Straining against the Sands of Time

I just posted this illustration on the Illustration Friday's Week's Topic Board in hopes of catching the eye of the voters and being selected. No prize, just free advertising.

It was a quick drawing however why I did it was mainly I had just re-opened this blog, which I started because of IF ; so I also went back to IF''s site. Lo and behold the subject was DREAM.

I have always dreamed big, which still compels me to "believe" as my dreams have arrived with great depression this year. This year has had a journey so oddly difficult in uncanny ways all I have these days are dreams.

 

My life has been funny, weirdly challenging for me, and even though I feel I have not reached the measurable success I wanted back in Junior College, I am grateful for being alive, allowed to have all my faculties, well most of them, and able to create drawings from a blank piece of paper that I think of in my head. A LOT of people have great imaginations, ideas they see in their heads, but are clueless on how to get their minds to talk to their hands and direct their hands how to translate their ideas for others to go "ouuu" or "Wow..." when shown their concept. I can do that, tech others how it can be done, I like this part of my life and I am focusing on doing this more as retirement draws near.

Life is about dreaming, desire of fulling a dream or even better, inspiring many because they had a dream to share with the world. So I dream BIG. Doesn't hurt to dream and the cost of having dreams is dreaming more dreams as time allows. I hope I get my dream one day, before I am too old to really want it anymore, that's what I fear now, age was the fear I had in Jr. College. It saddens me, depresses me and is now effecting my motivational energies due to lack of dream fulfillment; I am constantly asking myself to what end will this all be if I pursue "this" or "that"? Stops me cold.  I have had so many stops along the way before arriving here I live in a home of Projects Without Ends; the pain and depression overwhelm me some days and I wait for it to go away. All I can do is wait. Been there so many times, I now know what to expect. So I wait.

So at ten minutes to another day, I will go off and think of what I need to attend to next, what I have forgotten, clean up a little, post a little more and then go off into my good night to dream a really BIG DREAM. My eyes tear up and the inclining of hope that tomorrow might just be THAT DAY....

What if you weren't living the life you imagined when you were 20?

As I sit here on Labor Day weekend, pondering as I usually do everyday, cleaning up emails, my life and much more, I came across this feeling of not being the "special snowflake" I imagined I should have been by now or as viewed from the eyes of a much younger person, back in the day. I remember fear struck in me when in Junior College, attending an art history class, as I learned about Grandma Moses, who achieved her fame in her late 70's I believe.  My first thought as a young 20 year old, was never wanting this to happen to me.  I desired reaching my goals far earlier in life. However, so far, looks like Grandma Moses has a stronger hold on my achievements than previously wanted by me, for me.

From that moment to now, I have been humbled by a karmic history I still have yet to understand, one that bites at my heels like a junk yard dog, injuring my journey, slowing down the momentum. In reflecting daily on the feeling I might not understand the whys of my karma, nor be able to correct this karma, even though I try very hard everyday to do just that, it does not feel like it is working yet. This karma, is mine to own and is baffling, however I am learning the value of old words with less satisfactory solutions, i.e. the repeating of the word, acceptance.  Saying the word "acceptance", and doing daily mantras to fixing my ills, my life struggles with my artistry are quite revealing, albeit difficult for me to live within the narrow boundaries my box provides. Given the less than expansive domain of my personally designed creative box of fun, this too affects how well I understand my karmic life. But I try, for I am tenacious, I also have a never give up type of personality and seem to continually find ways to move my life along. I straighten my shoulders, comply with how the world is different from what I remember it looked like when I was 20 and go forward, with hope, always hope, just like Pandora and her box of curiosity.

So, if you are inclined, follow me, like me, support me, champion me, or better yet, hire me.  Of what life is left in front of me, a personality test I took last night, thinks I am 38 years old, where I prefer to stay locked in at 23 years old, my personal favorite age to be. Both ages are far below where I am now chronologically, I still push forward with my life and its changes, happy trails to us all.

