This came up today. I was probably working on it in September several years ago.

I had an idea that as a published book it might go out into the world and be helpful.

I didn’t know how or what that might look like, especially in the beginning.

Years of work later it eventually did become a book. It was definitely a learning experience. I fell short and failed and had to start over a number of times.

Originally, I expected it to be a board book. A simple quick read for tired parents at the end of a busy day. A winding down collective breathing experience. Simple, easeful, comforting, for both parent and child.

Its hard to say if that ever happened, I felt like I’d fallen short and failed, but then, other things that I never expected, did.

When I first began marketing, I was a little discouraged that average young parents weren’t very interested.

At the time, emotions, especially strong ones, weren’t as popular as they seem to be now. Breathing intentionally had not yet hit youtube.

‘Peaceful Hearts’ mostly appealed to artists and small pockets of the population.

I love that it became a hard bond, regular picture book. My abstract illustrations came out colorful and mostly accurate.

Today, its being read in many school classrooms, in counciling offices, yoga studios, museums, galleries, even a woman’s prison.

Its part of programs for mental health, grief counseling, and regulating, for kids struggling in school. Here I was trying to make one kind of thing, and it became something else instead.

I’ve had this strong feeling lately that no matter what we are here on earth trying to do, there is usually something else going on.

Dharma was talked about in yoga today. Often with dharma, you hear that you need to be the best you, align with your purpose, figure out your purpose. Many little suggestions that get me worried that I’m wasting time, not.

Not living my dharma, oh my! What am am even doing?! I’m still trying to find an actual purpose…those kinds of thoughts.

Here was a different swing on dharma that I like better: A tree’s dharma is to be a tree. Just be. Be the self that we are. Just, you know, show up.

As a person.

You never know how that will play out. There are plenty of suggestions for how to be; it’s nice to have one that leaves out the ‘how’. Refreshing really. Go ahead Me-in-the-past, make a book that no one might want…

Still obsessed.

I can’t help myself.

I love my current subject.

Hmm… where to start.

I mentioned a while back that I taught a meditation class.

I am less than qualified to teach anyone how to meditate. I can barely sit still, much less sit in meditation. At least that was who I was when I started.

I used to teach art. This will be my back story.

Apparently there already was an art teacher. When I accepted the teaching position, I had planned on teaching drawing or painting classes, but no.

I am interested in meditation. I go to yoga. I tossed out maybe I could teach meditation. This is how it started.

No one was more surprised by this whole thing than I was. The class filled up, and became popular. I decided to make it an exploration of different methods of meditation. We tried out a wide variety, then talked about them.

I gave homework. I did the homework. Somehow this affected me. It must have.

Over eleven weeks, I fell into a habit. When Spring session and my class ended, I kept meditating every morning. I still do, in fact I oddly look forward to it.

Where I was at the beginning is almost a different place, I’m practically a different person.

Okay not really, but everything FEELS different and well, it LOOKS completely different too.

I may have stumbled onto something here.

The physical differences keep surprising me. The space I created so we could make coffee without upsetting the world of my MIL, has transformed.

It went from one folding table (left up from her last tag sale), a small corner carved out between old tools and picked over goods, to a full make-shift camp-like-kitchen pieced together with furniture that didn’t sell and things I found on the side of the road. I have a good eye and a gift for arranging, so with a little paint, some butane stoves and one electric hot plate, we made a space we could cook in. Kind of.

It all worked. It satisfied simple needs. Not ideal, but useful.

In three short weeks this happened:

It has become a functioning kitchen with a side area to sit comfortably and enjoy our coffee.

The extra garage paraphernalia has been either taken to a transfer station or relocated to the shed or new garage. Many, many steps have been taken to turn this into a sweet miracle.

Now, I am not suggesting that a couple months of meditation will usher in remodeling miracles. I think that might actually be backwards. At some point I realized (while it was still raining), that I was feeling good. I was completely fine. I didn’t need things to change, I was finding many happy moments WITHOUT a miracle.

Truly, if something disregulating occurs, I shake it off and expect things to work their way out. I get less phased in the middle.

Clashes? Differences of opinion? Rain? I guess I’m not as attached as I usually am. I care, but now I trust ?

