It's Shine Time

I love to read.  I read for entertainment, for education and to make me think.  I read somewhere "Everybody has problems.  The only place you find people without them is in the cemetery.  Be different, let go of your troubles and start to shine.  Be all that you can be."  This quote falls under the category THINK.

I am one of the few people without troubles.  Perhaps I have them.  I just choose not to dwell on them.  My wants are few.  I have a roof over my head, food for nourishment and friends and family who love me and I love them in return.  So when am I going to start all this shining and how does one shine anyway?  If a person shines what is it about them that makes others say they shine?  Does one have to be successful to shine?  See what I mean, makes one think.

When I was a teenager in the 60s there was a popular song called Windy.  Windy shined.  As I recall, the song goes something like this:

                  Who's tripping down the streets of the city?
                  Smiling at everybody she sees?
                  Who's reaching out to capture a moment?
                  Everyone knows it's Windy.
                  Who's bending down to give me a rainbow?
                  And Windy has wings to fly above the clouds.

This would be a poets' definition of someone who shines.  Not a successful businessman who makes lots and lots of money, but someone who can smile even in the worst of times and still reach out to help someone. 

When I think of people who shine I think of Oprah Winfrey, Maya Angelou and SARK.  People who have struggled but rose above the challenges and held their hand out to help others out of the dark pit of despair.    You don't have to be famous to shine.  I have a girlfriend of some 40 odd years that fits that description.  She is not rich and famous and by many standards, she would not be considered successful.  In my book, Ida is successful.  When she walks in a room, people turn and look her way.  Why?  Because she shines.  She never has a bad thing to say about anyone.  She is always ready to help someone in need even when she may be down on her luck.  Funny thing about that though.  I only remember one time when she was down and out and that was not her situation but that of someone she loves.  People who shine seem to rise above the troubles.  They have the same woes but their attitude is different.

Perhaps that is the answer.  A person who shines has a positive attitude.  They see their life through rose colored glasses.  Wherever they go they seem to bring their own sunshine along with them.  A person who shines will take something they don't like and change it.  If they are unable to change it then they will change the way they look at.  Attitude is a little thing, that makes a big difference.  So if attitudes are contagious, is your attitude worth catching?
       

What is your life story?

I just got home from taking my 84 year old father to Texas to visit my little sister and her family.  Baby's children are teenagers and Dad hadn't seen them for three years.  Dad had been terribly anxious to go on this trip.  Once I had committed to take him he didn't want to wait a day or two.  We had to go "Now!"  I now realize why he was so determined to make this trip.  He feared he would never see those grandchildren again.

As we drove, we talked and talked and then talked some more.  We talked for two straight days.  When I arrived at my sister's house I turned custody of our father over to her.  I had been trapped in the truck for two days listening to the same old stories over and over again.  Enough is enough and I had come to that point.

I guess I'm pretty slow.  I now realize what my dear old father was doing.  He was reaching out to me.  He was asking me to remember him.  He was leaving a portion of himself behind with his stories.  This old man had buried two women who he loved dearly.  He would be next.  When he spoke of his death I didn't want to hear it.  I told him he would live another ten years.  There was many more stories in his future.

Yes, he probably has another ten years left, but what will those years be like?  Dad is a short round little man with snow white wavy hair.  He walks with short stiff strides, his hands clasped together behind his back.  He holds his hands there at the small of his back because of the chronic back pain he experiences whenever he walks any distance.  When will the pain get so bad that he no longer can walk from the post office to the bank and then to the insurance agency office?

When did my father get so old?  When did this hard working father of six become the sweet old man who pops his head in the bank wearing a crazy hat that resembles a crab to tell "the girls" he is "crabby"?  He feels it is his duty to brighten the day of the hard working women at the local businesses.  Every day he tries to come up with a new story, joke or simply wearing a funny hat to entertain "the girls".

Sharing our story forces us to face the deepest truths.  We face our fears and realize that life is short.  Each life is full of joy and tragedies, whether you are rich or poor.  We all have the same struggles.  Our stories help us in our soul searching to find truth, identity and the meaning of our life struggles.  So what is your story?

Just Another First for Bubbley Lou

What is it with us Humans???  We want to try everything but are scared to death to do it.  I am a 60 year old Technophobic but here I am writing my first Blog Article.  I just can't help myself.  First it was Facebook.  Now that was a challenge.  I swore I would never sit in front of a computer all day chatting with people I did not know or barely knew.  Even in my profile I stated "do not expect to see much of me.  This is a waste of time."  Guess what, I now have my very own followers.  And I love it.

The reason for this blog is to get my writing juices flowing.  You see, I want to write a book but have little writing skills.  My book is about what I love, so who cares if I can't write, true?  OK, maybe not.  I have produced two art journals.  My book is about the healing process of art journaling.  The original idea seemed so good.  That was until I actually tried to sit down and describe the emotional and physical process it took to make my art journals.  I have written page after page and it comes off as written by a blithering idiot with a stuttering impediment.  Rather than give up, I decided to blog.  I've been told by some very brilliant people that what I need is to write, write, write.  The more I write, the better I should become.  That is the theory behind the statement.

Life just ain't fair

My sweet wonderful daughter is going through a rough time right now. She is experiencing so much emotional pain, it hurts me to watch her. Or perhaps it hurts me so much because I have been through the same pain.  Yes and no.  Yes I have been through it and no I hurt because I love her and hate to see her hurting.  Guess what? Most women have endured this pain in one form or another. This anguish has been passed down from one generation of woman to the next. The names and situations have changed but the basic story is the same.

My daughter is going through a divorce and caring for her two young daughters. This story is not about divorce. It is about the difficulty in raising children. I said "women" when in fact it does not necessarily have to be a woman. It is just that a majority of the time the woman is the main caregiver of children. When a child is born it is completely helpless. A lot of time, energy and money goes into raising that child to adulthood. Somewhere along the way the caregiver loses his/her identity and simply becomes Mom/Dad.

My baby girl came to me in distress saying she is lost. She doesn't know it, but she is on a quest most women take. (Perhaps men go on the journey too, but I am not acquainted with their spritual journey.) The stress of caring for the family, house and job can be more than one thinks they can handle and forces them to ask questions about their life that they may not otherwise ask. She is searching for something more. (There is actually a book by that name Something More, written by Sarah Ban Breathmach.) She doesn't know what that "more" is, but she knows there must be more to this life than wiping snotty noses, cleaning and cooking. She is giving birth again only this time to the authentic Jennifer.

I wonder if some of my daughter's internal anquish is because she is angry. An anger she cannot express.  It is forbidden to express anger toward the unfair position a woman is put in when she has children.  She loves her children with whole heart and soul but she like her husband needs "me" time.  She has custody of the children (and that is what she wants) so has no "me" time.  Her duties to those children are 24/7.  Occasionally she has to ask the father of her children to help her by watching the girls when she has appointments outside of the home and cannot take the children along.  It makes her angry to be put in this position.  Why can't he take his fatherly duties as seriously as she does?  Why does he have his "me" time and she doesn't?  Its a man's world.  If the children's father were to get custody of them,, she would be ostercized by people as an unfit mother.  For a woman there is no greater sin than to be an unfit mother.

There are times I look at my daughter and see despair.  She acts like somebody switched off the lights inside her.  Her dilemma is common.  Her despair comes from the vast imbalance of a woman's responsiblities.  "A woman's work is never done."  This is a patriarchal world.  The women's movement in the 1960s has helped the imbalance but there is still more work to be done. 

So, to my baby girl, I love you just the way you are.  I am here for you.  I know you will be a much stronger and wiser woman when this is over.

Let's celebrate the differences between us all

Why must we judge one another? Here we are at the threshold of the twenty first century and still we cannot accept the differences between us, between our beliefs. Personally I love the differences. One Louise is quite enough. How boring if all eight billion human beings on this planet thought the same, had the same skin color and the same beliefs.

Sunday I felt honored to spend the evening with several women and one man welcoming spring in a lovely ceremony. When I have talked with some friends about my experience I was questioned about my participation. "Did I realize I was participating in a pagan ceremony? In witch craft?" Yes on all counts. However the ceremony was not performed by a coven of witches, merely nature or earth oriented women. And what is wrong with that? Are we going to go back to burning witches? The word pagan got its bad reputation with the expansion of Christianity. It grew out of fear. Pagan was first defined as one who worshipped the old gods and goddesses. Today a pagan is one who practices a religion other than Christianity. That would include Buddhist, Hindu, Confucian, American Indian, Earth-worshipping god and goddesses, etc.

Sue Monk Kidd wrote a profound book, The Dance of the Dissident Daughter, about her journey as a "conventionally religious church going woman" and her awakening or transformation as a Christian feminist. She writes about nature being one of woman's most potent healers. I highly recommend this book to my Christian friends. I just bring this up so that you realize you can be both Christian and a nature lover.

I realize I am unable to discuss this issue with everyone. Many of us are not open minded about injustice, hate and judgment. Sadly I am not able to talk to my father about my experience with these loving compassionate women. Growing up I was one of the unusual kids. (Guess I still am.) I didn't question my father. My husband was always amazed that I thought my father was always right. That has changed. I now realize every situation is not strictly black or white. There is some gray. Dad now says "I understand my sons, but I just can't understand my daughters." Perhaps that is because he is a man in a patriarchal ruled world. Perhaps that is changing.

So let's think before we speak. Why not be curious rather than judgmental? There is no reason why we must believe what everyone says, but why not allow yourself the opportunity to hear a person's viewpoint. I truly believe we can coexist with different religions without war. Have I been listening too much to John Lennon?

Will I ever learn from my mistakes???

Agghh!&#@*&%^##?? I just wantta know, does everyone go through periods of stupidity or is it just me? I like to think that I am just a nice guy so I get taken advantage of, but I know that is not the case. For an intelligent woman, I am really stupid. And it is all my fault. You see I cannot stay focused. I fly from one thing to another. I can't pay attention unless I'm doing many things at once. I have been known to read three books at once while working on an art project. For my friends I am sure this is quite amusing because there is seldom a boring moment in my life. Many of my friends are anxious to read my facebook entries just to see what type of an adventure I am into now. Barbara Sher (she wrote Wishcraft) has a name for people with my disability. She calls us "Scanners". Scanners have their own special way of thinking. Their area of interest are many and versified. I am sure my newly found friend, Robin is laughing right now. She is so totally organized and I am so totally unorganized and unfocused. A regular slob. So you see, I realize when things go wrong, as they do quite often, it is my fault. But how do I stop this vicious cycle?

OK, let's backup. Where is all this anquish coming from? Since my sleep cycle is always screwed up I was sluggish this morning and had problems getting ready to go to the dentist this morning for my quarterly cleaning. I thought my appointment was at 9:30 A.M. but called the office just to be sure. No the appointment was for 11:30 A.M. Good? Yes and no. That meant I had to cancel my luncheon appointment with a girlfriend. Not just any girlfriend, but a very dear friend who I hadn't seen for months. I was truly disappointed and if I had checked my calender on my cell phone when I talked to her the night before all this could have been avoided. I had actually put the appointment in the cell phone memory with an alert so I wouldn't miss it.

