Ballerina “Degas Style”

As the social distancing continues, we are finding other ways to connect.  It’s not easy.  I took a walk with a friend for the first time in two weeks.  We stayed six to eight feet apart.  If anyone was approaching on the trail, we split further apart to allow the person(s) to pass.  I have alcohol wipes with me when I shop for groceries.  The checkout clerk wears plastic gloves and a mask.  When I get home, I wash the packaging that my food comes in, the fruits and vegetables, etc.  These are some of the precautions that I take at this time.  It is difficult.  And I do believe that deep inside each one of us is something that knows how to be with what is occurring at this time.  I have no answers…except to give myself something to show up for every day.  Blessings.

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I don’t know the names of the variety of ballet positions.  Except for one, plie.

Being in the phase of painting ballerinas,  I was leafing through a magazine and came across an image of a ballerina stretching towards her toes.  I believe it was by Degas but I could be wrong.  He certainly painted a plethora of ballerinas!

Regardless, I wanted to try and paint her.  In my whimsical style, with a touch of collage around the hem of her tutu.  I remember how challenging it was for me to get her form close to being true.  The arch of her back, the tilt of her head, her fingers that touched her ankle.  The proportions.  The angle of her face and neck.  Even the color of her skin and the tonal values.  Urgh.  I wasn’t entirely pleased with it.  But after a lot of tweaking and fussing, I called it done.

I named this painting The Sugar Plum Fairy as behind her is a fanciful forest of perhaps, trees of a sugar plum variety.  And doves that form a heart.

Ballerina2

Then there is the famous Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy from The Nutcracker.

 

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Today is a good day to STRETCH!  Being homebound for now,
don’t forget that your body loves to streeeetch.

 

 

mining the journals

so it has been said that… “90% of the iceberg sits below the water.”

I do think that a good portion of who we are is sitting below the surface, unexamined.  A journal is an opportunity to put your toe into the deep water…a place to explore yourself and to write freely, so long as you feel safe…that no one is going to discover your journal and share it with “the world.”

Do I intend that my journal be shared?  Sometimes?  Or never?  Within its pages, I show my humanness and vulnerability.  It is in these vulnerables places that I connect with myself on a deeper level.  And if I choose, with another.

As I browse through a few of my earlier journals, I rediscover parts of myself–experiences, curiosities, confusions, illusions, poetry, painful places, the sci fi novel I started, unfinished short stories or complete essays waiting to be published.  I can revisit  whole periods of my life–what I felt, the choices that I made.  What about you?  Do you keep a journal?  Reviewing it, are you ever surprised by what you’ve written?

For me, a journal has been many things…
–a place to express and clear an immediate feeling, catharsis.
–a way to find a path through a difficult experience or time.
–a place to describe something memorable.
–salvation in the written word.
–a place to practice writing.
–for wordplay.
–to write poetry.
–to process
–for describing something in detail, as in word paintings.
–a place to explore ideas.
–to write out dialogue.
–for laundry list writing.
–for an actual laundry or shopping list.
–exploring areas where growth is desired.
–designing the next step, visioning.
–writing a letter I won’t send
–a place for prayer
–or to offer a blessing
–a place for gratitude

What is your journal to you?

A journal can provide that safe space to write freely.  If I considered that someone, someday might be reading my journals, would I express so freely?  If my journals are written with an audience in mind, that’s different.

I wonder if most writers keep a journal…has there ever been a survey on this?

While, it is true that some of what I write about in my journals is fodder for writing that I choose to make public, most of it is for my eyes only.  I ask myself if I would want my daughters to read my journals.  I consider assigning a friend the task of disposing of my journals when I meet my demise?

Do you mine your journals, shelve them, box them, keep them under lock and key, burn them, share them?