Signs and Messengers

As I sit down and think of what I wish to write, I am conscious of the fact that my mam'ma has been in surgery for quite a few hours. A quadruple bi-pass. SURPRISE! Who knew? Totally unexpected and urgent. I've yet to hear anything. 3500 miles away. Or is it 4200? Oh, the conundrums for the dyslexic.

Just an hour ago I engaged in my morning ritual of driving to my favorite coffee shop for a cup of breakfast tea. I wind through my neighborhood of Rancho Santa Fe. The roads are beautiful and serene. It is the perfect start to any day, including this one of such serious and sober thought and prayers for my mother. Upon my return, I received a sign from the Universe. "What?" you might ask. If you have a minute, keep reading and I will explain.

Long ago - like twenty years or so - I was seeing a psychologist - the reason doesn't matter for this story. I was asked, in the comfort of her office, if I could be a an animal, which one would I prefer to be. I said, "The Blue Heron or the White Crane." When asked to support my choice I said, "They're majestic, powerful and although able to fly, remain close to the ground, but just high enough not to be bothered." Gosh, I remember this so clearly. Says alot about me, doesn't it? Attached, to my family, but just far enough out of reach. Engaged in long-term relationships, but never fully committed. Hmmm....Run my own studio, but have no employees, have tons of friends, but they're all married and very involved in their own lives (I will have to reflect on this at a later time).

Anyway, I digress. Ever since that session, whenever there is impending change in my life or a milestone of achievement (change), the Blue Heron or the White Crane show up in my life. And I mean SHOW UP. For instance, once a white crane flew over the hood of my car as I was attempting entry to the freeway. Roughly 15-20 miles an hour. It hovered over my car for the length of the on-ramp and then some. I never increased my speed, but just slowed enough to have us remain in tandem as long as was possible. It was incredibly beautiful and meaningful. You see, it was the day I lost my job at Modern Postcard. Change.

Another time, I was driving down a Carlsbad street only to have to come to a full stop, put on my blinkers and direct traffic around a grey heron, standing in the middle of the road. Taller than myself. It waited for me as I directed traffic around our situation. And then we walked to the curb. It hopped up, and I stepped up (my arms wide and in the air). Calm and in sync. No fear. Just one creature helping another. I gently walked my friend onto the grassy hillside overlooking the Batiquitos Lagoon where it slowly picked its way to the edge overlooking the water and quietly, ever so quietly and naturally, took flight. Sinking low over the water and the grasses. Mystical, really. I felt blessed. This was the day that I had won the bid for my first faux painting job, which set the pace for an 8 year career.

Another? Yes, I have more. Many more. All marking change and growth. These majestic birds flying next to my car or in front of my car or showing up in the river beds (which in California look like creeks with reeds and tall grasses instead of running waters) next to me as I walk. Fear is never a part of the experience, and they are so very close to me - usually within a foot.

This morning upon my return home, driving down the winding little roads, I went around a curve at about 20 miles an hour and there, heading straight for me was a blue heron. HUGE, blue heron. And just when I thought it was going to hit the windshield of my car, it veered off to my left, exposing its belly and legs all cranked up underneath. Grace was involved in this meneuver. 45 degree angle, for sure. It landed on a branch in one of the huge eucalyptus trees that shade the riverbed. I couldn't help but think it, too, had gone home after its morning ritual. As this friend and I were making our connection, the song playing on the radio was, "Closing Time" by Semisonic. I pulled over and took note.

I can't help but wonder what the message/sign is from my spiritual friend. What the change is. Will my mom be okay? Is she still going to hang around for awhile and fill the rooms of her home with her magnificent presence? I would miss her so much if it were her time to close up and leave. Then again, maybe I'm being told all is well, she came through it just fine and life will change a bit. Perhaps in healthier choices and ways of being. My mother has this innate ability to influence and bring anyone along for the ride of her life. She is powerful, opinionated (sure. who isn't at 69?) and strong. I think these qualities are incredible ones to have and are an asset, increasing her beauty.

