My fourth painting is on it's way... It's similar to the one with the Raven and the Dove: that's sort of an homage to David and I.
It's about Transformation, although it's hard for my consciousness to put a description into words.
I've been so busy the last few weeks, it frustrates me a bit that I can't update this as often as I want to. However, my internet training certainly takes a lot of my brain energy up. I don't want to add more pressure by expecting me to get done everything else on top of that. However, the worst is over as I have passed the written exam by 80%.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
THE WHITE HORSE: Feb 22, 2008
The child tells only
the white horse
who listens
keeping secrets
safe
inside a
free and gentle spirit
sweeter than honeysuckle
stronger than truth
steadier than the horizon
The White Horse
runs like the wind
mane flying
like water against time
when the child
hears the footsteps
coming in the dark
She runs away
until she becomes
a white speck
a star
against
a black sky
too hard to track
hidden amongst
clouded constellations
--------------------------------------
I think this is can be related to being disassociated while being molested, but also at other times when the verbal abuse from mom was a bit too much. I simply went somewhere else. I was safe there. The White Horse is a symbol of my spirit, and it retreated into some corner of my being or my mind, which is possibly why I escaped relatively unscathed from my past. It's just been lately that this 'White Horse' has been, shall we say, coming out of hiding. Or my unconscious resurfacing to consciousness. And it really bothers me sometimes still, although not so much now that I've had another look at it instead of trying to repress it again.
the white horse
who listens
keeping secrets
safe
inside a
free and gentle spirit
sweeter than honeysuckle
stronger than truth
steadier than the horizon
The White Horse
runs like the wind
mane flying
like water against time
when the child
hears the footsteps
coming in the dark
She runs away
until she becomes
a white speck
a star
against
a black sky
too hard to track
hidden amongst
clouded constellations
--------------------------------------
I think this is can be related to being disassociated while being molested, but also at other times when the verbal abuse from mom was a bit too much. I simply went somewhere else. I was safe there. The White Horse is a symbol of my spirit, and it retreated into some corner of my being or my mind, which is possibly why I escaped relatively unscathed from my past. It's just been lately that this 'White Horse' has been, shall we say, coming out of hiding. Or my unconscious resurfacing to consciousness. And it really bothers me sometimes still, although not so much now that I've had another look at it instead of trying to repress it again.
PREDATOR: Feb 19, 2008
What Scent
draws the rabid creature?
Its transparent skin burns
from the sunshine in a
lamb's bright eyes.
Was it the same for the
Piper's children
as it was for me?
Lured with guile
and strategy
right under everyone's noses
exposed under shelter of night
hidden in the dark of secrecy.
Fearful promises
become binding contracts.
"No one will believe you."
Learning helplessness
looking into the jailer's eyes.
How long did the predator
watch and circle
before deciding to strike?
Sneaking
with sick appetite.
What missing piece of mind
or spiritual lesion
makes it drool,
tongue hanging out?
How can it stomach
swallowing Innocence,
feel it slide down slowly
as it laps up another
soul dry?
Makes me sick enough
to want to hunt them all down
rip open their skeins
and let all the poison
drain from their reptillian
black veins and force
it down their own swollen throats
until it eats through
their stomachs
and it kills them dead.
But instead of wasting
precious time dissecting and
playing with those
vermin
I would hope to set about
bringing its victims
back from the dead.
Salvage and triage
after they've been freed
from their cages.
Give them hope to put
some of the Light back in their eyes.
------------------------------------------
This was in response to some newspaper articles that I read regarding those bastards who victimize children.
draws the rabid creature?
Its transparent skin burns
from the sunshine in a
lamb's bright eyes.
Was it the same for the
Piper's children
as it was for me?
Lured with guile
and strategy
right under everyone's noses
exposed under shelter of night
hidden in the dark of secrecy.
Fearful promises
become binding contracts.
"No one will believe you."
Learning helplessness
looking into the jailer's eyes.
How long did the predator
watch and circle
before deciding to strike?
Sneaking
with sick appetite.
What missing piece of mind
or spiritual lesion
makes it drool,
tongue hanging out?
How can it stomach
swallowing Innocence,
feel it slide down slowly
as it laps up another
soul dry?
Makes me sick enough
to want to hunt them all down
rip open their skeins
and let all the poison
drain from their reptillian
black veins and force
it down their own swollen throats
until it eats through
their stomachs
and it kills them dead.
