Every Day Matters

I've not blogged in forever, mostly because I delude myself that I'm too busy.

I'm not too busy. I choose to do other things that waste my time.

I'm finally prompted to post because of an artist I admire, Danny Gregory. His writing and drawing really, really make me think. You know how sometimes you just "click" with someone? The things they say, the things they notice -- they are the same things you notice, and you feel that you relate? ...even though maybe you've never met? That's how I am with this guy I never met. Not in a creepy-stalky way, but in a platonic, from-far-away, sort of way.

Danny started drawing as an adult in 2002 when his wife fell from the platform at the subway station. The train ran over her and severed her spine. She survived, and was a paraplegic. Through the experience, they realized every day matters. Danny struggled with the loss of his wife's well-being, and drew to cope. As his talent amazingly developed, he began to write books encouraging others to just draw. He said the more you draw, the better you get, regardless of whether you think you have talent or not.

This idea truly appeals to me, and I became a follower of his books and website.

So his wife passed away a few months ago, and he has faithfully posted about what it's been like for him and his son. Although Danny considers himself an artist, I have to admit his writing is top-notch. And, (although I know it's totally politically-incorrect to say this) for a guy, he is amazingly articulate with his feelings.

It hurts to read what he is going through. I avoid visiting his site. Then, after days and days, or weeks and weeks of not reading it, I must.

Today I asked myself why it's so hard.

First it's probably hard because his site has always been such a happy place for me. "You (yes, you!) can draw! All you have to do is try!" Now, it's not so happy.

Am I that shallow? I had to ask myself. Can I not roll along with this guy who is competely and legitimately hurting?

Then I realized why I can't bear his pain.

It's my pain. His losing his wife brought home the reality that one day I will lose J or he will lose me. It. will. happen. And I just can't bear to think about it.

I'll continue to procrastinate on visiting his site, and inevitably visit it, and voraciously read it. Just because I have to. In the meantime, I. must. create. Every Day Matters.

Gallon of Ambition and my Pint Glass of Life

My DH knows for sure: I am in love with another man. A man I've never met. Who knows? He might snore and leave his drawers on the floor, too.

I'm talking about Danny Gregory, a self-taught artist who lives in NYC. Ever read the words of someone else and think, "Wow, that's EXACTLY how I feel, but he said it BETTER than I ever could have, if I had thought to say it at all.." For me, that's Danny.

Some years ago, Danny and his wife were a young, upwardly mobile couple with dynamic careers in NYC. They had just had a baby. Things looked good. The wife was on her way to work when she fell over the edge of the subway station. She. was. run. over. by. a. subway. train. Her spine was severed. She lived, but was paralyzed.I am probably botching the details; Danny says it all really well in his first book, Everyday Matters. Please read it.

She was in the hospital for weeks, maybe months, and Danny was left to care for the baby and try to figure out how they would go on when she came home in the wheelchair. I'm sure it was life-changing for her, but it was he who wrote the book, so I only know his side.

Finally, he began to draw. As an adult. It was his therapy.

Now he has a website and has written books promoting the philosophy that anyone can draw-- you just have to start. And draw. And draw and draw and draw. Now he is friggin' good. I love to draw and aspire to be decent at it one day, so I follow this guy on his website, have most of his books (but I have a birthday coming up! The titles I do not have are "Me Time" and "Change Your Underwear Twice a Week.")

Today by chance I read a post of his that had to do with ambition and accomplishing one's goals. I read it right here at the dawn of a new year, a time when I always think of my "gallon of ambition and my pint glass of life." It was meaningful for me. I am posting an excerpt here and hope that by crediting him -- I'll even post the hyperlink -- this is legal enough.

