Seeing the Light

January is coming to and end. 

 I don't know where the time went,  I mostly spent this month in a daze. 

But......

 The fog is lifting and I am seeing the light of a new year shining through.

I am eager.  

I dream of new projects and new ways of sending my creative energy into anything besides mid air.

This past week I was taken by the thought of "stitching".

Dream #2
"To Thy Own Self be True."


Growing up is a strange thing.


The years keep adding up, but somewhere inside me still sits all the "me's" I've ever known.
I have a very distinct 9 year old, 15 year old, 22 year old, 30 year old and now me today at 41.


Saying the number "41" is strange. 


Me? 41! How? Before I know it I will be 50!


I have never been one to care much about aging. 
(Except in Hollywood)
 I see it as a privilege.


 I'd like to know what it's like to be 88 yrs old rather than dead. 
 Dead is too final.


so...


Aging is good.








Aging if anything has given me strength to love and be myself.
I have ALWAYS sought out truth and questions.  If I lived another life I bet you it was a philosopher back in the day. 



I like to think.
I like to question.
I like to go deep.


  I like to contemplate and look at the big picture of life and living.


As I have "aged" I have noticed on true thing.  
I have learned, somewhere along the way, to be true to my self.


I think most  everyone gets there at some point, but some may be aware of the journey more that others.


I started walking my journey when I was 22years.  
I became obsessed with idea and promised myself that I would be that person one day.


TO THY OWN SELF BE TRUE


I can't think of a better goal for a 22 year old.  
I am still working on it, but it isn't so much "work" now as much as it is "doing".


So, when I feel like trying something new, I don't question myself, I listen to myself and go with the flow.


This time I flowed myself right into the stitching isle.  


My 15 year old self laughed (more like scoff) at my 41 yr old self (my 41 yr old self promptly told her to go to hell. Ah, the beauty of aging )  


I put my chin up walked into the isle not knowing a damn thing about what to buy. 
I have money and a desire.
That was a good place to start.


I knew I needed needles and a threat.
I'd have to go home and figure all this out.
Books are good.
Google is better.
I bought just the basics and went to Starbucks.
My eyes were wide open by the time I hit the computer screen to figure out the way of stitching.


{LOL.  I feel like my grandmother.
I am making this too big a deal.  It's not like I am wearing a girdle or anything.  I just felt very aware of my choice.  Needles and thread were in my mind, OLD-  Homely and Motherly-  Little House on the Prairie kind of old-
I felt simple.}


Simple is good.


Sewing something by hand helps me breathe.  


It quiets down my chatters. 


I love quiet, stillness so soft you feel light as a feather.

I have been stitching all week.  Little scraps of fabric.  My studio is a mess.  I haven't cleaned it in days.

My studio was created by my philosopher self.

I kept telling myself, "Open up Steph....."


Stop trying to control what life hands you and go with the flow.


 I need a place to feel quiet.


 I always have.


  I need a space in the world that is all my own.




This place is my studio...my art studio (aka my dining room as of late) where what ever I want to happen-- does.

Open Life Studio is my commitment to myself to stay OPEN to what life hands me and to the life I love.


 It is a place where I can be and feel



 like 


MY- SELF-


Breathe. 
Open up and 
Breathe.


Be true to myself has taken me to my center.  Life throws curve balls,
 I caught one.

In an earlier post I talked about my first son being on the autistic spectrum. 


He is going on 8 years old and is a very beautiful, very smart, loving little boy who has challenges with communication and socialization.


He has come a long way.


He is going to go the distance.


He is the wind beneath my wings.


 He has given me an internal strength I didn't know I had. 

 He is my truest first unconditional love.


   I remember when Matt and I brought Jack home from the hospital. He woke up in the middle of the night crying and crying.  I picked him up, really not knowing what I was doing,(I don't miss being a first time mom!), but knew I had and wanted to do something to ease him tears.
  I rocked him and rocked him.
Matt stood by my side in our apartment in the middle of Hollywood Ca, talking with me (trying to stop me from crying)  trying to help in any way he could.
We were new parents.  We were a team.  I will never forget that.



He cried.
 Nothing worked.  
He kept crying.


I kept rocking him and telling him it was all going to be OK that we'd "figure this out." 


I keep telling my new mom self to just "go with the flow that all would be OK".