The dentist appointment went well. No cavities and my gums were doing well. I have had some issues with inflamation therefore I have my teeth cleaned quarterly rather than semi-annually. (Bet you really wanted to know that.) Instead of heading home I decided to check with the community college to see why I never received my refund check for the class I dropped last fall. This is where the real Aagghh! started. It seems that I dropped the class one week too late. Therefore I did not get a refund. Not even a partial refund. Shit! I could really use that money since I am taking my father to Texas this week. But the need for money actually was not what upset me. What upset me was the reason I had dropped the class. I had just started seeing Darrell when I signed up for the class. I was really struggling in the class. So rather than continue to struggle and at least learn something, I dropped the class. Thus freeing Wednesday evenings to spend time with Darrell. Not a very good reason to drop the class.

So now here I am, short $300 and still struggling with my poor computer skills. My skills are so poor I had to have my friend, Kathy enroll me for the Mud Run. I spent an hour jumping page after page, never finding the one to register me as a participant. She had it done in less than five minutes. I feel like such a dunce. The problem goes back to focus. I could not figure out the Mud Run enrollment because there was way too many items to choose from. I know, I tried them all.

The sad thing in all this is I know without a doubt I will not change. I kinda like myself this way. The world is full of people who will go their whole lives and not actually live one day. I do not intend to be one of them. My house is a wreck, I am taking Dad to Texas for a few days and when I come home I want to have another girls night out at my house. I was thinking it would be kind of fun to have a bingo party. I've never done that before. Anyone who wants to come can bring a prize. I think it would be fun to have the prize something the guest had made but I am afraid I would have no one come to my party. Whereas I love creating things, many people are afraid their work of art is not good enough so they will not try. Of course I could have a craft party and teach my girlfriends to make something. I did that in Florida at the marina Les and I stayed at. It was loads of fun.

Finished with my belly aching. Yes, I am responsible for all the anguish I go through. Funny, most of us, including myself will cause pain for themselves before they will hurt another. We think of causing pain to another as unethical. So isn't it also unethical to cause ourselves pain?

Women's Drumming Circle at Stillpointe

Tonight I joined approximately 15 women at Stillpoint Wellness Center in Belleville, IL to welcome the spring equinox. The god and goddesses were with us. The weather was simply heavenly.

We met out in a field next to a large fire on Jan Rule's ancestral farm. Jan is refurbishing her great grandfathers home. What an amazing undertaking. The home was in wreck and ruin. She is keeping all the old country charm while updating the plumbing and heating. It appears she plans to set the home up to be used for wellness retreats. Jan is a yoga teacher and naturalist.

I am not sure what to think of the evening. It was my first experience with women who are focused on the good of the earth. These women did not appear to be practicing a certain pagan religion as I first thought. We prayed, but not to God or to a goddess. We prayed for peace and happiness and unity of the world. We prayed that there would come a day when we would all be as one. These women were selfless loving human beings that wanted nothing more than to wish love and kindness to all living things.

We sat around a large fire in gentle quiet meditation softly beating on our drums and throwing out prayers and wishes of wellness to all to the divine. Even the coyotes joined in. That was quite a surprise. From the west one animal started howling and then another and then another. Before long the howling could be heard for miles. It was spooky at first but then changed into a harmonious chorus of wild dogs singing along with the beating of our drums. A couple of women walked along the outer skirt of the circle and beat the drum up and down behind us. What a wonderful sensation. I could actually feel the vibration of the drum flowing through my body.

The evening was a blessing for me. I had had a bout of anxiety today resulting in my losing my lunch. Not fun. I have problems with hurting anyone. I need to stop thinking about how things are effecting me. It isn't all about me. It is what would be good for the world. Louise is simply a drop in the bucket. After all there are 8 billion little drops like me. So tonight I was calm and closed my eyes to forget all the tiny things that have been nagging at me. So what if I haven't done my taxes, there is still time. Yes, Darrell wants more of me than I am able to give him, but why worry about it. We have talked and it is no longer in my hands. He must deal with it or I will move on. Yes, I worry about my children's peace of mind. Tonight I wrote my concerns and intentions on a piece of paper and burned them in the fire. It is now in God's hands. I must concede to his strength and knowledge. Did I learn anything tonight? Yes, I learned that I love women. I realize it is difficult for men to understand us but we are the stronger sex and the one full of love. Remember? There is nothing stronger than love.

Celebrate each day, It feels so good to be alive.

There has been times when I didn't want to get up in the morning. It was an effort to get to my feet to go potty in the morning but I just couldn't imagine wetting the bed and laying in my own pee. I still have days like that when I feel so alone without my man by my side. But I learned a secret. Did you know that today is my birthday? No not the annual occurrence of the day I was born, but still my birthday. I look at myself as the lowly caterpillar who suddenly emerged from his cocoon as the gloriously beautiful butterfly. Each day I go into my little bathroom and stare in the mirror. Smile, today is the first day of the rest of your life. Time to wash my face, brush my hair and put some makeup on to brighten my face. My father laughs at my daily ritual. He says I "put my face on" each morning. Girlfriend, it is party time!

I invite you all to my party. Where are you right now? What are you doing? Whatever it is, this is exactly what you were meant to be doing. This is where you were meant to be. You are making memories for others and yourself so make the most of them. We are not in this alone. You may feel you are, but you are not. Trust me, over the last two years I have spent plenty of time holding Pity Me Parties. Hopefully I have learned from them, and will not have them anymore. Not saying I will not shed another tear, because I know I will but I will welcome those tears. Tears are like rain. They clean the soul. So what type of party do you want to have today? I have so many themes to choose from. I will be going to an exercise party with a dear friend shortly. After that I will go to a friends 60th Birthday Party. It is a surprise so don't tell anyone. Of course most of my parties are surprises. I know I'll be partying, I just don't know with where, when or with whom. Girlfriend, it is going to be a blast, no matter what it is. Tomorrow I am attending a Spring Equinox Party. Monday I may have a Wine Glass Painting Party, Tuesday I may have a Spoil Grandchildren Party or a Bingo Party. My party ideas are many and of every variety of fun. Remember, Life is a party in itself so Party on.

