Today's path. Seeing.

A different path, today, and some of yesterday's metaphors are still alive and well: protective guards and boundaries, an openended way ahead, important (for the picture) shadows.
What strikes me in this photo is that the boundary (railing on the right), while seemingly solid and straightforward, when it's reflected on the pathway, seems flexible and malleable, and how it shows up the paths' undulating levels. The path, without those shadows, from my perspective holding the camera that day, seemed pretty flat and steady until I woke up and realised how differentiated and interesting the surface really was/is.
When I took the photo - with some excitement, I'll admit, those visual effects were all I was noticing. Not the fact that I was including some space on the other side of the railing in my composition; not the really rigid wall-of-guardrail on the left that tolerates no wavering or alternatives; certainly not the metaphors I'm playing with now. I find it wonderful to notice now as I really look at my photo, that even the London cityscape designers saw the importance of 'my path' and highlighted it in different brickwork to separate it visually from the red-brick laneway; as if they know too that it's 'merely' a case of me putting one foot in front of the other and seeing where that takes me.

This morning, for instance, I found myself sketching - for the first time in my life, out of the blue as it were except that last week I'd bought myself a how-to-draw (for beginners) book. I had noticed last week in my beginners' painting class that I don't know how to really see what I'm looking at (in order to paint it); I don't even know where to start, except slowly and carefully. So in addition to realising that that bit of wisdom was such a fractal of what goes on in my life outside the painting classroom where I have typically seen what I’ve expected to see – and not necessarily seen what’s actually there and happening, I’m resolved to get better at seeing as clearly/accurately/truthfully as possibly – in all aspects of my life. And external assistance seemed like a good place to start as I ‘don’t have all day’ to get the basics of SEEING in order to draw/paint under my belt! Meanwhile I’m more aware of actually seeing, not projecting, what’s going on around me, and for that matter, inside of me. All good, no?
In putting some of the how-to hints into practice, I was intrigued to see an acceptable likeness of my azalea-in-a-pot appear on my page - all because I was paying attention to the important lines, angles and sizes and taking the time to calmly place my pencil on the page and pull it firmly in a direction that seemed to be calling it. It’s fun to learn a new skill, exciting to explore another thing that I didn’t know I didn’t know.
At this point, I still prefer my photos to my “paintings’ such as they are, but that’s unimportant . .. . It’s not a finite game., after all, is it? The possibilities are unlimited as long as I stay on the playing field. And there’s something about actually physically moving the lead, or the paint, across the page – the sound, smell, wetness/dryness, and seeing where that takes the ‘work’ - that is more satisfying for me right now than clicking a metal button attached to a black box with a big black eye followed by sitting in front of a computer screen adjusting the colours by clicking on the keyboard. The once-removed-ness of digital photography just doesn’t cut it right now; I’m exploring getting my fingers dirty and really enjoying the surprises I create, the boundaries I choose, the protective walls I (still) like knowing exist, and of course, the path.

Possible ways of seeing things? Distortions? Myths?

Instead of zooming down the highway to a friend's funeral in Montreal, I'm HERE looking at the freezing rain fall and wondering about the invitation to NOT go to the funeral (extended by by the weather) i.e. the invitation to consider my shoulds and coulds and to mindfully choose what serves ME. Having agreed with my husband that NOT going was truly an option for us, and makes total sense today, we then started a lengthy discussion about how we'd celebrate (or not) our 40th wedding anniversary and my 60th birthday next November - and lots of the shoulds and coulds attached to that - ranging from losing touch with one's extended family if we don't include them, the anticipated void that could ensue if we didn't keep up contact. Amazing how we create (take?) opportunities for meaningful discussions at surprising moments.
Lots of the focus of the shoulds, ought tos and related fears were about S's beliefs and rules, but I realise that when I'm talking 'with him' it's me talking to myself too. We delved into standing alone without the prop of 'family',, whether our siblings are still part of who we believe ourselves to be or if it's an image of ourself that we're maintaining in order to flesh out a diminished view we have of ourselves. If there's a void when we don't have a family around us.
If/when I start using I instead of WE here . . . The difference in my position from S's on this is that I am realising that I've actually stopped propping myself up with identities of family member, sister or brother. At least MOST of the time (when I stay awake) I'm ME, still friendly with my siblings but as me, not as the sister of P. It's a one-on-one situation iin this position and it's very liberating . . . most of my shoulds have fallen away as a result, the remaining ones I keep as values (respect, empathy, compassion) that I embrace for ME regardless of whether it's my siblings, my friends - or people I don't really know. These values affect how I interact with them and it's my choice to let them guide me. I think the difference is a stronger awareness of ME and of my boundaries, now; in the 'family' situation, and if I'm honest, with friends too, I had lost them and was too willing to mesh with the group or the other (believing it necessary for acceptance, love etc.), In fact, I was losing myself, becoming invisible. As I write, it's clear to me that I'm saying that these are values for me when dealing with others . . . What about me and ME? do I have respect, compassion for myself? Not enough! I can quickly lose myself in reverting back to old shoulds and ought tos; in fact propping myself up with rules.
I know I can 'risk' dropping them, and seeing what emerges . . . when I do it, it works! It's wonderful, liberating, and allows expansion and exploration.
The paradoxes! Such as standing alone and not being alone, stronger boundaries that create bigger spaces: the void after exploding the myth of Family as a prop and realising it was a myth and thus there's no new void; boundaries and edges.

