Coming and Going

We had a little visitor this week. A visitor that seemed like it was about to overstay its welcome, and then as quickly as it came into our lives, it chose to move on. To where, no one knows.

We had a white kitty show up at our door about 10 days ago. Since we never knew the gender of the cat, I will heretofore refer to kitty as “she” to avoid the annoying he-slash-she thing. She followed me around the yard, followed the kids, let you pick her up, and rub her belly. She had a red rhinestone collar around her neck, so I knew she had to have belonged to someone around the neighborhood, so took her eager friendliness as just happenstance. Although curiously she seemed a little dirty, a little hungry and very thirsty when I gave her some water. I had no cat food to provide as our earlier cat had passed some 9 months ago and I had none leftover.
As the day ended, we petted the kitty goodbye once we returned inside the house for dinner, and while we were curious about this little kitty, we didn’t think much more about our little playmate for the day.

Until she returned the next day. And the day after that. And after that.
Soon I found myself letting her in the house. Then dashing to the store for cat food. I wondered to myself if I really wanted a cat, things in life are a bit confusing right now, and did we need this disruption? So we posted flyers around the neighborhood about a “found cat” with a picture of her in conspicuous places like street sign posts, and telephone posts at corners of busy intersections. The kids and I thought it was important to give it a try to find the kitty’s original family, all the while developing an ever-increasing affection for this new stranger in our lives. I found myself secretly hoping I would never get a phone call in response to the flyers.

So we bought it a flea collar. And some cat toys. And the cat seemed to be, well, really fitting in and liking its newly adopted family. Since I hadn’t yet made the investment in a litterbox, we developed a routine that it would stay in the house or close to it during the day, and I would let it out at night. It seemed to work, and the cat seemed to respond, as for 7 consecutive mornings it diligently showed up at the door at 6am when I would wake up and let it back in the house for some morning munch.

And I’m sure you know by now how this story is going to end.

2 mornings ago, the kitty did not return at 6am. In my pajamas, I walked around the entire yard, up a few houses in the neighborhood, calling out “kitty!”, clapping my hands and hoping it would come out from under some car or bush or jump down from a tree. But it did not.

And it did not return at all the entire day.

Or the next morning.

Or the next day.

So, a cat food dish still lays on my kitchen floor full of food in anticipation that the friendly, white stranger who entered our lives will return. As the days go on, I’m guessing she will not. But it’s funny how fate works out when something unexpected lands on your door. When you think you don’t want it, it goes away and then you miss it.

Something tells me a trip to Cat Welfare is in our future.

Bye, bye Kitty

The Here and Now

For most of this year, for numerous reasons, I have been in hiding. I’ve been on a covert mission to protect my inappropriate happiness, personal defeat and unraveling life away from the objectors and the judgers. This year has been one of deep discovery, deep learning; a complete inner revolution of sorts. Even before this past year, some time ago, my journey began with losing the grip on my self identity. But a funny thing has happened in the past few months. A freshness of self-actualization has descended upon my consciousness. All of the sudden I feel like I have completed the circle. A new awakening for me that came in the form of accepting my identity and my purpose, and the simultaneous construction, reconstruction and deconstruction of important and specific relationships in my life.

During all the unfolding, life seemed pretty dark. And prior to that, I clung to the fleeting hope that things would work themselves out without me really having to figure it out. The easy way is what it was, really: let the universe drive the car. Truth is, I was the only one that knew what the roadmap was and what I needed to do to get there, but I chose for a long time to ignore that. While circumstance got me on this path, it was really my core values and ideals that took me and motivated me to where I really needed to go. Which, after a long road, is the here and now.

In no particular order, the here and now is work, single motherhood, and managing a house. Don’t get me wrong, life is not all work, work, work, but I’m grateful for the balance. There are very specific demands in my life right now and I don’t mind those demands. I’ve always had them, but I really want those demands more than I ever thought I did. They are very rewarding. So since this blog usually focused on my art, Where is the art? The art is in my heart, always there, coming and going as she pleases, coming out when she wants to, as she has no pressure to perform. And that is how I feel now. I am not a comfortable human being forcing myself to be someone that I am not. I am not one thing and I am not another. I am a diverse individual full of many things to give to the world or keep them harnessed close to my chest like a newborn if I choose. And with my maturity came the revelation that it really is OK to not just be one thing or the other.

Here and now, life is full of an enormous amount of new beginnings for me.

And there are more to come, I know it.

Just wait and see.

Confessions

When I was a kid in Catholic school, Confession was mandatory at least once a month (I think. The regularity I don‘t exactly recall, but it seemed frequent). As any Catholic reading this will know, you had the choice of whether you wanted to do the confession with the screen or face to face. I always opted for the screen. Then I bared my sins, the priest blessed me, and instructed me to go to the pew to say 10 Hail Marys and 2 Our Fathers or something like that.

I wish other things in life were this easy. Profess, be forgiven, repent, and then life goes on as normal. It all seems so black and white.

While I’m stretching a parallel with sins and art, this new year has brought with it the inner struggle boiling up again. Last year, while I was pursuing my art and setting aside the practical things, I was sort of sinning against my responsibilities. I took a great risk, had some minor success, worked harder than I ever had, burnt out, and 2009 came to a close. January was a long, lonely and paralyzing month. I retreated from the world.

And then after certain epiphanies that the responsibilities of home and family were of course still on my shoulders, and I could not ignore them because no one else was going to find solutions, I am repenting. But did I really sin by doing something that I was good at and something I loved? Seeing my art as this sort of forbidden fruit has always been an internal struggle for me. It’s something I love and hate at the same time. A constant push and pull. Because there is a deep traditionalist in me, too.

Right now, I am in an absolute slump of creativity. I know this about me, though. I’ve come to recognize the pattern. I go through highs and lows of creative energy like a manic person with moods. I have no medicine for it, though. I don’t know how to correct it, but not sure if I want to anyway. Because when I’m on a creative streak it is a really good one.

So here I sit in my slump. I’m looking for full time work, and so that is taking up all the energy in my days anyway. That call of responsibility is never far away, and there’s no ignoring it. It’s reality.

But I suppose unlike other people, I’m OK with that. Perhaps I thrive a little on the sinning and the repenting because it keeps me alive. If I were constantly one way or another I would be bored and frustrated. I like change, and so maybe the creative rhythm is something my body needs anyway.