Of course it took everything and then the obvious, 




HE WAS HUNGRY! 


CHRIST!


HE was Hungry!


I thought of everything but that!  


What a DORK! 





We felt like idiots, but were pleased when it turned out to be such a simple fix.




He was an awesome baby.  No real issues.  He liked turning wheels so much that Matt made him his own "turning wheel toy", other than that he was cool, just NOT usual.




 It took  A LOT of "staying OPEN" to get through the initial shock of his diagnosis.  
Never had any of my "selves" planned to incorporated a "special needs" child in my life journey.


Just never saw it coming. 


 Some of my friends with kids with the same diagnosis say they had a feeling they would have a SN kid. 
 I didn't. 
 Really never thought anything of it.


But there I was with my jaw on the floor not knowing where to start while sitting Los Angeles California two blocks from where the Oscars were aired each March.
I sat alone on the blue carpet with no one but my husband by my side. 


 It was the three of us against the world--
and
against Autism--

I realized the other day working with the thread and the needle, pushing it through the thin but sturdy fabric that I have been sewing myself back together  ever since.












The day I heard  Jack "could be autistic" something inside me unraveled.  It wasn't painful as much as it was slow and unrelenting.  Imagine as if you are watching yourself suffocate.


 You know you have air , but you don't know for how long.


I kept my head up above water as long as I could.  I fought and I fought and then realized I had to succumb to the truth he was not "our average kid"--Jack was different.




Somewhere I imagined I was on the Titanic, sinking, wondering if I was going to make out, dead or alive.

I had a 50/50 chance. 
The odds were up to the gods.


I am with the Gods.


Autism is an experience. 


It is part of our life experience. 


We are ONE.


Our "party of five."


Life is full of curve balls.


We are well on our way of learning how to 


HIT.




The Point?


Being true to thyself is the only way to true happiness as a human being.


You, I ,He , She
Can only be what they are in their hearts.  
Jack is a true example of this.
He is authientic
One of the most authentic persons I know on this Earth.
He is himself ALL the time.


I look at  him and what to be as comfortable with myself as he is with himself.


"To Thy Own Self Be True"


I would give my left arm to see the world for one day through his eyes.


All children are special.


There are A LOT of kids that have "special needs".


I have special needs.


Maybe as our culture grows and our awareness sharpen we the people will
no longer look at kids (adults) as being label "abnormal" if they are not labeled "normal"


one day 


out there


will be a

day 
that we 
are all 
are
labeled


True to our self


That will be a good day

COUNTING DOWN

Forty Day-Dreams....#1

When I think of my childhood, and go back as far as I can remember

 I find 

myself 

sitting in

Gatlinburg, TN.

A beautiful mountain town nestled in the Great Smoky Mountains. 

 If you go digging deep enough 

somewhere up there is a piece of my heart

waiting for me to come home.  

I don't know if I ever will.  

Not sure if I am the same person as that piece of heart belongs to,

 but 

I often imagine myself 

driving up there looking for it 

and seein' if it wants to "reconnect".

Never say never.  

I don't think so, but...

That's OK. 

I may be not be that little girl, but memories are strong.

I still  have a lot of dreams about the house my parents built up in those mountains.

  All brick, tall colonial columns, fountains, and a big black bath tub with a red telephone mounted by the toilet.  

Lying in front of it,  a long drive way winding down lined with pine trees and forest that seemed forever to complete in my child's mind.

 It was built on the daydreams of my parents.   

 Together, they designed a Utopia.  

They built their own fortune, their hearts turned concrete.

 It was the land of Sliver and Gold-

Bigger than life-

Magical-

A fairytale from left to right, up and down, over and under-

looking back I could have been any character in one of my daughters Princess books-

I was Princess Stephanie

  I will always remember

I have always heard if you didn't dream you would wouldn't be alive.

You may not "remember" your dreams, but your brain has to dream.

Night dreams or Day dreams a dream is a dream.

Many cultures say dreams are omens of the future.

Dreams are visions of what is to come.

Dreams are your mind at work sorting out the feelings of your heart.

When I was a little girl sitting up there on top of that  mountain in that big house my parents built I had dreams of ancestors floating around the halls of the house deep in the night watching over me. 

 In these dreams they had tea parties and big bands playing.

