Frame

Frame:
noun a rigid structure that surrounds or encloses something such as a door or window; a metal or plastic structure holding the lenses of a pair of glasses; a case or border enclosing a mirror or picture; the rigid supporting structure of an object such as a vehicle, building, or piece of furniture; a person’s body with reference to its size or build; a boxlike structure of glass or plastic in which seeds or young plants are grown; [in singular] archaic or literary the universe, or part of it, regarded as an embracing structure; [in singular] archaic or literary the structure, constitution, or nature of someone or something; [usually in singular] a basic structure that underlies or supports a system, concept, or text; the genre or form of a literary text determining its expected style and content;[often as modifier] an enclosing section of narrative, especially one which foregrounds or comments on the primary narrative of a text; Linguistics a structural environment within which a class of words or other linguistic units can be correctly used. For example I —— him is a frame for a large class of transitive verbs; a single complete picture in a series forming a movie, television, or video film; a single picture in a comic strip; a round of play in bowling
verb [with object]place (a picture or photograph) in a frame; surround so as to create a sharp or attractive image; erect the framework of a building; create or formulate (a concept, plan, or system); form or articulate (words); archaic make or construct (something) by fitting parts together or in accordance with a plan;informal produce false evidence against (an innocent person) so that they appear guilty

http://oxforddictionaries.com/us/definition/american_english/frame ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As is often the case, my inner and outer worlds spent this past week synchronistically swirling together.  As I worked to frame two art pieces for a local art auction benefiting the Children's Advocacy Center of Northeastern Pennsylvania, I fell away from a space filled with positivity and comfort and self-acceptance. The shift to that wonderful space happened, unexpectedly, during a counseling session where, after entering a space I couldn't define and in which I felt motionless, we 'drew' an image in the air.  There was a blank field--white--and a floating cloud I named as myself.  In trying to define a boundary, therein, between old and new identity, we considered the edges--the frame.  The blank field was actually a scroll, the ends wrapping in on themselves.  As the result of the 'roll' of the scroll, a boundary wasn't easily identifiable (or, perhaps, doesn't exist).  In 'framing'-- in considering the edges--I felt breath return and with it, the rise and fall of my chest.  I slept better that night than I had in quite awhile and though I can't point with any more specificity, I know it has to do with the edges of the scroll.  

This past Monday, still riding a week long emotional high, an email I subscribe to reinforced the power of the image...and the frame.  You can read it too at :http://www.inspiremetoday.com/archiveDisp.php?type=0&ref=1851  Feeling myself slip back into old patterns of destructive thought and negative self-talk, I tried the exercise and was shocked to find that it worked on the first try.  Basically, the 5-step exercise (yes, 5-- again, more synchronicity-- 5--one many of your are familiar with in my life) calls you to think of what is bothering you, identify where it enters the body and what direction the feeling moves, determine whether what you see is a still picture or more like a movie, and then, as is the case with my images (which are always still), 'frame' the picture, before shrinking it and blowing it away.  I was able to frame and squish it a bit.  Blowing it away didn't feel necessary.  But after drawing that frame around the edges of the image and then holding it framed--actually holding it--I felt sane.  I finally had a systematic approach to something I'd been doing for years and because I understood the process, it was going to work because it would be more accessible.

Tuesday, on my way to teach my final class of the spring semester and still feeling happy? balanced? here? I cranked up the music in the car courtesy of the Whitney Houston Pandora channel and lived a childhood aspiration-- to be a pop singer.  The music was ridiculously loud, I was definitely dancing in my seat, and fresh air blew in, throwing my hair in every possible direction--hair I'm growing out, mind you, deliberately defying the fear of cancer recurrence. The students gave well-thought presentations, though the class ran 'till 9, a full half-hour past our scheduled end-time.  I gathered my things and walked to the car, started on my way home, and something drastic shifted.  All of the positive feelings, the positive self-talk-- it all left-- and old patterns returned.  I tried to capture the image...and couldn't until this past Thursday morning, when I 'drew' the following:

"a presence enters my neck at my throat--stops me from singing---turns on words without music telling me not to cry not to cry not to cry...so I don't... it tilts back my head--tilts it back so far that the top of my head touches the top of my back-- so far that I can't breathe and there's no way I can talk and the skin is so tight and so stretched that nothing more than a touch is able to create a cut for which a surgeon would need a knife...  but there isn't a person there touching... there is a presence there touching and cutting and a wide, gaping cut stretching further and further and further, at first splitting, pinched at the edges, the shape of an eye-- and then continuing to split, so that only the skin on the very back of my neck hasn't torn...  and I know I'm bleeding but there isn't an ounce of blood... just bright, bright red...I'm dizzy as I lose more and more oxygen....but I can't lift my head back onto my shoulders...the only direction I can move the head is further back, so I do and my head and neck push into my back and the same presence grabs my hair and keeps pulling and pulling until my head has looped fully around and comes back out my chest...I close my eyes and give in to the reality of remaining twisted, pulled, and silent, while listening to the words not to cry not to cry not to cry..."

