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Posts Tagged ‘love affair’

“Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space
between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.”
― Maya Angelou

Music was a huge blessing to me as I sought reprieve from the nightmares of my childhood. It gave sweet moments to get lost in my own cocoon and to momentarily hide from the explosions that threatened life as I knew it.

drumming with dogI nearly always had music playing; I could never get enough. And because my father was in the record business, he introduced me to all the popular music, hot musicians, and and all the records, cassettes, and eight tracks I could possibly want to hear.

 

Even as I left home in my late teens, my love of music never left me. Once I reached my middle to late 30s, I added drumming and chanting to my sweet repertoire of music. 

This new love affair came at the perfect time. It was during my late 30s that the pain of my childhood came roaring back to me when I was recovering  some long forgotten memories. The new wave of despair could only be quieted when I was chanting or drumming.

The good news is that now that I am just entering my mid-fifties, I have found a new rhythm to navigate my traumatic childhood and I still love music! Music will always be my refuge during the hard times and fuel for healthy living too.

What music inspires you on your darkest days? I am always looking for new musical inspiration.

Onward with love, light, and blessings,
Chava

PS: Thanks for reading what will likely be part of my memoir which at this point is being called, Thriving: No Option. . . . If you like what you are reading, please take a moment and like it on WordPress or any social media site, And if you have feedback, I’d love to hear it.

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“It is really a matter of ending this silence and solitude,
of breathing and stretching one’s arms again.”

~Mark Rothko

I am not sure that I was ever an artist, although that is the way I think of myself.

Today my canvas is any blank journal, my blog, and any word document. My writing makes me an artist with words. But when I was much younger, I loved my opportunities to express myself through the visual arts. Drawing, painting and crafts were part of my daily life.

Now the closest I get to the visual arts is that I doodle in my journal and sometimes on small rectangular canvases that will make up a piece of art work that I am calling the ‘Dance of Emergence’.  It is the gift I am currently making for myself to be unveiled for  my 50th birthday in February.  I have yet to decide if the artwork will be ongoing, but my guess is that it will.

And of course, I have an easel holding two blank canvases waiting for me in my office. Every day I walk into my office and feel like I am neglecting my  forlorn lover. And yet, I feel like I have nothing to give. I wake up with images that I want to paint or illustrate, but I don’t because I fear that I will neglect another piece that is calling to me. Another part of this painting relationship that leads me to no where is that I am afraid of doing it poorly.  What if I am really not the artist I remember?

With the above thoughts racing through my head, I often find it difficult to walk into an art museum or a fabulous gallery.  If I allowed my intense mind the room to be totally present, I would probably simply crumble to the ground in a heap of tears.  If you are wondering why that is, it is simple. As I look at amazing works of art, I feel like I missed something. I never learned about the different artists or artist expressions as I would have liked AND I’ve never done anything with my art.  (Note: I know that blogging is my medium and I definitely share that with the world, but still I haven’t nurtured my other love affair, the one that is waiting for me in the corner of my office.)

The good news for art patrons is that I simply put one foot in front of the other and when I love an exhibit, I allow myself to feel and to get lost in the works of art.

Chava looking at large canvas 3

Photo Courtesy of David J. Cooper

On Thursday, I may have finally been transformed when I went to the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston and saw the Rothko Exhibit. As I walked through the exhibit, I realized that I AM an artist; I am unique; I AM ME!

The moment of transformation came when I noticed how Mark Rothko’s paintings evolved over time especially after he suffered and aneurysm in 1968 which caused him to switch to less toxic paints and smaller canvases. This moment helped me realize that I have also evolved from the person I thought I would be to the person I am. While this realization is so simple, it is also so very profound to me.

For me, I can’t help but focus on the beauty of his creations and the hope I have from the little time I had enjoying each piece. I was mesmerized, totally enchanted. I can’t wait to go back in the next week or two.

