Last Two Petals

It seems vaguely familiar,
This light that is blinding me.
As my feet are cold & wet.
There's muddy sand trapped between my toes.

There's only two petals left on my daisy.
This isn't turning out like I thought.

          I can't see what's in front of me.
                Everything is piercing white.
                                                     There's only these last two petals...
          

The draft is pushing me from where I was.
Almost forcing me into the white light.
With it, there's damp.      
And cold. 
                It smells of mud & moss.

I turn away from the burning sunlight.
The heavy cold draft rushes over my face. 
                                                  Calm.
I thought I'd melt in the light.
The cold dark was comforting.



I step...toes first, touching with my fingertip the last two petals...
humming random notes with each breath. 
The cold puddles rinse the grit from my toes. 
I have a romantic swagger in this darkness..
in this cold.

With the tug of each petal, I release part of my life.
In this space, my soul feels its pain.
                                               I release it.
one petal...it was good.
another petal...it was bad.
My life....
....and so on. 
                 humming non-sense.
Would it have turned out differently?
One more or less petal?
Too my end.
                As it should be.

I can barely drag my feet,
As I pull another petal for the draft to carry.
I feel the cold seep in.

the last petal.
I am on my knees... exhausted & without fear.
I kiss the last petal.
                               My last breathe leaves.
                                                       together we gently swallow to the water.
There to rest in our death.
Our end.

I had wished to leave without pain in me.
In that last petal.
                      I was distracted to a gentler place.
They have freed me of my anguish.
Their innocence engaged me,
yet by my own decree.

Those last two petals released me.
                                             I am free from thee.



Ladyp Enrhyn, photographed by Barek Art

https://www.facebook.com/mary.springham.9
https://www.facebook.com/artbybarek

A Little Wish

I was standing in my worn out, holey slippers, underwear & ratty old shirt, watching the sun crest our tree tops behind my house. I was close enough to feel the cold draft float from the door. What a view. The wind decided to blow at like 40+ mph mid yesterday afternoon & hasn't let up since. If it weren't for the Canadian winter now upon us & everything being frozen to the spot it was abandoned, I would normally have crap all over the yard. Between children & the husband, there's ALWAYS something left somewhere for no apparent reason. They are all easily distracted by most anything. (Hence, The Little Red house of ADHD!)
It used to bother me having shit laying all-over the place & I worried what my neighbors thought as well as the irritation & needling from my parents. (It drives my mother bonkers! and I admittedly think I passively have grown comfortable with it just so I can take small pleasure in it ruffling her feathers & irritating her--horrid daughter I am). But then I realized I was wasting my time obsessing over it. Wasting my energy harping on my children to "pick-their-SHIT-UP!", when it's just how they are wired--like me. (You don't want to try & locate anything in my office or studio...). This too shall pass or work itself out. I mean really, it wasn't only a few years ago the yard was littered with Nerf toys, big bouncy balls, Tonka Trucks & several kiddy pools. Now its bikes, & boards from building tree-houses  Skateboards & scooters. Pretty soon it won't be anything at all, because they will be grown & gone. Instead, I became present & relished in the small moment of their childhood & my time with them as their mother. Now that's not to say they have free reign to leave their shit everywhere, as I do request they help their "OLD-WORN-OUT-MOTHER" out with all the mess...(this guilt trip usually works followed by some reward in the form of food. NEVER-EVER knock Pavlov's theory of conditioning...he was a brilliant man!!) Through it all, I just think, "if I had less shit."

I usually write about these moments in, "NOTES FROM MY BACK DECK". It's not literally always actually from my back deck...dependent upon weather determines proximity, like today it was the back door to the deck! It's those alone moments early in the morning that I can revel in solitude from my life, children, husband, business, the traffic out front as my neighbors are all rushing to work. My little bit of zen. It's in these moments I am able to erase my disposition from waking, (which many mornings can be foul) to that which is more appealing for a successful day--and that could mean fucking off & watching movies all day without regard to answering to anyone & free of the ingrained guilt of not tending to my responsibilities or tackling the never-ending to-do list. It's my time to make "a little wish" for whatever needs tending to, caring for or just my attention. Though as of late, I've felt quite tapped out of these little wishes. I wish I could recall whom it was, but someone told me that's what happens when you spend all your time  making "little wishes" for everyone else & forget yourself in the process....I didn't know what to do with this tid-bit of information.

"A little wish" for me? By me? For me?!

It seemed absurd & selfish. To get love, I must first give love. I believe this was now a conundrum. I was left without an answer. I couldn't seem to connect the two...as the sun has now crested the trees. W A R M M M M...through the glass at least. What is it I wish for? I was realizing it was far easier to wish joy, love, luck, happiness, courage, peace, ect., to everyone else. The thought of offering myself "a little wish" brought an utter silence to my gut. My mind was blank.

OK, I wish for the worth & acceptance of something better for me. No matter how small that need may be. Even if it is a want. My "little wish" is to allow it in its most purest form--from the universe I let it flow. To grasp the understanding of the gift of receipt as giving love, to me. My "little wish"  is be refreshed in my giving, so I don't miss anyone, or what they might need. May my random act of kindness be

"a little wish" just for me. 