'Til Death Do Us Part

Love is a very powerful emotion and it is a focus of our lives, she thought walking the dog in the middle of the lonely evening.  The mild yet constant wind cooled her tears like rivers of feelings traveling down her face.  She thought about the TV show which just concluded and preceded her walk with dog.  How wrong the writers were about reality, how terrible an episode it was to watch this tragic portrayal of life. She, with dog cuddled beside her, watched the show, which filled her head with so many thoughts, life isn't like this, however her thoughts still, did not shake the notion "You are better than this Shonda Rhimes, you could have been so much better."

As with the power of love, there is death, another gift of life, and inevitable to us all, her mind continued.  She herself had loved deeply, lost people she held dearly and those who were so close to her, more than once in her life.  As expected, her mind drifted immediately to thoughts of her friend. The one who recently had lost a forever love and she hoped her friend hadn't seen this load of crap of a show. No matter how well one prepares, that depth of love, followed by grief, is never forgiving to those who are left behind, because most, almost all, don't have the luxury of disappearing for a year or more. Grief from the loss of a love was the theme for the episode, and brought back her own personal grief. Having been there, and having done that, those feelings are endless, she thought, constant reminders which swell the heart with knowledge, if I live long enough I will have to endure the feeling of loss again.  Not fair, not fair, not fair.

Dog pulled at his leash and the evening walk continued. It was so beautifully quiet.  She was mindful of the hour knowing only the wicked take to the streets during this hour.  As always, while she loved the quite solitudes, she was fully aware of the dangers the hour paraded in front of her peacefulness. She remembered this challenging feeling, while dog and her were alone and outside. The hum from the nearby freeway was the only reminder of life traveling the road out there, otherwise most were asleep.

The death of a person remains with the living as torn apart memories jogged back into life through the eyes of an episodic TV show writer. She did not like the show, nor the episode before which detailed the death of the character the previous week.  Too many plot malfunctions, very unlike real life, very disappointing from the well known show creator.

Real life is not so kind. Real life forced her to face her losses with tiny, microscopic steps, still appearing before her today, right in front of her, reminding her life has an end. Love has an end. Grief has no end, it is evermore for the living. It is the plot twist that comes in so many real ways and is always a shock regardless knowing it is due to us all. It is a reality she ran from hoping against all odds it could be avoided even though she knew she can't.  The gift of life is a time ticket to death, filled with the sickening sweet element of surprise, now you see her now you don't. Time travel with grief is slow at first, a solitude tantamount to living in a place where fog is a constant weather pattern, broken up only from interruptions of reality requiring one's attention. And yet she drifted into thoughts about hope and those of the living.  

Hope is an endless source of breath for the living, just like in Pandora's box.  After all the hurtful emotions race past Pandora, biting and tearing her flesh, there lies hope, glowing with sunshine, love, warm, soft and tender emotions.  Waiting to be held, to be brought back close to the heart, to mend the heart, to remind her there is meaning in death, the feeling of goodness will come from all of this, however she knew it really doesn't.  Death is death.  Life ends, taking with it every chance to share that next wonderful moment of life. To drift forward alone and without. Watching new life emerge, growing up never knowing those who traveled before these new lives begin, because a death of a person eventually goes unnoticed, a history without impact worthy of history books. A life will fade unless someone shouts they existed, and she shouted, "I exist, I am worthy, he was worthy." 

A light in a window turned on. She forgot the hour was late and her shouting woke up a sleeper. Dog jumped at her voice, tugging at the leash and she turned back to go home. "Yeah Shonda, I get what you wanted to impart to your viewers, but it could of been better, so much better than what you wrote."

Dog bounced up the stairs, waiting half way for her to disconnect the leash and then racing up to the top, smiling back down at her when he reached the landing.  Her slow climb to reach the door was a quiet game they played after every walk.  Dog loved her so and she him. Together they were a happy team of time travelers, living out a story for all to see another day.