Things may have happened anyway, eventually. The difference is me. My new chill attitude. My contentment. My faith in the process.

Here is what I can say, I am more fine than not. Content. Light.

Daily meditation has calmed me. I have been more easy and chill about things. Every little and seemingly big issue gets a shrug. Meditation has given me a new level of peace. Its the kind of peace that needs nothing to happen. I just mostly have it.

How is this kitchen being configured, painted, installed? Easefully.

Decisions based on ease. Me zenfully accepting whatever shows up, knowing the rest will also show up.

Meditation. Who would have guessed?

I’m not entirely sure that the speed of things changing isn’t related to my ease around them.

I wouldn’t rule it out, but however I look at it, meditation seems to be improving my life.

We made it this far.

I guess I can be thankful for that

And all the lessons I may have learned.

Did you guess that its raining?

Again

And unseasonably cold?

And has been off and on (raining) between suffocatingly humid heat all summer.

Not to mention that the biting invisable bugs are back.

In droves.

Oh there have been lovely moments, warm breezy evenings. A dry-ish sunny day now and then. Its just that moods are affected by so many things. One might start to find enjoyment, but others are definitely not…so…

Weeds. Mowing. Did you know vegetable gardens don’t do well with too much rain?

Mowing the lawn and weeding are a full paragragh’s worth of disgruntledment. When to mow? When to weed? Why are there weeds? Why are they back? Seems sort of straightforward, in light of all this rain, but what do I know?

Hours of life pulling weeds. Mowing grass. Worrying about weeding and mowing. Hours. Its a collective neighborhood sigh of repetitive hot work. It seems to be a particularly big worry at this residence. Grass and crab grass love rain, they grow faster. So when to weed? When to mow?

It’s raining. Its going to rain. A game might be on. It might stop (the rain). They say it won’t be sunny until next Wednesday. Only the forcasts are never right, they change and fluctuate by the hour. Today for example was supposed to only be cloudy. It has not stopped raining since the other night. Who can remember which other night.

Its safe to assume that no one can really know if or when rain will stop.

New England is a good place to live if you like rain. Most who live here, do not. All desert dwellers who love it, come enjoy by the bucket full. Come anytime.

Here, it affects everything and everyone. Kinda like the win or loss of Red Sox games. Non-rainy days are greeted with caution followed by frenzy.

So much must occur when its not raining. The pressure is palpable. Tiny private beaches fill to maximum. I’ve heard crazy stories of seemingly sweet communities elbowing out long time friends over beach space. Finding ways to omit them from membership?!

Oh man

Everyone wants to head to a beach.

After, and only after, all mowing and weeding is done,

and the car is washed.

Because car washing is old school: a full time consuming activity involving buckets and brushes and the garden hose in the driveway.

Anything else is distainable. In 1973 someone’s car was scratched by one of these carwash places, True story. Though I may have the year wrong.

As August rolls to an end, I am thankful for every small lovely thing I can find. I am pulling out every trick, because I guess I have to.

I want to be positive. I want to be upbeat. Lots of big things are coming soon…

About a two weeks ago I got a new floor. The weekend before an outdoor shower was enclosed. The next day, walls were skim coated and finished. The day after that a prefabricated garage was purchased. Next came cabinets, one at a time. As usual with our own projects, we are making it up as go, so as one cabinet slid into place, the next was obvious.

Yesterday we put up paint samples and tile choices. I stained the shower. Today the tile is up and looks beautiful.

I feel like I might be boring you with this list, so I’m stopping before I name everything.

You get the idea.

Its been a bonanza of movement. Each thing has fallen easily into place.

There has been a weird amount of ease and flow for some reason.

The Red Sox went from last place to a crazy winning streak that tied a record.

Um.

My book has opened a few unexpected doors. I sold and donated almost my whole inventory on this coast. I sold one yesterday. To a school librarian!

Four weeks ago I started a regular meditation practice. Very regular. Its kind of my experiment.

It might be the only thing I’ve done differently.