So I didn't cry.  

Until I was able to 'draw' the image above, the sad, sad space remained.  Once I had it and it had a frame--had a boundary--even if the boundary looked only like punctuation-- I was able to sing again.  I was able to point directly at aspects of what I'd drawn:  these type of feelings so often (say 95% of the time) live in my neck, and they always involve pinching, cutting, and an inability to breathe.  I felt relief, though I did not get back to happy.

So, Thursday night was Take Back the Night-- an event I've been going to since I was an undergrad at Marywood.  Because I was in an uncomfy place to begin with, I debated giving myself the break and staying home.  Ultimately, having to drop off the two art pieces for the CAC event was enough to prompt me to head out, simply because it meant simplifying my Friday.  As it has before, music kept me close enough and removed enough at the event. An awareness that I had a poem in my email which would have been more than appropriate to read for the evening snuck in, but was lulled away by a chill.  Then, the candlelight vigil... quieter than I remember it ever being.  With hundreds of candles lit and a full moon above (a full moon that in other areas of the world displayed a partial eclipse that evening-- perfectly, above this event, there wasn't one), a plane flew over and melted me.  I looked up at it but then closed my eyes because there, where I saw the image of that plane, I heard the sound of the ocean in the quiet and in the sound of the ocean I saw the image of a little girl, on a beach, after a giant wave, standing amongst the shells left behind...an image from a wordless children's book titled WAVE by Suzy Lee...and I felt comfort and in the comfort I knew it was time to figure out how to ride the wave, how to be the wave, how to frame what needs to be framed for the time it needs to be framed, and how it could be, that somewhere in this magnificent life, I might be able to pull the full scroll open to be seen and heard and let the poems out.  

This weekend will be about creativity... I bought a roll of easel paper without the easel... It will be my scroll.  The intention? To throw all of myself there...and when it needs to be put away, I will roll it up again until it needs to be pulled open.  Perhaps someday, I'll figure out how to frame the full 75 feet of scroll...  Who knows...  What comes next, well, it can come next.  

I hope you all have a wonderful weekend full of creativity, sunshine, and breath.  Peace... 

Float

verb
[no object] rest or move on or near the surface of a liquid without sinking; [with object] cause (a buoyant object) to rest or move on the surface of a liquid without sinking; be suspended freely in a liquid or gas; [with adverbial of direction] move or hover slowly and lightly in a liquid or the air; drift;(of a rumor, idea, etc.) circulate; (of a sight or idea) come before the eyes or mind; [with object](in sports) make (the ball) travel lightly and effortlessly through the air; [with object] put forward (an idea) as a suggestion or test of reactions; offer the shares of (a company) for sale on the stock market for the first time; (of a currency) fluctuate freely in value in accordance with supply and demand in the financial markets; [with object] allow (a currency) to fluctuate in value.
noun
a thing that is buoyant in water, in particular; a small object attached to a fishing line to indicate by moving when a fish bites; a cork or buoy supporting the edge of a fishing net; a hollow or inflated organ enabling an organism (such as the Portuguese man-of-war) to float in the water; a hollow structure fixed underneath an aircraft enabling it to take off and land on water; a device floating on the surface of a liquid that forms part of a valve apparatus controlling flow in and out of the enclosing container, e.g., in a toilet tank or a carburetor; a platform mounted on a truck and carrying a display in a parade; a hand tool with a rectangular blade used for smoothing plaster or concrete; a soft drink with a scoop of ice cream floating in it; (in critical path analysis) the period of time by which the duration of an activity may be extended without affecting the overall time for the process
http://oxforddictionaries.com/us/definition/american_english/float
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"Weaving"

with covers
up to my
chin
tucked
tight in
bed I'm
restrained
in pain
painting
illuminated
fairytales with
colored threads
connecting
one
to one
to one
to
now time is
silly
putty play
copying
bouncing
night's rolling
terror
at home
a delicate
balance of stepping
on stones
or floating
in air outside
there
where I'm
weaving
safety blankets
I'll hold
beside my
teddy
bear without
eyes
rather than
be near their evil
disguise
this self
fetal
curl in
curl in
before a crawl
towards candy
called sensation
float, as a cloud,
imagining
light sunsetting
night's rolling
terror

Whole

whole:
adjective 1 [attributive] all of; entire; used to emphasize a large extent or number; 2  in an unbroken or undamaged state; in one piece; [attributive] (of milk, blood, or other substances) with no part removed; [predic.] healthy;
noun 1 a thing that is complete in itself; 2 (the whole) all of something;
adverb [as submodifier] informal-- used to emphasize the novelty or distinctness of something

http://oxforddictionaries.com/us/definition/american_english/whole?q=whole
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I am not unbroken, yet I am whole, filling fissures with drawings, and words, and images not yet reproducible.