But instead of wasting
precious time dissecting and
playing with those
vermin
I would hope to set about
bringing its victims
back from the dead.
Salvage and triage
after they've been freed
from their cages.
Give them hope to put
some of the Light back in their eyes.
------------------------------------------
This was in response to some newspaper articles that I read regarding those bastards who victimize children.
DRAGONFEATHER: Jan 31, 2008
The Dragon clutches
the Magic Feather:
he has been torn from
her grasp more than once.
She guards him from the Wind.
The soft touch soothes the Beast:
she feels bouyant,
can't fly without him.
The Plume's
weightlessness
makes the Serpent
mountainous;
his delicate flimsiness
turns her into titanium-steel.
He only seems to bend
under the strain of her.
She uses this Quill to write
her-stories,
dips him in her ever-rushing wound
to make them
his-stories.
Embellishes, adds the Fiction
to make it seem
strange, like Truth.
The Feather
quivers,
afraid the Dragon
will discover he's
just a moulted feather,
fallen
not even from the wings of a Dove
but some dying Albatross.
-----------------------------------------
In case it wasn't obvious, the Dragon refers to Mother and the Feather refers to Father. Mother controls all that Father sees; she is his filter on reality and her filter is defective. If he were stronger, perhaps he would've been able to see things with his own eyes instead of hers. He would see THROUGH her instead of AS her.
the Magic Feather:
he has been torn from
her grasp more than once.
She guards him from the Wind.
The soft touch soothes the Beast:
she feels bouyant,
can't fly without him.
The Plume's
weightlessness
makes the Serpent
mountainous;
his delicate flimsiness
turns her into titanium-steel.
He only seems to bend
under the strain of her.
She uses this Quill to write
her-stories,
dips him in her ever-rushing wound
to make them
his-stories.
Embellishes, adds the Fiction
to make it seem
strange, like Truth.
The Feather
quivers,
afraid the Dragon
will discover he's
just a moulted feather,
fallen
not even from the wings of a Dove
but some dying Albatross.
-----------------------------------------
In case it wasn't obvious, the Dragon refers to Mother and the Feather refers to Father. Mother controls all that Father sees; she is his filter on reality and her filter is defective. If he were stronger, perhaps he would've been able to see things with his own eyes instead of hers. He would see THROUGH her instead of AS her.
My New Public Website
Well, this seems appropriate. Only those who know me and those that I trust thoroughly have access to this site because they already know me well enough anyway... They, at least, are more familiar with my 'dark side' but because I've been encouraged to take a risk and publicize my art - the images that really expose something about me, not the images that hide something about me, or only show one side of my imagination.
I really can't describe how it feels to finally have a mentor that hasn't let me down. It's completely... different to be able to depend on someone that way. Ah, transference! lol Don't get me wrong, I look up to my husband and we are a team to be reckoned with. But I think we both thrive better emotionally having someone we can both look up to and feel safe with.
Anyway, I have been collecting the images I have been doing since the 80s in sketchbooks and placing a majority of them on the public site, but there are things that I feel cannot be seen on the public site, so those will remain here. I also have some... I guess you could call it poetry... or ramblings. Words I put down on paper to clear my head and make sense of things. Those will be put on this site eventually as well.
Because my dark side is a little more chaotic, this site will reflect that a little. Things may be posted out of order chronologically. But I'm more at ease to leave things that way on this site, than the other public website.
Bear with me, because these images take quite some time to scan/photograph, edit & transfer from one program to another.
I really can't describe how it feels to finally have a mentor that hasn't let me down. It's completely... different to be able to depend on someone that way. Ah, transference! lol Don't get me wrong, I look up to my husband and we are a team to be reckoned with. But I think we both thrive better emotionally having someone we can both look up to and feel safe with.
Anyway, I have been collecting the images I have been doing since the 80s in sketchbooks and placing a majority of them on the public site, but there are things that I feel cannot be seen on the public site, so those will remain here. I also have some... I guess you could call it poetry... or ramblings. Words I put down on paper to clear my head and make sense of things. Those will be put on this site eventually as well.
Because my dark side is a little more chaotic, this site will reflect that a little. Things may be posted out of order chronologically. But I'm more at ease to leave things that way on this site, than the other public website.
