Synchronisity Rocks

I love when the Universe throws random shit together and plunks me down in the middle of it.  It’s kinda what I live for.  Here’s the deal:

A few weeks ago, when I had nothing new to bitch about with my therapist, she said, “Let’s play a game.”  Since she works mostly with kids and teenagers, she’s used to sullen silence and keeps a cupboard full of games to sneak in a client’s back door.  She apologized for not having anything for adults, but we found a box of questions (does anyone remember The Ungame?) and took turns asking each other get-to-know-you questions.  It was fun and definitely perked me up.

I remembered I saved some art journal prompts out of my magazines and took those the next week to see if they might be appropriate for an adult version of the Question Game.  Sonya loved them, so I asked if I could make a game for her.

I tend to make things for my caregivers.  They give me so much, and I love making something that I can pour all that appreciation into in a healthy, non-creepy, all-boundaries-intact way.

So I dug around in my stash and pulled out a full box of Pictionary cards that were the perfect size.  I gathered the prompts from all my books and magazines, then went to Pinterest to find a gazillion more.

Meanwhile, I’d been thinking about finding rocks to paint for my little garden.  At Lowe’s I found Egg Rocks (perfect), then wandered the store a bit.  Searching for masking tape, I stopped in front of the paint sample display.  I’d always wanted to try using paint chips in my collage work somehow, seen how other artists had done cool things with them, so I grabbed up one of each and added them to my stash.

I noticed that the larger paint chips were the exact same size at the Pictionary cards.  Boom!  The perfect substrate was born.

So, now I’m whiling away these sultry summer days surrounded by color, creating a fun tool for my therapist, while binge-watching Six Feet Under.  Sonya told me once that the artistic daughter on that show reminded her of me—the final loop in the thread that ties all this synchronistic, yummy juju together.

Like I said, I live for this shit!

The Weekly Penny Positive

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The Weekly Penny Positive

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The Weekly Penny Positive

Okay. This turned out a lot creepier than I expected. Yikes!

When There is Nothing to Be Done

Discomfort.

My mind is itchy, scabby, oozing where it’s scratched itself raw.

My body aches and pinches, the hollow parts filled with vinegar and steel wool.

Gravity increases.

Distraction telescopes out of reach, leaving only the rote movements.

My hands do them anyway, a prayer, a coax, a thing to do

when there is nothing to be done.

The Weekly Penny Positive

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Bits of Art for Each Month

I’m enjoying making collage cards for each month of the year.  As is my modus operandi, lots of research, organizing and gleaning was involved, discovering plants, animals, colors and specifics for each month, then throwing them in a bulging three-ring binder.  I’ve discovered that when I’m organized, the actual Arting becomes seamless and automatic.  I love that.

Even with all the prep work, making the actual collage takes most of a day since I use double-sided tape instead of glues or mediums to adhere the images and bits.  It’s kinder to thin magazine paper and creates a cleaner image, so cramped hands from all the snipping is worth it to me.

I loved July’s colors—Coral, Red and Green. And though the background paper gets almost completely covered, I know there are layers of vintage almanac pages, pretty party napkins, chiffon, tulle and stenciled paint.

I’m finishing up August now, and moving on to September and October.  The background papers for November and December lay on my kitchen counter, ready for their next layer.

I’m grateful my mind comes up with these projects as a way to keep itself distracted when the Black Days come.  I’m always stunned by the results and thrilled when someone else loves them, too.

They are a product of my brain saving itself.  How miraculous is that?

The Adventure Continues.

The Weekly Penny Positive

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The Weekly (sort of) Penny Positive

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The Moment is Enough

Emmett has his own way of getting the day started.  He scuttles up to my pillow and whacks me in the face with his tail.  He’s not subtle, this second-fiddle cat who got promoted to Concert Master last December.  I consider myself trained.

From bedroom to kitchen in the gray, half-light, stiff joints find their rhythm.  The ritual of cat food alchemy and kitchen clean-up come from muscle memory, not any sort of gray matter function.  That, in itself, is a miracle.

It’s been a week since my new Medicare drug insurance ended the two month gap where I had no coverage.  I rationed three weeks of meds over those two months and learned, decisively, that Vyvanse helps the depressive part of my bipolar existence.  Without it, I made piles of my possessions in my mind with Sticky Notes of who should get them.  I slept a good part of the day and stayed in bed the rest.  All the hobgoblins nattered ugliness in my ear. I lived in a different sort of gray world.

With Vyvanse, windows of color open.  Joy slides in with the brush of Emmett’s tail and putting paint to paper.  A different ritual starts to reform—swimming, cafés, doing the next thing.  Gratitude resurfaces—for my weekly yoga class, for my steadfast sister, for the Salty Dog Ruccicino at the Erly Rush coffee drive-through.

A cardinal just flew across the parking lot—a blaze of color in the sunlight.  Limpy, the feral calico, prowls around the cars, waiting for opportunity.  Birds chirp.  Trains rumble.  The thought of getting a massage later in the morning creates a warm spot of anticipation.

In this moment, all is peaceful.  The moment is enough.

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