art challenge, winter blues and sharp shooting

hello everyone!

shoulders

Well, I've discovered over the past little while

that my habit of blogging on a regular basis is changing. 

Social media has always been "love/hate" for me,

but I must admit that I've been using Instagram

more than anything lately.

It's quick, it's convenient, 

and I don't need to have the computer on

to post a little something. ;)

Still, it's always good to come back here,

even if it happens a little less often now.

feet

March is often a depressing month here.

Wet snow, dirty snow, freezing rain,

with the occasional sunny day,

so it can get a little heavy on the psyche. ;)

My dad was a carpenter,

and I remember how the weather always had

such an effect on him as I was growing up.

Bad weather meant a hard day at work,

or no work at all.

So I consciously make an effort

not to let weather bother me too much.

Still - snowstorms in March suck. ;) 

spine

With dad's recent move to an assisted living home,

and me sorting through all his stuff bit by bit,

I feel like art really took a back seat

over the past few months.

That, plus I'm working on an e-course

and a few other things at the same time

that seem to be zapping my energy

more than I like to admit.

belly

Whenever that happens to me,

I often need just a little push

to get me going again.

toes

This "21Embody" art challenge (by Connie at Dirty Footprints)

was exactly what I needed to get me going again.

If I did nothing else, at least I'd make art for 21 days.

And sometimes, you don't want to think

about "what to paint".

The daily prompts were all I needed

to get me back to painting.

You can see all 21 days at #paulineleger

if you want to see all the body parts. ;)

This is how I felt at the end of the challenge. :)

So I've been trying to practice daily yoga again,
and sometimes skip it.
And writing 5 things I am grateful for each day,
and sometimes skip it.
Life is an ebb and flow, isn't it?
Sometimes I do well with commitment,
but more often than not,
i get comfortable with the imperfections.
That's gotta be the best part
about growing older (and wiser).

Getting comfortable with our flaws.

I avoid perfectionist like the plague. ;)

March is also the month that my dear friend Liz died,
already 6 years ago now. (ovarian cancer)

As the years pass, it's easier to remember the good times 
and to understand the lessons she taught us
with her own imperfections
and her "ok-ness" about it all.
The only time she ever strived for perfection
was in her photography.

"Perfection is possible with photography",
she would say "because we're able to manipulate reality".

I will forever remember how much we laughed so much
about so many things.

We both took our training to become
Correctional Officers at the same time,
and that in itself was a joke. ;)

We both hated guns.
(ironically, we both got marksmanship awards for excellent shooting!)

We were both about 5' in height.

We were both artists at heart.

So why in the hell would we apply 
to become correctional officers in maximum security prisons?

Because we needed to work.
We needed jobs.

And there were openings at the time.
And we both knew we wouldn't hesitate
to quit if it became unbearable.

About 2 years into the job,
it became unbearable for both of us.

The money wasn't worth it.

So Liz went to study in Ontario
and became a photographer
and I studied locally
and became a graphic designer.
And the rest is history.

Well, not really, because neither one of us
became famous - but still - it sounds good, doesn't it? ;)

arms

Part of my little painting corner in the blue room...

See that gorgeous little blue weave on the wall?
I bought this from my lovely friend Tara Leaver, on Etsy.

I love how it makes me feel when I see it.

That's what art should be, shouldn't it?
Something that makes you feel good when you see it,
or brings a smile to your face.
It doesn't matter how "valuable" it is to someone else,
as long as it holds value to YOU.
As long as you love it when you see it,
that's all that matters.

So surround yourself with whatever brings you joy.
Hang art on your walls that makes you smile.
Even better if it's YOUR art. :)
Don't let anyone else determine 
the value of something.
YOU get to decide what has value for you,
not someone else.

Wishing everyone a
wonderful week ahead!
Thanks for hanging out with me.
xo

sharing - even when life gets in the way

hello Munchkins!

I'm back after being away

for more than a month!

I may be back at a slower pace,

but it feels good to get back into

something that feels familiar. 

The past month+ has been a bit crazy.
Dad moved to an assisted living home,
which means we spent the past month+
sorting through things at his apartment,
cleaning & clearing out the apartment,
selling stuff,
moving things to his new place,
bringing boxes of stuff to our place,
and adopting his little dog Fluffy. :)

It broke his heart to leave her,
but because we live only 2 minutes 
from his new home,
he gets to see her practically every day.

The perils of Parkinson's disease.
After a few falls and hospital visits,
he was finding it more & more difficult to live alone
and he must have been ready for the big move
because everyone (including Fluffy!)
is adjusting so well.

I've had very little time for art
over the past month or so,
and the bit of time available to me
was of no use, because I was not in the mood.

It's strange isn't it?

