Another school shooting? Yes. Another.

We are all in the gutter,

but some of us are looking at the stars.

- Oscar Wilde

Over this past week, it's been difficult

to keep looking at the stars, hasn't it?

On Valentine's day,

17 children in the US (Parkland, Florida) were murdered. 

Gunned down by another young, crazed, angry, white man.

It makes me sick to my stomach.

An 18 year old in the US can buy an AR-15 assault rifle,

but he can't buy a beer.

Some teenagers started eating Tide Pods (don't ask me why!)

and now, Tide Pods in grocery stores are practically kept

under lock & key, so as to avoid another incident.

In most pharmacies, certain medication

is kept safely stored behind the counter.

The guns - oh, those are ok.

You can buy them at Walmart,

along with 1000 of rounds of ammunition.

Not a problem at all.

IT.

IS.

INSANE.

It breaks my heart to know that these children

went through such hell.

I have faith that many of these young ones

are going to channel their anger and fear

into something grand and powerful.

Lord knows the old, white, wealthy politicians

are too busy counting their money to care at all.

So over the past week or so,

I've been busy cleaning & organizing!

It's not something I do often, trust me -

but lately, I've felt the need to get rid of some stuff,

externally and internally. ;)

The photo above is "before"

and the photo below here is "after".

It may not look that clean to some,

but it's more than fine for me.

I bought this fabulous book last weekend.
An illustrated book on how we are all
connected to the universe.

Science and art, rolled into one.
Hardcover, and it was something like $18 (CAN).

I love the book.

Anything that encourages
learning and thinking
is a good thing.

Too many of us have lost the ability (or the desire?)
to spend any time thinking on things.
We keep ourselves so busy,
that we barely allow ourselves time
to think of what to make for supper.

And with cell phones now,
we are almost constantly distracted 
from our own thoughts.

Sometimes, when things get heavy out there,

or when things just don't make any sense to me -

it feels good to be reminded that we are ALL part

of a huge universe,

more connected than not,

and that even in nature, 

there is suffering.

So I didn't just clean my desk,

I cleaned the whole room,

and man, did it feel good once it was done.

And the best part?

I got rid of a LOT of books.

Like between 75 or 100.

That's huge for me.

I'm kind of a nerd when it comes 

to getting rid of books.

They just feel much more a "part of me"

than clothes or shoes or furniture. 

But I let them go with good intentions,

hoping that whoever reads them,

gets as much out of them as I did.

Besides, there's a time for everything, right?

Some of the books I purged had me thinking:

"why the hell did I want to read THIS?!?" :)

Ta Daaaaaa!

Both book shelves - done.

I like organizing my books by color,

but I haven't tackled that since the cleanup.

I'm visual so whenever I'm looking for a certain book,

I can always remember the color,

and I usually find it quickly.

Plus, it looks cool when it's color coded. ;)

So I did this (below) on the evening of Feb 14th...
I was (and am still) so angry about it all.

And I did this one (below) the day after...
still processing the anger and sadness.

Some people can talk about it for an hour,
and then they're fine.
They move on to something else.

Not me.

I need to sit with the stories
and the questions, 
and the words -
sometimes for days.
None of it makes any sense,
but I'm at least able
to turn the anger & sadness
into art that becomes somewhat healing for me.

I can only hope the families of those murdered
can find their own path
to healing somehow...

Thanks for being here!
I'll keep you posted here on my new website 
as soon as it's live!
Wishing you all a happy week!
xo

how do you make sense of a crazy world?

hello everyone!

My journal entry from

November 29th, 2016:

*****

I just came back from a beautiful walk.

The sun was shining and as I walked,

it started snowing at the same time.

Part of the sky was dark and cloudy,

ant the other part was blue sky.

So pretty.

The snowflakes falling

looked like little sparkles

or sprinkles in the sky.

It's moments like these

that feel blessed to me.

And i hesitate to say blessed

because it implies there is someone

or something

doing the blessing,

and that's just not what I believe.

