Myopia
“ABIQUIU”, detail, ceramic, earth
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My resolve has always been
To become the best I can be.
For me, that has meant
Things like meeting hidden traumas
Of various forms,
And mining the shadows
For energetic obstacles
Intent on preventing me from thriving.
It is a dirty job.
Messy job.
But, in my case it has been the only way
This beautiful patina
I now am seeing on me
Had any chance of making it’s appearance
And remaining uncovered.
I would not be surprised
If I knew
The actual number of people in my life
Who had taken a few steps back from me
For fear
My relentless quest and it’s intensity at times
Would upstage any chance at
An easy and comfortable exchange.
Believe me, I don’t blame the reticence.
It likely was a fine, fine choice indeed.
And so.. my path in healing my body and soul
Has been in partnership
With a good deal of solitude.
And I really get sick of myself, sometimes!
So- When I do,
A good dose of a grander perspective
Is in order.
Today, I went here.
I mean, REALLY….
Can you look at that and not remember
Your lovely
And purposeful
Part of the plan
Which is a supportive role
And not the lead?
Picking Up The Sword
ceramic sculpture (detail)
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Crafting a weapon such as a sword
Is actually a very organic process.
Heat and more heat..
Folding, pounding.
Then do that all over again
A thousand thousand times
And you might (just might)
Get an edge you can be proud of.
I am wary
When I hear myself say that I don’t like something.
These days, it just plain takes too much energy
To have a judgement about ANYthing.
I heard myself say in this blog, recently: “I don’t like metal.”
Why, I wondered?
It is a neutral element
Save for whatever I put on it, meaning-wise.
When I think of metal
I think of swords;
Wielding a sword, in particular.
Every girl should have her own personal gleaming edge
At the ready.
Don’t be afraid..
Or, rather: BE VERY AFRAID!
Surely, we are speaking metaphorically here
But the journey from the tiny spark of God
We were born with
To the embodiment of ‘SAMURAI’
Is an arduous path, indeed.
Picking up the sword
And using it effectively
Asks us first,
To even know WE HAVE ONE.
Asked even last week what my sword looked like
I would have said a pretty flimsy and warped piece of wood;
Slightly waterlogged and bereft of patina.
Today, my answer is different.
I will tell you about it in a minute.
What do we need a sword for, anyway?
How do we hold it?
Where do we keep it?
How do we honor it?
What noise does it make when used well?
I want to survive
And thrive.
In order for me to do that
I MUST separate the wheat from the chaff;
Be ruthlessly
discriminatory in my choices:
People around me, how far I choose to let each in, places I go physically, food, thought and emotional patterns, beliefs, what I hold sacred and how I tend such…
These choices, and many more
Are what will keep me alive.
Saying the kind of “YES”
To these kinds of ‘medications’
Means there must also be an equal and potent
“NO.”
And this is where the sword comes in.
Being this discriminating
Makes my previous tendency toward acquiescence
Shake in it’s boots.
I haven’t the energy to whip around any long piece of metal
Willy-nilly
Until.. by some miracle
It meets it’s mark.
No.
I am going for the whisper of an almost imperceptable
“Fffffftttttt.”
I will turn and walk away without a smile.
Forfeiting grace, connectedness and my place in the community of fellow humans is not my objective.
Whatever is back there
Will be wondering just what happened
And I will have earned
The right to choose
Again.
I Give Up
untitled, 1991, ceramic objects
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This past weekend I surrendered.
The word conjurs up images of an army hoisting a feeble-looking white flag
And bearing the weight of defeat.
Perhaps, a better word for my actions might be “YIELD.”
I yielded to the fact I can no longer produce art
In the forms it has chosen to arrive
During my thirty year career as a fine artist.
My art-making has been labor intensive
And not….
But I have always had the solace of a ‘thing-in-form’
Which somehow magically appeared
At the end of a string of inspiration, action and completion.
I DID something!
I MADE something!
There is a mark here where there was none before.
I AM.
A great deal of my ‘I AM-ness’ has been derived from a long identity as an artist.
This past weekend two good friends helped me achieve
Another kind of work-in-form
Which far surpassed any fulfillment
I have achieved to date.
I packed up my remaining private collection of art (not all)
And the works fidgiting in the cavern of a storage unit.
My two ‘girlfriends/sisters/family’ helped me orchestrate a spectacular event
In which my remaining work was hung, leaned, propped against the walls
Of a gracious home.
Invitations were sent to collectors
With a real time and date
Inviting them to come by and help me release this long and lovely art-making career
I’ve utterly adored.
