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My Art Therapy Journey

Posts tagged journey

I need to not wait so long between posts.  I need continuity.  I sway in and out between darkness and light and I need to record the wave somewhere.

Today I’m feeling a bit defeated because I came home from school to hear my toddler’s babysitter tell me  “I just keep hearing the universe telling me to change and I  think one of those changes is that I’m going to bail on you and your daughter.”   She didn’t use the word “bail,” of course.  But that’s what it is.  I can’t blame her for being a 23-year-old clown, really.

I’m not being derogatory.  She is a clown and actually quite proud of it. She’s recently back from clown school. It was one of the things about her that caused me to want to hire her in the first place.  But it turns out I don’t think she actually likes being with kids all day.

I don’t feel defeated because the universe is apparently against me. (ha!) I’m feeling more defeated because during the course of our conversation she made sure to get into all of my tender spots about STILL not being graduated from college.  I felt like telling her she was awfully young to go for the part of playing Cruella Deville.   But I can’t blame her for being ignorant either.  If I acknowledge her perspective on my life as ignorance and not arrogant cruelty then I might have a little more patience for her to pack it up.

Well, maybe I’m still jaded after-all.

I thought I was going to be able to come here and announce that had passed.

Maybe not.

I’ve discovered feelings.

Rather, I’ve discovered rawness.

I feel stripped and searched.  Lately it feels like the world (the universe?) is pinching and grabbing at me, probing me.  Gross.

It seems like there’s not many places in the world for rawness.  Am I hurting anyone by being raw?

I think it bothers people a lot.

Ok, it bothers me.

I know who I want to be, but I’m not there yet.  And Lord help me the day I ever say I’ve arrived.  This life, for me, is not supposed to be about arriving.

Most certainly it’s about the journey.  That’s why I’m here.

School is in full-swing now.  The Line-Up: Ceramics, Art History-Renaissance to Modern,  Adobe Illustrator,  Photoshop.

I’m only in a little over my head.  I might have several weeks before I’m completely under.

I’m enjoying it, but probably only in the way rawness and joy really go together.

It’s a challenge.  It’s hard.  My brain and heart both feel like they are at capacity, but that might only mean they will soon grow bigger with space to be even more full?

Growing isn’t easy.   Anyone who has really ever grown or is growing would probably get that.

Breaking open is not all-the-way comfortable. But staying stalled, while it has its advantages, doesn’t really get you too far.

The thing about life being a journey  is that the end is never really reached, but it requires constant movement toward that place to be the journey it’s meant to be.

Sign, Sign, Everywhere a Sign (Found at the local zoo)

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Somewhere along the way I became jaded, even though it’s just a dark synonym for hurt.

I have images to share, but…I’m jaded.  (So my world is blank.)

What is up with that?  I used to not even know what jaded meant.  I remember asking and having to look it up in the dictionary…back before Google.

I looked it up again, though, since it seems so definitive of where I am right now.  I wanted to be sure about it.

It turns out that “hurt” is not actually mentioned within the definition I found.

So maybe I shouldn’t  mention about the hurt aspect of my jadedness.

 

I know this is a phase.

Phases pass.

 

Things will change.  I’m looking forward to when I’m back to being some other color.  Pink maybe.  Not Pepto-pink.  Instead, more like something most people like.  Ice cream or cotton candy…baby blankets.  Strawberry milk?  (Maybe most people don’t like strawberry milk…)

 

I am so tempted to gloss over the green.

It would be so easy to just not put it here.  Nobody really needs to know about it.  I wouldn’t even have to acknowledge it.  It could be like it never happened.

 

Sometimes the light kills gross green stuff…like mold.

 

I will move through this.  I will.

Or I will be moved through it.

 

 

 

 

 

A couple of days ago I made a connection with someone who left me asking, “What if…?” The “…” are representative because there are so many endings to that question.  I guess the “What if’s” are different for everyone.

I feel full of possibilities.  “What if…everything?”

In my life I haven’t always been sure that staying alive was the right thing to do.  And I mean “staying alive” in a more of a way than just the mechanics of breathing. Even breathing in a way that keeps the body going can be a challenge sometimes, but  I’m really talking about keeping my heart alive.  Passion, hope, love.  There is risk in living with light.  The body can die, but the heart can be devastated when something important goes wrong.

