take a load off

 it's ironic.  first, i injure my back.  then, three days later, just as i was starting to feel a little better, by some cruel twist of fate james injured his.  in this role reversal, i felt wholly empathetic, having just recently gone through that unique shooting sharpness lose-your-breath kind of pain that only a pinched nerve can provide.  and so today, i tried, with all my might, to bring forth the healing powers i know i possess...(those powers we all posses, if we should choose to use them.)  and i felt fortunate, for the healing that has occurred in my own life, for the healing energy that james has offered me, without expectation or grudge.  and for the healing together, as friends and partners, that we have worked so diligently to provide for one another.  when a union works like this, when it works like it is supposed to, it softens the burdens of life. and that, my friends, is a divine gift.  

go

paint or die

close call

yesterday, we went for a routine grocery shop, and then to the thrift store.  there, i found the two exact things i was looking for, an electric blanket for our chilly dog and a large storage cabinet.  leaving, driving that beige van home through the familiar old neighborhoods, and suddenly springs from nowhere, faster than lightning, the tiniest long haired chihuahua i'd ever seen. through the lawns and over the sidewalks, across one lane of traffic, he was headed straight towards our van.  watch out watch out!  i said, but james, having heard my co-pilot wolf cries before, didn't even flinch.  he didn't see the dog, but luckily, just for good measure, he tapped his brakes, and by some divine miracle we missed the chihuahua by inches. the dog fled on, oblivious, long golden hair blowing in the wind, through the neighborhoods and across the tracks to who knows where, spared by a millisecond from a cruel death by our van tires.

one second earlier, we would have hit the poor thing, ruining my day and the dog's.  one second later, we would have missed it altogether, never experiencing the close call that made us thank our lucky stars.  it just goes to show you how instantly everything can change.  in a moment of cosmic timing, the odds line up, and what happens seems fated.  it could be as simple as running into a long lost friend at the store, or missing a train, or witnessing an accident.  sometimes, is the timing in your life such that it feels unchangeable, and meant-to-be...as if there is some master scheme?  

meaning

i could start by telling you all about the nutmeg in this blue mason jar.  the jar has been in my mother's kitchen for as long as i knew my mother.  the nutmeg, well i didn't know what nutmeg looked like until i saw it in this jar.  and due to the magic of nature it magically outlasted my mother.  now, like my mother, it's a memory, a physical memory, a story and a painting.

but this nutmeg and this mason jar, it's not enough.  it's impossible to come up with something meaningful to write every day.  yet somehow, i still try.  when i first started writing this blog, the writing felt like a necessary explanation, like the art needed a voice to make it more personal.  and i needed to explain myself.  in the beginning, i was an idea mill.  the paintings motivated the writing, the writing motivated the paintings, and the train drove itself.  sometimes i would catch the sentences forming in my head, like a meandering omniscient narrative, following me gently throughout my day, orating streams of consciousness that most definitely needed to be exorcised.  now, a hundred and fifty days into a crazy overdose of expression, i struggle to find the right words to say.  when i do finally find them, i'm not satisfied, and can only dwell on my own failure in their lack of potency. in those instances, is it not better to say nothing at all?

creativity is like that.  it is a river.  it ebbs and flows.  sometimes it storms, it floods, all it needs is a little push and it breaks its banks, needs out.  and then sometimes, creativity is but a trickle in a drought, barely a drink at all, just a faint memory of itself.  in art, as in life, i've learned it is important to become comfortable with harmony of opposites, the yin and the yang of everything.  life reflects nature.  and so on the days when i have nothing to offer, when i stare at the whiteness of the page and nothing but sad silence comes, it is okay i tell myself.  it's natural, and part of the process.  in the quietude, there always is something brewing, waiting to be unearthed.

practice

 

 

after not touching our instruments for nearly a month, the daffodils by all means should have been a hot mess at tonight's scheduled practice. tensions were high, me with my back out, all of us knowing too well we have but three days to prepare for a holiday party we've been hired for this thursday.  yet magically, we sounded pretty darn good, and magically, we played in sync, and thankfully, the songs were pretty effortless.  i guess that's the way it goes when you've been playing music together for what seems like forever, when you're best friends, when you know each other all too well.   sometimes, in that situation, too much practice just makes things worse, makes us grate on each other's nerves, makes us impatient and restless, makes us play like a chorus of loose cannons.  tonight, after a long hiatus, we sounded fresh and enthusiastic.  not too shabby, i'd say.

 

and i'm thankful for that. because being in a band is like family.  sometimes it's drawn out dramatic and stressful, sometimes its political, sometimes it's for all the wrong reasons, sometimes its living hell.  and then sometimes it's perfect, it's fun, it's about creativity and the love of music.   and in those moments, it feels sustainable, like it could last forever.  those times, the band is the family you want to keep around, the family you want to grow old with, and the music is a comfortable and perpetual joy to share with the world.  

 

“Without music, life would be an error.”

 Friedrich Nietzsche 

movie night

 movie night at the mini farm is something i look forward to.  it's a new tradition.  tom and heather became our neighbors this summer, the days quickly grew short and dark and the cold set in.  thus, movie night was born.  it's one of those things you invent when you live in a small town, to gather your people close to you, to make the winter feel festive and alive.  and in the company of these two good good people, snuggled up on the couch in our socks with our knitting and hot beverages, it most often does.

last night, tom picked our selections.  we watched a fascinating documentary about krump, a wild dance craze i knew nothing about, followed by some episodes of marc, a glam rock variety show complete with its own dance team!   needless to say, i was enlightened.  and i've got some new moves to show for it.

my marbles

 there's this thing about being an artist:  it can take forever to clean the studio.  if you get a wonderful idea and put it into action, it can take a mere five minutes of creative whirlwind to mess it all to hell.  yes, it's that tasmanian devil spirit that makes me do it, that spirit that gave me the moniker "messy jessie".  but i always loathe the mess.  it haunts me, and follows me around, and prevents me from relaxing.  because the physical clutter is really mental clutter.  this year, my plan is to do better, to sort my world so it makes sense, and force myself clean up the disasters...right after i make them.  it's a lifelong dream of mine, really.  organization.  it's a catch-22, because as an artist your most valuable possessions are your supplies, and even a tiny scrap of paper can count as a potential supply. today, as i sorted through nine shelves on a flat file that were stuffed to the gills with every which kind of random paper scrap, i was reminded of my dreadful childhood method for cleaning my room:  stuff it where the sun don't shine.  namely, under the bed or in the closet,  which resulted in some pretty gnarly discoveries months down the road.  rotten lunches, lost assignments, fast food wrappers, you name it, lost in the chaos.  it only took watching a few episodes of hoarders to help me realize where those bad habits can lead to.  so this year, i'm adding organization to my list of resolutions.  so i don't lose my marbles.