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.
Jul1

NO is a complete sentence.

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“I am not knowing,” my southern grandmother Mimi used to respond when she didn’t know the answer to our constant inquiries. You or I would say, “I don’t know.” Or more likely, “dunno.” Mimi was effortlessly – even accidentally, elegant. So she was not knowing.

Needing to know is a scam. Needing to know what’s next, what to be when we grow up, what to do with our life…our “purpose”……ONE BIG SCAM. It’s the invisible CULT mentality of BELONGING scam. It is the insidious, evil programming of the hustle culture; meant to keep us enslaved. It’s grooming us to identify ourselves with a job, a career, a political party, or even a marriage. To whittle ourselves down to fit. To value ourselves for what we do. If, in your infinite failure to be enough, you become an alcoholic or an addict, well…bonus for the cult.

Drop your beliefs. They’re chains. Find your true value within yourself. Value yourself as a verb, and trust your becoming. YOUR true value is in being you, right here, right now. You LITERALLY ARE a work in progress. That is your purpose, P E R I O D. Breathe. God does not make mistakes. You were born. You have every right to be you. End of story. Figure yourself out, don’t figure yourself out…all within your right. I’ve been saying this all my adult life – but not living the truth of it. Still trying to fit in. Still trying to figure out what to do with myself. Still trying.

And until I feel like I want to whisper “YES!” to something, I will practice saying NO to what I don’t want. “No” is a complete sentence. I am so over explaining myself. Find your own why; I am not knowing. I am, however, infinitely curious. Aren’t you? I’ve gone from the immaturity of wondering why I am here to asking better questions, like, what do I really want? I’m trusting God knows why I’m here and therefore I don’t need to know. I don’t owe anyone a version of myself that makes them comfortable. The only person I owe anything is myself. All my debts are paid, seen and unseen.

My darling, sweet Mother used to say to me, “Do something, Susan, even if it’s wrong.” She meant help with the housework, of course! That was her conditioning speaking. In truth, she would never feel like she was enough. She would busy herself to death. What I wouldn’t give for one more conversation, but how would I ever manage to convince her that she was so much more than enough?

Also when I was a bratty teenager, same said darling Mother used to say, “Learn how to spell GURU and you’ll never need one.” G-U-R-U.

Jun29

“you’re my friend kind of…”

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“I am restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again…” – Anais Nin

This morning I told a friend that I must have accidentally opened some energy portal – and it has mistakenly been taken as availability by several needy people in my life. Perhaps you have experienced this phenomena. After weeks or months of silence people are all calling all at once, wanting time, attention, and even money. You sent out a psychic signal and they got the message that you might be hangin’ around waiting to hear from them…or some cosmic signal telepathically invited them all to call the same day. Weird.

According to Melody Beattie (Codependent No More) who I respect immeasurably, I am categorically a master codependent. In recovery now! In recovery! Agggghhhhhhhh….a lifelong practice, I’m sure. It was not until I finally – and painstakingly – extricated myself from narcissistic abuse at the age of 60 that I even began to have any appreciation for solitude. Oh, I had been pursuing it all of my life. Literally since childhood. But I would not achieve it until I lived alone, for the very first time, in my 60’s. And now it is precious. In fact, required.

And I am still naive about protecting my solitude. About keeping the demons of narcissism and codependency (yes, they are psychic siblings) at bay. IF there is any smidgen of hope to live a creative life, I must defend my boundaries and channel my inner Hushpuppy. I must face the mythic Aurochs. I gotta take care of mine.

This week was my brother Ward’s birthday. He would have turned 64. That same day my neighbor and friend Hal died; he was my age, 71. He reminded me of my brother. They both understood animals better than people. Soft spoken and kind, in many ways they were too good for this world. I am grieving and sad. I miss my brother. Maybe that was the psychic memo I sent out. But I am not lonely. I am not afraid. I am strong and infinitely guided; “blessed and highly favored.”

And so I will keep to myself for now. I apologize that I don’t respond quickly; I am currently unavailable. I will read and draw and “potter” about the garden and hang with my cat. Heal. And carry on.

Jun24

the temple of my belonging

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Well, it’s been Crisis Intervention 101 here again. S’always sumpin, innit? But we’re through it intact and life is calming down. And cooling down, finally. Although we are still at 98% humidity. Normal for Michigan this time of year. As we say here, we only have two seasons – winter and July. July just began a week early. The crowd of tourists are all back in town. So I avoid town. They do serve to remind me to get out and enjoy the beauty around me.

This is the draw, and I’m so close to the shore that I can see the tip-top of a 400′ sand bluff from the bottom of the driveway (above the trees). It’s about 1/4 mile to the lake as the crow flies, or a mile downhill to the beach. I love my views, downhill in 3 directions. I have one immediate neighbor to the north, but this is a weekend summer home for them. Because I don’t have many windows on the north wall, I often realize they’ve been and gone only because they set out their trash bin at the street for Monday morning, and I gladly roll it back up the drive for them. They do many nice things for me, like mowing the back 40. I may struggle financially, but I am wealthy beyond measure surrounded in this beauty.