Dancing was allowed and laughter was pure.

 I imagined it was something like being on the Titanic.  

Very formal and full of grace. 

They moved in slow motion, they laughed out loud at the same time throwing their heads back  with pure enjoyment. 

 Caviar and campaign floated around the room on silver trays, no bodies behind it, no hands holding it, just floating, just there.

 {Dreams are  powerful-

Dreams are visual diary's of you subconscious-

Often they remind you of what matters most in your heart-

A wind of truth-}

After a while the tea party ended with me waking up.  

The laughter was gone, left only was the night, me, and my pounding heart.

 On most occasions during these dreams I would find myself with the sun coming up spooned around my mother when my eyes opened looking down at her gold and silver rings wrapped around my ribs.

It was the safest place in the house. 

I love my tea parties.

  I loved my dreams as a kid.  

I rely on my dreams as an adult.

The kid inside me is the dream inside my heart.

I made a commitment when I turned 40.

I would live the rest of my life fulfilling the 40 day-dreams that have built up over the 40 years I have lived as my self.

My parents are dreamers -

I am a dreamer.-

I want my kids to be dreamers.-

Dreams are you talking to yourself-

Dreams are your truest vision

Dreams are what you are capiable of

Dreams are what whispers to you in the depth of the darkness

Breathing up and down

Telling you your own secrets

My first dream-

The man of my dreams, everything I could think of summed up in one man-

I found him-the man on the Titantic-at my tea parties- laughing and enjoying life like life was meant to enjoyed-

My dream-

A man-

My husband-

My soulmate-

My friend-

Matt Anderson-

When I met him I already knew him-

He planned the tea parties, he was a friend of the family- I never knew his name 

I do now-

DREAMS  HAPPEN-

All the time-

LISTEN- 

For me......

Only 39 more to go-

First Discovery of 2012

Have you ever noticed the choice of colors in a crayon box?   

 It' s amazing!

 I can never decide where to start.  

Once you pick up the first color it dictates the rest of the picture. 

 I often look to my children for color schemes and ideas.
  In choosing I wonder sometimes if they think at all.  
They are such spontaneous little creatures.  
Always doing exactly what they want, wearing what they want, eating what they want.
 I love that about kids.
They have NO PROBLEM following their gut.

  I was watching Tatum the other day pick a color out of a brand new box of crayons.  
As she put her hand in she didn't "THINK" at all. 
She stuck her hand in the box and first thing that hit her fingers was her color of choice.  

THE BIG DISCOVERY?


....KIDS DON'T THINK....THEY DO.




When I was studying Classical drama at the North Carolina School of the Arts I was told over and over that I was "a visceral actress."  I followed my emotions and what I "felt" about the character, some others may be very good at mapping out a character with actions and such, but I was always "feeling" the character rather than "thinking" her.
 What happened on stage was my gut in action.  Once I knew what she wanted all I had to do was follow my instincts and trust the way to her "objective" was waiting to be found.


When I started working with Photographs and Visual Art I realized the best results for me came when I did the same.  I started out thinking I had to "understand" to draw a picture.  I had to think about what something looked like. Not true.  I eventually realized for my process I had to draw what I see.  And that meant feeling it.  

When I start a new project I close my eyes and OPEN my mind. 

 I let a color fall into the map of my vision and I go with it.

 I was driving yesterday and saw the gray clouds coming in from the west.  I love storm clouds.  It's winter so there was a bit more gray than blue, but non the less beautiful. 

I in my minds eye instantly saw this color on a canvas.  
As I turned the corner up to my house I noticed a beautiful leaf left from fall lying in the mix of tall wheat grass.  It was a beautiful peach color.
Almost dry peach like a spice for an elegant meal in winter.
 I saw the peach color sitting on top of the gray.  I didn't know how, but together for sure.


An image in my head becomes the image on my canvas.  An image from my camera is an image from my heart.  I am a visual person.  No matter the medium of my expression.  Either it be  stage, canvas, behind a lens or the written word my instinct is the wind beneath my art.  Without it, I would be lost.

It's as if it already exists.  I just have to let my SELF take me to it.

 "I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free."  -Michelangelo-


Like Michelangelo I want to set my art free.  
This year I am all about it!


  

FROM ME TO U

HAPPY 2012

MAY ALL YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE