Lord Howe Island I

Mixed up Prussian Blue, Hooker’s Green, and Neutral Gray to get the darkest green you see up there, really a nice shade of blue-green. Had the lime-green left over from the previous painting, same for the mid-green. Ran out of the lime-green for the mid-section and had to make new lime-green — only not to be able to completely match it — and therein lies the magic — right? extending the color to the edge of the canvas. It feels very Walt Disney to me, which I honor and respect a great deal.

One of those days where I had to rest for a considerable period of time before any activity, post-walkies. This time, in addition to the usual STUFF I deal with, heh, I had back-t0-back, I kid you not, nightmares all night last night. Upset bosses, upset customers, black bears coming after us during walkies in the woods, oh, you name it. The common theme is that the dreams would start out nice but they would ALL end horribly, every single one.

Hmmm. I’m wondering if this relates to my old fears of rejection and loss, pessimism, that ultimately we would die in the Cold War, or something, that period of history, etc. The time when I would wear all black, well the first time anyway. (except for the pink leg warmers, the highlighter yellow Keds, I digress, it was the eighties)

I wonder if it was because I was writing about love yesterday, journalling about it as well, and it brought up old alters? again with the losses and rejections. I had to earn love. Jump through hoops. I felt like, and I know some parts of me, alters, still believe that I’m not deserving, damaged goods, not worthy, etc. That if people get to know me they will drop me. All that old stuff.

Bah.

As I’ve gotten older, my latest zero self-esteem reworking mission notwithstanding, I’ve gotten better at being more confident that I’m worthy just as I am. Buddhism has helped, I say oddly enough, because it does emphasize that the perfection of the whole, perfection in imperfection. Well, that is extraordinarily useful to someone like me. Likewise the image of the Lotus blossom growing with its roots in the mud (well, any flower, any tree, any seed, with all that tiny knowledge, coming forth into being) into the Sun just as light and beautiful as if it knows nothing of the darkness of the Earth, but so dependent, equally dependent on the darkness of the nutrients below as the vitamins and nurturance above in the air and in the Light. Amazingly simple image, but it helps me so. Hard to explain why really, just that it is balanced and pure, that it has all that it needs, naturally, just by reaching around to what is provided in the dark and the light, immanence.

No work on the novel yet. I decided that I’m going to rest for about an hour and then start writing proper on the early development of the strange man, to truly get the writing bug. That’s what I need I think. Jump on in with both feet and get the sense of writing again. The rest should fall most naturally, hard but naturally. That’s my theory and my plan.

I woke this morning with the saddest alter beside me imaginable and he has not left me. He cheered somewhat later in the day. I’m hopeful that sleeping better tonight will be better for all concerned. I woke edgy but not angry, somewhat in good spirits and determined to not join in the sadness of the other alter, just to have compassion for him and have a day. See why I have a strange man in my novel? Sometimes I have little girls who are crying and sad who feel completely different in their needs, how to console them, how they feel.

The resting helped give me some energy but I’m really tired still. I could have stayed in bed all day but really wanted to make some progress. The painter is an alter all her own, as is the writer. It’s hard to give them all time, so I do what I can. There is part of me that just likes to stay in bed and dream, day dream, but today I was afraid of nightmares, too, so I was kind of on the run into creativity as a better option. It’s kind of giving the painter time, and being on the run. Both. And I get more painting to give you out of it. Hopefully more writing, too.

I was thinking, in Rebekah’s Closet, she has alters she speaks of but only one alter that gets up in a fugue state. That’s so simple for the reader. My life is so much harder than it sounds. I wonder how to communicate more alters for Rebekah without making it so complex that no one can read it? I’ll have to see whether or not to do that. Right now the diagnostic editor said it is very complex on many levels. Hmmm. Gotta be careful there.

To rest with me now. Enjoie!

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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