Author Archives: A Painterly Life

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About A Painterly Life

living a small, slow life in a small, slow town and loving every minute of it...please join my journal about aging, overcoming c-PTSD, living with chronic illness, and being creative in spite of it all.
Dec18

Big, Beautiful Questions…

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Ahhhhh….the wisdom of not knowing, yes…perhaps the greatest gift of age. “Very little makes sense to me these days…” she says. The world is crazier and crazier than I ever could have imagined. How will we navigate these atrocities to our collective soul? The only way I know to be is curious.

Tiokasin Ghosthorse reminds me to change my inner language, to think like a child again. The Lakota language does not contain nouns. There are no words to define us, only verbs. We are all in a state of becoming. I require constant reminding of this. I do know how to live intuitively. Fifty-five years of working with the tarot has helped with that; I hate to think where I’d be without it. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Simple, not easy.

Intuition is the only thing that ever saved me. It is intregal to the creative process. I’ve said for decades that “ultimately, it is the artists who will save us.” It is. The writers, the painters, the musicians, those who live intuitively. Einstein knew it. The stoics knew it. Toni Morrison knew it: “Your life is already artful – waiting, just waiting, for you to make it art.”

It’s not too late and I am not too old. Bonnie Garmus published her first novel at the age of sixty-five. After 98 rejections. She knew something and didn’t back away from what she didn’t know. Julia Cameron teaches the wisdom of not knowing in her series The Artist’s Way. It’s a system for creative recovery – not a how to on being an artist. It’s not about producing a thing, a product, a finished piece! It’s about learning to live like a child again. Vulnerable. Curious. Open-hearted. Available to intuition – to hearing the divine speaking within you.

“…forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in…” Leonard Cohen wrote in his brilliant Anthem.

“…the less I seek my source for some definitive, the closer I am to fine.” – Indigo Girls

Dec17

A Little Christmas Bonus

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Cathy B. Graham is one of my favorite artists, not least of all because she is inspiring and funny. She re-invented herself in her sixties with her illustrations and her two books; Second Bloom and Full Bloom. They are among my favorites. Her tablescapes are wonderfully whimsical.Notice the watercolor paintings in the dining room and throughout the home; those are her originals. She decorates with vegetables and food and flowers and toys and….she also designed the linens, the invitations, the dishes, the book illustrations….there isn’t anything she can’t do. Let her remind us all to let our inner child play and be delighted in everything we do!

Dec15

The Perpetual Arranger

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“…you are the perpetual arranger,” said a childhood friend one day many years ago. It is true that I am constantly changing the furniture layout, the menagerie of items, the plants indoors and out, the accoutrement of life. C’mon – you do it, too, whether you are conscious of it or not. We are the curators of our own space. It is a thankless struggle when we are raising children, but it is innate. Now in my later years it is an act of pure delight. Don’t put that there! That goes over here…see?!

My darling mother used to say, “I’m just rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.” How many times I’d been astonished and befuddled by how she managed a big house full of five children (six if you count my father, who certainly qualified.) We would laugh, but I always had the same reply: “It matters, Mom. The arrangement of the deck chairs matter as long as we’re standing here on deck.”

A friend recently confided that her mother thinks her house is cluttered. I’ve been told that about my homes since my early 20’s. But let me tell you something about my friend’s house. The house itself is beautiful, but there is a less apparent component: I walk in and I FEEL an energy shift. She arranges her home with INTENTION. Like myself, she believes her home is her sanctuary; a living altar. I’ve already asked her if I may come film a short video for the blog after the holidays. I’d like to investigate this process with several people whose homes I admire for different reasons.

In design terms, we are maximalists. I am just as disheveled by clutter as anyone, but clutter is not useful nor attractive. And there are ways to live with the belongings you love without them becoming visual clutter. There are specific ways to do that, and we will explore those here in the coming weeks.

The internet is – pardon me – cluttered – with videos about clutter. Believe me, I’ve watched them discerningly. I’ve read the books (glad to share my favorite) and yes, clutter is a symptom of PTSD. It is both indicative of and perpetuates mental unrest. But most of the approaches I have found fall short of long term solutions; they address the symptom rather than the cause. Have we not learned better yet? We’re seeing the manifestation of this in our health care system. Yes, recognizing a problem is the beginning of finding a cure. We’ve got this.

