Elevation
detail of hand-panted textile
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” It is important to have a sufficiently elevated life condition so that you will be able to calmly accept whatever happens in life, striving to put problems into proper perspective and solving them with a positive attitude. Happiness blossoms forth from such a strong and all-encompassing life condition.” — Daisaku Ikeda
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I installed a new support in my bathroom..
Keep in mind that I am an artist
And care deeply about aesthetics.
So- WHAT is a girl to do with the VISUAL ASSAULT
Of this elevated commode seat, I ask you?
Yuk.
BIG, bulky and entirely ‘hospital-fare’ looking.
The thing is: the assist it gives me helps a lot.
How does one buffer these marks in time which could so easily be turned into tics on the wall
Measuring decline?
Each time I have invited assistance of this sort into my life;
1. AFO leg brace
2. knee brace
3. Walker
4. Power wheelchair, ramps
I find the need to do an ‘ego-overhaul.’
The initial sting of present reality asks to be dealt with.
Am I less? Sicker? Farther down the rabbit hole of a carved-in-stone diagnosis?
Is this new thing EVIDENCE for that story-line?
“Cathy.. Do you deserve support?”
“Indeed, I do.”
“So get over yourself and receive it gracefully.”
And so… I do.
In this case, I knew I needed a visual and energetic buffer of some sort to assuage the assault..
I took an exquisite piece of silk, handmade lace I inherited from my grandmother and draped it over the elephant in the bathroom.
The incongruity of it has me laughing when I see it.
And so… I have slipped the clutch of ego once again
And crafted a better story.
I am so entertaining to myself!
And onward I go
In the quest for crafting a life of beauty.
The Fall
detail of ceramic sculpture
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As a gymnast in my youth my events were the balance beam, floor exercise and uneven parallel bars.
These are not team sports. Success in each depends on a laser-beam confidence and will.
I think back on what it took to walk, spin, leap and roll on 4 inches of wood standing 5 feet off the ground.
The action and spiritual quest of harnessing interior worlds to behave and serve me in a desired outcome is territory I have never tired of. Back then, a fall was humbling. These days it is life threatening.
It’s all the same, though.. same quest for balance.
The language of the act has had to shift from willing a personal result to the symphony of inter-dependance.
I am beginning to find this territory far more intriguing than my private worlds in the gymnastic realm.
My ‘win’ was dependent on my personal map-making. I went where I wanted, how I wanted and designed a routine I lived inside and performed that in front of the audience.
The response I received was either apathetic or loud and electric depending on whether the witnessing of my tricks left my world and infected the audience.
Below me and my balance beam there was the floor… the enemy, really.
‘Do whatEVER you must to stay off the floor’ was my credo.
These days, my entire life is lived on that floor which is the great equalizer in life, I think..
I took a fall, metaphorically speaking.
The choice of the image above from a sculpture of mine came from the response it gets from people: “It is scary!” or this: “It looks like a sea anemone in the ocean.”
All boils down to point of view…
I see myself using the acuity of a gymnasts’ world to inform my current life as I negotiate getting from a chair down to the floor in yoga class or even just getting out of bed.
I am blessed with muscle memory from my competition days but the skill I lean on the most is my inherent knowing of what an elegant, self-posessed TRANSITION looks and feels like; the shift from a willful woman to one who embodies more patience, mercy and kindness for herself and others.
These gifts from ‘the floor’ I value highly. They are my trophy.
Pretense
textile design, silk jersey, 1985
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I lived in the seedy part of Boston’s South End in the 80′s creating hand-painted textiles for men’s and women’s wear.
I was surrounded by people eager to shock, startle and roar their way through life by separating themselves out from the masses in some way and finding a smidgeon of identity in this way.
Oh my goodness… I felt so lost and uncool.
I came to work each day and built an energetic bubble around myself and communed with color and brushes, dyes and fabric.
I have spent my life trying to find an identity that felt like natural me. It has been years and years of trying. I had no idea how to approach the quest for authenticity other than ‘trying’ to get there.
No longer do I have the energy for TRYING which is a true gift in illness. I have had the good fortune to segue into pockets of BEING and care less and less about coolness.