So as I was saying, you are not in this alone. What is the meaning of life? We all have our special meaning but it all comes down to being there for each other. Feel others' pain and pleasures and they feel yours. I have never been to Japan, but my heart weeps for those poor souls. I am saddened by the catastrophes that have occurred all over the world. Reach out and touch someone. Hold them, their heart beats just like yours. They have heart breaks just like you and they have joys and blessings just like you.

I am an addict. I am addicted to life. I have never done drugs but I can imagine the high that I've heard about. That constant craving for more. That is how I feel when I am out and about with other people of the human race. I started to say "when I am with my girlfriends" but truth be known, I love people, their sex makes no difference to me. Fact is, I used to prefer being in the company of a man. NO, not for sexual reasons as I am sure most people thought, but rather because I find the male brain works so different from the female brain. I had a strong desire to get to understand the male brain. I feel I have a pretty good understanding of them now and now prefer the company of my female friends. Woman know how to let their hair down and enjoy each other's company. Not saying that men don't know how to let their hair down and have a good time, but I just can't get into the rude and crude. Women are more than sympathetic, they are empathic. We are all kindred spirits. We love our children, our families and our girlfriends. We laugh together and we cry together.

So here I am happily soaking up the good vibes of people all around me. Yes, I am also a pusher. I push my drug of choice, joy and happiness on everyone I come near. Please join me. My addiction is not like cigarettes and coke. My addition has no warnings from the surgeon general warning you of the hazards. My addition is joy, happiness, and laughter with like minded people. XXXOOOOXXX to all.

How Old is Beautiful?

I bought an interesting book today. It is called How Old is Beautiful? and written by Marsha Gallagher. The fascinating thing about the book is that it was written entirely by assembling bits and pieces from women's magazines; headlines from articles, phrases from ads, quips and quotes. She takes the words of many women and turns them into her book.

I love what she has done with the phrases. She tells the story of woman coming of age; of woman finding herself, her inner strength. The secret as she sees it is first woman celebrates the changes in her life. "Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly." The power of change is in woman's hands. As woman embraces her maturity she learns to believe in herself, in her own style. This belief will free her, will inspire her and open her up to new possibilities. The author suggests woman should see themselves as young, restless, ageless, brilliant, fabulous and well-dress. And above all strong. To feel young again she suggests dusting off your dream. Live more. Be adventurous. We know the truth. We know we can't stay forever young, but we can be thankful we are woman.

Today was a roller coaster ride, ups and downs but fun

Whoa! What a day and it's only half over. I am anxious to see how it ends. With a good night's sleep, I hope. Today has been a roller coaster ride. The ride started out slow. I had a wakeful night. If only I could turn off my brain like I turn off the lights when I go to bed. Every since I went through menopause I have been unable to turn off the constant chatter going on in my head. The chatter spins round and round in my brain like a top. When I first lay my head on the pillow my brain starts a monologue of the day's events fast and furious like a top when it is first released. After the first hour of constant chatter, like the top, the chatter slows down. Unfortunately like the top it does not stop. I may doze for a few minutes but my brain has not fully relaxed so like a toddler fighting to stay awake, my brain starts a full blown argument with itself on how things should or should not have been handled throughout the day. Thus goes my night. This banter goes on for two to three hours until exhaustion finally sits in. So when I got up this morning I was not fully rested and was moving in slow motion.

Good thing I am retired. However even retired people have appointments and responsibilites to take care of. This was trash pick up day. I had cleaned out my refrigerator the night before so the bag was full and heavy. As I tied the bag in a knot I saw something I did not like. "Oh shit!" Something I had discarded from the frig had leaked out of its container. The bag was too full and broke at the seams. I was already late for an appointment with my niece and now I had a sticky stinky mess to clean up. Oh well, it was going to be a great day just the same. I gave the mess a quick tidying up with a mental promise to myself to clean up better tonight.

I was looking forward to seeing what my niece was up to. Mary is quite creative and was molding a likeness of her daughter out of marzipan. Her daughter had recently graduated from high school. The figure will be placed on top of a cake for her graduation party. I was honored to be asked to assist in the molding of the figure. Mary's mother, my twin sister, actually should have been assisting her. Sue is quite good at making the human form in clay. However she lives 200 miles away so Mary was stuck with me. When I first arrived Mary was having problems getting a hand to look right. First the thumb was on the wrong side of the hand. That was easily fixed. Instead of a left hand, it became a right hand. Yet something was still wrong. After careful observation it was found that she had 6 fingers rather than 5. My time was limited so we were unable to finish the figure but when I left the marzipan figurine had a head with eys, nose and mouth. No hair yet but fully clothed with 5 fingers on each hand.

After helping my niece for an hour I was on my way to my next engagement. Off to Maxwell's in Belleville to meet for lunch with a great lady who I used to work with at the bank. Alice is 10 to 15 years older than me but no one would ever guess it. She is ageless. We have been friends for 20 years and she doesn't look a day older than the day we met. We get together every month for lunch and a few laughs. Lunch is usually 2 hours long and today was no different.

I had scheduled my workout around a 2 1/2 hour lunch. Since lunch was 2 hours I had 30 minutes to waste. I decided to browse in a quaint little gift shop I know of. The shop sells handmade objects made by women from third world countries all over the world. While in the shop I overheard two women talking about an event taking place in a field right outside of town. A very special event. This Sunday a group of people are meeting with drums, bells, maracas and any other musical instrument desired to welcome the spring equinox. It sounded like so much fun I had to inquire further. Just imagine, a group of free spirited women singing and dancing around a big open fire to welcome the spring equinox. It sounds like it came straight out of a medival novel. The event is open to all who are interested and free. This little girl is going to be there with my own drums and bells strung around my ankles.