Small Things

Each day I make a conscious effort to be mindful & grateful. 
To appreciate even in my tragedy or hardship.
Since Thanksgiving I've been feeling depleted from the negativity of people around me. It forces me to retreat into the simplicity of small things.

I clear my head. I lean back in my chair. I look around, staring in my office/studio. It is here that I write. I could sit here for hours & not take in all the stuff my walls, ceiling & spaces are filled with. Forty years of my visual arts life! You see, I don't remember well---for many reasons. Having all this keeps me connected & grounded to the most import parts of me. My children & my art. Except when I have dooms-days. Those days I think of things like; "what if my house burned down?...what if the basement flooded?...what if I died, would I have left enough for my children to know who I was? what I felt inside...will it matter?...will it have affected anyone or made a difference? did anything I did with pure humbling intention create a butterfly effect?" 

All this tragedy thinking makes me have to pee. SO, I go to the bathroom. As I'm sitting on the toilet, attempting to redirect myself to the present appreciation of small things--necessities. I look around my bathroom. A room I  have complained about from day one. Originally it was inhabitable, so we gutted it EXCEPT for the original cast iron tub. (Apparently nobody would step up to admit it was past its life because nobody wanted to deal with the back breaking work of removing it---so I'm stuck with it) It was not redesigned as I would have really wanted it, as budget & function (both criteria met) were the defining sources of what we could end up doing. And now, well, although it could use a good scrubbing, I feel blessed to have a newer functioning bathroom (except for the tub---ugh)...heat to keep my home comfortable...air conditioning to keep my home cool in summer...lights & appliances that bring ease of living: gas stove & oven, heavy duty washer & dryer, portable dishwasher, microwave, fridge, freezer. I mean those things seem common in their place in a home, but when you put a perspective on it, gratitude prevails. 

Most recently hurricane Sandy took out Manhattan, New Jersey & New York. It took your breath away at the catastrophic repercussions left for people to re-build. All of those conveniences of home, have now become luxuries. What one wouldn't give to have their air conditioning working in the stifling heat following the hurricane. Or the early snow that came & people who were broke * they didn't know how they were going to get a heater to turn their back on. Not to mention all the debris that starts to rot. The smell. What the hell would I do? I would certainly not be prepared for anything even remotely like this on so many levels!

It got me to thinking, what do we need? What is it that I really need? I felt over-whelmed! I mean I surround myself with all these things I have found, my children have made, mementos of a moment in time, because I forget. And when I forget I feel lost. So, what if I lost everything? How would I remember? How would I feel grace in the small things? The truly small things like a hot shower? I can't answer that question. Although I can look around & recognize how unbelievably beautiful my studio space is. How it transports me simply from everything the world ties to trample me with to an attitude of gratitude. A spot where creativity has no walls or limits. That expression of one's self becomes the small thing that keeps the heart beating, nourishing the mind & cleansing the soul. Small things, become many big things & the big things make up our lives. It's these little things that start the ripples into the world, that it desperately needs.  

I guess, I can sort of answer the question now...if I lost everything, what would the small things be? It would be the support that surrounds me, like everyday & then some. It would be the health & welfare of my children. It would be the tale to tell to live another day. It would be the reality that  I will remember all those things in the rebuilding of my life. The little thing of cutting something out of paper with a new pair of scissors or putting donated pencil into a soup can that provided food when mine was gone....just like before. Just like the tin cans that my pencils are in now...they held food that fed me before it served as a vessel for my art tools. 

Small things are the life force. Small things are the connectors to each other. Small things bring bursts of joy & moments of sorrow. Small things give perspective when I become complacent & unsettled. Small things remind our heart to love more. Small things remind our body that even the smallest sliver can bring a man down. Small things give energy to the soul & carries this trinity to the next day & out into the rest of the world. It's the small things that make all the difference to me... particularly today.

I will...eventually

With most days, because let's face it, some days I just don't feel inclined to do a fucking thing...but on those days of which I connect my heart, head & soul, I look for some evolution in my life. Something small that I am doing better. Or have recently learned. Or decided needs to be eliminated. Or chose to go after. 
A click in the cogs.

Sometimes what I am evolving to equates to nothing more than a knee-jerk reaction to someone or something that jars my thought process while in a sedentary moment related to that thought. 

clicK, cliCK...CLICK!

To awaken & move away from being complacent or still. Stuck. To refuse the notion of "can't" or "won't", without it becoming an "I told you so" or a "SEE!!" jab to the ribs. 

