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Election 2016

November 8, 2016 was a beautiful, sunny, bright fall morning.  I eagerly greeted the day and headed to our local elementary school to vote before going to work.  I recall how joyful I felt walking to my car after casting my ballot. Democracy was thriving.  People were exercising their right to vote and declaring their will for the next leader of our great nation.  The candidates couldn’t have been more different from each other! The right choice was so obvious. To me, anyway.

The morning was calm and peaceful, and it seemed like all was right in the world and everything was in God’s hands. Finally, the campaign season nightmare was over. I felt like celebrating.

That evening, after my husband went to bed, I snuggled into my easy chair to watch the election results.  Time dragged on with no clear victory in sight. I had to go to sleep if I expected to be functional for work the next day. Despite some niggling anxiety, I felt optimistic and hopeful and drifted off to dreamland.

At 1:00am I was jerked awake. I don’t know what prompted it, but it was a startling jolt. I reached for my phone.  The Washington Post headline “Trump triumphs” assaulted my eyes.

I cannot describe adequately the impact of those two little words. In my sleepy stupor I kept questioning: Is this really happening? Can this really be true?  This MUST be a joke. I was shaken at the foundation of my being. Rocked into an altered state of panic, rage, disbelief, horror and abject fear.

I tried to go back to sleep, but it was impossible.  Every few moments, I kept looking at my phone, somehow thinking that by doing so, the outcome would be different.  That this terrible mistake would be rectified.

The next morning, I dragged myself to the office, feeling nauseous from lack of sleep and numb from the bitter pill I had just been force fed. I was in absolute, all-encompassing, full-blown grief. As if the person I loved most in the world had died a sudden, horrific death.

I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.  I couldn’t speak.  I choked back waves of convulsive, stinging tears as I arrived at the office and staggered through the hallway. The atmosphere of the building was thick and heavy.  It dawned on me: I was not the only person reeling from this stunning event.  There was a dark cloud snuffing out the oxygen in the air. It was hard to breathe.

I plopped down at my desk, mentally shocked and paralyzed. I willed myself to begin the robotic routine of turning on my computer and reading incoming emails, simultaneously wrestling my lifeless body for composure.

A few moments later, I was wrenched from this haze as a very likeable and friendly co-worker and the president of our organization wafted by my cubicle.  Their exuberant delight was a dissonance twanging the strings of my broken heart.  “We won!” she loudly declared, reveling in the moment.  The president jauntily winked and gleefully smiled directly at me, gloating, as they pranced by.

There was no humility or gentleness evident in that jubilant victory lap.  No recognition of the searing pain many of us were enduring.  Our company’s president seemed unwilling to tamp down his exhilaration, despite the effect he must have known it was having on many of us, his loyal flock.

Then I recalled the time, just a few weeks ago, when I was in his office discussing business. I tried to ignore the conservative radio talk show buzzing in the background while we worked. As we wrapped up, he felt duty-bound to tell me that I was one of the “elite,” but acted like I wasn’t.  At the time, I didn’t know what the term “elite” meant!  I thought he was teasing me, so I laughed it off.  Now, I recognize the derisive comment for what it was and what he meant.

As they drifted away I just kept thinking:  This cannot stand.  This WILL not stand.

But here we are, on the eve of Election 2020, and the nightmare is only more frightening. God Bless America!  Please.

Was this moment a genuine recollection or a self-created memory that comports with my inner narrative? Perhaps it is a commingling of what my mother told me happened and what I imagine happened. I don’t know.  I wonder if it matters.

What I THINK I remember is a visceral feeling of being unloved and unwanted in the womb.  Could I have known, even then, that I may not have been conceived in love, but rather in the dutiful compliance of my overworked, powerless, depressed mother who was ever submissive to my father’s dominating personality. Even in utero, I intuited her psychic pain and unhappiness.

As the birthing process was underway, I recall experiencing an inchoate foreboding of misery to come. Perhaps a lifetime of it. I balked. I resisted. I know I did. I realized too late that I did not want to come into this world.  I wanted to go back!  But, of course, that wasn’t an option. I swear I have this cellular memory of bartering with God, pleading for a reversal of fortune. Unsuccessful begging led swiftly to capitulation: “Okay, I’ll do it, but this is the LAST time I’m coming here.” This conversation was not lingual and was unbound by linear time. I understood in a flash what was being communicated and that a pact had been negotiated.

Was this my imagination?

