The current art piece is moving along well. Words and stitches are filling the photograph more quickly than I thought it would, and I am looking forward to finally beading again. So many ideas! I am trying to not over-embellish this piece, which is my challenge. I keep stepping back and making sure each area is not overdone with stitch, leaving room for the beads vs. layering everything. Bringing more paint into this one, too, and don't want to cover that up. After a very long and frustrating creativity dry spell, it is so grounding to be back in the flow again. I had such a rough year in terms of health I just couldn't do more than function. All energy went to work, nothing else left. The puppies were the light in a very dark tunnel. I am glad things are better now and hope they stay that way.
The new piece is called "Chronic" and includes references to what it is like to live with unmanaged, difficult chronic disease. It is hard not to sound dramatic in describing the challenges that people face with illnesses that never.go.away. I have learned how to bury sickness with mental distraction - this is why work is possible and so beneficial for me. My brain gets filled with other concerns and the pain is held at bay a little bit. Once the major distraction of work is finished though, it comes back with an exhausting vengeance.
I will never forgive the medical establishment for the past year, and am eternally grateful to my current doctor that got things back on track. No one should be put in the position I was living within. I know what I went through is common today in the chronic pain world, and my heart breaks for others who are currently suffering. Not being able to move without incredible pain is no way to live. Along the way I dropped my art practice, thinking it was superfluous to my managing the medical issues. Housework, pet care, and sleep...so much sleep. It is all I could do.
How could I justify sitting on my arse stitching when there is so much to be done, and the body can't do it? Stitching and working on my art clears my head and tempers the energy. It gives me a place to "be" without being. It is a therapy I can not live without, and no matter how things get medically crazy again, I can't let go of it again. It is medicinal to go into a flow state and let go of conscious thoughts. Some people paint, or draw, or sculpt. I stitch. I need to. And it is okay.
Poor Tessa doesn't understand what I am doing though. She looks at me as though I am staring blankly at the table top and wonders why I am not holding her. Rude awakening, furkid! She and Teddie were at my knee at ten last night pleading with me to go to bed. They both are slowing down from the super energetic puppy stage and are learning how to sleep on the doggie bed and just wait for something to happen. I hate to see it happen. They were the best little puppies I could have ever hoped for. To think of Teddie turning three this year makes me want to stop time forever.
Is it possible to love your pups too much? I hope not. They truly add balance and energy to my life in a way I never expected. Who knew that I'd end up with three little dogs! There is an option to bring in a fourth right now but I don't think it is the right thing to do. We are good as a trio.
As Van Gogh said:
"I have nature and art and poetry...and if that is not enough, what is enough?" My dogs, birds, and cats are my nature, and my art is back. And I always have words, so many words. Life is good, despite the storm.
Peace out, universe.