I love my stuff. I love my home. AND, I love my health, mentally and physically. Health is a lifelong goal I will not compromise (shall we talk boundaries here yet?!) The goal is also beauty, inside and out. Health and beauty are two sides of the same coin. Beauty is a sacred affirmation to our spirit, to God, that we are thankful for the grace in our lives. We are paying attention. We are outgrowing survival mode. We are committed to life. Can I get a witness?!

But beauty is entirely personal. AND, I insist – NOT based on economics. You can live a beautiful life in a beautiful place with or without money. Stick with me and I’ll prove it. (I’ve made some pretty cool decorations out of the plastic netting the onions came in.)

What are your seven favorite things at home?

“Nothing is interesting unless it is personal.” – Billy Baldwin

Dec13

“Did You Feel That?”

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Sophie Wilson gets it. She gets that a home is love. “I would leave this house for love, but nothing else,” she shares.

What is a safe space worth? There are holes in the walls and ceiling here. But it’s not about how it looks, it’s how it feels…they are part of the “noise the walls have absorbed;” the house has “soaked us up.” Does a house have a soul? Does it have a presence, a spirit? Is it a living thing? I believe it is.

Experience tells me that the energy of a space can – and often does – change. That the energy of a space has a profound affect on us; that we in turn effect that energy. Now we know there is science to back this up, but I’ve known it on an intuitive level since I was a child. So have you. There is a symbiosis that happens with an interior space just as with nature when we are outdoors. Isn’t that a living exchange?

My best friend’s family, the Owens, moved from the Detroit suburbs to South Carolina when we were starting high school. They took me with them. We beat the moving van by a couple of days and holed up in a hotel near the new house. The year was 1970 – I only know that because we bored teenage girls walked across the street to a movie theater and lied about our age to see the latest release: Five Easy Pieces.

While I was away my Mom redecorated my bedroom as a surprise. Doris was the unsung predecessor of the Martha…she knocked down walls and wallpapered and changed light fixtures on a weekly basis, like you and I go to the grocery store. Long before YouTube tutorials or even big box stores she strategically planned her bigger projects ahead in secret. You never knew what you might come home from school to find.

Our 1926 Cape Cod home had been built by an architect as three one-level flats to house three generations of his family, but my parents needed every square foot for the seven of us. And they bought it furnished. My room, with dormer windows on three sides, had been the elderly Mrs. Bertrand’s bedroom. It was papered in large cabbage roses. The bed, marble-topped dresser and vanity were heavy carved cherry. Everything had a rosy glow. It was decidedly old-fashioned. And my Mom thought that I needed something more modern. When I came home the wallpaper was gone. The luscious worn velvet quilt had been thrown out. The vanity bench needlepoint gone, replaced with a modern flame stitch.

I was devastated. But I never let my Mom know that. I pretended to be thrilled. She had the best of intentions and had worked so hard to complete the makeover in a matter of days. I guess even then I loved old things…

Dec11

The Temple of My Aloneness

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Almost a decade ago I began this blog, meant to be a lifestyle blog, and ultimately an expression of what home has meant to me. But it has often been about the process of my life, about personal growth and healing. It turns out that “home” means something different to each of us, and has common threads that connect us…and that we all FEEL home within. We feel beauty and appreciate it differently – but we all feel it – physiologically and psychically. Comfort is a visual sense of beauty as much as it is physical. Our spirit recognizes an uncomfortable environment as dysfunction; something is off. It matters to our well being. Let’s explore this further in the days ahead, especially as the long dark winter sets in here where I live.

A craving for beauty has driven my life forward when nothing else could. Color excites me, greenery makes me feel alive. Music and birdsong open my heart and the floodgates of tears, both of delight and grief. I’ll welcome it all.

This morning I had seven young deer in my yard. The past year-and-a-half have brought physical struggles with Lyme disease for me, which the deer carry. I will learn to protect myself, but I will not run them out. These deer all looked like young adolescents. Deer hunting season ended a week ago and my guess is that the adults of the herd are gone now. I can’t imagine living on a planet where you are hunted.