Because horizons and shadows are really pretty uninteresting to me, being more intrigued by the present as I am- (periodically, mind you….)
There is space enough to register authenticity when I meet it.
These photographs came to me yesterday:
To me, these images represent the treasure we all are beneath any posturing or pretense.
I look and experience only beauty.
Yes, his body probably doesn’t look like yours.
Can you feel him there?
See his light and reverence for the gift of life?
THERE IS THE SENSE OF NOTHING EXTRA ABOUT THIS MAN.
I can safely say you will likely not forget what/who you saw; GUIDO GABRIELLI is the publisher of Italian YOGA JOURNAL.
I can say that because when truth is put on the table, everyone knows.
And a mysterious silence rolls in… authenticity is here..
At last.
Authenticity is here.
RE-FINE
monoprint, 30″ x 40″, 1990
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I see that when I intake the correct (for me) ‘food’
I have more than enough energy to live well.
My goal is to nurture this precious gift of Life
With attitudes, activities and awareness;
Each acting as clean fuel
For my Self
As QUEEN!
Of my personal landscape.
I could easily regard the outward impression I may leave people with: that a severe narrowing is taking place as my body shifts into ‘needs-support-to-function’ mode, as a truth. The thing is- I am unsure of much of anything that fits into the ‘truth’ category anymore.
And I like it that way.
A lot.
Because the way is clear to discover treasures left in low places
The fully upright
Strutting and careening masses
Would all miss completely.
I fill my basket.
“I’d Call AAA…..”
detail of painting
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It is New Year’s Eve day and instead of a recap of my year, I feel like telling you about the most recent event that made me really happy..
Sort of a ‘talisman moment’ to guide my year as I see it.
Instead of making a list of resolutions, I will use the feeling of what I am about to tell you to move into a new year and know I want more of THIS:
My brother, sister-in-law and niece and nephew came to visit me. They drove from Denver in their motor home with the two dogs, jeep in tow and many tools to help me make my new and beloved home more accessible. The arrived and poured forth with wheelchair ramps! and gourmet food for my freezer! and a hand-held shower thing! and lightbulb replacements! Three-hour logs for the fireplace! and ICE MELT for my walkway!
They cleaned my kitchen, painted the ramps, helped me make a flower-covered back panel for my wheelchair, made me sit down, were conscious of my energy level, shoveled gravel, took me out for meals, were aware when I was getting tired, took Olivia on walks and tied up cardboard boxes into tidy packages.
One of the very best moments of this visit was this: We were pouring out of the car in downtown Santa Fe in the evening. It was cold and icy at the curb of our parking place. I opened the passenger door to get out, saw the ice below and hesitated. Would I be able to safely make the crossing between car and curb to grab my walker? After that little feat was successfully completed I said to my brother: “What would you do if I had slipped and slid under the car back there?”
“I’d call AAA” he said….
We all laughed that down-low belly laugh because…well, because it was SUCH GREAT DISABILITY HUMOR!!!!
Casual, easy, hysterical without the underpinnings of caution.
In 2012, my attention will be on feelings in my body rather than accomplishments or desires. I will be like a magnetic basket; going about my days gathering actual experiences of connection, fun, nurturance, worth, wonder, curiosity, communion, silliness, soft belly, unguarded heart, contentment………………
…………………..
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Gifts I Give And Am Given
textile design on wool flannel
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This year found me having to re-think my gift giving over the holidays. I hadn’t the cash to go gallivanting across town hither and thither in search of the perfect THING for those I love.
I settled on writing a letter to a few friends, family, services I use and places I go regularly telling them they make a difference in my life; a BIG difference.
I told them my life is so much better because of them, that I recognize and celebrate their goodness and wanted them to know I am over here feeling rich because of their presence in my life.
The self worth issues which haunt me came from a never-ending question in my very being: ‘Do you see me?’ ‘Do I matter to you?’ ‘Are you glad I am here with you in your life?’
Because I essentially had to create my own foundation for lack of what seems a child’s birthright, I now know what it takes to feel whole and securely connected from the heart.
This has been a year of miracles for me. My amazing family and friends have stepped into my life with a kind of support and love which is quite overwhelming in it’s commitment to my well-being.
