Wuv, true wuv?

This past weekend was a whirlwind of love (wuv). Two dear friends' daughters were each marrying the love of their lives. ;) I wink because these couples are very young. They were getting married; same day, same time. Saturday night was hot. I was in a full length halter dress (the '70's are back enforce in fashion). And I had to carry a fan to keep me cool. It's an antique....nice compliment to the outfit.

The first wedding was being held in San Juan Capistrano at a beautiful church, as well, the wedding. Celtic song in string and harp, singers, the bride (oh my!), the groom (reow!). Families, love, joy, whispers and grace. Bowing of heads and hearts. Celebration for two. Love and light in the dimly lit sanctuary. Pastries and joy awaiting the witnesses after. The bride, a petite and beautiful soul in a stunning dress. Beads, as if a belt, hung low on her size - 2 hips. She was perfection in action. And her groom was tall and handsome. Distinguished with happiness around the edges. His attire showing off the big shoulders that will carry their dreams, hopes and desires to fruition. So beautiful, these two, who are now these "one."

Driving back from this experience, I was impressed with the tradition and strong threads of love from which the bride and groom were composed.

Upon my return to Rancho Santa Fe, I witnessed joy and laughter. Dancing. The singing of hearts, old and young; the embracing of bride and groom with greetings of happiness: "So glad you could make it!" Charm was in the air! The reception was being held in the back yard, poolside, garden-side of a small mansion-like home. A home where I live, renting the cassita (pool-house) which, because I am French, I call my cottage - it looks like one inside. These are my landlords and friends. I was happy to see such beautiful joy occurring outside my door!

Glass jars harboring light were hanging from trellises and in trees...twinkling soft and bright simultaneously. Music. Dance floor. Floating candles in the pool, white, brown and green flowers and plants spilled in abundance across tables, foot paths and patio. The bride in a dress that tumbled to her feet...the word aplomb comes to mind. Spilling around her tiny hips and down toward the floor. The groom's charm, more his attire than the suit he wore. Happiness was everywhere.

Okay, waxing and waning, I am. But, give me some slack. Never been, you know. I give these young couples a wink and nod for their courage and belief in their love and their ability to be together. Their commitment to "give it go." :)

Is the grass greener? I don't know. Oh, I hear it's a lot of work. But, on this side of the fence...the single side of living... it's kind of boring (notice in photo, I'm taking a pic of myself...no one to do it for me). I'm a true believer in love and marriage, just timid. Looking. Waiting. Soon.

My thoughts and well wishes go to these brave couples and their parents, my friends. Love and joy to you all.

I accept!

I accept! the challenge before me. I just finished painting a landscape in the ever so popular (out here in So-Cal) impressionistic style. That was yesterday. The day before, 3 suns. Today, I am painting an abstract. Three days ago, I painted a miniature ensemble. Whenever I experience anyone else's work, I first acknowledge the fact that the artist said, "I can do this! I accept" A fearless approach with brush in hand results in courage on canvas. :) Later amigos.

"YES!"

Recently, very recently. I was reminded of the practice of breathing in life and breathing out death. What does this mean? The breath we take, fills our body with one more moment of life, living, thinking, feeling, experiencing....being. As we breath out, we expel toxins, used air, emotions and expired energy...in essence, we are expelling the death of what we've breathed in. And so, as my friend and spiritual father (I like to call him that), Tony, explains, we participate in the continuous cycles of life. Of receiving and releasing.

I like this analogy. Takes some of the fear away when contemplating one's transition from this reality to the next, i.e., life to death.

Okay, my family thinks I'm kooks. Yup. However, I'm not that alone in my kookiness. :) I believe the experiences I have refine my spiritual acceptance of my human way of being. Or is it my human acceptance of my spiritual way of being? :)

Well, I have realized that one can breath in and out about anything in life. From something as simple as watching a butterfly land on a blade of grass to understanding the complexities of relationships and our co-existence on this planet of ours.