I’m using this video to help illustrate some of the ideas I want to explore here with you. Namely, what are the elements that create a sanctuary home – and WHY is this an important objective? I think it’s actually an innate motivation for us all. Pay attention to how you feel watching this – how are you affected by the soft colors and the imperfect surfaces? Sarah Stanley is looking for her home to “lifts the spirits and stir the soul.” A comfortable home is never perfect. Welcome to The Fable:

“And I thought this is the good day you could meet your love, this is the grey day someone close to you could die. This is the day you realize how easily the thread is broken between this world and the next…this is the bright home in which I live, this is where I ask my friends to come, this is where I want to love all the things it has taken me so long to learn to love. This is the temple of my adult aloneness and I belong to that aloneness as I belong to my life. There is no house like the house of belonging.” – David Whyte, The House of Belonging

Dec10

SHE LET GO

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Good Sunday Morning. Let’s have church, shall we? How sacred is this precious life we are sharing on this precious planet? One of my former husbands (don’t judge) used to say, “life is not for the faint of heart…” Can I get an Amen?!

Only recently back to this form of expression, I want to share with you, my revered friends, who have patiently stuck it out with me through years of grief – and anger (phew!) – and, more importantly, humor and insights and love. Just love. We always come back around to opening our hearts. It’s a PRACTICE. It’s a practice of letting go. Of learning to shed our conditioned defenses, of healing.

Turns out healing is a lifelong process (who knew?) and I’m so grateful to have lived to almost seventy now; to find out that I am never going to figure this all out. It’s not figure-out-able. It wasn’t meant to be. As I’ve said since my 20’s, “on the road to enlightenment, I’m taking the local.”

“Now I become myself. It’s taken time, many years and places…” – May Sarton

“Anything I have ever let go of has claw marks.” – unk

SHE LET GO by Safire Rose

Without a thought or a word, she let go. She let go of the fear, she let go of the judgements. She let go of the opinions swarming around in her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons. Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go…

No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or congratulations. No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing. Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.

There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad. It was what it was and it is just that. In the space of letting go, she let it all be.

A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forever more.

Dec9

Be Very Afraid…

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She’s afraid of beige…I so get that. Beige is a euphemism for mediocrity. Mediocrity scares me. It has frightened me away from writing, here and elsewhere. It has frightened me away from painting. But ya know what? Screw that…I will turn 70 in a few months. I’m tired of being afraid – of anything. I’ve lost people that I don’t know how to live without. I’ve lost beloved pets – some of my best life companions, shitloads of money, my sanity more than once…

When I began this blog many years ago I was grieving heavily. I still am. I’ve come to understand that grief is part of my everyday life, and I am so good with that. It’s a portal to an open heart and a remarkable way to live more fully.

Since you have wandered here today, please come back soon. I’m going to explore this world again and I would relish your company, and your input. I plan to write and share ideas, music, books, and most importantly, inspiration. I need more of it, and don’t we all?

“…the insidious, evil, creeping taupe…” – Alexandra Stoddard

“Do something, Susan, even if it’s wrong.” – my Mom, Doris

Dec3

The Willow’s Bow

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“This is the bright home in which I live, this is where I ask my friends to come, this is where I want to love all the things it has taken me so long to learn to love. There is no house like the house of belonging.” – David Whyte

Well, I wanted to write a blog post about the fabulous home of designer Thomas O’Brien showcased in the latest video by Quintessence. But I’m fighting back tears…it has sparked childhood memories of sliding down the banister of my grandparents huge old Tudor in Detroit, shaking out cornstarch on the linoleum so our feet would slide when we danced the Twist, and of watching scary movies at a friend’s renovated old colonial in Birmingham where I used to dog sit the beagles Liberty, Justice and Freedom, and of the smell of old polished wood and ancient roses…and life.

My parents bought a rambling Cape Cod when we five kids were little. It was old by 1960’s standards; the architect had built it for his mother in 1926. I loved that home for many reasons, including the hidden staircase from inside my sister’s bedroom closet to the attic. And the faerie-sized garret doors perfect for squirreling through to hide. But I remember playing hide and seek outdoors most of all, crawling inside the peony shrubs that lined the 400′ lawn between the house and the Detroit River. They were so old, stems so woody, that they were hollow in the center, a natural fort of branches. They had been planted when the house and gardens were new as a frame inside the majestic willow sentinels. Those trees were taller than the fourth story of the house (where my room was in the eaves) and drifted lazily down to the grass. They whispered to me at dusk that everything would be alright; I swear they bowed to me every sunrise. They kept my tender heart swathed in hope and beauty.

