Check out some of the process of painting with kids. Lots of fun, a good amount of stress, and paint everywhere. A good lesson in letting go. I highly recommend it.
Waking up in a funk. Not feeling your best. Wrong side of the bed. These are things that happen to us.
I probably use one or two band-aids a week. Pretty band-aid + Neosporin = quick way to feel better.
I was thinking the other day that the simple act of picking out a band-aid, pulling it out of it’s sleeve, slapping it on—almost a ceremony—leaves me feeling better. And there’s a knowing. I know if I have a cut on my finger that as soon as I put a band-aid on I will feel better. And sometimes I’ll go all day without one, but I’ll look at the little cut when it catches my attention, and wonder why I haven’t gone and put on a band-aid.
I have jealousy on my mind. What is it? Why do we feel it? What’s the message?
Jealousy, by definition, is the fear that someone else will take what you perceive to be yours—you feel jealous when an attractive (better), powerful (better), amazing (better) person is talking to your significant other.
I know the feeling. It sucks. It’s fear and anxiety. Anger, to try to fend off the fear and anxiety. There is certainly a feeling of crazy. Pain, hurt, doom, those come to mind as well. And physically I feel jealousy right in the pit of my stomach. Where it likes to punch me until I feel like even more of an idiot.
It’s nice to see you again, too.
I told a story recently about yoga experience that involved a guided meditation. Quick summary: it involved talking to my baby boy, Liam, who passed away in 2005, and some crying. It was, very simply, a healing experience.
What I also mentioned back in that post, somewhat shamefully, is that I watch Grey’s Anatomy. But more importantly it’s that I cry—a lot—while watching Grey’s Anatomy. Over the last couple-few weeks it’s come into my awareness that maybe I count on this show to do this thing for me. Maybe. This is what’s really interesting, though, ever since my guided-meditation-yoga-experience (that’s a bunch of episodes) I haven’t cried during the show.
Lately, in response to this kid acting in very age-appropriate ways, I have found myself dictating open letters to him in my head. For example:
To the free-loading two year old living in my house:
I found the butter knife in the litter box.
Gross, dude. So, so gross. The level of grossness is so great that I think I have to go ahead and throw the knife away.
Stay out of the litter box, for the love.
A little more painting process. It’s nice to spend time with this little dude.
Lots of religious iconography going through my head as I paint as well. We’ll just have to see where it leads.