What I can verify is that my apparent inner distress coincided with my mother’s profound physical distress in the final hours before my arrival.  While in active labor, between contractions, she found herself fighting with the doctor (someone she had never met who was standing in for her regular obstetrician) because she did not want him to administer ether, the painkiller of choice in the 1950’s. It made her gravely ill. This interim doctor was impervious to her pleas and continued attempting to force his poison upon her.  But my mom is a tough gal, and ultimately, her resistance prevailed.

So, I came out the natural way. Natural, before there was Lamaze training, without any support or preparation or pain mitigation. As I said, my mom is tough. She managed the birth unaided like the stoic warrioress she is.

But it was a rough time for us both.

Mom, who loves to tell family stories, laughs whenever she recounts this one.  She is amused when she describes how I fought her every step of the way.  She gets positively giddy when reminding me that I hollered bloody murder non-stop from the moment I popped out. 

We both recall with a chuckle the statement I often hurled at her in early childhood. Whenever we were vexed with each other, with indignant exasperation, I would yell: “I DIDN’T ASK TO BE BORN!” As if our mutual misery was somehow her fault.

I love my Mom. She put up with a lot.

I recently took an intensive writing workshop, and it has motivated me to learn the craft by practicing daily writing assignments.  I’d like to share one with you here.

This particular assignment was to select a recent incident in my life, write a brief story about it, explain what I learned from the experience, and suggest how the outcome might benefit the reader.

I am a newbie to the writing world, so I have decided to use this forum to try out my work.  I’m hoping this practice will keep me on the path of daily writing, and help me gain confidence in putting myself out there.

If so moved, please let me know if I did, or did not, achieve the task as presented!

The Story Begins:

I don’t know what prompted me to do it. I had contemplated it a few times, but in this moment, something compelled me to do it.  NOW.  I grabbed my phone and searched for her Facebook page.

There it was.  Loud and clear.  Unmistakable.  All my fears and suspicions confirmed.

The healing practitioner I have worked with regularly for the past five years, to whom I have paid thousands and thousands of dollars, was spouting vitriol.  “Democrats are pure evil” stung the most.  Then: “Democrats must feel glee that another small business has closed,” and oh, yeah, this one: “#Obamagate, the most corrupt administration in history, is coming to light.” It went on.

And on.

As I scrolled through the litany, a memory was triggered.

A few weeks ago, I had resumed my weekly healing sessions after two months of the COVID-19 Lockdown. Inexplicably, I felt awkward as I entered the office wearing a face mask. There was a swift flash of a condescending smirk that passed between my care provider and her partner as I walked in the door.  I now recall the embarrassment I felt, my quick removal of the mask, sheepishly explaining I wasn’t the least bit concerned about getting the virus. Just following protocol.  I felt shamed in that moment, but I suppressed it.

I continued scheduling my sessions.

As time went on, I could no longer ignore the inner discord emerging, and something unsettled rumbling in my belly.  These persistent physical sensations were the prompt to LOOK.  Discomfort was goading me. I needed to know. Know what, I wasn’t sure.  But I had to find out. My body trembled, my pulse raced, and my breathing became jagged as I read each successive post. I felt betrayed. I was certain she knew I was a democrat. I felt vulnerable.

My trust was broken.

After about 24 hours of contemplating what to do, I felt this fierce force gather within me, propelling me to act decisively. There was no way to unsee what I saw. So, I texted the practitioner and expressed my discomfort with her views, as respectfully as I could. I explained that it hurt, and reminded her that I, her long-time client, am a democrat.

Her response was not defensive at all! But, she stood her ground and claimed that it is her job to educate, and suggested, somewhat authoritatively, that one day I would understand.

When the “real” truth comes out.

I saw no way to comfortably continue our association, so I severed the tie, explaining her truth did not resonate with mine.  She graciously accepted my decision.

And then she blocked me from her Facebook page.

This experience rocked me off my center. I kept trying to reconcile the benefits of her healing gifts with the hostility of her world view. After years of overlooking what I suspected she might be thinking, in order to justify my partaking of her wonderful services, I could no longer ignore the cognitive dissonance. Now that I had corroboration of my suspicions, “ignorance is bliss” wasn’t cutting it.

As the days and weeks have passed, I now notice, unmistakably, that my body has relaxed completely. I feel grounded and centered.

What did I learn from this experience?  Honoring my truth, which I deeply questioned for some time, is always the right thing to do.