You can be sure
That in the hours before the appointed time
My cheeks were wet
With heavy tears
As I did the interior wiggling around
It takes to let go.
By the time we opened the gate
I was sitting there
On the lovely patio
Surrounded by a lifetime of giving birth to beauty.
I felt so beautiful, myself,
As I welcomed the art-lovers
And watched them choose parts of me
To take home and love.
In the end,
I felt no regret.. no clinging.. no ‘if only’s…’
Really, my willingness to surrender this beloved identity
Gave rise to rooms within my self
I’ve yet to choose furnishings for.
They wait patiently
Until my eyes adjust to the light.
This new space in me has a quality of infinite generosity;
It isn’t even hankering to be filled!
And I have left behind a good deal of fear.
So- I won’t have a sculpture or painting
To offer you.
It seems my very life has become the art.
I wonder if, in my smile
You can feel
The tears, the relief, the vulnerability,
The solace, the fear, the faith
It takes to step forward
Once again?
Popularity and Choice
“RENAISSANCE” (detail), 2008, 10′ x 4′, naturally pigmented earth, waterproof MDF
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When I married a number of years ago,
In preparation for the day
There were choices to be made.
One of the most challenging for me
Was deciding
Who I REALLY wanted there.
It was effortful because I was changing;
Beginning to make decisions from an authentic place
Instead of an ‘expected’ one.
Like: “I should invite this person because she’s so-an-sos’- mother.
I am using this example because as I look back
Some of my decisions were unpopular.
But, the thing is:
I felt infinitely more free
To sink into the day.
Today, I am more practiced at choosing for myself
And I don’t really care
That those choices register as unpopular on occasion.
How, actually do I choose, these days?
Really, it is an innate trust of my body;
DOES THIS DECISION FEEL RIGHT?
Is this decision generated from my mind?
If so… Cathy: try again.
I often close my eyes and let myself sink into the bottom of my belly.
I try to do what it takes to bypass my brain and even my heart.
When I get my consciousness there
I ask the question again
And FEEL the answer.
Often it surprises me,
Or disappoints me,
Or inspires me,
Or scares me, even.
This intelligence I can now tap into at will
Is the one I trust with every cell of me.
Do I always listen? No.
Is my choice always correct? No.
Do I consistently do what it takes to get there? No.
Do I care what you’ll think of me when I act on this decision I’ve just made? Sometimes.
I am a work in progress.
My life is now my art.
I make a ‘mark’ here
And see if it feels right.
If not, I just take the liberty
Of painting over that mark
And beginning again.
And I walk (figuratively speaking) on..
Utterly enchanted by the colors I choose.
Choice (re-post)
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.
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Part of upcoming book: “GOOD MEDICINE”
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Radical Security
detail of “LIFT”, ceramic, earth
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The fire has now burned 138,000 acres.
The smoke has blessedly stayed to the west of Santa Fe
But the raw unease of ash on my car in the morning
And a frightening stillness
In this unusual air
Makes us all keep one eye on the skies.
The heat is fierce.
It weakens my eager body
And I leave my ‘to do’ list
Undone.
Again.
I lie prone.
With Olivia draped on my chest.
In that small moment
I get bored with the frustration of TRYING TO DO stuff
And sink into listening
To my dog’s even breath.
I have too many changes going on in my life
And it would be so damn easy to wear my ‘worry cloak’ around at all times;
Signaling to all: THIS ONE NEEDS HELP! SHE IS SINKING! MERCY ON THIS GIRL!
But really,
I am so fine.
And why is that? you might ask.
Well, I am quite sure it is because I have done the work it takes
To unearth a truly authentic Self.
She has some gravity to her.
Some roots have grown long and strong
And my ‘beingness’ is not dependent on my circumstances
Anymore.
Of course, I am not immune at all.
But I am more curious
Than downtrodden.
And in the midst of the smoke and fire
I feel my dog’s sweet trust
Lying here on my heart
And I am rich.
Big/Small
“GIFT”, 2004, 14″ x 4″ x 4″, ceramic, steel
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I found a great new physical therapist
Who balances my habit and love of pushing into physical movement
With the ability to save me from myself
By reining me in to avoid fatigue.
She advocates very small movements as she is Feldenkrais trained.
When she introduces me to these new and very intimate moves
Something inside of me is wide-eyed with awe
At the power in this smallness.
I am an American.
We are a space-conquering culture.
I am educated to make a mark for myself;
BIG and even BIGGER, SWEEPING MOVEMENTS are the thing.