Now I was excited. This was going to be so much fun and I even knew who to ask to go with me. Kathy, my workout partner would love this. I got directions to get to the Spring Equinox party and headed for the gym. I was so preocupied with my plans for the party that I didn't notice the water dripping out of my gym bag until I reached in the bag and pulled out sopping wet clothes. I had been running late this morning. I had filled my water bottle and quickly tossed it in my gym bag along with the workout clothes. In my rush I hadn't gotten the lid screwed on tight. The whole bottle of water had leaked out in the bag. No use in crying over split milk or as in this case, split water. Kathy and I had a good laugh. Since my workout clothes were too wet to wear and my street clothes were too warm for an aerobic class we decided to take advantage of the beautiful weather we are having by going for a walk. Kathy and I are kindred spirits. The walk was perfect. It gave us plenty of time to come up with some scathingly brilliant ideas to keep us active. We discussed the Spring Equinox party. Kathy was ready for dancing and singing around a fire but nixed the nudity. We then discussed a name for our Mud Run team. We finally agreed on Gritty Grimey Grannies and friends.

My life is supercalifragilisticexbealidocious! How about yours??

Why such a dreary subject matter??

Anyone who knows me well and have been following my blog are probably wondering if I am bipolar. Because if you know me well you probably have rarely seen me quiet and withdrawn. I came across a poem several years ago by Suzy Toronto that describes me quite well.

She who love life!

She sees the world
With a whimsical eye,
As she dances, twirls and sings
At the top of her lungs.

Her hair blows wild in the breeze
As she walks barefoot in the sand.
She basks in the sunshine
And twinkes with delight
Under the stars,
And someday her spirit
Will simply fade away
From pure joy!

So why am I writing a book about grieving. The subject is so unlike my bubbley personality. I am doing it because I took my art journals to the BJC hospice people who helped me when Les was dying. They loved my journals and suggested I have them published. It seems there are different stages of grieving. When I was creating my journals, I had no knowledge of this. I was simply pouring my heart and soul onto the pages. The people at BJC said I had unwittenly featured every stage in my art journals. It was their opinion that my art journals could be beneficial to grief counselors.

Writing about death and grieving is difficult for me. Everything I have written here is true as I see it. Much is my opinion. I will continue to write about the grieving process and how creating an art journal can have a healing effect on the creator of the journal. But because I do not like to dwell on such dreary subjects even though we will all experience it, I will not always write about death and grieving. I will also write about the things that make life living joyful. I am much better on that subject.

Art Journaling to acknowledge changes in my life

When we were told Les' cancer was inoperable I had to accept that my life would most likely never be the same again. My art journal gave me a lifeline. Les called my art journaling "playing". Yes, I was playing but my playing was my coping mechanism. It was my escape from the reality that I was losing the love of my life. A love that we all search for but many never find. I was losing my best friend, my biggest supporter.

His serious illness was also a strong reminder of my own mortality. The lines in my face got deeper as the years went by. But as long as I was with this man we could laugh about them. We laughed about the pudgy bellies. That extra weight just didn't matter. In fact we had a nightly ritual of dancing by the music of whatever was on television that night and rubbing our bellies together. And we laughed about it. We were completely comfortable with our aging bodies. I suppose that is the way it is with all men and women who have been together for years.

Watching him die suddenly made me feel old. Several pages in my art journal centered around aging. Goldie Meir said "Old age is like a plane flying through a storm. Once you're aboard there's nothing you can do." I felt as if my plane was heading straight for a tornado and no matter how I begged, the pilot kept the same course. Every time I would go through a pity party about getting old I would turn right around and have my very own guilt party for thinking of myself when Les was in so much pain. How could I think of myself at a time like that and yet, how could I not. I was facing old age alone.

My art journal became a haven in which I could ponder the overwhelming emotional trauma that came along with losing my loved one. My art journal was my companion to whom I acknowledged and recorded the changes taking place in my life as I adjusted to that empty chair at the kitchen table.

This was written to accompany some of the images from my art journal that I hope to have published one day. This morning I finally came up with a name for my book. Grieving, Healing, and the Pursuit of Happiness Through Art Journaling. If anyone has any other ideas please let me know. Thanks.

There is a stranger in my house, and her name is Depression

As I grow older, I realize how lucky I have been to be blessed with another day. Another day to laugh, sing, dance and get out there and meet all the facinating people walking around on this gorgeous planet. A day to use exactly as I please. A day to create and have fun. Whenever I create, I always have fun. Whether I am painting wine glasses, painting a mural or whimsical designs on children's furniture. I am having fun. Of course as a confirmed lover of life, I can find fun doing most things excluding housework. It is my contention that I must protect myself from harmful activities. I don't smoke, do drugs or do housework.

Today was not one of those days. Today I was someone else. There was a stranger in my body. She looked just like me but she didn't act like me. Her name is Depression. Perhaps I shouldn't call her a stranger. She has visited me before so perhaps I should call her an acquaintance. Could this woman be the author of "The Body Snatchers"? Who ever she is, she took over my body and did not want to get out of bed. She looked out the window and saw snow and gray clouds hanging over everything. When friends came to visit she invited them in but was anxious for their departure so that she could climb back into bed to cover her head and pray for sleep. For the comfort of sleep where she could not feel loney, empty and in general lethargic.

Today was a day when I needed my Recharg-Athon List. Yes, I needed it but just didn't have the energy to try it. My Recharg-Athon list is a to list of sorts and goes like this:

Dance alone freestyle, close your eyes and let the music free your spirit
Watch old movies such as The Trouble with Angels or The Pirate Movie
Drink hot Chai tea latte or hot tea with real cream in a delicate tea cup
Read a good book - try the classics
Go to the park and swing as high as you can like you did as a child.
Burn incense
Take a bubble bath with the lights out, the only light coming from flickering candles
Watch kittens play
Listen to children giggle
Lunch with girlfriends and laugh at everything they say
Walk in the grass barefoot
Read poetry
Play in a warm summer rain
Eat chocolate
Have a tea party with granddaughters
Read to grandchildren
Get a massage
Listen to the soft purr of a cat while petting it
Before taking bath or shower, put towel in dryer so that you can be completely enveloped in warmth when you get out of bath
Go to the mall for a free facial
Drive with the windows down and feel the wind against your face
Puppy and kitty kisses
Bird watching
Cold sheets against my skin in the summer

The day is now coming to an end and I am starting to recognize that woman in the mirror. The stranger is fading. I feel strong once again and will kick her sorry ass out the door. Time to pick up that paint brush and create. Create what? Let's just start with creating a better day.

