My Sunday List
June 11, 2023/The Joy of Green
Quote
Remember, green’s your color. You are spring. — Gwendolyn Brooks
Fear and faith cannot occupy the same space. —ACA big book
Song
John Deere Tractor by The Judds
and
The Girl From Ipanema, of course, with deep respect to the great Astrud Gilberto.
I watched
H. and I started watching Drops of God the other day and we’re quite into it. I do love wine even though I don’t drink the alcoholic kind anymore, so it’s fun to learn about it through this show filled with mystery and art. I recommend!
By the way — check out my girl Libby Callaway’s substack on good NA beverages if you’re interested.
Book
I’m in one of those phases during which I surround myself with all kinds of books. At the moment, I’m studying on my ACA big book, several interiors and art books, one on symbols, one on medicine cards — I feel a bit scattered in my brain and like I’m looking for a place to land. Looking at all this green grounds me today and I am grateful for the ability to notice when I need that.
Thing
I couldn’t resist hanging this sweet little mailbox outside the studio door. Sometimes, actually most times, it’s the little things that get you from one second to the next.
Favorite Photo I Took This Week
John Henry conducting one of his many water bead experiments on the front porch, Friday afternoon.
Prayer
Thank you, Great Spirit, for allowing me the resources I need to recover, to grow, and to heal. Thank you for your guidance and the gift of this earthly experience. Lead me toward love.
Intention for the week to come
May I allow myself to relax during this blessed time of family and home, may I allow myself rest when I need it, and may my journey continue to grow into one of diligence, reverence, revelation, and love.
Something I’m thinking about:
Color!
I got so inspired by the color green this morning. I went to the garden early to water and I was taken over by gratitude for the space — it is our sanctuary — and that came forth by realizing that I am moved by green. It might be my favorite color, if I have one. I have embraced a kind of palette austerity in my wardrobe — it keeps things simple and easy — but if I ever find something suiting in the right shade of green (can’t be too light and can’t be too dark for my coloring — it has to be a bright yet deep green, like a deep grass green — no lime, no forest), hardly anything can keep that garment off of my body. It enlivens me and what is around me.
Before enlightenment; chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment; chop wood, carry water. — Buddha
Habit
Noticing how I’m learning to self-regulate and how that noticing feeds the learning. Giving myself acknowledgement for the hard work I’ve done and am doing greases the pathway — I guess it’s as simple as positive reinforcement sometimes. As I learn to keep myself calm through whatever happens, I learn to trust that I will be able to do it over and over, and that’s such a big part of what I’m trying to learn here — to trust myself, to trust my instincts and intuition, to hear the inner voice I silenced so long ago and let it come through clear and true.
EMDR is making a huge change in my life. I know it isn’t only EMDR, it’s in a larger sense the commitment I’ve made to healing what is so broken and scattered in me, but now I’m fascinated with how realizing my nervous system is f*cked guided me toward making real change. I stop myself from wishing someone had gotten ahold of me in this way sooner and trust that my path is my path and that things happen when they’re supposed to.
I’m also thinking about that idea further — trust — in terms of trusting the natural rhythm of life and all of its constant change — cycles, beginnings, middles, endings, letting go. H. and I were having coffee this morning and he said to me something about “honing the singular point of view,” and I thought YES! that’s what this time of life is for. Acceptance of what has come before, sifting through the lessons learned so far, using them to prepare for what is to come in ways that make us, with any hope, more flexible and open to whatever’s ahead while knowing our days are numbered, not in a way that threatens us but in one that encourages us to suck the nectar out of every flower.
Wishes
That I remember and practice how to stay calm.
That I take good care of my son, nurture my family and home, make good art, and keep myself clear of negative emotions.
That I meet others with love, even when I know I’m dealing with their trauma and not the real them.
That you will forward this to one person and that person becomes a subscriber too.
Have a wonderful, peaceful, joyous week. And thank you for supporting my work here at The Autotelic.
Lots of love,
Allison
“Fear and faith cannot occupy the same space.” I so needed to hear this today. Thank you. 🙏🏻❤️
What stands out most to me in what you are expressing is: "flexible and open to whatever’s ahead while knowing our days our numbered, not in a way that threatens us but in one that encourages us to suck the nectar out of every flower."
These words made me remember a poem I wrote two years ago after my wife died of insidious cancer. I was trying to find some hope, purpose, and a reason to continue living. And yes, I'm not ashamed to admit I've thought more than once of joining my beloved wife in eternity.
However, I thought of something I believe I read in one of Ayn Rand's books years ago about suicide being a slap in the face of God.. The (probably trite) poem I wrote is:
"As far as we know,
the clock of life is wound but once.
No person has the power to tell
just when the hands will stop.
Now is the only time you own.
So Live, love, study, learn,
and work hard with a determination
to use all of your talents for good.
Place no faith in time;
for the clock may soon be still.
To a person who lives their life with integrity
no lasting harm can ever come."
These words still give me comfort on my darkest days. Be well. Stay safe, dear Allison.