No Time To Lose, Poem

Aleathia says:

The house is scattered with silence,
a passing of air that used to be my comfort,
now fails me.

This feeling chases me,
the sense of loss
and incompletion,
and I've no where to run;
no distraction strong enough.

I read from The Way of the Bodhisattva
and feel like a charlatan
questioning faith and existence
living in a veritable limbo.

A line strikes me across the face:
   "All of us willing to move beyond
our self-importance and find ways
to care for each other are considered
     the Buddha's heirs."

I weep.
Everything I've forgotten wells up
in the heart like a panic.

I sit on the floor
with a lion's heart
and monkey mind
feet together
noticing how old they look,
worn and wise, hands
not far behind.

The late sun falls in squares
on the faded carpet, my love's
shirt flutters in a breeze
as I sit with the demons
I've run from and contemplate
how to make it out alive
and full of heart.

Aleathia Drehmer 2016

I am free at last...

Aleathia says:

I mentioned earlier in the week that as a household, we were on our way to de-cluttering and cleaning up.  Yesterday we tackled the books.  I would like to say we are done, but I personally have more books to bring down from the attic, more to bring up that I am keeping.  I could not continue last night since my back was minutes from a serious revolt.

I can't say how many books we actually sorted through.  Michael's pile was a sight to be seen mounded on the office floor like someone backed a dump truck up and let her rip.  I did mine in a more orderly fashion...crate by crate.  Mind you we had to keep going into the sweltering attic to retrieve books, sort them into keep and donate piles, bag them up, and then bring them downstairs. This was a hefty workout on a warm day.  I was so excited about the process, I had only slept 3.5 hours prior to starting.

At last count, Michael got rid of about 250 books.  I estimate when I am finished that I will be close to 400 books (I am at 340 and have not tackled reference, art, or religion yet).

Michael and I were at one time very deep into the small press writing circle and from this faction one gets a lot of recommendations for books.  It is easy to pick them up at sales and at the store thinking "I want to read this someday" and set it on the shelf.  It isn't as easy to make the actual commitment to read the books and this is what they are for, right?  Isn't a books inherent joy that it will be read? We were not honoring our books.  We were not honoring ourselves.

Many of our old small press friends think we are nuts for dumping our collection, but it has been a huge freedom.  I was disgusted with myself for hoarding so many like a status symbol. I was mad at myself for wasting time, energy, and money hoarding them, but at the time of their purchase they must have brought me joy.  The act of collecting was a happy process.  But as I sat there holding these books in my hand, each one individually, I found that I had joy for so few of them.

The books that made the cut were authors who always make me smile, whose books never fail to bring me joy. A handful of the books saved were ones that changed my life; the ones that I think of from time to time even though it has been years since I read them.  Looking at the covers of their books physically moved me.

Part of the wonder of this process is the waking up to how I have been living my life.  I am not hating on myself in any way, but I can clearly see that I have piled possessions around me to protect me from the pain in my life.  It is an emotional process to pull that wall down brick by brick.  It is empowering to know that I have chosen to let the light in, that I have grown strong enough to no need that coat of armor.

Next, we move on to papers and then music and movies.  It is such an adventure.  Stay tuned.

Aleathia

Thanks Everyone!!

Aleathia says:

Sometime when I wasn't paying attention this good old blog crossed the 10,000 hits mark!  Thank you to everyone who reads this blog still.  It is sporadic, but that isn't unlike my current state of being. I appreciate you immensely for sharing in my interests, my life, and my emotional roller coaster. It is always nice to know you aren't alone even if it is distant friends and strangers keeping tabs.

Today I sat down to write about waking up and cleaning up.  The last few years have been especially rough for me as you know and though I thought I was handling it well, I can see that I did not fair as well as I imagined.  Maybe that was my armor for the grief and pain?  The last few months have found me waking up to living again...to enjoying all the greatness in my life.  This is what it is all about right?  Being thankful for what you have worked for and for the good graces you've been given?  These notions slip away from me from time to time.

