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...