Utah Pastel III

The progress you see since the last post was largely made this morning. Have been mulling over notes from the diagnostic editor for Rebekah’s Closet, and the suggestion that I write a memoir. Hmmm. Back to the painting for a moment. Liking it! I was quite afraid to pick up a pastel for many days, would look at the painting and just have no inspiration at all, so not good to force it. Today, I had the joy again and went with it, to good effect. My goal is to finish this piece this week. Yay! So much I want to work on!

Now with any first novel, much less one as ambitious as Rebekah’s Closet, one may have one’s challenges, and I do. So … there. I do. So I will be spending some time, weeks, months, working on these challenges, preparing her to be her best for e-publication, hopefully by the year’s end.

As for the memoir, I discussed the pros and cons with my counselor yesterday, after much, much thought on my own, and just don’t think I want to go there. You see, what happened to me was so extensive, at the hands of so many, so horrific. Why go there? It’s enough to go through it to the level that I am here in the blog as it relates to my creative process and daily life. I’m sure that’s enough for many of you. It’s enough for me. I know I’m a strong survivor. That’s example enough, detail enough.

So for many days I was just resting, that’s all I could do.

Last night I was able to get up and read again. I read through two Garden Design magazines and finished a Yoga Journal I started while I was still reading Eat, Pray, Love. (!) There was an article therein by Sally Kempton about the relationship between Shiva and Parvati, and how women can learn from Parvati’s example of strength through the heart center and creativity. Good timing. Because I need to be strong through my creativity with revising Rebekah’s Closet, through her strengths, to see her through her weaknesses, to balance her out.

I’m also still reading Buddha Standard Time, and I really want to read the author’s prior novel, Awakening the Buddha Within, now. I’ve made it past the emphasis on focusing on breathing, to focusing on FOCUS itself, to being the BE, to being the NONself, the survivor in me, not who I identify with as Amy Jackson, but who was surviving all that time when I didn’t have a sense of self. Exactly. I didn’t have a sense of self but yet I was surviving. That one. The germ seed of self that had the will to overcome with a sense of spirit. Still need to work on that one and help it feel more joy, not just the will to pump out life. But feel praised and enlivened, flowing and content.

I’ve been released from physical therapy as of yesterday afternoon. Breathing exercises are going very well, but that’s all we are doing for now, waiting for the lymph specialist to have an opening. I’m kind of happy to have the freedom in my schedule again, although I know it’s rather critical and time sensitive to get in with her. Kind of conflicted about that. That would be a DID issue, see? Part of me likes the freedom and part of me knows better. But I guess everyone is capable of the mixed feelings, me, more so.

You should have see me in the VW Bug trying to make it to my appointment yesterday afternoon, all fogged up. Crazy fogged up, couldn’t see at all and luckily for me and everyone around me it was very close by. Just scary. So, happily snuggled in today with Chipper, although over the long weekend felt very cooped up with the weather. We did go to the spookiness which is the going out of business Borders and got three books for twenty bucks. More crazy there.

Yesterday and this morning, about halfway to the library on walkies with Chipper it started raining so we turned back at the corner, somewhat thankfully, somewhat regretfully. I told Chipper I’ll dry you off, cookies, carrots, water, etc. and he acceded, liking all of that, knowing all those works. See, that vocabulary, so helpful in so many situations. Smart, smart boy. But it was nice. The bog is lovely colors, changing ever so slightly into Autumn already, the grasses, the tips of things. The black cat, pretending to be invisible, in the grasses, I see you seeing me, there.

About amyjacksoncc

I am a professional artist, writer and musician creating from my home studio. To view my artwork, visit http://www.amyjackson.cc
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