I sit a little taller when I think of my mom. Stand stronger. I embody her when I need to stand up for myself or cross confrontation. I think to myself, "WWJD - What Would Jackie Do?" And then proceed. I am me, because of her. Gratitude rings through my heart...even for the arguments and the moments of painful truth...who better to deliver than one's mother? Never. And I mean, never, have I questioned her love for me.

Here's to my mom, may she be okay, and come out of surgery with the opportunity to extend her exciting life. And here's to my friendly, soulful birds. My messengers of change...thanks for keeping in touch. And here's to my sisters, we'd better stick to the wagon of better health 'cause I want you to hang around for a long time! Love you all. Deeba.

Walking the path of creativity

Last weekend I woke up early, packed up my chalk, a pillow, a flat dolly and water and drove to the annual sidewalk chalk art event in Carlsbad, CA, known as ArtSplash.

As I made my way down the long street, Armada Drive, by LegoLand, I remembered that last year I had vowed not to participate again. Hard on the body. Two days of glaring sun. Sitting on hot tar. Creating a three dimensional image with accurate perspective while crawling around the square (or scooting around on a dolly). Tough on the back, the hands and knees.

However, this year, I walked with a bit of excitement in my stride. I hadn't made up my mind on what I was to paint (in chalk). I was going back and forth between several designs, but felt I wanted to do it in black and white (I was the only artist who didn't use color). I asked for a small square this year 5'x2.5'. Last year: 8'x8'....too much for one little artist. As I sifted through the crowd already gathering, I made my way to the registration tent. The excitement started to grow from within. I could feel a certain amount of confidence (my fifth year) and joy about being out with hundreds of people, sharing the experience of art and creativity.

I spoke to would-be artists, parents, kids, anyone who stopped by to view my work. People would stand for minutes at a time, as if entranced by the magic transpiring on the street. Talented artists laid chalk to tar in an effort to create life-like images. Successful with their endeavors, the artists continued with pride and confidence. And for some, amazement at their own achievement. Colored dust gently danced across the surface as artisans blew and rubbed their chalk pastels into masterpieces for the endless parade of families to experience.

Joy, laughter and conversation rose up over the crowd and carried east on the ocean breeze from the west coastline. Every now and then I would have to stand, sip some water, brush my hair out of my face and chalk from my cheeks. It would be at this time that I would look west over the flower fields to the water - so bright - so blue - and thank the Universe for the experience of sharing my gifts, my talent. These are hard times for everyone (myself included) and to take two days out of the stress of managing affairs, just two days to create something for others, well, it makes everything else worth enduring.

As people stopped to talk about the piece I was drawing, I would share the importance of the program, their participation and the excitement of fund-raising for such a worthy cause. It was a way to say thanks for coming out and supporting this endeavor. Funds were also raised through silent auctions. I created a hand painted clock this year that was auctioned off for about $120. Yay! Three birds with instruments on their way to play. Many beautiful clocks, skim boards and painted chairs brought in lots of money! And those who won the bids walked away with affordable, original artwork, forever marking an annual event for their community and for the arts.

And such talent! Young artists, old artists, quiet and bold. Designs of such beauty! Tradition is to honor The Masters, but some break out and reveal creations of great invention and intriguing perspective. Each artist experiencing the pressure, the beautiful pressure, of performing before an audience. Of working out one's psyche - the battle - the tug and pull of perspective and proportion - and the surrender, eventually finding the sweet spot of allowing the artwork to just happen. It's an incredible dance between the artist, the image and the audience viewing, sometimes helping with advice, to get the artwork to be the best that it can be.

At 3:00 pm Sunday afternoon, I packed up my stuff, said goodnight to the spirit of ArtSlplash and limped to my car with a smile on my chalked-up face, a joy in my big heart. I could already hear next year calling me. With each step I released my image, knowing that everything was to be washed off the pavement by early morning light. Just in time for the cars to roll down Carlsbad's beautiful Armada Drive. It gave me a strange sense of release, perhaps only an artist can relate to....

Yup, I'll be back. To do it all over again. I wonder what image I will conjure up for next year's event.:)