Reality Realization 101

Having so little time to post is sad when I look here at the blank, white, stark, quiet page waiting for me to come up with something to share with my fellow bloggers–sharing is why I started doing this in the first place.  I wanted to share with the world my world.  I find that for most of the time I am struggling to just take a deep breath and try to stay centered.  Days come and go, life happens, picures are taken and I keep moving through open space to the next  open space ahead, over, under or behind me.

Logan2 IceQueen1 Tatum1icequeen2

I look outside and watch small, white, flowing snowflakes falling from the grayish clouds that appear as a blank canvas behind the bare coal colored tree branches that, looking at them from this angel, looks as if I could have been the painter of such trees, as they seem to lay against the white background, it’s canvas.  At the same time, my five year old, crazy haired daughter still hangs onto Christmas by playing Christmas Apps on my iphone watching out the window with me.  She hasn’t brushed her hair in days and refuses to like I refuse to take cough syrup.  She’s  still beautiful, I wish I could look so effortlessly beautiful.

jaclk2

As she hangs onto Christmas I am hanging on to what happened to me the other day rushing up the hill in my minivan heading back to my house for my phone (that I left behind) and also get to school on time to get Jack’s lunch delivered.  Did I mention I was rushing?  Not that it was any fault of mine, the damn thing ran out infront of me as fast as a raindrop falling— I looked back in my rearview mirrow and realized I hit him! I miss them all the time and of all days this time I actually hit him!  Damnit Buster!  I said outloud in my brain, taking much effort not have Tatum wonder why I was upset and not want  to look back.

I LOVE squirriels!!!! Believe me  if there is anyone who loves a squirrel it’s me.  But……

I was numb to it, I was sad inside, but I had so MUCH to accomplish in a matter of less than an hour I felt like I coudn’t even morn.  I was struck to how little emotion I was showing to myself.  I didn’t even have a tear welling up in my eye.

IMG_9422

How hetic has your life become Steph that you can’t stop and morn for a fallen Buster?!  I have such a long,intimate relationship with squirrels I must share!

Stepping back to the year 2000.  I was living in NYC.  I was 28 years old and found my self sitting in Union Square alone.  A girl who traveld from East Tn with little of nothing in her pocket–not even a map.  I sat there on an ordinary day in March on my lunch break and counted the squirrels.  There were so many!   I was so lonely.  I had not friends around to talk to.  I couldn’t  afford  lunch much less a cell phone! So I sat and wrote a lot in my journal.  And the squirrels came closer the longer I sat. Day after day I came to the same spot.  They greeted me when I showed up, eventually we introduced ourselves.  I told them my name and they told me theirs.  I speak in purural form because there were so many, but really, honestly I felt as if they were one.  His name was Buster.  Every where I found myself in the city there he was.  Watching me, eating his nuts, knowing we were friends, that he was my confidant.  It was very comforting.

I came home to TN years later and realized how much that little guy helped me in those days of lonely, Art-full day’s of roaming the streets of the Big Apple looking , waiting, and watching for inspiration.  I came to realize my eyes were closed during my time there.  My heart was as well.  I was never meant to be—a city girl.  However, I was meant to have a long life friend with Buster.  I see him everyday running around my backyard, tightroping on fences, gathering nuts across the street.  He is always going somewhere.  Ironically he helps me stay still–feeling my stillness as he runs from his.

Hitting him and watching from the rearview mirror his life float away like casper was not how I intended to start off my day.  I kept wondering why I could shed a single tear?

Life is so busy that I can’t shed a tear for a fallen friend?  What is wrong with me? Am I that distracted?  If so, why?  I am notorious for getting so caught up in “fixing” this and “plotting” and “planning” for life situations and future happenings that I don’t live in the moment.  I am not fully present in the HERE and NOW.  I am better than I was in Union Park, but I find myself still struggling to keep my thoughts present.  I am not worrying so much as I am trying to control–to affect the outcome.  I couldn’t affect his.  I couldn’t affect Buster’s outcome.  ALL I could was watch.  I am waking up.

Thoughts create reality.  Reality is where I live, most of the time.

Reality is an illusion–

Reality is a game–

Reality is only a dream–

a dream you live as you walk–

as you walk while

waking up–

steph

Advertisements

Author: openlifestudio

I am a self taught photographer and mixed media artist with a degree from the North Carolina School of the Arts in classical theatre performance. Stage was my first love and brought me into the world art while photography is what made me want to stay. I am married to superman, and am the mother of three little super-ducks. I studied creative writing at the Univeristy of Tn and classical drama at the NC School of the Arts, and a Masters in Education with concentration of inclusion and curriculum. I've liived in NYC and LA for the past decade and moved back to TN for some home cooking and back yard fun . I spend most of my days getting little ones through life and playing in my studio. I sell my work through different venues and am really happy where I find myself these days. I love to drink a bottle of wine (with my hubby) coupled with extra cheddar blast goldfish! Having kids has changed my life, the arts has shaped my life, and my soulmate continues everyday to walk through my life beside me. What else could a country city girl like me need.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s