Here it is. The link is: http://www.dannygregory.com/?cat=28

My grandfather died last winter at 98 so I’m not even half his age yet. Maybe
I’m only approaching the midpoint of my life, or maybe I’ll have massive heart
attack and keel over at my desk this afternoon. There’s no telling. Regardless,
I know each day and hour are precious. But it’s hard to keep the relentless
tsunami of stuff, or responsibilities, of things I want to do, from swiftly
wiping each day off the board before I can even wipe the sleep out of my eyes.
Life moves quickly and the further along the road I get, the faster the pages
fly off the calendar. Knowing this, trying to hold it on my mind, can help me to
prioritize. But it’s still tough to keep the world at bay and to decided how to
spend my time well. Often I lie in bed and think, damn, when am I going to get
to read all those books I want to read or spend more time drawing with Jack or
more time cooking dinner with Patti. When am I going to get to live in
Micronesia or the South of France or in that little house in the meadow? When
will I get to spend two hours a day at the gym or four hours a day doing oil
paintings or six hours a day reading Proust? When will I learn Italian? Learn to
drive a motorcycle? Defend my heavyweight boxing title? I’m not filled with
regret because I somehow feel I will get to do these things. I’m just not sure
how or when. Perhaps my appetite is just larger than my calendar. Fortunately I
am often insomniac so I get to spend 3 to 4 a.m. thinking about stuff I didn’t
fit in during the day (most of it actually just anxious nonsense). Anyway, this
consideration of my gallon of ambition and my pint glass of life set me on the
way to a new project. It’s something I’ve mulled over for a while and finally
out into action. It’s an effort to really think about the things I wished I
could have fit into a day and then an attempt to fit one of them into the next
day.

An Illustrated Life

I have almost always journaled. When I was a kid I routinely journaled in the recognizable black-and-white speckled lined books. I saved all these journals as well as my filled-to-overflowing scrapbooks into my adult life. When the kids and I lived in Virginia, our town experienced a 100-year flood and our basement was filled. Alas, my journals and scrapbooks were all a sodden mess. The lovely little dolls my father brought from his travels were lost as well.
The loss of all my journals broke my heart and set my journaling backwards for several years.
Nowadays I journal on paper as well as online. And, yes, they are different.
I am intrigued by the need to journal. Some folks have it -- some don't.
I had a gf one time who was horrified when her brother read the journals of their deceased mother.
My journals are intended to be read. If I sound grumpy, then, hey, it was a grumpy day. I don't have any hidden mass-murder plans in there or any hate vendettas. I am a basically happy person and I would think the journals probably reflect that. Yes, there are situations in my life that I am frustrated with. They're in there, but then, if you are my family, you already know about them, anyway.
I love to see folks journaling in coffee houses. I sometimes take the time to do it, myself. Unfortunately the coffee houses in our town don't afford a cosy corner or overstuffed chair, my favorite settings for journaling.
The film is from Danny Gregory, a fellow in NYC who draws and journals. I have written about him before. Can't wait for the book!

Tick,Tick, Tick...

It occurred to me recently that my mother was 12 years older than I am now, when she died. My dad, 16 years older. Yikes. Do I only have 12 years left? 12 months? 12 days? ...12 minutes?

My health is good; I think I can rule out the 12 minutes scenario with a little certainty. Until I get in a car, anyway. I have effectively ditched cholesterol meds, diuretics, and blood pressure meds, and feel better than I have in years. Years..

At one point in my life, everything was open. Firefighter? Yes, I could do that one day, if I choose. President? Senator? It was all open. 

Now my options are limited, if not by time or talent, then by age. They just don't train 50-year-old firefighters. 

I waste a lot of time. I play a game of online scrabble almost every day. I do a few sudokus, and a game or two of solitaire. I blog, which some may call a waste of time. I call it 'practice.' I often use blogging as a warmup for legitimate writing, for pay. 

Ironically, as I have been pondering my limited remaining time, and my poor use of it, a couple of examples of time stewardship have brought themselves my way. 

Mother Earth News this month featured Scott and Helen Nearing, who used to be regular contributors. They built their home and outbuildings by hand from New England stone, first in Vermont, then in Maine. They set out upon this adventure intentionally, moving from NYC during the Depression in search of a self-sustaining lifestyle. They selected their homestead site based on three criteria: arable soil, water views, and isolation. The isolation was selected not because of an anti-social inclination, but in an effort to test their self-sufficiency. 