Bear with me, because these images take quite some time to scan/photograph, edit & transfer from one program to another.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Dear Mom & Dad:
Mom and Dad, the reason you are receiving this letter is that I prefer to get out all that I have to say at once.
It seems that I have been going through some changes internally. They feel like healthy changes. I need some space from you both for a while. I don't know for how long, but this is necessary for me. I don't feel good about myself when I am around you. I don't feel good about you when I am around you.
Mom, to me, it feels as though you think I am still a child, even though I am nearly forty years old. Although you tend to have good days and bad, you are still not stable or predictable enough for me to feel like I can relax around you.
The minute I open up my feelings about something, or about my life troubles, instead of offering some encouraging words or a hug, I am deluged with unsolicited advice. I'm not completely broken, I can fix things myself: you would do me some credit if you could see that.
It also bothers me that I cannot disagree with you, or if I don't take your advice you take it personally. I feel invaded sometimes, because you come swooping in, even when I don't need rescuing. My belief is that it is because of things that happened to you in your childhood. Then you don't seem to understand that you have over-stepped boundaries or behaved inappropriately.
You can't seem admit to yourself to reality that you are in the wrong: instead you only feel the hurt of rejection. You don't tell dad what you did to solicit a negative reaction, you only tell him how you felt when that person reacted negatively to your unwanted behaviour. And he always takes your side: this has always felt like a kind of betrayal, at least to me. Some things you hide so deeply that you do not see them in yourself anymore. Instead you seem to see them in everyone else. If you'd listen, you'd hear a voice within yourself wanting so badly to help yourself, but you don't. You ignore yourself, but see in yourself what needs fixing in everyone else's life instead of your own. This drives people away. I think you would benefit from therapy, as I have done.
It opens up some old wounds, but it's part of the cleansing. It's so much healthier than ignoring it, pretending that you are invincible and nothing can hurt you. I was like you. I never admitted to myself that I was worthy of standing up for. People would treat me terribly, and I would take it and take it. Like I did so well when I was a child, I buried the feeling of hurt and pain so deeply.
Now I am feeling everything a lot more. I let myself feel when you tell me things that upset me. I still don't let on when you act inappropriately, because I have learned from the past that you won't listen. I have tried to tell you so many times before, but again, you are blind to your own issues and always the finger points back onto me - I was tired, or I was menstruating, or you misunderstood what I meant. However, this unshielding of my real feelings, paradoxically, allows me to protect myself.
I feel a lot of anger that I have to deal with. Some of it, fairly or unfairly, is directed at you. Some of it is directed at Dad. Some at Ward. Some of it is at Everything that led up to what happened with Ward... That is to say, the whole Chain Reaction: alcohol, hiding mental illness/pedophilia in our family. It's a bit overwhelming, but yet at the same time it feels really really freeing, because I'm FEELING something. I may be flawed, but I'm not fake. I'm leaving my safe nest. I feel a bit awkward, and a bit panicky sometimes, but there always seems to be a branch below me upon which to rest if I can't keep my altitude.
Dad, although you perhaps didn't mean to, you have been engulfed by mom's strong personality. You have strength, somewhere deep inside, but you don't seem to want to use it. I think you fear losing mom. This passiveness doesn't help you, nor does it help mom or me. I really needed someone to stand up for me. Instead you took her side. I really needed you. Instead you ran away.
So, for now, I would like you both to mull what I have written over. Talk to each other about it. Remember that I say this in the most loving way you can imagine. Mom, I'm your daughter, but I don't know if I've ever had a mother-daughter relationship with you. But your idea of what a mother/daughter should be seems to differ so far from what my vision is.
A mother, to me, is someone who mentors, who encourages. Mother may judge what her daughter looks like, who she's married to or hangs out with, what she wears or what she eats: but Mother doesn't comment on these things directly to her daughter or to her other family members. If you can't say something nice, or think something nice, no one is really going to benefit from hurtful or arbitrary comments. A mother respects her daughter's space and doesn't give unsolicited advice. A mother respects her daughter and lets her make her own decisions.
A landlord is not a mother. If we had a normal Landlord relationship, there were several times I would have reported you to the Rentalsman in the last few years. You, on the other hand, would have made speedy repairs and not told us to pay for minor repairs, nor would you have asked us to spy on your other renters, or contact them for you. You also would not tell someone you are renting from on how they should shower. You do not honour contracts with us. Yet you offer us 'gifts' that turn out to be more of a contractual/conditional cage. You also are know to change your mind and change the rules to your own advantage later on.