I like to think that a hick-up is when you breath in more life than you let out. It's then, a brief moment of enlightenment may be experienced. :)

Breath in - Breath out
Accept - Release
Say "YES" to life and all that you experience! Breathing out becomes easier. :)

Artistic expressions

Art is about so many things. Impressions/interpretation of the artist. And that of the experiencer. A message/thought/idea that needs to be conveyed/experienced. Emotions. Expressing what isn't "there." Or what "is." So many things go into a painting, a song, the written word, the oral story. And it goes on. Home furnishings, building design, car design, etc. We are surrounded with our artistic desires and expressions.

When I paint for myself, I push. Beyond the appearance of something in front of me. I paint with all kinds of feelings about my subject. I'm sensitive. I've been told I have a minimalistic sense of design. Some think I don't push enough, others think too much. Or that my textures are wrong, colors too saturated, form not accurate. Have heard it all. My response? GO PICK UP A BRUSH!

Once you do, the critiques diminish. And truth is experienced. The sane and insane approach you have toward a blank canvas staring you in the face translates into anxiety, fear and courage. For me, blank canvases are not the problem. I'm almost manic with designs and ideas. My books are full. I am a romantic, minimalistic painter, trying to find her voice. Not anyone else's.

The challenge. You see, my job is to paint for other people. That is how I earn my living. And so, I have the ability to adapt to the request. I actually enjoy the challenge. However, in the process, I have lost the direction of my own personal work. Is this bad? Nope. I know this and I have direction because of it.

I think the general public gets turned on when they see realistic work because they marvel at the accuracy required to replicate. Me? I say, easy stuff. But what about it's soul? What about the movement? Texture? How does it make you FEEL? Another thing? When you look at a painting and you see something missing, or not defined, or defined, whatever. If it bugs you, don't think the painter was wrong or didn't do something right. Trust me. It's all intentional. For me? I leave stuff out to get down to the bones of the subject matter. The feelings, the truth I wish to convey...as I see it or experience it. Know my friendly experiencers, that each brush stroke has great intention behind it. Nothing has been missed. It's all purposeful. And is the case for most artists.

I am not about details. Never have been. Global thinker. Big picture. I haven't the patience to get busy with the minute. It's not important to me. (ask my ex-boyfriends!) I mean, I was trained in the '70's and early '80's. Impressionism, abstract realism, surrealism, etc. were on the agenda. It influenced me. Pollack, Escher, Dali, Turner, Whistler, my father.

Eh, I'm just griping. It's been a rough week.

Okay. Rambling. Point is. I'm out there, I have talent. Stretching boundaries. And I've only been painting for 8 years.

What more can I ask of myself? It's up to the viewer of my work to get the most they can out of it; they are 50% of the experience. It's a relationship. Art. And, I'm happy to be a partner.

Courage

Courage. An interesting word. Full of charge. Strong and bold. Actually, I'm courageous each day as I exist in the world of surgery modified bodies and anorexic/bulimic individuals. You see, I'm curvy. Round. Chubby, I guess. I'm short. That's the deal. I look wider than I am. Oh, but there I go, justifying what is a natural way of being. Well, it takes courage to be a live Ruben painting.

I would hear all the skinny girls' theories of what to eat, what not to eat, the latest, greatest exercise or combination thereof. For the last year or two, I would bring up the subject so as to avoid hearing it come from them. Oh, but the experts on skinniness would wait for a word or a morsel of food I was ready to consume and then begin with the diatribe. All the while knowing they are on a race with the clock and wrinkles and bulges, themselves.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm pretty. I have beauty inside and out. My heart goes out to those who aren't or don't believe they are. But I'll tell you, I have been working on not paying attention to my tummy or backside as I move through the actions of the day...as a size 12.

There, I said it. Size 12. Can you believe it? At 49 years of age, I am worried about being a size 12? From now on, I am all about being courageous, walking on the beach or by the pool, for all to see what an honestly beautiful menopausal woman can be like.