It's just that whenever I see something like that,

or hear beautiful music -

even just a single note sometimes,

I feel like my insides turn to mush

and I am somehow weaved in

with the note or the snowflake

or the singing bird and for a moment -

we become one.

I know it sounds corny,

but whenever these moments happen for me,

everything makes sense.

It is no doubt what Eckhart Tolle calls

being in the moment.

It's not that everything makes sense, really,

but more like nothing else exists

outside of my tiny moment

with the snowflakes.

Like the rest of the world comes to a stop

and my moment happens in slow motion -

to make sure i grasp the significance.

It is during times like these

that I am grateful

for my artist heart.

*****

So it's been a rough past few months
for many of us
and as much as I am still saddened
by everything happening in the world,
specifically the hatred
I am reminded every day
that there are still small miracles
all around me and that
I am still the same person.
Only maybe more resilient now.
Maybe more determined
to speak out when it's time
for my voice to be heard.
I still love books.
I still love painting.
And writing.
I love my family
and my friends.
I love connecting with others
around the world (like you!).
These things will never change,
regardless of what is happening
around me.
I hope you are finding 
some sort of peace with it all too.
Especially my American friends.
Regardless of who you voted for,
let's face it,
there's a lot of uncertainty
for a lot of people right now.
Sometimes, having the world around us
shift in strange and unpleasant ways
makes us even more determined
to take our place in it.

On another note,
I did some cards with my acrylic paintings
and ordered them from Vistaprint
during their Black Friday sale (60% off!)
and I got them yesterday.
So exciting!

I like sending a little something extra
to those who buy from my ETSY shop,
so I'm pretty happy with these.

I'll be sending some
in Christmas cards this year as well...

I love the combination of
art and words.
Both are equally important to me.

Big love to every one of you.
xx

good guys vs bad guys

It's over when I say it's over.

- Walter White, Breaking Bad

I just don't know anymore.
I can't tell the difference
between the good guys
and the bad guys anymore. 
The line is blurred for me now.
It's far less obvious
than it used to be.
Maybe it never was 'clear' to begin with
but i was just too naive to notice.

A police officer in uniform
doesn't mean the same today as it used to.
Neither does a priest in robes,
or a homeless person in tattered clothing,
or a politician in an expensive suit.
I don't trust anyone at face value anymore.

I am skeptical now
especially of men in positions of authority,
because too many have abused their power.
I used to question everything,
and now, it seems I question everyone.

So yeah, i don't know.
I think if I can just put enough distance
between myself and the assholes,
i should be ok. 
(snort)...

I thought about this yesterday,
when I heard of Fidel Castro's death
and heard varying comments
from different people on the news.
To one person, he was a saviour.
To another person, he was evil.
He is the SAME person,
but everyone had their own opinion of him,
and their own reasons
for loving him or hating him.

20 years ago, when I gave birth to my son,
I remember several women warning me
about a certain male doctor at the hospital
and how they hoped he wouldn't be there
during my delivery - because he was "a nightmare".
And lo and behold,
who do I get during my delivery:

him.

But he was not a nightmare for me.
He was everything I expected a doctor should be:
professional, capable, caring...
and he helped me as I gave birth
to a beautiful healthy little boy
(who's now 20 and over 6 feet tall). :)

Moral of the story:

people are not always
who you expect them to be.

Especially when we base our opinion
on what others say about them.

So I've made a bit of art
over the past little while.
It's been a rough November,
so i'm kinda relieved that it's almost over.

I heard someone the other day say that
November is the cloudiest month of the year.
It's also kind of an "in-between" month, isn't it?

We lost mom in November (4 years ago now).
The golden leaves are gone from the trees.
It gets dark at about 5pm.
The snow is not yet here,
so there's no pretty white blanket on the ground.
Everything's gray.
The days are short.

With everything happening all around the world lately,
the words of Rosa Parks have deeper meaning than ever.
I will never understand racism
or bigotry
or homophobia
or sexism.

I will never understand so many things.

Maybe some questions
will just never have answers...