As the house let sway the hours of the day, activity increased around me. I heard the movement of a family, sometimes peaceful, sometimes in glorious song together, often engaged in a personal war, always a family. The willows were still. Downstairs my father or my sister practiced on the grand piano in the living room hours on end. Their repetition, their mistakes, unnerving then, are now fond remembrances.

Such an enchanted life we all live, whether or not we realize it in this moment. I am grateful for all of it, all of the struggle and the beauty. Here, I get a sense of it all rushing back to me. I love watching and listening to these two. Thomas is obviously happy to be sharing the home he truly loves. Susanna Salk always puts a smile on my face. She’s such a “tourist” – she gawks and is demonstratively awestruck – as we all would be. And she’s paying attention! There is no pretension or affectation.  She admits she’s embarrassed at just noticing the fireplace two hours into her visit! They both make me feel more creative and more alive by their inspired way of life. Watch closely, you will see the willows in the garden bowing…

 

Oct29

Full Circle

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What seems like a lifetime ago now, I was suffering terrible illness, depression and anxiety. My life was falling apart. Without the support I needed or the means to get away, I began to think of how I could help myself through these dark days…and I remembered a book that had inspired me years prior: The Artist’s Way. I knew I had it somewhere, maybe in a box in the basement. It had not been unpacked since the last move. Perhaps this could help me. It was a good place to start, and I certainly had nothing to lose.

It was the holiday season and life was all busyness. So I set a goal to begin the first of the year. I went to the basement, brushed the construction sawdust off the boxes and found the book, inscribed by the friend who had gifted it to me in 1997. It was now December of 2012. Reverently I carried it up the stairs and set it on my nightstand where I could surely find it after all the hubbub and the visiting family had waned.

Within hours I received an email from another old friend, now a psychologist, who was asking if I would be interested in attending a group study she was about to facilitate –  based on the book The Artist’s Way. When “coincidences” happen like that – which they often do for me – I feel heard, and led, by God. I could hardly wait to go; but more importantly, I knew in that moment I would be alright. In retrospect I must report that I believe this class, and the extraordinary women I would meet there, literally saved my life.

Immediately I began the practice of writing “Morning Pages”, the commitment asked of her students in the book – to journal, first thing upon waking, at least 3 pages a day. One of my favorite diversions from the stress of everyday life at the time was my addiction to interior design magazines, and their new format online: BLOGS! And I decided to write a blog. Not necessarily for sharing, but for the cathartic writing that would pull me out of the darkness.

Well. Here I sit years later, still inept at the technology needed to do this efficiently! But late in 2012 I accidentally learned how to post a video from YouTube to WordPress. And for reasons I cannot fathom today, I posted a video on January 1, 2013, of Tina Turner chanting with children.

Yesterday a Tina Turner video showed up for some weird reason as recommendation after a design video – which I’m STILL addicted to! The dominos of time and space were falling…and so I watched. And became so inspired. I have read news reports lately of her continuing struggle with cancer and poor health. NOTHING keeps this woman down. I learned that she has had a kidney transplant, battled cancer more than once, and lost her beloved son to suicide not long ago. She has overcome more adversity than most of us will ever know, and still she rises. I am in awe. On May 16th, 2018 she was interviewed by Oprah and talks of how, at 73, she is happier than she ever could have imagined. There is hope for us all.

 

Oct3

Chien Lunatique

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This house has been one of my “all-time favs” also…this artist has got it goin’ on. You know she’s living life to the fullest. Susanne gets it: it’s deeply personal. Not being a drinker, I don’t know what much of this stuff is that she’s talking about – but I DO drink Limeade…and am a coffee-holic. I’ve always made coffee ice cubes so my iced coffee doesn’t get diluted. I’m serious.

Anyway, I maintain that all “true beings” love color, Lulu, and that we make far too many compromises in our own love homes. My home is a love home – I love my home, my land, my pets, my bed, my memories, my time here , my sweet, sweet life…

“Color is my daylong obsession, joy, and torment.” – Claude Monet