Bucket List

I was talking to an old friend today who told me he wanted to visit 100 countries before he dies. He has already been to 65. His career was in the US Air Force so I'm thinking the US taxpayers paid for a lot of his sightseeing. Non the less I was impressed. Especially since I have only visited 3 countries and of the 3, one is the good old U.S. of A. I believe I read somewhere that there is 192 or 197 countries.

It made me start thinking ... what would I like to do before I die? Here are a few ideas.

1. Ride the Orient Express. (Always loved that movie about the murders on the Orient Express)
2. Allow my old heart to be marinated in the tender juices of a younger man. (Are you drooling yet?)
3. Run for office, win, and then resign in a grand gesture of moral indignation (before someone starts digging up some dirt on me)
4. Audition for a community play. I'll take the lead of course and Ida says she will be my partner in crime (whatever that may be)
5. Compete in a Mud Run for MS. (I'll be hitting everyone up shortly for donations)
6. Write my book and get published. Got to do this quickly if I want to get on Oprah.
7. Learn to say a few choice phrases in French to use while flirting.
8. Start a wild rumor about something outrageous that will happen. (oops, forgot, I already did that. The world is ending May 21, 2011 according to some crazy religious group called Rapture.)
9. Learn to belly dance for a lover's viewing pleasure.
10. Squeeze a cute fireman's behind on Public Hero Appreciation Day.
11. Fear is normal. Learn to conquer a fear a year.
12.Dress up like Mrs. Santa and give out presents to children at Christmas. I think my costume should be like Rosemary Clooney wore in the movie White Christmas.
13.Refuse to settle down. I successfully refused to grow up a few years back. It has gone well for me.
14. Read a waitress' palm and tell her she is destined for greatness. I once read palms at my granddaughters birthday party. Time to spread the news.
15. Learn to recognize at least one constellation year round.
16. Learn to meditate. I have tried several times but I just can't get my brain to slow down and stop that constant chattering.
17. Burn a CD with music I would like played at my funeral. Les' sister wants Bo Jangles played. Maybe something like Fat Bottom Women?
18. Drive a race car at the race tracks.
19. Write an autobiography about the life I didn't have. Goody Goody two shoes stuff is too boring. Fiction sells better.
20. Start a food fight.
21. Surround myself with girlfriends as often as possible, ooops I already do that. So I'll do it more.
22. Have a nude portrait done of myself. Better get that done pretty soon. Before the loose skin is so disgusting no one will do it for me.
23. Dance under the full moon naked. Any girlfriends want to join me for a May Day dance? No men allowed.
24. Explore my inner pagan by creating my own seasonal ritual.
25. Lead a protest or commit an act of civil disobedience.  That is a big one for Goody Goody Two shoes here.
26. Vote for someone only because I lust for him.  It's a shame Sean Connery is not an American citizen. 
27. Paint a mural of imagined past lives.  I always thought I should have been a Greek Goddess.
28. Go to New Orleans Mardi Gras and shock the family showing off my IBT. (itty bitty tiddies for those who couldn't guess.)
29. Escape "Somewhere in Time" to Mackinaw Island.
30. Create Daily. Use every ounce of talent God gave me.
31. Go to Liverpool England where the Beatles got their start to learn more about them and to feel their spirits.

Most of us go to our graves with our music still inside us. I am sure the priesthood would disagree with me but I think it is sinful to waste the talent God gave each and everyone of us. Fear of looking foolish and stupid has kept me from doing so many things. Time to stop worrying about how I look to other people. If truth be known, all those people that I have worried about their opinion have probably never realized I was in the same room with them. Therefore they cared less about what I was or wasn't doing.  It's not too late to do the impossible.

Mud Run anyone??

Back a while ago I wrote a short poem about life. Nothing earth shattering. Just an observation.

Life is short.
So go ahead,
Look silly.
Dance and sing in the rain.
Bask in the sunshine.
Go barefoot.
Feel the grass under foot.
Be bold.
Walk barefoot through the mud.
Feel mud ooze between your toes.
Find your Inner Child.
Spend the day with her.
She is fun and so are you!

That little poem is coming back to haunt me. My exercise partner has been yearning to participate in a Mud Run every since she and I watched our first one in St. Louis last year. The Mud Run is for a good cause. It is to raise money for Multiple Sclerosis. Since we make such a good team exercising together, Kathy believes we should continue this partnership by entering the Mud Run as a team this May.

If any of my readers have not heard of a Mun Run they may check out the mud run St. Louis site on the Internet. This is a 10K race through a series of muddy boot camp style obstacles that are surrounded by or entirely in mud. This is not a race for the faint of heart. Beside an enormous mud pit the contestants must swim and crawl through there are obstacles to climb over and slip and slide through. May I remind you, all this encased in a think layer of mud.

So do I have any takers? Any other fools want to join me to raise money for MS? I can almost guarantee I will not be able to finish the race. I am not sure I'll make it over the first obstacle, but life is short. So once again I'll do my best to "look silly" and "feel the mud ooze between my toes".

Introducing, Louise, the actress

In a society where it is cool to be composed at all times, I am a misfit. A misfit who for years tried to conceal this fact. I worked at a banking institution for 23 years. Most of those years were spent performing the duties of a trust administrator. At all times and under all circumstances I was to remain dignified and composed. After all, I was responsible for some very wealthy people's money.