They are making sacrifices in their own lives to benefit mine. I hate it that I need their help. I feel too transparent and adrift in the ‘life-muscles’ department.
And yet- they SEE ME here…
Making my way the best I can with mistakes and confusion and successes; all of what it takes to create a new life when circumstance befalls us..
They are giving me love.
And that has been my gift to others this year as well.
I leave you on this Christmas eve with this:
How To Be With A Disabled Person
untitled, 1993, 4″ x 1″, ceramic
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1. I HAVEN’T STOPPED LOVING YOU- I JUST HAVE TO LOVE MYSELF MORE
I know that people who care about me want so much to let me know they are here for me in whatever way I might need. The thing is: I often DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT IS because this is such uncharted territory; for both me and my compadres. I have had to pull into myself and rearrange my values, needs, desires, finances, spirituality, social life, closet, pet care, diet, exercise and living situation. IF I have any juice left over- you will get it, I promise. Believe me, this takes a big dose of “BE NICE TO YOURSELF, CATH…” I beat myself up because I am so much less available to you and I don’t really like it.
2. THINGS YOU COULD DO TO HELP ME
When you ask me “What can I do?” it puts an extra burden on me to come up with something to take care of YOUR desire to ease my way. Think about it: If your own life were to feel more narrow in physical ways; say you had little energy and couldn’t get out in the world as much, what things would bring life to your door and ease your way?
Things I love:
a. My sister sends me books she has liked.
b. Magazines make my world wider: spirituality, design, nature, science, smart women’s mags. DVDs from SAM’s (cheap!)
c. bring me soup or stew to last a couple days or food from a restaurant I love.
d. beauty (flowers, girly stuff I can no longer afford, great DVD on art, nature, ANYthing you think I’d like.. book on tape)
e. offer to fix stuff in my home
f. ask if you could do an errand for me- mail p/u, drugstore, office supply
g. tell me about a great website you think I’d like
h. offer to take me on a drive in nature
i. take my dog for a walk if it snows and I can’t get out
j. tell me you love me no matter what
k. one friend lets me know she is thrilled when I get really bitchy and really let it rip. we laugh and I feel released.
3. I CARE THAT YOU KNOW HOW MUCH WHAT YOU DO MEANS TO ME AND WORRY YOU DON’T FEEL ACKNOWLEDGED ENOUGH
It is human nature to want a good deed acknowledged and to feel better about yourself after an effort expended on someone else’s behalf. Know that I try my best but won’t always get it right.
4. DON’T STAY TOO LONG
My cut-off point for a visit from you is an hour- maybe an hour and a half on a good day. I love our time together and need it but I get tired quickly. Sometimes just dropping things at my door works better (always with a ‘heads-up’ call first) so I’m not forced to make myself presentable if I haven’t the energy. Email works great for me as opposed to phone conversations. I can choose when I can be most present and connect from there. Lacking in intimacy but a sacrifice I seem to need.
5. OPEN DOORS FOR ME (even bathrooms if you are near and see I could use the help)
Just say: “May I help you with this?” gives me the opportunity to decide. I always love the little (sometimes big) opportunity to connect with someone in this way. There aren’t really that many times to safely feel like we can offer assistance to someone in need in our culture. Sometimes homeless people look a little scary though we might want to ease their way. When someone offers to open my door, I look them straight in the eye and say: “Thank you so much. I appreciate that.” I feel good. They feel good.
6. I KNOW YOU WANT TO FIX ME
Don’t forget this is my journey with horrors as well as miracles along the way just like yours. You may be very sure you would know how to do my journey differently and better were it you in my shoes.
Perhaps so. I pray you’ll never know. I am doing the very best I can; making mistakes, having success… Please don’t feel sorry for me. My road has treasures strewn about every which way I look… Now if I could only bend down to get them!! Honestly- I love my life even with all this challenge. Really.
7. I COULDN’T DO THIS WITHOUT YOU
Just knowing you are there and care about me eases my way like you will never know.
The Gift Of Tears
detail of installation, 1990, porcelain, 5″ x 3″
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I wonder why I don’t cry more often
With these challenges on my plate.