Things have gone wrong before.  I’ve had opportunities to give up at times when people might not have even judged it as a weakness, and I would have liked to have taken my break.

Somehow there’s always been something keeping me going.  A resuscitation, I guess.   Maybe that’s when the light has taken the driver’s seat. Admittedly, on the really hard days I haven’t always been grateful for that force so dedicated to my continuation.

But then there are days with connection, mystery and magic…that grow my spirit enough to help me feel I can support the energy of life again on my own.  But never, of course, completely on my own since those are the days I am most lifted up.

Those days are the ones with rainbows.  That unexpected gift of communication when I’m looking for convincing evidence that it’s safe to come out and interact again even though the clouds are still foreboding.

So…what if I am safe?

What if…my life matters?

What if…I have something worth sharing?

What if…I’m not alone?

What if…everything has a reason?

What if…I can’t find a reason, but it all matters anyway?

What if my story was meant to be heard?

What if the beginning really is a very good place to start?

What if?

What if?

What if?

 

If you’re wondering who this someone is who inspired these questions this time, it is a film maker named Mary Trunk who is now editing her most recent documentary titled Lost In Living…Here is a brief description of this film I’m so grateful for and link to a generous 10 minute Trailer which I found on Kickstarter.  This is a film filled with passion and honesty which I feel privileged to be a backer for (and is still open for funding, so check it out.)

“Behind the domestic curtain of motherhood, where the creative impulse can flourish or languish, are four women determined to make a go of it. Filmed over seven years, Lost In Living, confronts the contradictions inherent in personal ambition and self-sacrifice, female friendship and mental isolation, big projects and dirty dishes. The complex realities of family life unfold in this documentary film about the messy intersection of motherhood and artistic expression.”

 

 

 

***

 

A couple of weeks ago we had a brief storm in my city during the middle of our midwest drought. I was lucky enough to be out in it.  If I hadn’t had to run to the store with my daughter for essentials while my husband was out-of-town I would have only heard the rain.  When we arrived at the store the clouds were beginning to break and the sun was coming through.  I saw a man across the parking lot taking an iPhone pic of the sky.  And, of course, I had my phone too.  I took a picture of the sky and clouds facing the opposite direction.  It was magnificent.

Storm Clouds Breaking

 

When I left the store the sky was still filled with brilliant form and light.  I took out my phone again for more pics, shooting away, when a guy with his daughter walking in motioned to my left and said, “There’s a rainbow over there.”

Light Entering

 

 

A cloud among many

 

Soft Blank Slate

Alive

 

There I was, looking right at the sky and missed the rainbow entirely!  I was a little embarrassed, but grateful for the direction!  It actually turned out to be a double rainbow, so quite a treat!  It was large so I couldn’t get both sides in with one shot, and naturally, the photos don’t  nearly do the experience justice.  It was warm and cool, wet and sunny with the most amazing light.  A wordless beauty, for sure.

Rainbow

 

Don’t forget to look for the rainbows…

 

 

 

I’ve recently had the recurring urge to shave my head, even though I know it’s probably not the greatest idea.  I was close enough to shaving my head when I when I got my Pixie Cut two summers ago.  I’m capitalizing Pixie Cut because it was that big of a deal.  I paid enough for a semesters worth of community college to repair the damage from that particular urge after several toupees and all the therapy it inspired.   Actually, my husband paid for it, but he had it coming because I had given him say on whether I should actually do it or not.  And he gave me the emphatic “Do it! It’s hot!” go ahead.  : \  .  That was just weeks into our marriage and we’ve learned a lot since then.  Slowly.  Very slowly…at about the rate hair grows.   And of course, two years later I still have my driver’s license picture to remind me of how much I shouldn’t act on all my urges or all of my husband’s ideas about “hotness.”

But at any rate, the urge has managed to return.  I don’t know what it’s about.  I’m thinking maybe I get this urge to chop off all my hair when life transitions are upon me.   That makes sense, right?

Well, that’s the thing about urges.  They don’t always make sense.

I’m sure there’s a psychological underpinning to it that does follow some line of logic…even if it’s ill-logic.

I don’t think it really matters.  I just feel things strongly and that’s enough to make me reach for the scissors.  Or, in this case, razors.

Wow, writing it like this makes me think this might be enough motivation for my husband to wear protection to bed.