I do yoga less often
when I seem to need it the most.
I make art less often
when I need it the most.

My thinking was this:

I feel totally stressed out right now
and I know painting would help
but I feel too stressed (or tired) to paint.
(sound familiar?)

So slowly...

v e r y  s l o w l y...

I sketched a few things on those nights
where I felt a little less tired or stressed.
And when dad was finally moved
and the world didn't come crashing down,
and he was eating well and sleeping well
and meeting new people
and I knew he would be ok...
I started to find more time
for the things that make me happy.

Painting.

Writing.

Sketching.

Walks outside (even if it's bitter cold!)

Just when I felt like I needed to get back
to a somewhat regular art practice again
I found a "body part" art challenge
by Connie Solera (Dirty Footprints)
that helped get me back on track.

I would have painted on my own eventually,
but sometimes,
just having something to paint
without needing to think too much about anything
is exactly what we need.

Sometimes, we know what we need,
but life gets in the way
and it becomes more difficult
to do those things.

There's a time for everything
and when the dust settles
and life begins to feel normal again,
we eventually find our own way home.

This whole Trump fiasco is 
weighing heavy on my heart, still,
as it is with so many others around the globe.

But I remind myself
that there is more love than hatred in this world
(even if some would have us believe otherwise)
and that the important thing is
for all of us to
keep telling our stories
and sharing our voices.
Especially women.

So I'm slowly getting back to feeling like myself.
A new & improved,
sometimes lost,
sometimes found,
sometimes awakened, angry self,
...but MYSELF.

A few of the good books I'm reading.
One can never read too many books. :)

Thanks for hanging out here.
xox

is it dark in here or is it just me?

Hello loves.

It's been a rough few weeks, hasn't it?

It's been almost a month 

since I last posted something here.

I was at a loss for words (still am).

But I'll share something I wrote

a few days ago,

along with some of the art

I've managed to make

over the past few weeks -

despite the craziness happening

all over the world.

(Much of it BECAUSE of the craziness)

I hope you've all been well

and getting the hugs you need these days.

My heart is sick

and has been for weeks now.

They say:

“don’t let yourself

get carried away

with all the hatred”

and so I try

to surround myself

with joy and peace

and do the things

that make my heart sing,

but then the wave comes

and carries me away again,

when i hear about another

ridiculous executive order

and the muslim ban

and Cheeto demanding

that women should dress like women

and the burning mosques

and the murder of 6 muslims in Canada

or the new laws taking place

in some US States

where a rapist now has the right

to sue his victim 

if she chooses to abort the foetus.

The one that was created in violence.

It is very difficult these days

NOT to care.

(and we should never not care.)

And with social media and TV

and radio and conversations

at the local coffee shop -

it is also very difficult to "tune out".

Oh, but it is SO important that we do so

now and then. For the sake of sanity.

They say:

“but it’s politics!

And it’s happening in the US,

not here in Canada!”

and I want to scream,

INJUSTICE ANYWHERE

IS A THREAT

TO JUSTICE EVERYWHERE.

The rants and the tweets and the protests

and the families being divided

by a ban that fell on US citizens

like a bomb.

And now, on the rest of the world.

There are those on social media who say:

“I want Facebook to be fun again

with pictures of dancing cats

and funny memes that have

nothing to do with politics”

and I shake my head

at the idea that so many

still choose ignorance.

As if the craziness won't happen

if you don’t know about it.

And yet - I understand the need

to detach.

I understand the need

to run away and hide.

But hiding is not the answer.

It never was.

I am doing what I can

to care for myself 

more than usual these days,

to save myself from living

with an angry heart

the way Donald does.

Hatred breeds hatred,

and if I can keep just a tiny spark

of love alive

during this fucked up chaotic time,

i’ve done well.

I’ve been wanting to hug trees

and take long walks on the beach

and hot baths

and read good books

and make art.

But even these things have been unusually difficult...

My mind goes back to the Holocaust

and Nazi Germany

and how quickly an educated, intelligent nation

crumbled to the ground

when they were taught to hate.

When they were taught to live in fear.

When they were taught to become indifferent

to another persons’ pain.

It is the beginning of the end

when one becomes indifferent.

And yet - there is hope.

There is hope in the protests

and the coming together

of so many people 

who are willing to see their similarities

instead of their differences.

There is hope in people

who have found their voices

during the most tumultuous times

and who are using those voices

to make the world a place of peace

rather than a world of hatred and war.

There is hope in those

who stand with others

who have had their voices

silenced

along the way.

There is hope in children.

There is hope in the blade of grass.

There is hope in poetry and in music.

There is hope in words.

There is hope in the stars

and the moon

and the grand possibilities that are

within reach

for those of us who dare

to touch the sky.