Their first location in Vermont was a bit too isolated. They did not strike up friendships with their neighbors and didn't feel it was going to happen, so they looked for another site. They eventually chose Maine, where they built and stayed. They wrote several books on living a meaningful, simple life. 

Scott Nearing worked his soil organically, even 'way back then. When he sent soil samples to the state for assessment, it flunked, coming back with a note saying his soil was too rich; lay off the composting. 

The Nearings structured their days built on 3 components: four hours for 'bread labor,' four hours for music, writing and avocations, and four hours for social and civic interaction. 

This method of time management has caught my imagination. DH followed the Nearings in the 70's, while they were still regular contributors to MEN. He still regrets the day he disposed of his old mags.  Me, I recently 'discovered' them, but they have definitely caught my attention, even posthumously. 

Another simultaneous thread during the last week has been a post on one of my favorite places, Danny Gregory's website. In the 6 months or so that I have been following him, I have NEVER visited his website without finding inspiration, motivation, and a lift of my spirits. He makes me feel I CAN. Can what? Whatever I want. His most recent post sought me out with perfect timing. Today I am using Google Chrome, which is weird with blogger, so I can't slip in the hyperlink, I just have to give it to you outright: 

http://www.dannygregory.com/2008/10/ticktock.php

All the irony of these time-related threads converging this week came to a climax tonight when I called my gf to ask her over for a Glass-o'-Wine. Oooh, she sighed, I may not be good company. Why not? I asked. Well, my 55th bday is next week, and it has occurred to me that my time is limited. 

This was too spooky. A really loyal gf would have let her have her own crisis, and not chimed in, but I have never been known for my subtlety. NO KIDDING? I hooted. Are you thinking the world is no longer your oyster? That your options are limited, and it all sneaked up on you??

YES! she shouted. We tit-for-tatted (in a good way) for several minutes and I for one felt much better knowing someone understood exactly how I felt. 

I have in truth been struggling with my time management for some weeks, but this week's synchronicity may be a tipping point. I look forward to seeing what Danny says in his next posting. Until then... 

Wow.

I can hardly focus to write this blog; I spent quite a bit of time yesterday filling my brain with all sorts of stimuli. I am living inside my brain, rather than the other way 'round, and I hop up to make a loaf of bread or throw another load of laundry into the dryer, and return to study some more. 

I have always been fascinated by the creative process, and at times have "gone under," filling the house with this or that excursion into creativity. This time I have not been drawing/designing/writing anything myself, but have been studying others who do. 

This bout started Saturday with the pic I shared below by Gustave Courbet. His other art is almost as breathtaking, although some not quite suitable for younger eyes. Google his name and you can see some of his work. He was quite prolific; I guess I have seen over a hundred of his pics. Although the subject matter seems quite timely, he lived in the 19th century and did most of his work in the 1840's. DH says the pic I pasted below looks a lot like Jack Sparrow. That's funny, I said. I thought it looked like Johnny Depp, myself. 

There are several folks around the world who post their own art, whose blogs I follow, and I have been catching up on them, as well, this weekend. 

And my old best friend (only he doesn't know it yet), danny gregory, has some amazing new work up on his blog, a visual autobiography of sorts. Check it out here: you will have to admit he is amazing. He didn't even start to draw until he was in his 30's or so, and he firmly believes we all have this sort of talent lurking around inside of us, if only we will believe and practice. I want to believe him. 

Danny is teaching a FREE class at the Open Center in NYC on 04.Nov. I want to goooooo. It would only cost me the price of an Amtrak ticket; I know someone who lives there who would give me a bed for a night. Or two. Also, I could kiss my grandbabies. Alas, if it weren't voting day. We have "early voting" here; only I do not know if the Presidential vote is available for early voting, as well. Maybe I should call the registrar's office and find out. .......