 

Anyway, I went to the bookstore today.   (You can start breathing again, the focus on my urges is passing for now.)

I was looking for a Pottery Illustrated Magazine or Ceramics Monthly or something to do with clay.  They didn’t have any, unfortunately, but there were several other magazines that caught my eye.

Like this one:

The Secret Files of My Personality

 

I didn’t want anyone else to see me pick it up, but if you can tell by the computer in the background, I did actually buy this.  It’s funny that I was a little embarrassed for some reason to be flipping through this in the store (not sure why, maybe because of some stupid idea that I should stick  to picking up “chick flicks” or a fitness magazine on how to acquire tight glutes or something) but now I’m broadcasting it here for everyone to see.   It probably says something about my personality!  But I’m not sure what it’s saying about me yet because I haven’t taken any of the quizzes yet.  Maybe these quizzes will lead me to a cure and I won’t need therapy anymore.

I will always need to participate in some form of art for my sanity, though.

I actually went on a magazine spree today…but with good cause!

I’m (re)starting school again next week.  “Real-Deal” school.  Actually,  it is mini real-deal (junior college,) but hey, it’s still school.  I still will get a grade, and it could, eventually, ever so slowly, lead me to a career in which people come to me for help!

So now you know, you’re reading the “Before She Was Famous”  Blog.

All I want to do in life is live.  And living, what I want for my life, means the ability to reliably connect and share.  And feel.  (Thinking straight would also be a perk.)  And sometimes…just Be.   Me.  And I want to Be Whole.  In an ideal world, I’d be able to play some role in  passing life (with light) on.

I was going to major in Art Therapy, but apparently only people on the coasts can work toward becoming art therapists so simply.  There is only one school in the Midwest that even has a Master’s program specifically for art therapy, and, even though I am in the midwest I am not within driving distance to it.  So I’m holding tight that I can get a Bachelor of Fine Arts and someone crazy enough will admit me into a Masters counseling program after that.

I’m scared.  I’m scared about being accepted, which I’ve spoken about on my blog.

I have failed many times in my life…

Anyway, there’s so much story behind and ahead of this…and I have to admit I don’t yet know how to exactly face or share either side of that storyline besides being here where I am on a day-to-day basis.  It’s really not too bad of a way to live, really.  To live in Not Knowing.

As long as I’m focussed on the important things…and people.  That is where the real-deal learning really is.  And, I suppose, where I have the most to learn.

I might be able to take this step-by-step and save my hair-do.

I do sometimes get ahead of myself.

**

Are we there yet? …And, I think 1,000 Places to See Before You Die is so aptly placed. along with the calendar that advertises “Do It All”

While I was at the bookstore I also ran into big display of calendars.   My gaze was more down because I’m wearing a hat today so I didn’t immediately see the display sign on top of the rack.  I was kind of surprised they still had 2012 calendars to sell…until I looked up and saw they were for 2013.  I always get freaked out when I see calendar displays in “off” times because I think I’ve missed more in my life than I was prepared for.    But then I did a quick run-through and realized it wasn’t me.  It was the rest of the world with the problem!  It is the beginning of August 2012, and our culture is living nearly half a year in advance.  What gives?

What is the deal with not being present in this world?  I feel so rushed. And it happens everywhere.  It happens as people run over me in the grocery store, fight me in the check-out line, and tail me all the way home.  Can we please slow down?

I need to get this out and ask, am I the only one feeling this way?

Another interesting find at the bookstore today, but didn’t buy this time. Notice the word “Quickly” is also in this title! 🙂 I also thought the “How to Be Happy” book sitting next to it was interesting, but that is way more of a rant than I have energy for today.

I am in the process of looking for a “Slower People Unite” support group.  Let me know if you’re interested, quickly! 🙂

I am so stressed by being out-and-about sometimes my muscles are clenched to my bones and I can’t move at all!  We’re all going to die in one form or fashion and is all this rushing really necessary or worth it!?

We all will get where we’re going.

Which, come to think of it, just about perfectly completes my interesting finds at the bookstore today…a National Bestseller, which I also did not buy today, but I did flip through and it looked maybe it could be.  But I wasn’t going to take the $7 risk.

 

Things you need to know NOW!!!

Too Soon Old, Too Late Smart ~ Thirty True Things You Need to Know Now  by Gordon Livingston M.D.

