I have kind of a rhythm now, and am going as fast as I can with the Chrome Green. I fear that I may have created the blue-green mixes too soon, as I shan’t need them for quite some time, until all the Chrome Green leaves are down. They are for highlights, perhaps even with a considerable amount of transparency with a liberal (considerable!) amount of acrylic glazing liquid mixed in with a touch of their pigments over the Chrome Green to the side somewhere to see what they do.
I know these colors I’ve mixed are true to the photograph but not to my painting. Right? So I tread lightly into converting my painting, which is much darker (why? I don’t know) into the much much lighter original foto.
My back continues to coil up around the scars several times a day and I have not done the full sequence of yoga since Tuesday, out of caution. However, I have done many many sets of what I am calling and noting as “flash yoga” which serves to undo the cramping in my back and neck, which is still cricking on me every other day. Wha? I know. Whatever. This is a process and a journey and I’m a slow boat.
Today I finally began taking the Christmas ornaments off the Christmas tree, tenderly and putting them just as carefully and lovingly away. What a dear process. Tomorrow, since my back crinched up and I had to stop for now, I will put the tree itself away, but with some feeling of harshness, I pulled the plug. Ouch…
Sorry, Mr. Christmas Tree.
I will be lighting candles in your place. Believe me. I need the light.
Counseling today was super helpful, as always. Started a new journal which we will be sending off into the … universe … possibly into its own black hole? hmmm … an anger journal all its itty own for my past/old anger/rage. As I started to write, as often happens when I TRYYYY to journal, I felt the stupidity of even trying to put down in mere words the VOLUME of feelings, the ENORMITY of the passions … gah.
I could wield a volcano. A mighty sword or some sort of thing Thor might have. But no. A pen, that sometimes a) doesn’t give me enough ink? argh! and b) sometimes doesn’t seem to express what my mind is telling it, causing me to scratch through that scribbled illegibility. Harumph. And it must be handwritten.
That being said … I did write in the anger journal and I felt better, I even feel better telling YOU about it. So there.
Because all this talk of inner elysium and such … well I’ve woken up twice since then for no good reason, stormy.
No good reason. Just mad. At the day. And the day has just started, has done nothing to me at all.
Now I’m used to being depressed at a day that’s done nothing to me, so that I don’t want to get out of bed. Super used to coping and working with that scenario. Not that I’ve solved it? But …
But this is a new one.
So my counselor and I are into anger management now. I’m so glad because I don’t like it one bit, this anger in the room, this alter if you will, because, well, she needs a time out from time to time, this dragon, this lion, beastie. She needs to fume.
See, Southern Ladies do not express their anger. This is a problem for me.
Buddhists generally do not as well.
You guys, I want to be inner elYSium. Inside. This does not compute to have rage … at all.
So we’re processing and dealing and some parts of me have identity with the anger and that will mean more assertiveness and self confidence and less Southern Lady / passivity / bad boundaries and more ME. Healthy. Funny I hope. Yay. Ida know what from me.
Anyhoo. I like peace and quiet and Zen and this anger needs to flow better and not be … all day or wake up time … negativity something. I don’t know if I’m explaining myself … out of my hands if you know what I mean. It’s not attached to anything right now. That’s not cool. It’s old stuff and needs to get out of me.
Okay. I have thirty minutes to rest and meditate now before I make dinner and take Chipper out. Yay.
But I wanted to check in — take care — 🙂