Following the Rothko exhibit, I went to my new favorite creative space. I went to the Rothko Chapel which is also set in the beautiful Museum District of Houston. This tranquil space is quite possibly the most sacred environment that I have experienced in Houston. (More on that in my next blog. . . )

Mark Rothko’s work warmed my heart and gave me hope. I am not sure how that will impact me in the long run. Perhaps the two canvases sitting on my easel will be given the love that they deserve. Perhaps, my writing will continue to nourish my artistic soul. Anything is possible. The bottom-line is that Mark Rothko’s artistic gifts have ultimately inspired me to become more grounded and breathe more deeply .

I will embrace my new found knowledge; I am an artist. 🙂

 

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(Note: Recently, a very dear friend of mine questioned me about why my blog is important or why it was vital for me to share my writing. To say that the question felt like a violent blow to my soul may be an understatement.  I was profoundly stunned that someone close to me could wonder about the importance of writing and sharing my writing. This friend is really one of the best kinds of friends I have ever had, but time and distance has had an impact.  I wrote this because I wanted to respond the best way I knew how.)

Feb 12 Close UP

 

Hello Friend

I hope your day is going great in every way.

After we hung up today, I realized how many miles apart we really are.  We haven’t spent time together in years and it shows.

You really don’t know me or know what jazzes my soul.  You don’t listen to what my hopes and dreams are. You and I love one another because we have 22 years of history, but it has been over 12 years since connected for more than 24 hours and the one time we did for hours it was lovely.

Let me be clear with you. . . .I want you to know what nearly every other friend knows about me.  I live with a deep authenticity; I am happy in my own skin and with my own needs/desires.   And I know that my voice matters whether it is verbal or written.  There was a time in my life that I was silenced and today I am blessed that that is not the case!

When I say that the act of writing and sharing my writing is a non-negotiable in my life, you don’t seem to grasp the power of my writing to me and to others.  For me, writing has kept me moving forward and grounded as a person.  For others, there seems to be beauty in how people connect with my experiences and the way that I think.  My writing impacts others deeply. The more I write, the more I am asked to write.  AND the more I write, the more I am driven to write. Whether I am writing about my personal journeys, the way that I walk in the world, or the way I see the world, I touch people’s lives; sometimes I even inspire people in some small ways.  And the bottom-line is that I love that my writing touches others, but I also simply write because it centers me and makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Writing has always been part of my life.  This is a love affair that has nurtured my soul, given me hope, and held me when I was feeling a sense of loss.  This love affair has kept me close at times and also pushed me over the edge.  I have been forced to navigate deep emotions with this lover and to sometimes let go.  I have been writing to and about this lover since I can remember.  This is the only lover, I have fully trusted with my entire being.  At 14 years old, I wrote. . .

Writing,
t
he song of my heart;
t
he meaning of my mind;
t
he feeling of my soul;
I
s what makes me One.
(
Note: Today, I sometimes write Whole instead of One.)

Nothing has changed since I wrote these words nearly 35 years ago.

My writing is sacred.  I choose what to share and what not share, but I write every day of my life.  If I am not writing, you know that something is seriously wrong.  While you may not like my transparency, my nonfiction nature, or my writing style, I have many people that do.  And even if I didn’t, I love it and I love doing it!

Over time, I have begun to treasure the people that stop into my writing life.  I love that one friend periodically tells me that it is time to deepen my writing or watch my grammar.  I smile that I have about 4 or 5 religious leaders that follow my blog even though I am not from their tradition.  And then there is the distant friend, that let’s me know that one particular blog has transformed how they look at the challenges that they face.  Finally, I am touched that strangers and friends alike find the gifts in what I write.

Each and every day I grow as a writer.  I look back to what I have published over the years and I laugh.  How could anyone have ever published my articles? My writing is a work in progress. Each and every day I  continue to grow as a writer and pray that I do until my last breath.

Sharing my writing is the gift I give myself and the world (or those that choose to read).  🙂  The impact that my writing has on many others is humbling and beautiful.  So while you have no reason to see my writing as impactful, many do.

Taking a deep breath. . . . I was really stunned by your questioning my writing and your subsequent attitude.

No need to talk about this again. . . .Just wanted you to know.  There are two non-negotiables in my life. . .Loving my sons and my writing journey.

Hope we one day can spend time knowing each other better. . . it has been such a long time.

With love,
Chava

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