afternoon while getting things done at my daughters' dance studio. However, it is short and to the point, but not exactly what I had hoped to say.  

Well, maybe not to the point, because I have not written it out yet. So, it may fall short in another way.

But it will be short, because I have to go to bed by a certain time. Sleep is important to me, because I wish to dream; therefore, I refuse to allow anyone, or thing, including fear, to rob me of such opportunities. 

 

Good luck! 

(That last line was partially meant for me...)

My Weekly Checkup (#23)

A Collection of Some Things I Found, Some Thoughts I Had This Week

Usually I write these Weekly Checkups in the evenings, but I have so many stretches of busy moments with little downtime in between, that will begin in a few hours and run until ten tonight; therefore, I have decided to start on this post right now (1:15  pm EST).  

(And in my enthusiasm to get this done sooner rather than later, I accidently saved over last week's post... losing it forever. Sigh.)

(Haha... never mind, it is still there.)  

Mary Cassatt's Breakfast in Bed. I cannot read that mother's face. I have a few ideas, but the moment I focus on one thought, the others become jealous, and seek my attention. If "exhaustion" wins out, it is only because that is how I feel right now (did a lot of landscaping today).