 

I hope there’s enough time for me to get this later…it will have to wait in the queue with the rest of them!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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My question today is this: When do you let a thing go?

I just want to know, is there ever a time to give up?  And is giving up -giving up?… or really just letting go? And if it is then the question is less when than “how?”

I didn’t come to this canvas wanting anything but to paint.  It turned into a flower.  But I didn’t think it was good enough so I kept painting.  I wanted more.  Suddenly I became attached.  I was so happy to see a flower on my canvas when I didn’t even try to get it there.  I was ecstatic because for so long I’ve talked about “people who paint flowers” and how I definitely was not one of those people.

There was a part of mE that has always  wanted to paint a flower.

But no flowers would ever come.

It made me sad.

Flowers weren’t for me.

But I like flowers.   Flowers are special.  They make me happy.

“Flowers come from happy people.” (That’s what I thought.)

But I was not a flower person.

Then this flower came to me.  And I wanted it so much, even if it looked like a 5-year-old drew it.  It was still my flower and I loved it.

But then…the paint-parent came out and said it wasn’t right enough, there wasn’t enough “pop,” it wasn’t bright…it wasn’t right. The background had no foreground and blah blah blah, BLAH!  It didn’t look like other people’s flowers at all.  It didn’t even necessarily look alive!  So hopeless.

So I tried to help it out.  I tried to be better.  I tried to make it work…but then….

It died.

But it hadn’t signed a DNR.

So I kept at it.

The following photos are  the journey my flower has gone through and it’s still not done.  In fact, as soon as I get done writing this post I am getting right back to work on it.  I wanted to come here first though and talk about what’s been happening and mark it as part of my journey.  I don’t know where it’s going to go….

Do I stop?  Do I give up?  Today I’m working out how to let go.

I think.  I mean, I guess.

There’s just so much I don’t know right now.

(I have chosen to not digitally enhance any of these…they just have to sit there and deal with it, boo.)

close-up

 

Where I think I should have stopped and maybe just added some black and translucent layer(s) of color. It was going to be titled…”The First Flower of Recovery”

 

close – up

 

Where it all started to go wrong…

 

and even more wrong, haha

 

“Doing Battle”

 

close-up

 

a part of the paint I liked….that didn’t last, lol

 

trying to get my orange to cooperate…We still aren’t talking

 

The “Fuck It” stage…sorry, but it’s true

 

The “I feel this is an exceptional depiction of BOREDOM” phase

 

Up now…the “Trying too hard” period

 

but at least I felt there were some successful elements…and it was good time to experiement

 

When I thought maybe the carnage was over…It wasn’t! 🙂

 

stuff I liked, but it wasn’t likable enough…and I was irritated I could only get 5″ of things to go my way

 

And this is when I came to you with my questioning….How to give up…I mean, let go…yeah, Let Go…that’s so much more therapeutic, lol

Ok, so I know earlier I said I still wasn’t done, but I lied.  I kept painting before finishing this post because all the pictures were taking too long to upload.

And this is where we (me and this damn flower!) stand now.  I don’t really love it.  I feel like it’s so wrong and not doing anything for me.  But I’m learning…just not at the pace I would like to and I think I still just want my first flower back because it was the truest and I should have just chilled out and sat with it a while before destroying it in my haste to make it something it never could be anyway…perfect.

I love you not, flower!!!!

Sometimes I really hate my issues.  Stupid damn fucking issues, AURURRURURURHHHGGGGG!!!!

There.

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My therapist told me  he was hoping this can be, even if just kind of, like a mini vacation from all my responsibilities.  (We’ve just been talking in sessions about how I need a break and some space in life ; )  I am always wary of what I wish for!!!   If this is vacation, this is a destination in a little corner of hell I do not foresee myself wanting to visit again anytime.  I would finish that sentence up with “anytime soon.” But I’m sure I’m never going to want to return to this place. EVER.

 

 

 

What you see here (above) is an abstraction of a rather large hematoma (except I don’t know if this was actually a hematoma as I’ve read it described…there was no clotting going on.  It was, in fact, profuse internal bleeding!  I think they called it a hematoma so I wouldn’t die on them on-the-spot.) I acquired as a parting gift from a small surgical procedure I had on Thursday.  A couple little blood vessels called arteries! got loose and had their way with me. It required some quick emergency surgery to round-up and zap the boogers into submission, so I’ve been slightly set back on my spastic project line-up!  I’ve basically been in bed lying low since Thursday evening.