A few neat things happened this week.  It is the town's annual Glass Fest and usually the signal that tourist season is starting and that we won't be able to walk the glass museum in peace nor will be able to go to dinner without a huge wait.  It does the small business owners a favor, it makes the locals kinda grumpy.  It just means I save money in the summer.  We braved the festival Friday night and had plans to eat out (had some great BBQ) and then go to our favorite bar (Hand + Foot) but it was packed to the gills.  There was no place to sit and really no place to stand, so we decided to pick up a new bourbon and sit in the AC and watch The Leftovers.

On our walk to the local liquor store, Michael saw someone he knows from his job and they were chatting a bit.  The man was telling us about this book he read by a Japanese woman about keeping a tidy house, essentially about getting rid of all the things that do not bring you joy.  After he talked about this and moved on to something else, I was stuck with this thought of all the things I have that clutter up my life which gives me anxiety.  I move them from pile to pile but never get rid of anything.

Later that night, we both talked about how beneficial it would be to do this and about how much more space we would have in the house.  Mostly, how free we would feel.  In the last few weeks, we have been having these talks about being more self-sustaining and about how much waste we generate.  Like most others, we get caught up in the typical American dream which consists of mass consumption and over consumption.  Growing up we both had little and now we can afford to have a lot, but we don't really need it....maybe only psychologically.  So in between episodes he put that book on hold at the library so that we might get some first hand details about the process.

I am impatient.  Today, without the book, I started on my own section of the closet and the drawers.  I am not sure any of my clothes bring me "joy".  If I got rid of things on this basis, I would be naked all the time and let me tell you, you don't want that.  I thought about it awhile to decide how I would pick which clothes to keep and which to get rid of.  A few days prior Michael had told me that he feels like I never let myself rest and that I always have to be moving as if I were not comfortable in my own skin.

There was never a truer statement in my whole life.  I have never felt comfortable in this body...even when it looked good.  I have always felt like it was a sloppy house where I stored all the great things in my life: love, generosity, caring, laughter, sorrow, creativity, intelligence.  When I look in the mirror I often don't understand why the outside of me looks like it does, because my vision is different.  When I am home I don't care much about what the outside looks like, but when I go places, I have nothing but fear and anxiety about how I look.  That people will wrongly judge the great things about me, because I am overweight or don't wear popular clothes.  I could spend every day in yoga pants and a t-shirt and have joy.

So when I started to sort the clothes I asked myself "am I comfortable in public in this?"  There was a lot of emotions happening in this process.  There was truth, honesty, and letting go.  There were options for re-purposing now that I know how to sew.  There were upcycling clothes to my kid.  In my closet and drawers I now have space.  Things aren't crammed together and the drawers aren't overflowing.  I can find what I wear all the time without having to upturn everything.  Don't get me wrong.  The struggle was real.  The truth that I am not and probably never will be as thin as I hope to be.  I love food.  It loves me.  To take away cooking and baking would really destroy something beautiful and heart-felt in my life.  So from this day forward I have to make better choices and not be so damn hard on myself about everything.

As of this posting, we have half of my daughter's room dug out of clothes.  She had items from the 3rd grade still circulating.  She is going into 9th.  See what I have created?

Thanks again for reading.  Thanks for being wonderful people.  Happy Memorial Day.  Remember some folks who gave their lives so that we could live ours.  We owe them that at least.

Aleathia

Happy Nurses Day and Happy Mother's Day

Aleathia says:

This week in Nurse's week.  I usually don't fall into much ado about it, but maybe I should.  In July, it will mark my 12th year as a nurse.  Two years on the surgical floor and 10 years in the ER.  All of these years have been spent working the night shift.

Night nurses are a different breed.  They are headstrong, opinionated, insane, hard-working, bare bones-by-the-seat-of-your-pants, take action, tell it like it is nurses.  They are full of compassion too, but above all they want what is right for you whether it is what you want to hear or not.  Healthcare isn't the drive-up at McDonald's.  What you want isn't always good for you.  If you come in at night, be prepared for the truth without sugar coating.