We are all sensitive to what goes on in the world,
but I tend to become overly sensitive sometimes.
I've learned throughout the years
that some things are not good for me:

listening to the news

staying inside too much
(not getting out in nature)

too much negativity

being in a crowd

too much social media

gossiping

watching too much TV

I've also learned that some things
are really good for me:

making art

writing

reading

travel

walking in nature

coffee (or wine!) with a good friend

good music

ice cream

pizza :)

So I try as much as I can

to avoid the things that don't work for me -

and focus on the things that DO.

Of course sometimes I'm in a crowded mall,

or with someone negative,

and although I don't like it,

I don't explode into a million tiny pieces ;)

But as much as I can,

I do what brings me joy

in the course of a day

because if I don't do it for myself,

who will?

Wishing you all

tiny moments of joy in your day

because it's the tiny moments

that really count.

xo

we are ONE world

Where to begin...

I wanted to write something last week

but the heaviness enveloped me 

and none of the words in my head

made any sense.

Like many around the world,

my heart felt like lead in my chest.

I am only now beginning to breathe again.

The election results.

The death of Leonard Cohen.

Remembrance Day.

My heart shattered for so many people.

Those in the US who now fear

that their lives will change

drastically.

That families will be torn apart.

Millions of people now know that

millions of other people don’t want them there.

And as if that isn't heavy enough on its own,
they also know 
that the president of their own country
feels the same way
so that makes it ok
in the eyes of many. 

All I could think of the next morning

as I heard the results,

were the Jews in Nazi Germany in 1939

and how they were also made to feel

unwanted,

different,

less than.

How it all began

with the separation of "us" vs "them".

I think if we all knew more about history,

we would understand the gravity of the words:

let us not repeat the past.

I don’t fear Trump

but i do fear the monster he awoke.

He threw gasoline in the fire

and gave racism and sexism and bigotry

and the KKK

front row seats to the shit show.

(why the KKK is still a thing in the USA is beyond me.)

And now, both sides will clash

with venom and judgement and death

and the physical walls will mean less in time

than the walls being built 

in the hearts of a nation.

Nothing good ever comes from division.
We are ONE world.

Clearly, there is still so much racism and sexism

and fear of those who are different,

lingering in the shadows of the world.

Only now, they’re not so much in the shadows.

There are people 

who were born and raised in the USA

who no longer feel safe there -

who no longer feel like it’s home.

Those who voted for Trump

may not consider themselves racists or homophobes

but they consciously chose a man who is

and who built his entire platform

on fear and hatred

and dividing a nation

rather than unifying it.

But this was still ok.

A protest vote,

to stick it to the government,

even if it meant

putting other lives in the crossfire.

On Remembrance Day,

there were comments on social media

expressing gratitude to all veterans,

for what they sacrificed for our freedom,

and I wondered...

are we really grateful?

Can we really say "thanks for the freedom"

and then go on disliking those
who are different than we are?

Would we not be better to express thanks

by trying to understand one another

and treat each other as equals for a change,

regardless of race, gender or religious views?

I wonder why it’s still so difficult

for so many people

to work together

and see our similarities

instead of our differences.

Thanks for being here.

Wherever you are in the world,

know that YOU MATTER

and that love matters.

Now let the healing begin.

xox

art, illness and Gord Downie

Do I contradict myself?

Very well, then, I contradict myself;

I am large - I contain multitudes. 

- Walt Whitman

I said I would blog more often,

and I didn't.

I said I would begin each day with a morning walk,

and I haven't been doing that.

I said I would do yoga on a regular basis

and I did yoga this morning -

for the first time in like 7 days.

Sometimes, things don't unravel 

the way we think they will.

Sometimes, we set the bar high

and don't accomplish half of what we want to,

and sometimes, there is no bar

and we move mountains.

I know that for some reason lately,

it's been more difficult for me

to sit myself down and post something.

Sometimes I feel like I don't have anything

worthwhile to say,

and sometimes, there's very little art. 