Anyone who knows me well knows I am a highly passionate person who loves life. I yearned to laugh and joke with my customers. I wanted to give them a hug on meeting with them and upon our parting. What can I say? I am a hugger. I love people whether they are rich or poor, black, white, Asian, or Hispanic, illiterate or brilliant. I find our differences fascinating. Obviously high finances was not the ideal job for me. I worked at the bank out of necessity.

Therefore I was not highly upset when my position was terminated. It gave me the opportunity to find myself. My plan had been to take one year and do just that. Dig deep into my inner psyche and find out why I was put on this earth.

I blew it. I wasted that year. I wish I could tell someone what I accomplished in that 12 months. Then I wouldn't feel so ashamed of myself, but for the life of me, I can't remember. I occasionally wrote in a journal. Perhaps I should find it and read it. No, that would just be some more wasted time and I already wasted 12 months.

Then I received my wake up call. My Les became very ill. At first the doctors couldn't seem to find the problem. No one seemed too concerned. After all, he just had the flu. He had a tick. Perhaps the tick had poisoned his blood. No all tests came back negative. Then he started losing weight and occasionally spitting up blood. I knew before the diagnosis. He had lung cancer.

All those years that I worked at the bank, I told myself I was an actress. A darn good actress at that. My customers did not know I was a zealous force of nature who was always smiling and looking for my next opportunity to look silly, dance in the rain and walk through the mud so that I could experience the delectable feel of mud oozing between my toes. I was now going to face my greatest acting challenge. Les could never know how devastated I was after hearing the doctor's diagnosis. It wasn't just Les that I had to fool. I didn't want friends and family to know how truly afraid and vulnerable I felt.

As I think back on it now, I realize I wasn't fooling anyone. But the family was as devastated as I was so they let me continue to play the part of the strong efficient woman. My mantra then was "Yes, I can!" and it still is.

Once upon a time, there was no time

Once upon a time there was no time. The world had stopped spinning wildly out of control and there I sat right in the middle of heaven. My life was filled with the sounds of birds singing, the fragrance of flowers and the warmth of the sun on my face. Who would have thought the dirty steel mill town where I live could be Eden. I was living in the fantasy land of milk and honey.

That was before Les got sick. But then, I have always been a dreamer. So I rewrote the story. My personal favorite version goes something like this:

Once upon a time there was a beautiful Fairy Princess. Princess Louise fell in love with Prince Charming Les. Her wonderful prince became very sick and everyone was sure he would die. But Princess Louise knew there was no greater power than love. She showered him with healing loving attention. And as all good fairy tales go, her love made him well again. The two spent the rest of their lives traveling and devoting themselves to each other.

OK, so it might be a little far fetched but it is my dream so I can write it anyway I like. The page that goes along with this has a old father clock face and a blue bird of happiness painted on it. The father clock face represents time standing still and of course the blue bird represents my happiness when I was with Les. Another picture I did that goes along this line is of a woman (me) sleeping. She is dreaming of all the fabulous things she will be doing.

Laughter is the best medicine

Laughter is amazing medicine.  It has the ability to cure all ailments.  True, the cure may be temporary but the pain isn't as noticeable in the middle of a good old fashion belly laugh.  An old Irish proverb says, "A good laugh and a long sleep are the best cures in the doctor's book."  Les' doctor's medicine was doing nothing but make him sicker.  No wonder, they were pumping poison in him.  So, I took it upon myself to search for funny stories to entertain him when he was strong enough to listen.  Unfortunately I am not a comedian, so often I just sat and talked.  I would have talked forever if I thought it would ease his pain.

The art work that goes with this short paragraph has a picture of Gilda Radner attached to it and a Charles Shultz's Peanuts comic strip.  I loved Gilda Radner.  Tragically Gilda passed away also from cancer.  When I worked on this piece, I was trying so hard to laugh myself.  I didn't want Les or his family to see that I had given up and had already started grieving before he had died.  And anyway, there is nothing uglier than me crying.  Mascara running down my face, red snotty nose and blotches all over my face.  Les deserved better than that.

Who's Sorry Now?

Sometime life is so unfair.  Yesterday I wrote on facebook "life's not always fair.  Sometimes you can get a splinter even sliding down a rainbow."  The reason I said that is because Darrell and I were going to have a very serious talk about our relationship.  I was really concerned about the outcome.  It turned out as I suspected.  Darrell was unable to accept the fact that I am still grieving.  Emotionally I am still holding on to a dead man.  He wants me to spend more time with him that I can.  I can't.  I was finding myself crying as I drove to Collinsville to see Darrell.  I couldn't stop thinking of the love of my life.  Even though his life is over.  I know, I'm a real dumbshit.  One day I'll move on.  Just not today.

But this is what I learned from these two relationships.  Not only is life not fair, but neither are men.  I loved a man with all my being for 17 years who would not marry me.  I told people we did not choose to be married.  Truth is he would not marry me.  He thought I would take his children's inheritance.  I was not in the relationship for money and was willing to sign a prenup but that did not change his mind.  So, as I said, I am a real dumbshit.  I stayed with him, nursed him, cried as I watched him die in pain.  Then I was on my own.  No job, no security what's so ever. 

As I suspected, Darrell wanted the same thing.  Not that I was wanting to marry him but he wanted to put a ring on my left hand.  He wanted me to be there like the good little wife.  I would end up doing exactly the same thing.  We would have lots of good times, I would be there for him through thick and thin.  But inevitably the bad times would come.  He is 69 years old with some health issues.  Some serious health issues.  Since I am 9 years younger than Darrell, I would be once again, taking care of him until he dies and once again on the street.  I guess my wounds are just too fresh from my loss but I am just not ready for that kind of pain again. 