I have a wonderful team of nurses that I work with.  Some of them I have known my whole career and some just a few years, but in this span of time they have taught me so much about my job, about people, about healthcare, and about myself.  There isn't another group of people I would rather work with.  We save lives together.  We cry together. We laugh together.  We are delirious together.  And somehow, we don't judge each other in these states.  The job is hard emotionally, physically, and mentally.  We spend long shifts away from our families.  We miss games and concerts and holidays. Our families always miss us, but we come to work each day hoping to make a difference.

In my career so far, I have helped thousands of people, most of which will never remember me. This is ok.  I didn't become a nurse to be famous or recognized.  In my career, I have seen three children die and helped deliver a baby in the parking lot.  These are the deepest scars and joys of my life. They can still make me cry just thinking about them, so I don't.  But these wounds were never suffered alone.  We suffered as a team.  We held each other silently as we toughened our exteriors a little more.

On this Nurse's Day, I wanted to thank all the wonderful men and women I work with.  We are a team.  We are a family.  I am not sure I thank you all enough for everything that you do, but know that I would have never made it this far without your love and support and knowledge.  My ER group are some of the most intelligent, hard-working people I have ever met.  They do me proud every day.

Happy Nurse's Day.  I love you all.

Now for Mother's Day.

This will be the 3rd year without my mother and it is the one that hurts the worst.  It took me several years to stop being angry over her death....to stop blaming her and hating her.  There was so much unfinished business between us, so many things I wanted to share.  I simply wasn't ready.  I am not sure anyone ever is, but it was poof and she was gone.

I miss hearing her voice and her laugh.  I miss her smile.  I miss hearing her call me "Sweet Pea".

Today, Chloe and I planted our first tomatoes.  Both my mother and my father loved to grow them and this year we honor them with their planting.  Chloe loved to garden with my mother.  It is by far her most favorite memories of her and for this, I am so glad.

To all my friends who are mothers:

Thank you for being brave every day.  Thank you for raising good, nice, honest, intelligent children. I honestly believe their future starts in our hands.  We have to be good examples and I see all the wonderful work you are doing and it makes me smile.

To myself:

Go easy on yourself.  You are doing a good job.  You aren't perfect and that is a great thing to show your daughter.  Keep loving her even if she seems like she doesn't want you too.  Keep being tough in all the right places and soft in all the right places.  Show her the world.  Keep telling her the truth. Pat yourself on the back for finally giving her the life you always dreamed you could have yourself. Remember to let her be herself.  Remember to let her fail and be there to tell her she will get it right next time.  Cherish all moments.

Happy Mother's Day.

PAD, April 2

Aleathia says:

This is my favorite smile.  I try to make it happen as often as I can.  

April 2 (prompt is he said/she said)

Tell Me Now

“That tickles,” he said, “why do you do that?”

And she does it again.

He protests and squirms, 

elbows tucked in, half bent over, 

laughing.

He looks at her with a playfulness 

that makes her feel light and small. 

She moves closer and he squints his eyes, 

smiling and waiting for her torture.

She loves this smile 

with everything she's got, 

pauses to watch its evolution, 

and then kisses him, 

pulling the whole of his body

                                     into hers.

“This is why”, she said.

Aleathia Drehmer 2016

April Poem a Day Challenge, April 1

Aleathia says:

For several years I have been participating in the April Poem a Day Challenge.  A prompt is given and people set out to write a poem somehow relating to the prompt. Many people do not enjoy this format and find it constricting or hard to write from a prompt, but I love it.  I find that it gives me an opportunity to explore an angle or an idea that I might now have considered.  These days when I hardly write anyway, prompts are a god send to actually make the pen move.

In another sense, they are a catharsis of the winter; an awakening to spring.  So for the next month I am going to post a poem.  Normally I would post them at the challenge site, but I don't much feel up to swimming in the pond with other people this year.  It can be somewhat unnerving and narcissistic to keep going back and hoping your poem is good enough to get selected for the final book.  This year I am just going to write.

Feel free to try writing with the prompt yourself.  It is fun!

April 1 (prompt is Foolish)

The Wars We Wage

For Sindee

I was foolish to think
I could push you from my heart by hating you,
                                                                           you the person who carried me
                                                                                                    and cared for me
in the best way you knew how.

