Getting my feet …

minipalette1back on the ground, as it were

or my head back on? with Paris looping constantly on top of my regular flashback sequences looping underneath

flash flash flash

good bad good

bad good bad

it’s a wild head and now reality

What is reality surreality from before now?

for there was Paris of the mind of the screenplay and now inside and there is the US and

everything’s beautiful and you say that out loud and people think you’re crazy

But you have to SEE it.

Autumn is a great time to say this? Perhaps.

Above is a foto of a close up view of the inside of my one of my paint boxes, a Masterson’s palette box. Brilliant design, they are, btw.

Anyhoo. I opened it yesterday, getting ready to paint, and the paints had done all sorts of interesting things to each other in there since I’d been gone to Paris, and mixed and popped, and then there were my brushstrokes randomly here and there getting paint and thinning it off the brushes, also by chance.

Whoa, a landscape of landscapes I saw suddenly. A mini-world of worlds, a tableau. Well, There are sixteen to start, and eventually the better of them will end up in the Macro section of my website. Fun new series, methinks.

In terms of getting my feet wet? back in? grounded? yow! I’m hardly a grounded person. By Nature. Hmmm. By that I mean that I don’t stay put in one personality at the time. I’m kind of hovering inside myself all the time, with my breath, not completely in my body at at a given time. So when they say, a spirit having a bodily experience, that totally makes sense to me. So when I say, I’m dissociating, my spirit has left my body, I’m on auto-pilot, gone numb, robot-like, spacey. Whoa. There’s really no spirit driving the body so I can’t feel.

Why? because of course of all the trauma. Not because I’m a wimp, mind you. One might easily say that of someone with PTSD. But no, I am a Tiger, a Cat, many splinters of Me. I am like water and very hard to catch indeed, like air itself. Because they tried to destroy my very being, my very Self. I did not let them. For that reason I splinter, disintegrate.

Hmmm. I splinter at sound, trigger, flash, memory, light, splinter (for even splinters trigger flashes, etc. it confounds), in fear, in flight, in space, in wiring. In effect, by instinct.

I have ripple effects as I go about. Inside out. Outside in.

So imagine how (Paris of the mind and for those who’ve been) Paris might affect someone like me (who has been through trauma a) and then who’s written a lovely fantasy novel about Paris b)) hee

might be affected by such a week in Paris — doubly triply by the very Paris reale. the very reality of Paris. Okay. Gaudy ? one could say. Versailles at the expense of the poor, the whole gross national product for a year of the country? I do not know the whole history and culture to speak to it, the beauty that remains … to speak to it fully …

I just know that as a whole what I see of France now is a celebration of Beauty and Ideals that thrill me to no end. It exists, this place. Mirroring Nature. I celebrate it in return. And the effect is that now to me everything is beautiful.

How do I get my feet in that?

I am overly excited about colors, textures. I want to do everything on my plate at once.

Meanwhile, my cycle has struck me down literally and I have been down since yesterday with that. Luckily it skipped roughly two months and Paris, the opening reception on Wednesday — I am blessed.

Before that however the amazing fatigue from the trip and return to fibromyalgia and flashbacks at home. I did have flashbacks from the abuse in Paris as well, when napping and sleeping. One nightmare per night.

But now the flashbacks at home since yesterday are making me severely dissociated and I’m having trouble, bumping into things. I did think yesterday, if people stopped going when they felt bad, what would happen to the world? It was my turn to clean the kitchen, so I did, while four frozen biscuits popped up in the oven. I did my best.

I didn’t sleep well last night, either, with nightmares and cycle pain, fibromyalgia pain (wrists, knees, hips, neck). So I’ll not be up for long today, and tomorrow I have a 12:30 – 5:00 volunteer shift for the art reception, then help take down the show. I must rest today as much as I can.

So I’m back down now, but did want to check in for a bit. 🙂 Hope all is well with all of you! Happy Autumn!

About amyjacksoncc

I am a professional artist, writer and musician creating from my home studio. To view my artwork, visit
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