This type of relationship needs to stop. It's enmeshment. David and I need a break from this. Wait until (specified date) and we will call you. If you attempt to contact us first, we will extend the date by another (specified time). We don't want you calling us every week or every month. We need a clean break: an alotted time where we can sort out everything emotionally without any interference, no matter how well-meaning, from you or dad.
It seems that I have been going through some changes internally. They feel like healthy changes. I need some space from you both for a while. I don't know for how long, but this is necessary for me. I don't feel good about myself when I am around you. I don't feel good about you when I am around you.
Mom, to me, it feels as though you think I am still a child, even though I am nearly forty years old. Although you tend to have good days and bad, you are still not stable or predictable enough for me to feel like I can relax around you.
The minute I open up my feelings about something, or about my life troubles, instead of offering some encouraging words or a hug, I am deluged with unsolicited advice. I'm not completely broken, I can fix things myself: you would do me some credit if you could see that.
It also bothers me that I cannot disagree with you, or if I don't take your advice you take it personally. I feel invaded sometimes, because you come swooping in, even when I don't need rescuing. My belief is that it is because of things that happened to you in your childhood. Then you don't seem to understand that you have over-stepped boundaries or behaved inappropriately.
You can't seem admit to yourself to reality that you are in the wrong: instead you only feel the hurt of rejection. You don't tell dad what you did to solicit a negative reaction, you only tell him how you felt when that person reacted negatively to your unwanted behaviour. And he always takes your side: this has always felt like a kind of betrayal, at least to me. Some things you hide so deeply that you do not see them in yourself anymore. Instead you seem to see them in everyone else. If you'd listen, you'd hear a voice within yourself wanting so badly to help yourself, but you don't. You ignore yourself, but see in yourself what needs fixing in everyone else's life instead of your own. This drives people away. I think you would benefit from therapy, as I have done.
It opens up some old wounds, but it's part of the cleansing. It's so much healthier than ignoring it, pretending that you are invincible and nothing can hurt you. I was like you. I never admitted to myself that I was worthy of standing up for. People would treat me terribly, and I would take it and take it. Like I did so well when I was a child, I buried the feeling of hurt and pain so deeply.
Now I am feeling everything a lot more. I let myself feel when you tell me things that upset me. I still don't let on when you act inappropriately, because I have learned from the past that you won't listen. I have tried to tell you so many times before, but again, you are blind to your own issues and always the finger points back onto me - I was tired, or I was menstruating, or you misunderstood what I meant. However, this unshielding of my real feelings, paradoxically, allows me to protect myself.
I feel a lot of anger that I have to deal with. Some of it, fairly or unfairly, is directed at you. Some of it is directed at Dad. Some at Ward. Some of it is at Everything that led up to what happened with Ward... That is to say, the whole Chain Reaction: alcohol, hiding mental illness/pedophilia in our family. It's a bit overwhelming, but yet at the same time it feels really really freeing, because I'm FEELING something. I may be flawed, but I'm not fake. I'm leaving my safe nest. I feel a bit awkward, and a bit panicky sometimes, but there always seems to be a branch below me upon which to rest if I can't keep my altitude.
Dad, although you perhaps didn't mean to, you have been engulfed by mom's strong personality. You have strength, somewhere deep inside, but you don't seem to want to use it. I think you fear losing mom. This passiveness doesn't help you, nor does it help mom or me. I really needed someone to stand up for me. Instead you took her side. I really needed you. Instead you ran away.
So, for now, I would like you both to mull what I have written over. Talk to each other about it. Remember that I say this in the most loving way you can imagine. Mom, I'm your daughter, but I don't know if I've ever had a mother-daughter relationship with you. But your idea of what a mother/daughter should be seems to differ so far from what my vision is.
A mother, to me, is someone who mentors, who encourages. Mother may judge what her daughter looks like, who she's married to or hangs out with, what she wears or what she eats: but Mother doesn't comment on these things directly to her daughter or to her other family members. If you can't say something nice, or think something nice, no one is really going to benefit from hurtful or arbitrary comments. A mother respects her daughter's space and doesn't give unsolicited advice. A mother respects her daughter and lets her make her own decisions.
