on dreams, demons, & being haunted

in the dream
it was a lonely house
on a hill
shrouded in darkness
foreboding
terrifying
until i was forced to enter
to save us all
from a greater
danger…
the house was
beautiful
on the inside
…but haunted…
a specter
rose up
threateningly
behind my companion
i wrestled it to the ground
only to realize
it was just
a child
“tell me why
you have so much
anger?”
i asked the child
&
the pain
was
released.

so this is a dream i had. it was pretty profound & felt really meaningful. i laid in bed pondering it. what do i do with this?
am i supposed to help other people exorcise their demons? or is it just another pat on the back from the universe for doing all the work to wrestle my own?
of course, i am still wrestling my demons.
case in point, my inking today is heavily borrowed from the artist david mack because i am going through a thing where i think my own work sucks & what is the point?
today, while on a walk, i started asking my frowning face–“why so stressed? what is there really to be stressed about?” and for a moment i let myself smile again.
but i can find reasons to be sad & even woke up this morning to a dream of my telling someone that sometimes i just don’t have a smile inside me….

so, yeah, still wrestling some demons….

holiday drinking

the whiskey tastes like
cough syrup
something i have an aversion to
with vivid memories of
my nurse mother
forcing medications
&
sure enough
i go to sleep
& dream
of her
bowling with my mother
something
we never did
in the waking world….
this will not be
the first thanksgiving
without my mother
but it will be the first
since she has departed
this
reality….
instead of my annual
angst
this year
i feel
peace
&
balance
&
i am swearing off
the cough syrup
whiskey.

the peace & balance waxed & waned. this time of year i am lucky to feel any peace & balance, so i am not going to look that gift horse in the mouth.
i fixed a turkey for the first time ever. i played “mom” to my four children & two extra children & decided that the cough syrup whiskey wasn’t awful when mixed with eggnog.

this was the last page of this art journal that began on july 10th of this year. i inked on both sides of all the pages.

landscaping

i need to prune
his tendrils
they keep
creeping
clinging
to
me
pulling me
into
quicksand dreams
of desperation
i need to prune
his tendrils
&
be free grow
tall & strong
once
again.

more art journal pages on the tendency of my ex to haunt my dreams. i really need to exorcise that ghost.

happy birthday, mike

my brother died just after 
obama was elected
november is all about
memories of 
my brother
presidential elections &
birthday
twelve years ago today
was the last time

i spoke to him
twelve years
same as the age of my second child
who was just starting to stand up
to crawl
when my brother
died
my children 
who my brother told me
privately
were the most beautiful babies
& offered
as true to his missionary pro-lifer code
to take any children i could not
love

(his wife had opted out of more children
after four)
i think of my brother today
i bake him a cake
have a drink with him
watch a movie that reminds me
of him.…
he was my big brother
he would have been 57 today.

aryan jesus is coming to town…

i was doodling during a board meeting
as i have trouble sitting still
& can actually focus better if my hand
is busy
my school notebooks are full of doodles
& i am sure
this is how i excelled as i did
scholastically
with such a tendancy
to let my mind
off leash
to wander….
anyhoo!
when i went to finish the doodle that started with
a man
& ended
with
a fish
i was pretty impressed
with said
wandering mind….

i have been working on turning a journal page into a finished work as requested.
after two tries, i am not completely happy (but there are many a man who will tell you that is not an uncommon state for me) 😉 & am trying to determine if i should try a third time….

one trick pony

i wonder
as a writer & an artist
if
i am like those
actors
who can only play one
character
no matter how excellent
they may be at that
role
they can never move past being
that guy
i wonder
if
i am a one trick pony
always drawing
the same face
always writing
in the same voice.

serious anxieties here folks. could i live with having a limited range? being a bill murray instead of a denzel washington?
i see other artists who do just the one style–doing it really well–& i do not judge them for it…
so why am i so hard on myself?
(rhetorical question–i totally know why)

dreaming

dreams tumbling
like stones in a river
though i pick through them
admiring the swirls
& colors
i toss them back
into the river
watching
the ripples….
i know
who
i am.

a friend of mine is having some serious ancestral dreams & dreams of spirit animals…
i was feeling a little envious…but, then again, i am ten years her senior & have been doing a buttload of work of my own.
maybe i don’t need my ancestors to talk to me right now.
maybe i know who i am.

(some handy fairies today)

stronger than i know

i am stronger
than i know
i have done things
most people
avoid
i challenge
the world around me
i ask questions
i expect
the truth
i expect
loyalty & compassion
i am stronger
than you know
i will not
stop
challenging
the world
around me.

this occurred to me the other day. it’s funny, i just do what i do…but then i look around and realize that i’m doing things most people choose not to do because it might be too much work or too daunting…etc.
i’m not trying to brag…i’m trying to make myself realize i am much more fantastic than i give myself credit to be.

bit of a series happening with the handy angels

third time’s the charm

first
my second ex-fiance
then
my first ex-fiance
reached out to me
on the internets
of late
a ghost of 1989
a ghost of 1993
both
with dark hair
&
brown eyes
both
leos
& not complete fuckers
like many many other men
in my past (& present)
so
reflecting on such
& noticing
things happening in threes
i guess
i wait
with baited breath
for a third
&
fresh
fiance to find me
tell me if you see
a dark haired
brown eyed
leo.

a little art journaling/meditation about my (so far very uneventful) man-hunt.
i do wonder….

so i have my sheep fingers…and now angels/fairies with hands for wings–what do i call them? handy angels? angel fives? clappers?

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