I started after I taught a class on the introduction of meditation. I basically gave an overview of different methods and encouraged everyone to find something that felt good to them. I gave homework to set aside time in the morning or before sleep. No rules. Just whatever works to get quiet in the head. (even if its only for a minute or two).

I did my own homework.

I can’t take credit for the baseball, (obviously) or really any of the building. Some of my ideas were used. But I have had nothing to do with the speed or movement. I just kind of agree to go to Lowe’s when I’m invited.

I am happy. Found some peace in what used to feel like exile.

And weirdly, I’m seeing some original ideas fall into place, better even than envisioned.

Internal peace, dispite what is going on around me, is easier. Things don’t bother me like they used to. Everyone seems friendlier.

I’ve heard a many things about meditating. Vague things that seem nice, but not super enticing. Usually I am happy to try to meditate if its happening at yoga. It’s peaceful. I like it, but I get busy and distracted by life, I forget to prioritize.

Lately, I have been enjoying not feeling so homesick. I have enjoyed not getting lost in uncomfortable conversations. When disagreed with, I’m unusually fine. Even being misunderstood doesn’t phase me for long.

By week three, I arrived at a place where nothing had to change for me to feel fine. Truly, I was good.

But then,

Strangely,

everything started changing!

This must be an East coast boater thing.

I’ve never heard of it before, but everyone I mention it to, has. I’m the odd man out, because I didn’t know about these giant blocks of styrofoam. They look like ancient old trash that we found in the crawl space under the house.

What a surprising frenzy of interest was sparked on Facebook market place. People fought over them. I couldn’t imagine anybody wanting to buy such awkward, dirty, pocked slabs.

One lady hurried over and somehow managed to jam a bunch in her small car.

You know what they say about one person’s junk being another’s treasure. Giant blocks of dirty styrofoam. Its a desired find! Who knew!?

We have had a ongoing dialogue with the town over building permits. We now have a good education about what can and cannot be done on a property. Neighbors have been six years trying to get a remodel approved. Its a thing.

We also have had many back and forth conversations regarding building, water, electricity etc.

After the water drama of last year, I stay out of these conversations. Water was worth it, I haven’t looked back. I am glad every day, but it was tough.

Suddenly, I find myself in Lowes picking out cabinets and countertops. The floor we bought last year was installed in one day! Walls skim coated and finished! I now have the sink that I bought two years ago in a cabinet surrounded by counter!

Its a miracle in process!

Then today a garage was ordered. That’s another project.

I am amazed at the speed of all these things happening. It hasn’t been two weeks.

How is my long ago dream plan falling so perfectly into place?

With such ease? So fast?

I’ve been in a peaceful, detached mindset this year. More laid back. Less trying. Pretty much let go completely.

And now?

Who could have guessed I would have had this week?

Everything coming together better than I’d hoped.

Its warm, not raining, (though my garden and I genuinely appreciate a good summer rain), Its not hot, not windy or humid.

It’s lovely.

Also, I’m up in my attic studio starting yet another octopus painting.

Listening to something uplifting, while decent music plays from somewhere else.

Later, I’ll end up at the beach, probably in the water. Now that there’s an outdoor shower, salt water is no problem.

I even found a good summer book to read

Good sigh

Later on, there is a park concert, which means a picnic and music. An easy outing. Very casual and well organized.

Earlier I walked and did yoga.

I love days like today.

Summertime on the east coast. Pretty idealic. Always well appreciated by everyone!

So

I am enjoying my ‘octopus period’

Even if no one else seems to get it

I am oddly inspired to make painting after painting of…

well…

octopus after octopus

I’m sure my housemates think its crazy.

And maybe it is.

What I find interesting about myself, is how I can’t really get out of my possibly delusional perspective.

I like my paintings.

I think that they work.

I really do.

My last one is the most abstract and I think, the most successful. Not one other person (to date) shares this opinion.

So I could be wrong.

Yet. Wrong or not, I’m compelled to carry on.

Artists have struggled with this very concept for hundreds of years. Making art that isn’t well received and continuing to do it anyway has always been a thing. Where is my Gertrude Stein when I need her?

Is my work terrible?! Am I? Will I ever stop wondering this? Or could that be an odd part of the process?

Do others have to approve for it to be viable?