And just a little tidbit I learned: If a doctor ever says to you, “This might feel funny and “tickle” a bit, you can be pretty sure it’s going to hurt like hell.  Surgery with the smallest amount of local possible is not really something I was looking to add  to my toolbox of experiences to express in art!

I was told my risk factor for this experience was, out of 100%…. half of a percent. (.5%).

Clearly, proof that I defy the odds.

Let’s have the next defiance be a little more in my favor, can we?

**

I am not a very good mattress dweller.  I’m not supposed to be raising my blood pressure too much for the next week, so I have to stay somewhat detached from all the excitement elsewhere in the house.

But I actually have slept a lot.  Dozing here and there, waking up every once in a while to peruse Pinterest or read an art book or watch an instructional DVD.  And of course, in the evenings, I’m still getting my fix of Breaking Bad!  So it hasn’t actually been all, well…bad.  A mini-vacation after-all, maybe.  Nothing a little Valium can’t complete.

And today I actually found some energy to play around with my new Photoshop App on my iPhone.  I’m not sure if I like it better than Instagram’s  selections, or if I just haven’t figured out how best use different apps  for the effects I want.  I’m definitely in at a pre-K level, doodling and drawing accidental circles and squares and sometimes thinking they’re pretty awesome.

I have NO IDEA what I’m doing!  There is a certain freedom in that, I guess. But the results may be something only a very good mother could love!  Once I’m back on my feet I’m sure I’ll drive myself crazy until I understand all the functions better.

As far as my painting goes…I may be dancing around in the same realm as Photoshop.  I haven’t actually painted in several years.  It used to be my main love.   I’ve actually just come out of a dry spell and if you’re familiar with monsoon seasons, that might give you an idea of where I’m at with my creativity.  It’s coming in humongous downpours, but the drainage system that directs the flow  might not be entirely sufficient. These bursts may lead to some messes before it all starts to sink in and some grass starts to grow and flowers bloom.

I’m just rolling with the journey…(and trying not to totally roll into the sewer, even though I feel pretty poopy at the moment.)  (Forgive me!)   I’m so out-of-sorts.

Luckily, I do have some comfort in the midst of this wild process.  My old cat, Sammy.

Oh, Sammy-Sammers…Old Faithful I call him.  He’s been through the last decade with me through many storms… divorce, loves, breakups, hospital stays, new marriage, new jobs, loss of jobs, new baby and  too many moves to count.

He stays by my side through everything, even when he’s been cast off and lovingly tossed across the room in a  hormonal moment.  He  always, always loves me.  Or at least he loves how warm and cozy I am to snuggle up against…and my pillow.  But whatever, I’m just going to believe that he loves me because I’m just that cool!  (And definitely not just because I feed him well and keep his water bowl fresh.)

So when I went in the basement to paint (and get started on my new painting class which I’m going to go into more detail about one of these days when I’m feeling like I’m actually more in the process of it) it should have come as no surprise to me that he was my eager mascot.  It was just like old times.  Oh, I do love him!  He’s not really a cat to me, even.  I have known for a long time that he is a reincarnated  superhero especially for me.  ; )

Since I’ve been laid up, and since unidentifiable, abstract photos of large hematomas are not all that bloggable (even though I blogged it anyway) I thought I’d share some photos from earlier in the week when I was a lot more “me”, painting in my studio with my faithful friend, Sammy…until I can get back to my more “normal” self…SOON 🙂

Ps. You’ll see I also have a white cat named Jack.  His nickname is Houdini…He slips into the scene every once in a while.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve been savoring  my latest set of Instagrams.  It seems like so much has happened in just a couple of days, even though when I look around not much has changed.

Except for my mantle.  Yes, my mantle is looking different these days!

My mantle now holds a vase with Roses of Different Color!

And, I think you can be assured it’s not because I am wearing rose-colored glasses, either.

Just take a look at these beauts!

Yesterday my husband ran an errand to the store and came back with these!!!

No arguing, no disharmony, not even a “discussion” precluded these babies!  No ladies (and gents) my husband bought me flowers because….because HE DID.  And he gets full credit.