It is so important to listen to ourselves.  Our feelings, intuitions, inner knowing, physical sensations.  Even, perhaps especially, with someone who says the right things, has a gift for healing, and is a self-ascribed spiritual authority.

It is vital that we cultivate and listen to our God-given BS meter, and respond to its call when it blares, “Get out of this five alarm fire!”

 

I have been struggling so much to grapple with the divisiveness we face as a country.  Most people would agree that unleashed dark forces are running rampant, but we certainly don’t agree on what and who that “darkness” actually is!  Each side is so attached to its own viewpoint and is equally certain the other side is “wrong;”  misguided at best, if not downright villainous. It defies logic to think that this could actually be true.  We are all created in the image of God.  And God don’t make junk.  I trust most people are good, caring, kind, generous.  So what’s going on?  Are we falling prey to a created conflict that doesn’t really exist?

I recently read something interesting in a book called “A Course in Miracles”  (p. 448):

I am responsible for what I see.

I choose the feelings I experience, and I decide upon the goal I would achieve.

And everything that seems to happen to me I ask for, and receive as I have asked.

Wow.

We are each responsible for our own perceptions and judgments?  We are responsible for how we choose to feel about what we witness “out there?”  We are not victims of some dark power outside ourselves?  What happens to us is what we look for, expect, or fear?  And we receive the measure of what we look for, expect, or fear?

That’s a tough one, but I am going to try to work with this concept.  Maybe it will help me see more light and less darkness, more commonality and less divisiveness. If it’s true that what we focus on expands, it is surely a worthwhile experiment!  I, for one, am TIRED of the darkness!

Oh, happy day!

Surfing 2020

Hello!  After working on this piece for several months (on and off), it is now ready to share with you.  I finally landed on the title “Surfing 2020” after mulling over a number of ideas.  This title best reflects my intent for the work.  The various motifs reflect a variety of somewhat disparate experiences, yet they are all connected.  Some of the waves are gentle and slow, some are swift and thundering, and sometimes they crash into each other; much like the unpredictable nature of the ocean.  This feels like an appropriate theme for these times, as we ride the waves however they come, and strive to stay upright and stable amidst the noise, the chaos, the uncertainty, and the conflict that is rampant in our country and around the world.

The construction of this piece is unusual, and may not resonate for you.  But it is what came to me, and as always, I honor what comes without trying to force it into something it’s not.

I would love any feedback – positive or negative.

Happy Summer!

A quick update and an interesting insight about life in the age of COVID-19

My goodness, how does 3 months go by with no activity on this site!  My creative projects have been minimal these past few months.  I finally wrote down the music for Echoes, which was a challenge because the rhythm was so syncopated.  BUT, it is done. Yea.  I have started a new collage, but haven’t been motivated to complete it yet. So be it.

Most of my time this year has been spent on physical health, with daily yoga classes and long walks, and spiritual development – reading, contemplating, meditating, journaling, praying… All this, I’m sure, has enabled me to ride the COVID-19 wave with relative ease and only mild discomfort and inconvenience — so far.  I don’t know anyone who has the virus — so far.  I pray for my friends who are on the medical front lines in hospitals.  I pray for my friends who have compromised immune systems because of cancer.  All are okay for the moment. Thank God.

But, as we now are in our second official week of “social distancing,” and as the initial period of shock, adjustment, and acceptance of the new normal sets in, I am starting to feel the pinch.  The pinch of not being able to go to yoga classes or my group gatherings for shared meditation and fellowship.  Or to see my family, to spend time with friends, to enjoy nature, public spaces, and the usual entertainments.  To get my hair cut!  The routines have been rattled.  Even grocery shopping, something I always enjoyed because of the beautiful bounty, now brings me sadness, as I witness so many important items are either unavailable or under purchase limits. I palpably feel the anxiety of others in the air.  And I wonder, is the packaging tainted?  Did the people who touched this food have the virus?  Is it “safe?”

No parties, no celebrations, no weddings, no sports, no gatherings of any kind, not even funerals!  We can no longer be within 6 feet of another person without fearing they will do us harm, or worse, we will harm them!

This new reality is starting to blow my mind.

All the simple pleasures in life, that every human being has always enjoyed and been able to enjoy without conscious thought, and regardless of socioeconomic status, nationality, gender, religious affiliation, etc., are now being denied everyone.  I think it is safe to say that no generation in the history of humanity has ever experienced, collectively, such deprivation of human contact and the freedom to come and go as we like. We are literally in this new normal together.