A good ‘tear-washing’ feels so darn good
In the end.
I don’t seem to weep in pain
Or weakness.
Sometimes abject humility
Or frustration and anger can get me going.
But seldom fear.
I find this odd.
I had an occasion years ago
On a visit to my favorite
‘Gotta find God fast’ spot I know:
CHRIST IN THE DESERT MONASTERY.
I go there for the experience of beauty and peace.
Those monks surely knew how to pick some killer real estate, I tell you..
Anyway, they have a small gift shop there
Attended by one of the monks.
He seemed primed to be a witness.
I said: (in a courageous and transparent moment during a conversation we were having on music):
“I cry at the oddest moments.
My tears often surprise me
With their suddenness and velocity,
Their inopportune arrival most times.
I can’t hold them back.
They embarrass me.”
He replied: “Have you ever heard of THE GIFT OF TEARS
In the Bible?
Yes, it is a real thing- the heart becomes so filled with beauty or joy or love or appreciation or connection or revelation
That it can not hold it all
And must spill over.
Those are your tears.”
And so..
My embarrassment lifted
And my tears have seldom felt like the enemy
From that day forward.
Disability Perks
hand-painted wool flannel, 1987
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#1. ENFORCED SITTING
In my new and astoundingly satisfying home I have a chair.
A white egg chair to be exact.
It has always been my safe haven in a storm; safe as the downy underwing of a swan.
Post-relocation discombobulation recedes far into the shadows as I wake and ease into it’s fold.
I sit there as dawn dresses herself and I enjoy her costuming while entirely forgetting about my untended hair and other ablutions.
I sit there.
And I sit there some more.
I do things like look.
I look at the masterfully crafted rock wall.
I look at the satisfying placement of needles on the juniper tree outside my big picture window.
My dog is snoring at my side and she is impossibly yielded into sleep with a slight press into my thigh.
I want to get up and address my coffee hankering.
But I can’t.
I’m too tired and content.
And so I feel the want of it
And let it go
In favor of more sitting.
And my breath drops into my belly
With a sigh
For the wisdom that arrives so unexpectedly with weariness.
.
.
.
#2. THAT VERY WISDOM
Disability is the doctorate course
In authentic reordering of values.
What used to be accolades and cash and luxurious filling in of each and every empty place
In the heart and home and mind
Has shifted to the love of the ordinary,
Gratitude for having the means to provide for my true needs,
And moving toward emptiness for the pure pleasure of it.
That was a big sentence
But it wanted to be written that way.
The perks of disability seem to begin
When we fall in love with vulnerability;
It’s porous and yielding quality
With the benefit of the age-defying qualities
Of true humility.
Get shattered- hurt bad…
Get humble- start living.
She Walks So Fine
detail of painting on wool flannel
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I had cowboy boots.
They were blonde-colored with pointed toes.
The stitching was loose and they had age on them
But I loved them so.
In my lifetime of figuring out who I actually am
Aside from all the posing and dallying,
My gait has changed.
As a chubby and depressed schoolgirl
I walked with shame and anxiety.
As a lean and sinewy gymnast
I began to lift my head with pride
And my gait became solid and purposeful
But still a performance.
The girls’ school I attended
Taught us to lead with our chest as we entered a room.
My soul was left scrambling..
Far, far behind.
In college, I knew how to get an instant audience
Just by parading across the dining hall.
As a married woman,
Anxiety cut my stride in half.
Divorced, it returned.
These days
It takes me awhile
To strap on my assorted hardware;
Two braces with more velcro
Than any person should ever have to negotiate.
They are my support.
And I love them for that.
My boot-walkin’ days are quite over, now.
Strangely, since my limp and drag are real
I don’t hate them.
I am moving into my new home this weekend.
Walking over the threshold and out the door of my current little nest
And into this miracle of a safe and lovely place
Will likely silence me awhile.
I will need to stroll/roll around and pay homage
To the gift and nurturing
Of this circumstance.
I will let a new gait emerge.
Or not, as the case may be.
I will begin time in my new home with innocent eyes
And a curious heart
And let myself be led,
Even coddled a bit.
I will walk
Back to you, here…
Perhaps new.