Now, I didn’t used to think I was the type of girl to get all giddy over flowers, but turns out…I kinda am.  Especially when they’re tie dye, and especially when I know it means my husband is listening and paying attention.  And something grabbed his attention at the store when I wasn’t with him and he thought of me!

So I’m a little sweet on these flowers, and sweet on him.

Self-Portrait with Roses  : )

So not too much commentary today, although it feels like there’s a ton to share.  It will have to wait because I am stopping to smell my tie-die roses!  And I invite you to sit-a-spell and smell them with me!

I wish that swallowing a multi would fix it all.  It swims down my insides and  bursts into my stomach with a jolt.  A shock…defibrillation. Everyday, the all clear comes…again, again, again.  Dissolving and resolving to resuscitate my cells.  No cell left unturned.  No man for himself.  Scratching out of form into my blood.  Giving into itself.  Singling out no one.  Saving the many lives within me.

 

Am I the only one who ever imagines a vitamin this way?

I am here because the pain is too much.  I participated in the recent routine of watching an episode of Breaking Bad with my husband and opening my mind to sleep, but my body isn’t cooperating.  The pain has been intense today…it has been growing all week.  Growing, growing so fast that I would like to graduate it on out of my body.  But then where would it go?  Into someone else’s body?  Maybe this pain is my way of helping, contributing in a way, to the world.

Maybe I should be able to help it that my body cannibalizes itself.  It scares me.  It stops me in my tracks.  There’s nowhere to go.  But here.  Here to cope.  Here to express.

Therapy of my making.

It does help me.  It helps to get it out.  And I’m ok with it as long as I stay responsible for it.  Responsible for how all this works itself out.

I’ve known a lot of hurting people in my life.  Scary people.  People who took their pain out on me.  And there is a part of me that does understand that now.  Maybe it’s a part of me that my multi-vitamin has reached and has  provided insight.  But mostly, the rest of me still suffers from other’s pain as it attempts healing.

I learned infliction so well though, I think.  So easy to administer…like with a spoon.

I try to make myself better, to stop the pain, and yank the spoon out of my hand.

But the hurting is still there.  It just moves, moving closer and closer to be fed.

It badgers me.

I will starve it.  Starve the pain until finally, even if slowly, it goes away.

Nourishment itself inflicts me.

 

My body tries to speak to me.  I try to listen.

It is hard to listen.

I crave art because it is the safest way to hear.   And the clearest.

I’m working on getting working in art.  It’s taking time, precious time.  Soon though.  It will be soon, and in the meantime, I build.  I create a space for it to live…to just be.

Thinking about this brings me some relief, even as the internal chewing of my flesh continues.

Some days are much better than this.   Some days I don’t hurt like this.  Some days there is relief.

And I will keep swallowing the pill.

Photos from a recent trip to the park…all of my park pictures so far are from the same section of path.

These remind me of bones….

Sadly, I have not been spending many hours trying to figure out Photoshop, or even messing around with Instagram.  BUT, I have been busy working!


Yesterday my “night job” duties (the time after my daughter goes to bed for the night) consisted of painting the basement….because!  Because it’s in the process of transforming into my studio! Yay!

I’m so excited to have a designated place that might be large enough to become a holding place for the art I crave to do.  I have a lot of plans for it, but mostly the plans are open and evolving as I speak.  I think I have an area picked out for metalworking and another corner space picked for painting…

It’s exciting to think about, but for now my most used studio supply is elbow grease!

Speaking of, I better get back to it since my daughter is down for nap and time does not hold back!

 

Some picks from the journey… 🙂

 

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As promised, my photo of the day…from this day of Life With Light.

(I did not create this sign.  ROCKART SIGNS & MARKERS created this sign, which I merely took a photo of to share my appreciation for it as a prompt along my journey.  ROCKART and it’s subsidiaries are in no way connected to, nor do they endorse,  the content of this blog.)

So, as promised…my image of the day!

I went on another walk with my daughter this afternoon…along the same path we walked yesterday.  Again, I brought my phone and Instagram by default.    We retraced yesterdays steps, (even though I was the only one actually walking,)  and managed to come up with new material.

So, I considered my efforts a success.

“OPEN TO”

It’s just so…so…Open..!  

I am taken by this sign’s existence along the path I travel…