If I’m honest, it is a constant worry that I no longer seem to have the physical strength or financial means to maintain my home or property. We are both tired and worn. So often I will look at the real estate online to see what I might find that would be easier to grow old in. But every time I become overwhelmed with sadness. I love my home; I just want to take proper care of it. I love where I live. The ashes of my sweet pups are buried in the garden, their final romping place. My elderly kitty is the mighty king of his domain and I’d love him to live out his days here. It’s quiet and peaceful and safe. And the roof has started to leak…

I’ve often wondered why home means so much to me. Other people I know seem far less attached emotionally to the place where they dwell. In my dreams I am frequently in my childhood home on the Detroit River, long expanse of lawn lined with 3-story-high willows swaying in the breeze. Hundreds of peony shrubs perfuming the air, sunrise over the river. In a surreal way I felt somehow more connected to the natural surroundings than the people I lived with. There’s more than a few therapy sessions needed to unpack that realization!

And in hindsight I confess that I stayed far too long in an abusive marriage because I didn’t want to give up my home. Home. It’s really all I have ever longed for…a home of my own. Heaven for beginners.

Jun10

Are you all in?!

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So, since I have recently been through yet another health crisis (tired of reading about it? WOW, am I ever tired of talking about it!) I have been researching natural healing modalities. And spiritual healing for my symptoms, particularly auto-immune diseases that affect the eyes. And my YouTube feed, ever trying to find something to sell, has suddenly evolved to include spiritual healing channels. Another AI generated video caught my attention today. It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the eyes…but my spirit has been trying to teach me to “fall apart at the SEEMS” for years now.

One of the secondary issues with spending far too much time incapacitated is that my tailbone hurts. My back is stiff and the aches and pains seem to make a rotation throughout my joints. For the most part I ignore them. They are not the source of my dis-ease, and I want to get to the source – because I want a cure. But my tailbone is painful. I have to carry my little donut cushion around with me if I want to sit.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I think medicine is full of miracles, too. I am still going to see a rheumatologist and may end up taking the heavy hitters, the biologic injections. Meanwhile, I will begin here, with all the natural self care steps, and continue my quest for healing on all levels.

When my son was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma as a teen, I wanted him to do all that medicine had to offer. One of the reasons that Hodgkin’s has a high success rate is because they treat it so aggressively. Surgery if possible (which he had) followed by maximum chemo and radiation. They bombard the body with all the poison it can possibly handle. He still lives with some of the negative side effects – but he’s LIVING.

At the time, my sisters fundamentalist church offered him a healing prayer session. He took it, of course. We were asked to attend a service on Sunday and to stay after to meet with a group of practiced prayer healers. Standing at the front of the sanctuary they encircled him, laying hands all over his upper body and praying quietly. But apparently one of the prayer leaders had left the room immediately after service. And suddenly he walked back in, walked quickly up to Steven as the group allowed him in, aggressively banged his palms onto Steven’s chest and let out a roar. Steven said he felt the cancer leave out through his back. And that was the moment he knew he was cured. He KNEW. He still went through all the grueling treatments. Because healing is not an either/or, half-assed attempt at life. It’s all or nothing.

Jun9

you don’t have to live like a refuge

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“If you feel insane in an insane world, it means you are sane.” – Rudolf Steiner

I don’t usually watch an AI created video like this one. They tend to give me the willies. But something (perhaps the artwork) compelled me listen this morning – and it’s message, while not new, is succinct here. I’m in the wrong world. I have felt this way since I can remember, certainly since early childhood. I’m guessing that if you are reading this blog you do, too.

The good news is that my soul has never fallen back to sleep (not for lack of trying.) The bad news is that my soul has never fallen back to sleep. Just kidding; I’ll always choose my soul and all the pain and heartache I feel over complacency and robot-itis. I’m a rebel no longer in disguise.

Turns out Steiner gave this phenomena a name: anthroposophy. The Oxford dictionary describes this as “a therapeutic, creative system…seeking to use mainly natural means to optimize physical and mental health and well-being.” I call it self acceptance.

Yes, my world view is idealistic. Deal with it. And this is the thing: I think it comes with age, and perhaps also emotional maturity (which has nothing to do with age.) Or as I’ve been telling my gaslighting family for decades: I choose my crazy.

Jun5

…and smoke.

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Petrichor and lilacs…and smoke. The rain let up yesterday evening, and today we have had to close up the house. Despite delightfully cool temperatures, the air is thick with the smoke from the Canadian wildfires. I have gone from loving the smell of the rain and blooming lilacs to an air quality advisory. Now the weather report includes the “smoke map.” The stars are no longer visible in the night sky.

“Sensitive groups, such as those with respiratory issues, are advised to take precautions.” Like what?! Stop breathing?! Suddenly (or not) the world has become a scary place. I don’t say that lightly; it is not lost on me that it long has been for many people. Let alone nature. God help us.