Not tiny little wanderings of a muscle
Tucked deep in my torso.
How surprised was I
To slip into the almost unbearable communion
With my very own self
As I moved so reverently
And became so much more.
But…
I LIKE FAST!
I LIKE BIG!
SEE ME! SEE ME, Won’t you please?
No one was there to witness the perfection of that little move my muscle made.
It was mine alone.
It was easy.
It was fun.
No effort-ing involved.
And the result was extraordinary.
I WAS MORE! I WAS BETTER! I WAS STRONGER!
That, I think, is the crux of the thing I’m trying to get to here…
Easy, effortless, fun = very, very fine result.
Who would’ve thought?
Easy, effortless, fun, easy, effortless, fun, easy, effortless, fun, easy, effortless fun..
(Just taking a moment to get used to the idea…)
What’s a Miracle, Anyway?
detail of sculpture, ceramic
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My mantra for the last few months has been :
ALL I WANT IS A NEW EXPERIENCE OF GOD / SPIRIT / SOMETHING LARGER THAN MY self.
In my life, each and every miracle I have been privy to
Has had the same quality
Of a sudden shift in perception.
Like this:
I am blessed to have a gorgeous woman, Millie who grocery shops for me.
She does this as a volunteer and asks for no money in return.
Today, I said to her as she struggled into my door with bags and sweat from the extreme heat here:
“Millie, if you ever want to stop doing this for me, please tell me.”
“Cathy, why would you say that?”
“Well.. I wish I could pay you as you do this amazing thing for me, go to school full time and take care of all the stuff in your own life.”
“We have love on each other, you and I..”
She silenced me in the best way imaginable.
I went directly from defending against the blessing of her support
To a heart bursting open with the gift of gratitude and love.
Sudden shift in perception.
Indeed.
To many, this may not qualify as a bona fide miracle.
Surely the Pope or someone of his ilk wouldn’t even consider this small instance in the bestowal of sainthood.
But in Cathy’s book of miracles..
Easing into LOVE
When before, I was not,
Constitutes an elevation
The likes of which
The Vatican may have missed
All together.
Action Steps
untitled, 2005, 30″ x 30″, earth, ceramic, wire, pearls
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Yesterday, I went out there..
Into the morass of governmental servants.
The feel of it was something like previously human human-beings
Wading through pools of silly putty
With the attempt to be civil
Long ago left at the edge of the pool.
We berate out state workers.
They bring with them the cloud of numbness
That gets on us like talc.
After awhile, the exposure to these toxins began to erode my hard-earned clarity
And I made a call:
RING..RING…
“Hello?”
“Hi (dear friend)”
“I need you to tell me that I am wonderful… I just left the Civic Housing office and the people were mean. I am starting to feel worthless and bordering on shame. Can you please remind me who I am?
“Cath.. they have been working ‘inside the box’ for so long that civility went by the wayside long ago. They are just going through the motions to ‘make it.’ It has nothing to do with you.”
“OK.. Thanks. Clearly I called the right person for a reality check. Thanks.”
And onward I went to the County Housing Dept. where I met an angel who metaphorically took my hand and showed me the steps to take next.
She had really fabulous black heels on with a leather (really well done) flower on the top.
She said: “I really like your earrings.”
I said: “I love your great shoes.”
We bonded.
It was real.
It was good.
Want vs. Need
detail of sculpture, 2004, earth, ceramic
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I used to love to consume in the truest sense of an American consumer.
Clothes, desserts, hair products, art supplies, cool stuff everywhere…
This particular bend in my road has other wisdom to offer.
It’s all about what do I WANT
And what do I NEED?
I told you there were riches along the way here…
Just listen:
I NEED some dentistry fast-like..
And I haven’t the funds.
Then the next day I get news of a surprise check arriving which will more than cover the bill.
A need.
Not a want.
Ok… there is this really great collar for my beloved dog I saw.
It’s a want.
Not a need.
The universe seems to support true need. But not so much want.
I’m telling you… this litmus test is very telling when one has few resources.
It feels like a boon
And, oddly, not a bore.
Of course, most of the world lives like this
Oblivious to the pseudo-pain of our fleet of elite, here,
As we all have to scale down
And face the shadows of the emptiness
We have all been trying to fill up
With stuff.
Yesterday was Sunday
And I bought myself flowers.
It was a need for me.
I thought that was interesting
That the qualities of beauty, fragrance, fragility, intense aliveness
Were NEEDS in my book.
The act of arranging them was my church.
I was humbled and elevated at the same time.
I would likely have missed that experience
Had I gone to a store, instead.