My insight is this:  I am astounded by the power and privilege of human fellowship!  The opportunity to be connected with other people is actually the greatest gift of life, and until now, we have been free to enjoy this gift without measure.  I now awaken to the awesomeness of this simple but profound truth.  How did I not realize it before???

My question is this: Will we ever again take for granted the opportunity to be with our fellow human beings, enjoy each other’s company, and celebrate life together?

I am so grateful for my human connections. May I never take these simple pleasures for granted AGAIN!  Thanks to all of you for being part of my world. 💖🎁

 

 

 

Echoes

OMG, it has been almost a year since my last blog post.  I can’t believe how 2019 has flown by, with (sadly) so little productivity to mark the time passed.

It has been a year of substantial focus on health, fitness, and meditation practices with like-minded souls.  These activities have improved my well-being a great deal, so I guess I can somewhat rationalize the drop-off in artistic expression.  [Somewhat].

I hope I haven’t lost your interest during my sabbatical…

Despite the apparent inactivity, I actually have been working on a new piano tune for many months, and it is finally ready to share with you. The initial theme emerged in early spring, but for whatever reason, this piece has been painfully slow in coming; the most reluctant composition I have ever created.   The various themes emerged in a trickle, and they took forever to cohere in any comprehensible way.  I think I was able to finish this piece only because I couldn’t bear the idea of going into the new year with it lingering undone. So I WILLED it to come together!

What can I say about Echoes?  I’m not sure how I feel about it.  I like the melodious riffs and variations on themes.  I like the underlying chordal progressions, because they aren’t cookie cutter.  I like that there is a different relationship between the notes.  Notes are held in suspension; they linger. Silence wants to be heard.  The musical current chose to flow in this way.  That surprised me.  Maybe it’s a metaphor for my increased appreciation and desire for silence in life!

With my interest in developing more complexity in composition, I explored some unique sound combinations and chord progressions, which I realize may not resonate for all ears!  So, please feel free to let me know if this does NOT sound pleasant to you.  I’m curious to know.  Truly.

My goal for 2020 is to reconnect more substantially with artistic expression and share more regularly on my web site.  So stay tuned, have a Happy New Year!  May the new year bring us all joy, peace, and political sanity!

 

 

Hello!  I wanted to share this latest collage with you.  It symbolizes a seraph, an angel in the highest order of angels that reside closest to God. Seraphim praise God passionately and unceasingly. I named this image “Chamuel” in honor of the Archangel that was introduced to me in a meditation class last Sunday.  Chamuel brings peace, love, forgiveness, compassion, faith, and trust. His color is pink.

I found this description on the internet:

Kabbalah says that the famous archangel Chamuel leads the seraphim. The Torah records a vision that the prophet Isaiah had of seraphim angels near God in heaven: “Above him were seraphim, each with six wings: With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another: ‘Holy, holy, holy is the LORD Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory.’” (Isaiah 6:2-3).

There are lots of images of seraphim on the internet, and  this is my own adaptation of their beautiful light.

Have a great day, and stay warm!

The Conversation

At long last, the piece I have been working on for months has come together!  I am creating a new structure with this composition.  The two “voices” are in different time signatures.  The first is 6/8 time and the second is 4/4 time.  It is harmonious to me, but may not suit your ear! In any event, the motive behind this piece was to juxtapose two musical themes, each with its own personality, and create a conversation between them.  Are the themes in opposition, in harmony?  Regardless, the 4/4 voice has the last word…

Would love to hear your feedback!

Jill

Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything.  Happy New Year!  The holidays were busy, and then there was the protracted cold that didn’t want to go away….so, I haven’t done much art the past few months.  I have a new collage in progress.  The pieces were cut out months ago.  It is waiting [patiently?] to be glued together.  Maybe I’ll finish it in the next few weeks…  But first, I want to complete the latest song I’ve been working on for the past few months.  The ideas have emerged so slowly, but now there is momentum to bring them together and I’m basically just waiting for a proper ending to present itself!  As soon as it’s done, I’ll post here and on my piano page.

I made a few small collages (12″ x 12″) for Christmas presents.  They are reinterpretations of two earlier collages I did:  The Flower of Life and The Seal of Melchizedek.  I attach here for your viewing pleasure.  Will also post them on my Gallery page.

That’s my update since the last post.  Hopefully, with the holidays over I’ll become a bit more prolific and be a more regular blogger!

Best wishes to all in 2019!
Jill.