You were a child
     raising a child
and neither of us could have known
how it would turn out…you chasing flames
and bright lights while I swaddled myself in shadows.

I was foolish to drown myself
                           in your misery
letting the bottle tell me stories
that were never true but believable
the more I emptied them at the bar.

You were my only mother,
                  my only direction on how to be a woman,
                  my yardstick to success.
Measuring up to each other
drove us apart
instead of making us run
to the finish a little faster.

I was foolish to wait so long to hurt,
                                                   to grieve,
                                                   to say goodbye.

So today,
I say I love you.

Today I say goodbye
sitting in my car
watching April showers
clean away the winter
and the salt.

Today,
I start again.

Aleathia Drehmer 2016

Happy Birthday Mom, I miss you.

Helen Frankenthaler, artist

Aleathia says:

I have been lucky enough in my travels to find an art museum to wander around and continue to be fascinated by the colors and movements swirling around in an artist's head.  I appreciate the depth and time it takes to create some of the master works in all of their glory and reality, but abstract art has always gripped me the most.  It is often the least understood and the hardest to explain. Most people like what is familiar and gravitate towards pieces that have a recognizable imagery. The wonderful thing about abstract art is each person gets to create their own interpreted story.  They can see what they want to see before understanding what the artist intended.

Helen Frankenthaler was born in New York City in 1928.  She was a notable American Abstract painter and helped to develop color field painting.  She exhibited work around the world starting in the 1950's until her death in 2011.  She continued to produce viable work her entire career.

Her main influences were Hans Hoffman, Jackson Pollock, and Clement Greenberg.  Frankenthaler's work is often identified "with the use of fluid shapes, abstract masses and lyrical gestures".  She has said "A really good picture looks as if it's happened at once."

The follow works of Helen Frankethaler are from the time span of 1952-1988. Her growth and color composition are most notable.

"It is an order familiar and new at the same time."--Helen Frankenthaler

1952 Mountains and Sea

This noted a big breakthrough in the style of painting with oils that looked like pastels and was then known as "stain painting".  Her work through the 1950's were similar in form containing evenly weighted compositions and stain painting.


1959 Mother Goose Melody

In this work the color palette is much darker and she invites the idea of a heavily, densely weighted side and an airy constructed side in the painting together.


1960-1962 Seascape with Dunes

This is a very centralized piece with a lot of raw canvas showing the stains of oil paints like ghost shadows.


1963-1968 Mauve District and Flood

These pieces were a large move towards acrylic paint which lent her to have a deeper sense of color within her chosen palette.  This move to acrylics saw less raw canvas and the paintings begin to feel more full and more abstract.


1970-1971  Sesame and Chairman of the Board

Frankenthaler continues the use of acrylics, but starts looking at her work with new formal consideration.

"Frankenthaler 'points to the four different compositional placements of the painting:its overall flatness, the play of the left side versus the right side, the interior of the white crossing passage--what she refers to as a cable or crevice'--and drawn lines, about whose space making she observes, 'I was very conscious of threading line through the cable/crevice'"


1972-1975 Hint from Bassano and Nature Abhors a Vacuum

Her work in this time is filled with wide swathes of color with the combination of levels both symmetrical and asymmetrical in context along with horizontal line movement.


1976-1977 Natural Answer and M.

After a trip to the Southwest, Frankenthaler came home with a new color palette which were mostly terra cotta shades. In this time period, the paintings were actually painted instead of stained.  With this there is a definite sense of structure and horizontal brush movement.


1978-1981  for E.M.

Paintings are becoming more rigid with themes and lines have a more interlocking look.  White starts to be a significant accent through them.


1981-1985 Reflections on a Blue Pool

Frankenthaler moves into a new period where the paint appears stained again with the addition of raised paint which adds texture and depth to the work.

1986-1988 Morpheus

She begins to move into implied grid like structures lending the work to have a more vertical movement and feeling.



I hope you enjoy these few selections from Helen Frankenthaler's collection.  Feel free to look her up as there is a vast amount of her work on the internet.