I remember back in competitive art school. Being correct, being acurate, being talented enough to justify being there, was the soup we lived in. These thoughts were important and relevant, (they seemed to be at the time) to all of us young students.

Now? I think more possibilities exist. I even believe contradictory conclusions can be true at the same time.

Art is weird.

So many factors go into creation. So many different outcomes occur, even simultaneously. Think of all the different trees there are in the world. None are actually ‘right’ or ‘wrong’. Even so, people have opinions.

About trees, about art about everything.

People have opinions because they have preferences. Preferences are good! They are defining and tangible, and even help show us who we are.

But opinions are opinions. Personal to each person.

No one taught us that we should try to please as many people as possible with our art, but few were immune to flattering words, especially from an instructor.

One student I remember had questionable skill and/or talent, plus he never nailed an assignment. Not once did he pose any competitive threat to anyone. He would show up day after day with his heavy handed rough interpretations of the teachers carefully articulated instructions. Tack them up with the rest of the classe’s and sit back nonchalantly as if daring anyone to question his work.

He was a little older and married and was the only one I knew who declared easily that he intended to be a studio artist. I hope he is ridiculously successful today. Someone should have hired him to teach us bravado.

Cultivating a healthy amount of not caring about other’s opinions is a good practice. In life, as well as in art. Anytime we lose motivation over letting another’s opinion influence us, we lose a little of something. I notice that even as I ‘fish’ for some positive feedback, I feel off.

There was a study about motivation that surprised researchers. They found that children who were praised and rewarded for doing something they liked doing, like coloring or playing ball, lost interest faster than kids who received no praise. Often the praised kids would quit entirely, the unpraised kids returned again and again and spent longer blocks of time.

As usual, I feel a lesson sinking in. Something about believing before the rest of the world catches up. How else can I step out into the unknown and make something original? Ironically, my three year old octopus idea is hardly feeling original lately.

But my art surely is.

I am not at all informed about where the planets are in the cosmos. I’m not even sure which ones are still planets, but lately I’ve been hearing a lot about Mercury going into retrograde.

So

I looked it up. ‘retrograde’ means what you think. Something moving in reverse. Backwards. Not forward.

Besides being a fun thing to say if someone is having a bad day, I never knew what it meant.

Cosmically, logically, it makes sense that not every thing is moving forward all of the time.

Artistically its pretty much how things are created. You start, you stop, you start other things, you go back, work out design issues, solve composition puzzles, go forward, go back, finish one thing, start another.

In art, in my process anyway, going backwards isn’t a negative. I don’t think it is in nature either. Plants rest, and start over every year.

In gardening, some years you cut a bush back to a much smaller version of itself for its health or to keep it flowering.

Maybe retrograde is a ceasing of moving forward, still moving, but like with finding balance, a little this way, a little that. Add here, edit there.

If I think too hard about this, backwards and forwards are only two directions, I have a mind that rotates things in every direction.

I suspect this was why learning to read was a little challenging. They taught me that the letter ‘d’ looked like this and it made this sound. In my head p,d,b and q (and when you wrote it, 9, were the same thing turned this way or that. q was different if you wrote it. Plus the 2D nature of the written word seemed both boring and to me, incomprehensible. I had no clue that decoded, it captured so much. Stories, beauty, ideas, all things I cared to know.

All tucked inside a forward, left to right moving code. For me learning to read was a true miracle.

I wonder if we sometimes think that if a thing is not moving in the ‘right” direction, it can’t work. (Not entirely untrue, reading only goes left to right, in the English language, of course)

Me flipping letters was not helpful in the first grade, but in other situations it isn’t a bad thing.

Mercury moving in reverse might be good for many reasons. A directional shift doesn’t have to be worrisome.

In life too much going one way is like too much of anything. I wonder if the discomfort is more because of the change part. We humans aren’t always comfortable with change. Even the idea can cause us grief.

So yes, Mercury did change directions and seems to be going backwards. I guess some planets do this, or appear to.

My unofficial opinion? I think its fine, changing direction is often good! It can be very good! Better than going too far and throwing off balance or harmony. For me, in art, that would be worse.