It is five a.m. as I write this. Later this morning my air conditioners will be installed and run – not to cool the house (the current outside temperature is fifty degrees) – but to filter the air. Many people here live without air conditioning as it isn’t frequently needed. Or, I should say, wasn’t. Again, the privilege not being lost on me. It’s the wildlife I’m most concerned with. Especially the birds. Especially the migrating birds, heading north this time of year to summer in Canada. Where do they go now? I fear that I sound ridiculously naive, and perhaps I am…perhaps I am…

And so, fear triggers in me a reminder to pull back. Pull my energy back into my body and focus on the present moment. Remember that each breath is a sacred gift. If again I sound naive, so be it. I am reminded by Tiokisin Ghosthorse that it is not so much my lungs that I should be concerned with. It’s my heart. My heart hurts.

Jun4

petrichor and lilacs

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My son says, “It is always a Michigan June in heaven.” It’s been a chilly spring. The heat is running this morning in the first week of June. We had dramatic thunderstorms last night and it’s still raining. But I keep a window cracked so I can smell the rain soaked earth. And the lilacs are blooming.

The lilac shrub out back is half the size of the house. I suspect it was planted around the time the house was built, which was 1955. It was traditional at that time to plant lilacs next to the driveway to welcome guests. The driveway has since been moved and the lilacs have flourished. They are spectacular.

I am in bed this morning with a vase full of them on the nightstand, coffee and my laptop, writing to you. Finally, having again been chronically ill for the last few weeks. I am better, but not well. This time I cannot avoid the doctor’s argument that I need to travel to see a specialist. I can cope with pain, but my eyesight is at stake. And let’s face it – the most qualified and well intended medical professionals still don’t have much to offer. The rheumatologist recommends I take a biologic. It is a treatment for symptoms; I want a cure. I’m stubborn like that.

But this morning I lay here breathing in the smell of rain and lilacs. The well fed fat cat is trilling and rolling around upside down on the floor. My son is here making blueberry pancakes and bacon for breakfast. Don’t tell me this isn’t heaven.

May12

treat the world like a scavenger hunt

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“God is in the details.” – Mies van der Rohe

Our creativity got hijacked. I would maybe say that differently: mine got kidnapped and held for ransom. However, I am ever more reminded how it does not go away; it lies quietly dormant waiting to be joyously and exuberantly remembered. Treat the world – LIFE – like a scavenger hunt. Because it is.

Susan’s Scavenger Hunt for you today: find these 5 things: 1) something you are proud of, 2) something you would happily do again, 3) five consecutive minutes of peaceful thought, 4) a stream of light where you didn’t expect it, and 5) a gentle sound from nearby.

AND, one extra: find the color of your eyes in something today.

May11

everybody worships

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It isn’t news to any of us that there is a fine line between self-aware and self-absorbed. Statistically social science tells us that we all think we are more self-aware than we actually are. That makes sense, of course. We all have unconscious blinders, aka childhood and cultural conditioning, that prevent us from seeing ourselves accurately. That’s why we are here in this clutzy animal body inhabiting our life as if we understand what’s going on here. I don’t know about you, but I feel increasingly clueless. Not for lack of trying to grow and become more conscious. It is, after all, the only dance in town. The unexamined life is not worth living, as Socrates said.

This blog has saved my life too many times to count over the years, both my physical and mental well-being. I cannot find words to express my gratitude for your readership; it is a huge privilege. But I struggle every single time I sit down at the keyboard to spill my guts here. It feels so self indulgent. My constant hope is that you each find something useful or insightful for your own well being. And I know that I repeat myself a lot. I find it near impossible to believe that I have anything interesting to say. I wish you’d all ask questions or comment about your interests.

Today I’m feeling particularly vulnerable. So I will revert back to sharing an old video I’ve shared before. I watch it from time to time just to remind myself that this is all sacred.

May10

and I just ain’t got the time

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“A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer; it sings because it has a song.” – Maya Angelou

Recently I wrote that my mojo was missing like Car 54…and then I wrote nothing for weeks. I had nothing. Crickets. Where does it go, the muse, the inspiration, the energy…life? In the barometer of my body it feels to have dropped…way down deep inside. And it feels like death. Well, not that I know what death feels like, although I’ve been close a few times. But it feels something has stopped breathing. It’s hibernating. It can’t be prodded or cajoled to surface; I have to wait until it – she – crawls out from under the covers. It’s always tentative at first. Shy. Vulnerable. Immature.

Music is often the ladder I climb out of that dark womb back to the misty surface of the early morning light. Many years ago a friend told me I have a musical heart, and I think I always have. I come from a family of musicians. I don’t seem to have any talent there, but I often dream in song.

The first time I heard Stevie Winwood’s haunting voice my soul recognized a fellow spirit. That’s what good art does. It wakes something hiding deep inside. How many times did I experience Stevie Winwood in concert? Spencer Davis Group, Blind Faith (at the Grande Ballroom?) Traffic at Joe Louis Arena – The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys tour in 1972 (the year I graduated high school.) I went to hear him. Not Eric Clapton, or Ginger Baker.

Sing to me, Stevie. I’m all alone in this cage, and somebody holds the key…