The Questions

I don’t know what makes me think my story is so unique. Maybe because it’s mine? I’ve always questioned and wondered. When I was in the Community of the Sisters of St. Joseph, they encouraged self-examination as necessary to spiritual growth.... something I found familiarly easy as I’d done it all my life.

I’ve been told I question too much....that I should come to a greater acceptance of what ‘is’. It’s my nature to question. My acceptance is in knowing I won’t always find the answers or that they will make themselves known eventually....but I never stop asking the questions and some questions continue to be unanswered.

Why, I wonder, am I so afraid of being who I am? Who am I?

I went through the first half of life adapting myself to what others wanted ...how they wanted me to act.... what they thought I should do.... who they wanted me to be. In order to survive in the working world, I learned how to bend and how to blend. In search of love and acceptance, I felt I had to earn it, adapting myself to what was expected...and never fully experiencing. Why?

Now, I’m spending the second half of life unlearning... searching for who I really am, hoping the "real" me didn’t get lost along the way.

Of course it didn’t! The "real" me has always been there. I’d just lacked the courage to let her out. Looking for that courage led to more questions. Sure I would receive it, was I strong enough to accept criticism and rejection? Would people love me for who I am? More importantly, would I love me for who I am? And so began the search....the seeking of my self.

The thing about seeking the self is, we cannot find it without seeing and recognizing God.

I know, no matter what the question... or how many there are... God will always have and be the answer. I just have to stop asking long enough to see and hear.

Second Painting

I call this the second painting because it is the second of what I envision as being three...all of which do... and will... express what I feel so deeply. I have been overcome with the abundance of ignorance, selfishness and greed....what I often refer to as the "me-me" attitude... and these paintings are my response.

Those of you in my classes, knowing how I feel about using black, are probably laughing at my use of it. The thing is, for these paintings, I feel black is the only "color" which represents the negative effectively.

I had a hard time titling this one and am still not certain the title Tomorrow? will remain. I hope it asks the questions loud enough for people to answer.

This painting is in response to the greed of fracking.... the threat of global warming, the poisoning of our waters and our earth. How far will we allow it to go before we step up and do something about it? Hence the title is a question. Is this our Tomorrow?... Or do we, like the figure in the painting, plant to restore and nourish hope?

Wouldn’t you know it! In writing that last sentence I settled on the final title.

Planting Hope

Being Hungry

Usually we think of ourselves as being hungry when it’s close to meal time or we’ve skipped a meal... Nothing to be concerned about because we know dinner will be served and the hunger cravings satisfied. On the other hand, when we think of hunger in the abstract sense, those pictures of starving children, the homeless and the destitute come to mind. I say "abstract sense" because if we’ve never experienced that kind of hunger, we can’t really know what it is. We can only imagine...and those who are hungry are those "other people", not us.

The hunger I’m going to talk about here isn’t the hunger of the body, but the hunger of the spirit...the hunger in our souls.... the hunger for God. It's a hunger which exists in all of us.  It's a hunger we might push aside and try to ignore...pretend isn’t there and try to bury in the busyness of our lives. The problem is, it never goes away but continues to gnaw at our insides until we recognize its presence and take steps to feed it. 

Last night a friend and I went to dinner. During the course of conversation, when speaking of a group she was involved with, she said, "I don’t know if I want to continue. It doesn’t feed me."

Four simple words, "It doesn’t feed me" and I responded with a resounding "yes" of sudden understanding. She had very simply and effectively put my hunger for more of God into words.

I had once shared with someone that I felt like a starving person looking at the delicious, sumptuous banquet laid out before me but not allowed to partake. While looking at all that food, my mouth watering to taste it, I was expected to be satisfied with the few crumbs put on my plate. I was not... and am not... satisfied with crumbs. I agreed with my friend. If it does not feed me...if God does not feed me through it.... it should not be a part of my life.

I can imagine some people responding to that statement with, "That sounds pretty selfish." It isn’t. My spirit, like my body, needs food to survive and grow. The simple truth is, the more we are fed, the more there is within us to share and feed to others.

The Painting

In my last blog I spoke of the agony in painting and I figured it would be a good idea to show you the finished painting. It’s a 24x30 / 1.5 inch stretched canvas and was done in acrylics. After much discussion, the title is Making Choices.

I’ve been told...and I agree...it’s probably not something someone would want to hang on their living room wall and that’s okay but I’m interested in your responses.  Don't worry...a few people have already told me they don't like it and their reasons are valid.  You won't upset me or hurt my feelings.  A painting should provoke thought and/or emotion.  If it does that, I've done what I set out to do.

I have a couple more running around in my head...Just need to find the time to do them.

The Agony in Painting

I am in the process of doing a painting...one which I continually question myself about because it’s different from anything I’ve ever done. Quite a while ago a picture came into my mind consisting of both good and evil...God’s work versus the devil’s work. I wrote about it in my Journal and put it out of my mind. Recently, however, it came back into my consciousness and though I tried to talk myself out of it, I knew it was meant to be a painting.

There’s an evil side to this painting which, for reasons unknown...or reasons which will make themselves known... I feel has to be shown. I’ve been extremely affected by the evil in the world, the murders by ISIS, the bullying of children, spousal abuse, the selling of women and children into prostitution and slavery, companies taking advantage of people’s need to work and not paying them enough to live on... equivalent to slave labor. I’m upset about fracking...the raping of our planet...with those who will ignore natural power sources for the sake of greed. I’m upset about those wanting to run a pipeline through Native American lands, risking a legitimate Indian war.

I’m upset with those who twist God’s words, using them in such a way to raise themselves as false idols, greater than God. I’m upset with those who fight so hard to take God off our money, out of our pledge and out of our lives. I’m upset with those who use others for their own gain... who make money and worldly success their gods. I’m upset with those who ignore the starving on their doorsteps while their tables groan under the weight of abundance.

The thing about representing this evil in paint is, I have to feel it. In order for me to paint it, I have to feel the depression, the pain, the desolation, the greed, the disregard...and I do....until it becomes real enough to express visually. This was the main reason for my hesitation. I didn’t want to feel it.

Having to feel what I paint doesn’t just stay in the studio. The painting, until it’s finished, remains a part of me and has a definite effect on other parts of my life. My soul cries. My heart aches. The one redeeming factor is, once I can get back to finishing it, there is hope...and light... yet to be painted. I am not there yet but I can see it waiting for me.