For too long, women have abused and neglected their natural way of being and it has confused our men. It's confused us. We have little girls looking like their moms. Or is it that their moms are looking like them? We chastise men for dating younger women and yet we cave in with appeasement, surgeries and youthful clothes. Sending mixed signals. It's actually quite pathetic. I know a woman in Minneapolis who is in her forties is so proud of the fact that she shared her 13 year old daughters clothes. I looked at her and saw her joy. Wondered what went wrong for her to want to become a child again. Here's to courage! Here's to being yourself! Here's to being perfect in every way, without edit. Let the true beauty shine through!

Why are there so few good men?

Recently, the front left wheel on my cute little CRV went flat. Desperation was an immediate emotion for me. Helpless feelings grow quickly when one is without transportation. How do I get to my jobsite? What if I need supplies? How am I going to change this thing?

Do I have a jack? was the next question as I read the ops manual from the glove compartment. The answer came quickly. Quicker than I would like to admit. No, but you do have a cell phone!

And so I proceeded to call several friends. Guys. Alas, all too busy to come to my aid. :( I ended up calling my dear friend, my "spiritual father," I like to call him. Always there for me to help me understand life, spiritual and otherwise. Tony, is his name. Tony came through for me! Yay! He helped me to get through most of the changing of the tire. My eighty-year-old friend guided me through the changing of a tire.

Alas, darkness came and I had no choice but to leave the car up on the jack and without a tire on the wheel. Why? You see, the jack was in the wrong place on the car. So there wasn't the proper amount of lift to provide space for the spare to be put on. And, no light. I had to abandon my car. ugh.

But! Alas, my landlords/friends went out and put the flat back on and lowered car. Safe. My friends, Amy and Ray, assured me it was better this way. And they did this and then called me. How nice! (I had been inside my cottage praying that nothing would happen to the car while it was up on the jack). Thanks to Amy and Ray (2 weeks out of surgery), I slept that night.

I'm single. Boy did I feel the negative impact of what that means. Well, the next day Amy and I changed the flat and put on the spare. Flat. My arms went up and quicker than you could say "hey!" I dialed my cell and told a colleague, who will remain nameless, what had happened. He came over straight away and gave me assistance. Yay! He also wanted to get a little somethin' somethin' for his trouble. INAPPROPRIATE! No worries, nothing happened.

It really makes me wonder. Why are there are so few good men. Thank you Tony, Ray and Amy for your efforts and support on my behalf. My CRV thanks you as well. :)

Strange things seen on California Highways, Byways and Freeways!

Recently saw a truck stop in the middle of the road, a guy got out of the passenger side, ran around to the sidewalk (construction site). Grabbed a couple of bags of cement. Threw them in the bed of the truck and drove off.

It took a moment to register: I just saw two guys steal. Cement.

Cement...Really?

:(

A man was walking with his wife. They had a stroller. I rounded the corner and casually looked inside the bonnet of the stroller. It was a dog!

!!!!!Oh! By the way, they were dressed in black and white...so was the dog.

:)

Driving home. Interrupted a dinner with my car. What I thought was a bag of trash turned out to be a hawk and a bunny. The hawk took flight to the nearest tree, watching his dinner hop off to the side of the road. This was the first time I saw irritation in a bird. It looked like it was pissed at my car!

:)

Menopause Moment:

I was driving down a parking a lot, and came upon a cross walk where a guy was waiting to cross. I stopped (phone in my hand, ready to make a call- ear piece in place - which he didn't see). The guy starts walking through the cross walk giving me a dirty look and shaking his head(re: my cell phone in hand - illegal here for hand-helds).

Wrong day for this dude to judge me! I waited until he crossed, smiling the entire time, and when he got to the other side, I honked my horn!

You should have seen him jump! I put my hand to my mouth, tilted my head, raised my eyebrows, and then said, "I'm so sorry!" Giggling, I proceeded down the lot to the street!

That was a fun moment.