Over the last few days, I've been focussing on and meaning to write down many thoughts that occur when I see this photo I took in London in January.
Until right now, I'd been seeing the path; thinking about 'paths' and going forward and speed and movement and lots more; and the importance of the protective railing in this picture for the picture - and of course the swoops in the stones that change/distort the guardrail; and the importance (for me) of protective guards. And I've been getting really curious about THAT, and about the fact that I just clicked on this shot when I saw it and how amazing my higherSelf is to know that I'd find so much meat on the bones of this image. Today I realise that the photo can also open the door to further musing about boundaries. When are guardrails protecting me from a (perceived) danger, or hemming me in, or allowing me to walk with more certainty as I have more awareness of where I want to be (what my boundaries are)? And I thought I'd been taking numerous photos of pathways (it was out of my awareness that I'd been taking so many on that theme until I review my image library, recently) because I delight in the visual image I see, in the unendingness of the path itself, and in the geometry of the composition, and in the distortion or complications that shadows often create! Was I also inviting myself to see the edges of the paths too, and the clear definition route coupled with the unspecifity of the destination? Good 'work', Lucy! - that just spilled off the fingers of someone (ME) who thinks she doesn't know how to play! In truth, that work I'm patting my back for was actually huge fun and I've just caught in the act of merrily showing myself another one of my myths: that 'playing isn't me'? And I've believed it. This is fodder for another blog, I can feel it.

Time Inbetween

A momentary lull in my day, and I’m drawn to writing, without any idea what. – As I wrote ‘lull’ I instantly wondered why I don’t consider lots more of my time ‘a lull”. By outward appearances, it must seem to many people that I have loads of lulls in my day/week. Who knows, and who cares.
What’s lull-like for ME in this moment; why is lots of my day not lullish? I think it’s a perception, a sense of enough space, an internal measurement of ‘enough time’, an unspecified moment or event between tasks, actions, events. It has an ‘unallocated’ nature that includes a sense of freedom and luxury for me. And it’s linked to guilt, I’m realizing as I write, because lulls are unproductive of course! And inefficient. And in my culturally conditioned beliefs, ‘wasting time’ is never a good thing. Is that why when I’m about to enter a lull, when I sense there might be short unallocated period of time ahead of me, now that I’m more aware of my body, I notice a sinking at the pit of my stomach, an unpleasant feeling? And quickly decide to DO SOMETHING, whether it’s urgent or not, even necessary or not, to fill that space, to relief the uncomfortable sensation in my body?

Stolen . . . leaps to mind. Lulls, if I let them happen, can also seem like down-time that I've taken illicitly, something that must to be hidden from others, or camouflaged in a cloak of usefulness of some sort. Sort of selfish time, time for myself - o no! time. Oouufff. I wasn't aware of this piece of cumbersome baggage I carry! No wonder I have a hard time goofing-off, luxuriating or playing . . . if I have to hide it, cover it up, pretend. Who's ever enjoyed being stealthily playful? Seems like an oxymoron. I realise now that probably somewhere inside I've been equating playtime with an extended lull.

The word choice just flashed into my mind – Of course! Lulls can be choice points – major or minor, but moments when I can actually mindfully choose where to put my next step – if I don’t just fill them quickly to distract myself from the chance to choose. They can be moments to savour the flavour of my life and to change the direction/flow if the current taste isn’t working for me. I can create lulls, allow lulls to happen; I don’t need to avoid lulls or to shorten the lull-time in between ‘tasks’ or events. I don’t need to kid myself that I’m worthy because I’m efficient, effective, I’m accomplishing something - because I’d learned that doing something is ‘good’ and that time not-getting-something-done is wasted/bad. What a crazy belief! Yes, time is precious, yes MY time as me on this planet will run out AND yes I can spend it in ways that I choose to, that serve me. I can even play. I can waste it if that’s what others call what I’m doing (i.e. not doing). I won’t feel uncomfortable/naughty anymore. I'm hoping this isn't just a 'resolution' in my head i.e. I hope this is moving through my cells as I write - something is! Another layer of the guilt vs. luxuriate/enjoy millefeuille that I am?
This lull has served me . . . I’ve learned a bit more about my limiting beliefs. It’s been a Good Lull. I’m going to bring ‘em on and indulge! Notice lulls and play with them, see them for what they are, not for what I’ve believed for so long that they represent and say about me.