Recently I was listening to a person I am close to. Listening in a whole new way. With intention. Focusing on my listening skills. When I found my head cocked. I felt a scowl growing on my forehead, tensing. Jaws tightening & my breathing shortened...WTF!?! 
Not anxiety...
Utter dismay?
I was hearing this routine conversation in a whole new perspective...I was clearly hearing the concrete undertone
telling me 
"can't" & "won't". 
Knew-Jerk.
Flashback. 
Regression.
My view is from under a thumb that I've allowed keep me down. An internal dialog of self-defeating behavior as a direct result from believing someone's mantra of what's necessary. First things first. 
Priorities. 
Duty.
RESPONSIBILITY
All these MUST proceed "CAN" & "WILL".
Though I've been living quite opposite...not recognizing...hearing the "can't "won't" while failing to fulfill the mantra of what's necessary, first, a priority, duty & the responsible thing to do.

The silent broken record....over & over & over...

COULD-A
SHOULD-A
WOULD-A

I began filtering out the conversation. I got to recognize the narrowness of their perspective as it compares to me. What their priorities were, were not my priorities. Because their system of order, their priorities & even their approach to life worked for them. It hasn't worked for me.

ONE SIZE  does not FIT ALL!!

I COULD be the greatest "whatever" EVER!
I SHOULD do what's best for me!
I WOULD sleep better, once I refill my prescription for Ambien (some things just work better with prescription drugs).

(Thinking...Reflecting...)
(it's becoming an Ah-Ha moment...)
Ah, FUCK! Now I'm irritated. 
How come today, with my lack of copious amounts of coffee kind-of-day, did I have to recognize the gap, the distinct difference. Why, today? As I continue to attempt to stay focused on listening, I start to feel my insides are showing. As my astonishment felt like a gigantic blinking neon sign. It was that strong. GULP. Think. Relax. Breathe. Differences are the opportunity to greater insight!
Can they hear me screaming inside?!
Do I look as contorted as I am feeling?
FUCKING -A! Now I have to start over & figure out what...who...I am? The internal chaotic dialog my whole life was the result of trying to follow someone else's drummer. Everything I knew is washing out with the each & every word...I'm creating inner panic. Breathe.

PROCLAMATION: NONSENSE! 
(NOTE to self: In utter panic, reference Paulo Coelho for direction)

"Don’t try to be useful. Try to be yourself: that is enough, and that makes all the difference.Walk neither faster nor slower than your own soul. Because it is your soul that will teach you the usefulness of each step you take."

-Paulo Coelho

PHEW!
I'm good!
My life's got its own path.
I'v been connected & evolving.
IGNORE them.
Listen to YOU!
I could create more today, BUT I truly feel fulfilled for now.
I should drink more water--as copious amounts of coffee cloud my creativity...eventually, I get beyond thirsty.
I would have added more color to the writing, the art, my life, if I wouldn't have thought it was all perfect as is, for now.

I think I'll just sit awhile & be present in the experience...
...then toss it to the curb...that "can't" or "won't" & see how I fair...

My Day...

I think I will let the picture speak for itself today...

An Inside Job

I came out of my skin today.

I couldn't stand it anymore.

I thought it would relieve the pain.

I looked down at this loose pile,

a mass,

there on the floor.

It was surreal...

But,

I had to pee.

Upon passing the mirror to the toilet,

Out of the corner of my eye,

 I could see me.

I pass the mirror

 without a check to that moment.

BLIP!

WHAT?!

I back up...

SLOWLY T U R N and face forward.

I'm still me.

THAT's MY SKIN!

WTF?!

I bow my head.

I feel defeated by myself.

I am over-come by sorrow.

My arms hang, 

exhausted..

almost disconnected.

...still gotta pee...

Is it just me, 

or is the toilet quite comfortable

 when feeling defeated?

I mean, 

I think I just melted into

the seat.

Defeated.

Still stuck 

in my skin.

Maybe I'm looking 

at it 

all wrong.

It's an inside job?

I need to gut myself.

Purge the pain.

Explore the dialog

that forced me into thinking

I could just step out

of me,

and BE

someone else.

I manipulated myself.

That's funny.

Not healthy funny.

but funny all the same. 

So when I think

the world is out to get me...

...its really me defeating myself.

Me setting myself up for

a gluttony of

failures.

My insides are backwards.

They've got it all wrong!

It suppose to be the other-way

around.

Whatever shaped

my insides like they are

must have pretty messed 

up insides themselves.

I suppose they

figured it would

fix their insides.

To think,

To feel,

To express,

To respond,

To connect,

To understand,

To love, 

To hate,

To envelope

them

or

it...

is an inside job.

A heart beats too keep the body functioning.

But it feels emotional pain?

From the inside,

You can see pain

and the toll it takes.

It grows

& 

takes on the outside.

Once you see it

on the outside

you know the inside is

really, really

MESSED UP!

DO OVER

That's what I want!

A DO OVER.

I want to do over

how I see my heart.

and how it see me.

I want to do over

how I treat my heart

and how it treats me.

I want a do over

how I respect my skin

and how it respects me.

I want a do over

how I love myself

and how myself loves me.

Today, I get a choice

to do it over

again.

Maybe, I'll

just go back to the other room,

put back on my skin,

and 

DO IT OVER, again.

Yeah,

I'll just do it over,

again.

Sooner or later,

the insides

will connect

with the outsides,

and

together be proud of 

who I am...

....which is...

ME.