I was sitting outside working on my art. I don’t think I can stress enough how being outside, working like this, with my hands on new things, in new ways of speaking…oh, my. The enjoyment can’t be expressed enough. From the hours of 11 to 7, you’ll find me out on the lawn, under the golden rain tree with a needle and thread…..
My wildflowers have been popping with enthusiasm. (Don’t forget that word, “enthusiasm.”) Truly, every morning I spring out of bed with anxious anticipation to see who is new to the party, who bloomed today, what new color in my wild, mixed palate is showing some striking display. This old Haitian man pulls up with his car in a screeching halt.
He comes bursting up to my gate, “Sir! Sir! My beautiful lady has been admiring your sunflower for days. I made a promise to her that she could have anything in the world she wanted if she would proclaim her love for me. She asked for a beautiful flower like this…may I have it?”
I didn’t even blink. “Absolutely!” I could see his beautiful lady in the car just brighten with delight when she saw the fellow snatch that sunflower out of the ground. He thanked me with such sincerity, as a little tear came to her eye. Now, that’s love. Proclaim your love and I will give you anything! All I want is a simple flower. Then that is what you shall have!!!!
And I have plenty of them, have enjoyed the sunflower, taken pictures of it, embroidered it, and now it will fade into its sunset in the arms of someone who wanted it so…..Man. What a great feeling shared by all.
Which really makes the next half of this blog a real shit stirrer…..
Phillip comes bursting out the front door, “Did that man just walk up and steal your flower????”
“No, he asked if he could have it and I said he could.”
He stared at me for a second, went “pfff, idiot,” and walked back inside….
Ok. I guess we’re going to have one of those days. I didn’t want to have any sort of negative confrontation, because my days outside have been just too good to spoil with-
-too late.
I decided I needed to go inside and get something to eat. I’m forcing myself to eat these days. I was at Publix and got on the scale and I haven’t been gaining weight, I’ve been losing weight. I’m at 102 right now. I’m stressed…..very stressed. And if you’ve read this blog long enough you know that when I’m stressed, I don’t eat.
So, as I go to make myself something to eat, Phillip and I begin to talk….and it does not go well.
It would be ridiculous to try and rehash the conversation now. To be fair, you’d only be getting my version of the events. You’d only be reading what I heard. In Phillip’s defense, I can tell you that his version is wrapped in a lot of fear. Allow me to say that it was shown that there is a lot of resentment between us. He truly resents that I am creative. “You pick up everything with such ease….” That is never said with boast, nor with pride. It is always said with a sneer. And my resentment towards him was that he would prefer to spend his time huddle in the dark on a couch watching anime, pissed at me for wanting to conquer my fears with enthusiastic joy! Yeah, I resent being treated like crap because I’m not as miserable as you.
The “event” (as I prefer to call it) that happened doesn’t need to be rehashed either. I will only say that his resentment towards me was no longer just an attitude, but became physical…..
And there are no excuses, no take backs. There is forgiveness when it happens once. There is a pattern developing however, when it happens twice….three times.
So, Phillip and I are parting ways. I ask that you pray we are both at least kind to each other through the transition. There is so much to consider, so many things to think about….we’ve been together for so long.
After, he asked if I was afraid of him.
I bluntly said, “No. I lived in fear of my father for the first 20 years of my life. I spent all of last summer going through a mental break down just to get over all of that crap, get it out of my system and move on with my life and finally be happy. I’ll be damned if I let myself go through that again. No, I’m not afraid of you, I’m leaving you, or rather, you’re leaving. The lease is up in 2 months, go ahead and consider your options, because I’m staying right here. I busted my ass for 10 years selling books and teddy bears to get to a place where I could just grow pretty flowers and be happy. I finally got it, and I ain’t letting it go for nothing. Honeychurch is mine. So, start considering your next move now, my friend…..Because I ain’t going nowhere. I love you, I truly do. But I will not live with you.”
If you appreciate my blog and would like for it to continue, please donate. Every bit helps and I wouldn’t have the courage to do this without you. Thank you!
It isn’t all bad. Not at all. As a matter of fact, March was one of the first starts of the month where the fridge was full and the bills were paid. The only problem is that there was nothing else left. I mean nothing. Coffee, cat litter, laundry detergent, packing tape….I certainly am in no need of creative art supplies.
SO, I’m in one of those off places where I’m not quite on track. I’m either ahead of myself, or behind myself at the moment. My timing, my flow are just a little off when it comes to our finances right now. I will start charging more for my embroidery, I really don’t have a choice. I’ve been selling them for really low prices just to keep the funds coming in. But, of course, it takes me a good 3 or 4 days to finish a piece….In that time, I do my best to put the work down and pick up a bear….But, it’s only a moment or two before I just feel the need to dash back to the embroidery. And $50 for 4 days worth of work isn’t very smart when it only takes 4 hours to knit a teddy bear….My heart just isn’t in it.
So, if I had a few days to breathe, I could really work up some amazing pieces, start framing them so that they’re worth the price, and really start moving this whole adventure into a reality that eventually pays me, while already beautifully rewarding my soul. I’m inclined to call this piece that I’m working on “Soul.”