I've begun posting on Instagram here & there

and although it feels less personal to me than blogging,

I love that you can post something in an instant

and post from the phone (vs the computer).

So you'll probably find me there more often

than here.

Of course, I won't give up blogging

because i love writing and because it allows me

to share in more detail with you all,

but maybe i was a little optimistic

when I said i would blog "weekly". :)

So I'll blog when I can blog,

and I'll Instagram when I can Instagram.

Remember, I suck at commitment,

so if I put any pressure on myself,

i'll cave! :)

September has been beautiful here so far

and yesterday was actually another beach day.

We've been lucky with this unusually warm fall.

Of course, everyone's already starting to talk about

how hard and cold this winter is predicted to be,

based on the Farmer's Almanac, 

a reference book founded in 1792!

Yeah, I think I'll just enjoy

the weather we're having RIGHT NOW

rather than start worrying about

what MAY happen in 3 or 4 months, thank you. :)

The corner stores and coffee shops here are filled

with old men in baseball hats,

forecasting the weather and

fixing the government. :)

So this happened to me a few weeks ago...

A ROOT CANAL!

And let me tell you, it was far less painful

than what I was expecting.

Of course, when people find out

you're getting a root canal,

they give you the deer in the headlights look

and then your knees turn to jello. 

Maybe I just got a really good specialist,

but it was no more painful than getting a tooth filling.

It took a bit longer, that's all.

So there MAY be root canal horror stories out there,

but mine wasn't one of them.

So if any of you out there ever need this done,

trust that it's ALL gonna be ok. :)

Gord Downie.

Most Canadians (and probably many Americans!) 

watched the Tragically Hip concert a few weeks ago, on CBC.

Gord Downie (the lead singer) has terminal brain cancer,

and they decided to give a farewell concert to all their fans,

in his hometown of Kingston, Ontario.

Our hearts broke several times during the night,

as our eyes were glued to the TV for a 3 hour concert.

Gord is living his life fully,

and now, he's showing us all how to die...

dancing on a stage & singing at the top of his lungs,

in flashy pants & feathered hats.

He makes me very proud to be Canadian.

So I've been using paint tape more often lately,

when i'm painting abstracts.

I love the big reveal in the end,
when you peel off the tape.

It may not seem like much to others,
but it's a thrill for me each time.

I alternate between painting (often abstract)
and illustrated journal writing.

Sometimes, I feel like telling a story
and sometimes, i just feel like FEELING something.

I know that can sound corny to some,
but that's really what abstract painting is for me.
Starting with a few marks on the page (or canvas)
and just letting them take me where they wanna go.

Usually, the end result is very different
than where i thought it would go in the beginning.
Like in this case.
When i began with those harsh blue & black marks,
i had no idea it would end up looking like this.
It started out looking angry,
and it looks rather peaceful to me now.
That's what art does.
It allows you to work through some of the crap
on a subconscious level
without you even KNOWING it's working through it.
It doesn't mean your problems are solved,
but I believe they are at least sitting in your heart
in a less destructive way.
In a way that eats less at your insides.
Maybe it's just me,
but i always feel better about everything
after I've made art.

This is also happening lately...
my dad was recently diagnosed with Parkinson.
We had been noticing the smaller steps & shuffling feet
and the occasional falls for a while now :(

It all makes me sad to see him losing the ability
to do so many things,
but that's life, isn't it?

I went with him to the neurologist this week
and the medication will make a difference.
But he is 81, so chances are,
things will get worse before they get better.

And of course, he wants to stay in his apartment

as long as he possibly can

and i totally respect his need for independence.

In the meantime, we do what we can

to make his life safe and comfortable.

We're the lucky ones
to have him with us still,
when so many others leave this world far too soon.

On that note, today is Sept 11, 2001.
As always, my thoughts are with the families
of those who died on this day 15 years ago now.
A day that must've been hell for so many...

And one has to understand
that braveness is not the absence of fear
but rather the strength to keep on going forward
despite the fear.
- Paul Coelho