I am a whole scroll pulled open only to where I can put words to an image.  I'm painting present patiently because image gives me breath and breath gives me words and words return power taken away many rolls of the scroll ago, back when I turned then forward to a boundless blank space I could float fully within...a space I could land in when something in the whole-me declared it safe.

I'm coming in for a landing and walking forward, not quite forgetting the ancestral slither who never found their footing...who never moved if they did, standing in and around what was always there, always painted by someone or something else, always stagnant, colorless, and busy.

I'm picking a palette I may or may not choose tomorrow.  I'll paint in image where there's blank space while I start to paint image over images I turned past to avoid, to preserve a self trying to be whole.

Hold on. Whole worlds are changing. I'm starting by healing myself.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=anlyPRMjkf8&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Something

Sometimes 'there's stuff' and you just need to say 'something' because quiet feels wrong.  Today is one of those times... 

A poem, then, just to not be quiet...a poem to be something.

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26.2 turns to
two bombs to
two too many
moments meant
meeting
mothers and fathers
and kids and
you where
accomplishment
met a timer--

How long and how far
did you run before
today
how
far will you
run
now
away from a
proving passion
a display of your
strength
your
endurance blown
into change

A culture
where the hurt
hurt others
heading for personal
victory
makes heroes
from helpers
from mothers
and fathers and
kids and
you
can
shoulder those running
you
can blow THIS
violence away
you can stop
hate perpetuating
hate perpetuating
hell
hath no fury
like a hero
with a heart
a helper
with a hand
a stranger
with an ear

Pick one
be something
be something

Believe

Believe: verb [with object] accept (something) as true; feel sure of the truth of; accept the statement of (someone) as true; [no object] have faith, especially religious faith; (believe something of someone) feel sure that (someone) is capable of a particular action; [with clause] hold (something) as an opinion; think or suppose

http://oxforddictionaries.com/us/definition/american_english/believe
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When I left the house with the hope I'd see Northern Lights last evening, I knew I would. And as we drove, singing along to 80s music while the sunset sky grew darker, I did, indeed, 'see' those lights.

Since I was little-r (though we grow in size & experience, some don't in spirit), I've been adept at believing into being. My imagination, my soul even, paints colorful pictures loaded with details so convincing that I do not doubt their reality over, perhaps, another 'less-pleasant' reality.

Filled full and breathing
are entire worlds in me
living when I can't

The vicarious lives of 'my people' point me towards color when I'm tempted to name what I'm feeling in black and white or, at best, varied depths of gray.

As we drove to hilltops hopeful we'd find clearing skies, 'my people' spoke a song. Their messages, even from music, are spoken. They are rhythmic, but they are never pitched. At times, I try to work through, pretending nothing different is happening, but they can mute me. So as I sang along to TRUE COLORS they pulled the plug, wanting to be sure I saw color, hoping, undoubtedly, that one of these days I'll be able to bring the wealth of these worlds into believing in myself. So they spoke:

It's hard to take courage
In a world full of people
You can lose sight of it all
And the darkness inside you
Can make you feel so small

...And I heard, because I couldn't sing through the sentiment:

So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful,
Like a rainbow

...and I saw the Northern Lights, green healing light, dancing behind my eyes, without regard for my 'clouded' vision.

I believe in light and color and imagination. I believe they heal.

I believe in bathing in green light when your soul is coated in red.

Once in awhile, stop singing and hear. Listen for 'true colors.'

Remain(s)

remain: (verb) continue to exist, especially after other similar or related people or things have ceased to exist; stay in the place that one has been occupying; continue to possess a particular quality or fulfill a particular role; be left over after others or other parts have been completed, used, or dealt with

remains: (noun) the parts left over after other parts have been removed, used, or destroyed; historical or archaeological relics; a person's body after death

http://oxforddictionaries.com/us/definition/american_english/remain

http://oxforddictionaries.com/us/definition/american_english/remains?q=remains
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"What Belongs In My Old Life"

Fat Girl
never feeling
enough
left loathing
and hating yourself
squashing feeling
stuffing anger
disconnecting your body
from your mind,
from your wants,
from desires,
you did not
'ask for it'
yet you keep taking it
like candy from
a broken machine
your unspoken
speaks at bedtime, so
expect bad sleep and
hurt
assume you 'bother'
think death is better because
it is
time
to kill off judgement,
indecision,
and the mute
step stones
'till the remains
from the old life
are your spoken
truth and your story
taken and kindness
embeds inside
this fat girl losing
her weight
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