So now Darrell and I are both hurting.  We are born wet, naked and hungry.  Then things get worse. I care very deeply for him.  It kills me to hurt him, but the pain would be worse if I continued to pretend that my feelings for him would blossom into the forever and ever type.  Then a year down the road I realize I could not continue this lie.  He wants love and I want friendship.  Talking about friendship; what about all my new friends that I have made in the corvette club?  Debbie wants me to continue hanging out with the winery group.  Time will tell but not right now.  Darrell needs time to lick his wounds and me having a good time with his friends would only hurt him more.  I can't do that.  I love that man, just not the type of love he wants.

So that is the story.  I knew my friends would want to know so here it is for the world to see.  My deepest apologies to Darrell.  I did not mean to hurt him, I'm just not in the emotional state of mind to give him what he wants from me.

The vanishing woman

I believe everyone goes through a period of time when they feel they can no longer handle the challenges in their lives.  A time when they want to run away.  Life can be overwhelming.  Of course as responsible adults we don't run and hide.  We stand tall, face the demons with a smile.  A smile that only we know is a lie.  We must have other people's approval so no one is allowed to see how really scared we are and how close we are to completely losing control. But no one is to ever see us lose control.

The day I created "the vanishing woman" was just such a day.  Les was getting weaker every day.  I had support from his children but they were in denial.  They refused to see their father as a man beaten by this deadly disease, cancer.  They would not allow Hospice to come help us.  The family feared that the presence of Hospice would depress their father further and he would give up his fight for life.  As his main caregiver, I was witness to the increasingly bad times.  The times when the pain was so bad he would beg to die.  And all I could do is hold him close to my heart and hold back the tears.

Stories I had read in the past inspired "the vanishing woman".  Stories about people, mostly women, who simply vanished.  In The Secrets of the Divine Ya Ya Sisters, Vivi would take off and camp out at a motel for a week until she felt strong enough to handle a husband and four children.  She always returned to her loving family until the stress became more than she could handle and she had a nervous breakdown.  Women have a tendency to feel they never do quite enough for their families and friends until there comes a time when they are completely overwhelmed.  They have been super woman for so long, their family cannot comprehend.  So they leave without a word to anyone to start a whole new life.   Why?  Because they fear they'll have a nervous breakdown.

Truth be known we are all ready and able to rise to the challenges in which we find ourselves.  It is not pleasant, but we are quite capable.  It is natural to have the urge to withdraw from life to protect ourselves from personal pain.  So instead of packing my bags and deserting the man I loved, I created "the vanishing woman".  I painted the background with fluid acrylics then glued a picture of a woman cut out from a magazine onto the page.  Next I lightly covered the cutout with fluid acrylics so that the woman's profile could still be seen.  I wanted the image to be a shadow of a woman as if she was vanishing.  The caption is "I understand why women simply disappear".

When did I get so old?

Last night as I lay in bed I thought about my changing view of myself since Les' illness and finally his death.  Funny, 17 years came and went so quickly.  I remember finding a picture of Les while he was ill and commenting to him that I thought his hair was gray when we started dating but the picture proved me wrong. 
Somehow we grew old and never noticed.  He was always strong and handsome to me and yet he and I had both aged.  We both got more wrinkles, gained weight, slowed down and I didn't notice.  Then he got ill and I looked in the mirror and saw an old woman.

There is a story going around on the Internet through personal e-mail about just that.  As the story goes, a woman is complaining that a stranger has moved into her house.  This stranger is uninvited and unwelcome.  Yet every time she passes a mirror she sees this old woman.  She wonders who this person is. 

Yes, that is how I felt and I must say, I felt afraid.  Always in the past I had this strong confident man walking beside me.  I now realized I was an old (maybe not old but no longer young) woman without a job and very limited income.  The economy was in dire straits.  I was only one in millions out of work, but I was at a difficult age to find employment.  What was I to do?  However in all those years that I was with Les, I never took money from him.  I had always stayed financially independent.  I could do it again.

It has been 19 months since Les' death.  I am still unemployed but I am doing just fine.  I find that I really don't need a lot and being retired is kind of fun.  I have time to spend with friends, family, grandchildren and play with my hobbies. And maybe now is the time to write that book.

Love continues after death

When I first decided to write a blog I thought I would use it like a diary.  After the initial postings and finding that I had written three essays and lost all three because I had saved not published my essays, I have decided to come clean and put my love story out there for all to see.  After all, my original idea was to write a book about my art journals that were created as a coping tool while my lover was dying of cancer.

I have loved with my whole heart, my whole being, but not wisely.  Does the heart love wisely?  I think not.  That is why the saying "love is blind" is so popular.  Back in 1993 while my wounds were still open and bloody from divorce, I met Lester Holland Hall.  He was nothing like anyone I had ever met before.  I was in love before I knew what hit me.  Problem is that I was from a traditional family and wanted to get married.  He had been married for 34 years unhappily and never wanted to marry again.  I broke up with him more times than I can count over the 17 years that I was with him.  All our fights were over one thing.  I wanted to be married.  He did not.  He loved me and was completely committed to me.  He said we did not need a piece of paper to prove our love for one another.

The last five or so years we were together we probably our best because I had given up.  I loved him and couldn't be happy without being with him.  Wouldn't you know it?  We are happy and then the damn man gets sick and dies on me.  My book is about the emotional trauma I went through when I found out I was losing this man I loved so much and how I survived his illness and death.

It has been 19 months since Les died.  For the last 7 months I have been dating a very nice man.  We have so much fun together.  He is actually the perfect date.  He takes me dancing, sends me flowers, thinks I am beautiful and is always finding fun things to do with me to keep me entertained.   I should be the happiest girl alive.  He is very much in love with me.  But I am not in love with him.  I love a dead man with all my heart and soul.  I keep trying to move on and just can't do it.  So what do I say to that perfect man who is trying so hard to make me love him?