A landlord is not a mother. If we had a normal Landlord relationship, there were several times I would have reported you to the Rentalsman in the last few years. You, on the other hand, would have made speedy repairs and not told us to pay for minor repairs, nor would you have asked us to spy on your other renters, or contact them for you. You also would not tell someone you are renting from on how they should shower. You do not honour contracts with us. Yet you offer us 'gifts' that turn out to be more of a contractual/conditional cage. You also are know to change your mind and change the rules to your own advantage later on.
This type of relationship needs to stop. It's enmeshment. David and I need a break from this. Wait until (specified date) and we will call you. If you attempt to contact us first, we will extend the date by another (specified time). We don't want you calling us every week or every month. We need a clean break: an alotted time where we can sort out everything emotionally without any interference, no matter how well-meaning, from you or dad.
Mother... Again
I've been having bad dreams about mother...
I dreamt I was in our house for supper. T and his wife and child happened to be over for a home-cooked meal at our house (David's & mine).
Mother came over unannounced. I opened the door, and explained that I couldn't talk right now as we were having company. She inquired who was there, and I said it was no one they knew but they were good friends of ours (mine & David's).
At this point, mother thought it was my brother R, and pushed past me into our dining room, where T and his family & David were eating at our diningroom table.
"Uh, hello, mom," I said after following her into the room. I saw her looking a bit stunned and embarrased because everyone at the table had stopped what they were doing and were staring at her. So I thought I would introduce them all.
"Mom, this is T who, among other things, is a research psychologist who also works with Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. This is his wife (forgive me, can't remember precise title) who studies brain injuries." I paused for effect: I crossed my arms and looked directly at her and said, "And I am currently studying Antisocial Behaviour and Cognitive Dysfunction." At this point she turned around, flustered and I walked her back to the door.
She then claimed she had only needed to use the phone, which I mentioned I thought was quite odd that she had found it necessary to come all the way out to the opposite end of the city to use a phone. I offered her my cell phone, and even dialed for her (she claimed her landline phone wasn't working so I called SaskTel 611 Landline Repair for her).
While she was talking to the customer service representative, she started walking away from the house with my cell. I did not want to walk with her to the car (where dad happened to be waiting, with the dog, lol) because I was afraid she would try to abduct me or try to convince me to come away with her in the car.
"Um, can I please have my cell phone back," I asked politely and gestured for her to come back up the walk to where I stood in the doorway waiting for my phone. But instead she merely threw the phone toward me, turned and got into the car and left. Apparently she didn't notice the cell phone lying smashed on the sidewalk.
"By the way, that will be $350!" I called out to her...
Then I woke up...
I dreamt I was in our house for supper. T and his wife and child happened to be over for a home-cooked meal at our house (David's & mine).
Mother came over unannounced. I opened the door, and explained that I couldn't talk right now as we were having company. She inquired who was there, and I said it was no one they knew but they were good friends of ours (mine & David's).
At this point, mother thought it was my brother R, and pushed past me into our dining room, where T and his family & David were eating at our diningroom table.
"Uh, hello, mom," I said after following her into the room. I saw her looking a bit stunned and embarrased because everyone at the table had stopped what they were doing and were staring at her. So I thought I would introduce them all.
"Mom, this is T who, among other things, is a research psychologist who also works with Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. This is his wife (forgive me, can't remember precise title) who studies brain injuries." I paused for effect: I crossed my arms and looked directly at her and said, "And I am currently studying Antisocial Behaviour and Cognitive Dysfunction." At this point she turned around, flustered and I walked her back to the door.
She then claimed she had only needed to use the phone, which I mentioned I thought was quite odd that she had found it necessary to come all the way out to the opposite end of the city to use a phone. I offered her my cell phone, and even dialed for her (she claimed her landline phone wasn't working so I called SaskTel 611 Landline Repair for her).
While she was talking to the customer service representative, she started walking away from the house with my cell. I did not want to walk with her to the car (where dad happened to be waiting, with the dog, lol) because I was afraid she would try to abduct me or try to convince me to come away with her in the car.
"Um, can I please have my cell phone back," I asked politely and gestured for her to come back up the walk to where I stood in the doorway waiting for my phone. But instead she merely threw the phone toward me, turned and got into the car and left. Apparently she didn't notice the cell phone lying smashed on the sidewalk.
"By the way, that will be $350!" I called out to her...
Then I woke up...
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