So, I ran the idea by Phillip and he agreed to let me switch rooms. We’ll put the living room in my workspace, and we’ll make the living room my new place to create and work. I’ve put my desk right up against that gigantic picture window so that I could not only see this beautiful world that I have found myself in all the time, but so that I could be inspired by it. It’s only been a few minutes since I’ve sat down to write this blog post and already my head is swirling with creative ideas. Plus, Betty seems to like the change, too 🙂
It can be hard for a writer. But, I think it can be even harder to live with a writer. We require so many conditions in order to get to that particular place where the magic happens, where the soul sings and you just pour through your finger tips whatever words you cleverly hear thrown in the air. The right light, the right sounds, the right frame of mind. All of them have to be just right. And in the process of all those conditions you worry so much if people will love what you’ve penned. You pray for it. Someone asked me how you make money at writing. Well, you really shouldn’t think about any creative venture that way. Especially writing.
Ok, now that I’m settled into this new view, I’m ready to start moving forward. I am so excited to see what beautiful things are created with these hands, what things are inspired by this new view. And I thank all of so much for giving me the support and encouragement to continually grow, heal, and move forward.
It probably looks eccentric, maybe even strange to someone walking by, this frail old man hunched before a hedge of dandelions. Behind him, a sea of tranquil green dotted with petite yellow buds. Before him, a charming grey house cracked with the most beautiful bit of aging. There in that chair he has sat for at least 8 hours a day for the last seven. People walking their dogs in routine schedule will watch him slowly rotate the brim of his ball cap from left to right, hiding his face from the sun’s ever glorious gaze…..and regrettably forgetting his arms completely, leaving them red and leathery by the close of day. He doesn’t seem to care.
“I could spend my day in pursuit of all the money in the world. I’m smart enough to know how to do that…. But, I would prefer, if you don’t mind, that this be the world that I pursue….I’d prefer to live in this life of deliberate joy. All of this time I spend out here? Surrounding myself with all of this natural beauty? This is absolute (!) contemplation. I’m not praying to God….I’m focused on being in the presence of God. And in those moment, regardless of how long or how many hours it has been, nothing in the world is poisonous. Nothing is fatal. Nothing is painful. EVERYTHING is beautiful.”
He takes random pictures of bugs on his chair because the bug is a beautiful color; takes pictures of his embroidery hoop getting caught in his military belt buckle and laughing at this gorgeous masculine-feminine match finally happen on the lap of Mr. Gregory Patrick. (Goodness, I blush).
As the sun begins to set he’ll hold up what he’s been working on. The sun pulls just the right light through the golden rain tree, casting shadow off his raised stems, dandelions and rosettes.
finished up my adorable little bear, thanked him for making it possible for me to pick up little things until payday, gave him a little squeeze, then waited for the sun to rise.
It was a good day to simple sit outside and knit this little bunny. My color is returning, my smile is starting to creep back in 🙂 I’m playing around with different designs for Easter. Let me know what you think. This little rabbit is in the shop. Click 
So, I quickly pulled my thread and canvas back out, tossed on some more leaves, more rosettes, more French Knots and asked if Phillip would take a picture of me with my artwork. He spent about 45 seconds taking about 10 pictures. He huffed, made annoyed noises, complained about the frigid 60 degree weather, to which point I just looked away and thought, “I only need 45 really enthusiastic seconds of your time, that’s all I’m asking for….” I finally snapped to my feet, grabbed my canvases and said, “Thanks. I think I’ve got enough pictures.”
And my wildflowers just love it. That quick plunge from 87 degrees to 43 set them reeling with an invigorating exhilaration. You could almost hear the soft pops of their blooms bursting open, then slowly stretching to reveal their simple magnificence. I was strolling by the front fence, watching little bits of beauty freely reach towards the coming, warming sun. The energy of this little piece of land right this moment was simply….rewarding. 
I was no more than two feet from this darling thing. His head was studying me, bobbing up and down. For about 30 seconds we just looked at it each other with quiet interest. He then muttered something, then fluttered up rather gingerly and tucked himself inside the nook of an oak broadly hanging above us. He then stayed there watching me. He didn’t smile, for I’m told owls don’t do that sort of thing….however, I did see him wink at me.
Then, as the sun faded even more, I dimmed the lights, put on some Vivaldi, cracked a beer and got back to my embroidery, the candle light tantalizing me with shadowed colors on the canvas. This was today’s progress, using the canvas I dyed with beet juice. When finished, I think I’ll call it simply, “February, Honeychurch.”
For hours, be it just a petal or only a bloom, I’ll spend my focus on feeling better. Each flower releasing me of any hurt, any pain, any discomfort, any….nastiness that might be harming me. I spend my time forgetting. The needle moves with a hush through the warm fabric and I get to be alone with my God….
I’ve been so obsessive about showing you photos of the progress of my embroidery, rather than pictures of my face. For, in a strange way, these embroidery pieces are the mirrored reflections of a man trying to avoid pain by absorbing and creating as many beautiful things as possible for him to look at…so that he doesn’t have to look at himself.
