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Showing posts with label 42 years: a book of changes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 42 years: a book of changes. Show all posts

Friday, April 20, 2012

42 years: a book of changes






















"In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit." (Albert Schweitzer -- philosopher, physician, musician, Nobel laureate)

Today is four years since Richard died. His spirit continues to bring light to my spirit.

The double self-portrait was set up using a camera self-timer by Richard. Midway through 1970, the year he was in Vietnam, we spent 4th of July week on Oahu.

Half of Richard's ashes were scattered near El Granada Jetty at Half Moon Bay, California, where he used to surf, and near where we met as 17 year olds in 1966. I looked for some music that he might like to hear, and then it occurred to me that he might like to hear the ocean. The other half of his ashes is buried at San Joaquin Valley National Cemetery in Gustine, California.

His spirit is everywhere. A kindred spirit to Levon Helm.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

To Life!

















Listen

Psalm of the Daughters and Sons of Earth and Sky

Are we not your daughters and sons?
We who wish to be of service
Who walk with you
Who listen for your words
Who meet fear daily
And go forward inch by inch
With broken hearts
With deep weariness
And yet with love and hope in you
In whom wholeness and brokenness dwell
Together through life without end

(October 2010)

My unpublished book 42 years: a book of changes is in the process of the addition of the above poem, an afterword and a list of books that helped me through those years. Oboe is sitting next to those books whose titles and authors need to be entered, along with the poem and an afterword, into my manuscript on my MacBook Pro. It's been a little over 2-1/2 years since Richard died, and I find I have more to say. For those of you have bought a copy of my book, I plan to give you a copy of the newer version, if you would like one. My energy for doing the footwork needed to get my book published is limited, but that is my goal.

"Go on, go. In our tongue it is a single word, i.

It is the last word Aeneas said. So in my mind it is spoken to me, said to me. I am the one to go, to go on. Go where?

I do not know. I hear him say it, and I go. On, away. On the way. The way to go. When I stop I hear him say it, his voice, Go on."

(From Lavinia, by Ursula K. Le Guin, 2008)

Sunday, February 14, 2010

St. Valentine's Day 2010 / Our lives became true with love and meaning, against all odds

















The catalogue at the back of my book, the "About The Artist/Poet" page and the back cover:

















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*

















Now you've seen my book in its entirety. I hope you can hold a copy of it in your hands someday. It's a beautiful book.

Today, shortly after I woke up at 5 a.m., something told me to make my 70-page full-color book of art and poetry available for $14.95. Contact cindi@villagebooks.com at Village Books in Bellingham, Washington, if you'd like to buy a copy of 42 years: a book of changes, by Amanda Wald Rachie.

It might be a good idea to wait a few days to make sure that they have the book priced at $14.95 in the computer system. It was just today that I went in to ask about changing the price. Thanks to all who have already bought a copy of my book!

My plan now is to begin looking for an agent. Given that wives and husbands, boyfriends and girlfriends, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, grandmothers and grandfathers, uncles and aunts, cousins and friends, will continue to wait for loved ones to return from war in the foreseeable future, my book is both timely and timeless. The story I share with others throughout history is that although our collective dreams of being reunited with our beloveds didn't always come true in the way we had hoped, our lives did become true and whole with love and meaning, against all odds.

Friday, February 12, 2010

RECONCILIATION DREAM / FEB. 2008

















"So let us go forward, quietly, each on his own path, forever making for the light."

-- Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890)






















Two Lovers (fragment)
Painted by Vincent van Gogh in March of 1888

Thursday, February 11, 2010

BOY, HORSE AND BIRD AT NIGHT

















When I drew the image above in January of 2008, three months before Richard died, I was thinking about a story Richard told me in 2001.

His story was that late one night he went out walking down the hill in the direction of the ocean in Half Moon Bay, California. Before he reached the ocean, he noticed a horse standing in a pasture. After talking to the horse, he climbed over the fence and slowly and quietly approached the horse. He stood there talking to the horse at length, gaining its trust, and finally asked the horse if it would be okay for him to climb onto its back. The horse allowed him to do that. He told me that he took off his belt and was able to use it as a makeshift bridle.

At that point in his story he stopped to explain to me that although he had not known how to ride a horse at the time we went riding together in 1970, he had learned later. At the time when we had rented the two horses and rode on the bluffs at Half Moon Bay, I had about four years of experience riding horses.

Continuing with his story, he told me that he rode the horse around the pasture for a little while and then opened the gate to the pasture and rode out into the night. He said that they went through the neighborhoods, out along the bluffs and then down to the long sandy beach. He said that they wandered for a good part of that night, and then they returned to the pasture where he left the horse and went home and went to sleep.

He ended the story by saying, "When I went back the next day to see the horse, it was gone. I never saw the horse again. It was a magical night."

In January of 2008, remembering Richard's story, I pictured that magical horse coming to him at night, coming to the bed where, depressed and anxious, he tried to sleep in the stroke rehabilitation unit at the V.A. hospital in Palo Alto. Richard was blind in one eye, unable to speak, breathing with the help of a tracheostomy tube, having difficulty swallowing and requiring tube feeding, and only able to walk with great effort. I pictured the horse talking to Richard, asking him if he would like to leave the hospital for a night ride. When Richard said, "Yes," the horse lowered itself down so that Richard could pull himself over onto its back. Once Richard was on the horse's back, he found that he had the energy he had had as a boy and that he was no longer in the hospital room but out on the hospital grounds. By the light of the full moon, accompanied by a single bird, he and the horse went out to the coast. They returned before dawn. Richard felt a peace of mind and heart that he had not felt since he was a boy. He asked for an easel and began to paint again.

*

If my father were still alive, today would be his 96th birthday. He died just a little over a month after his 89th birthday on St. Patrick's Day of 2003.

In the last year of his life he wrote this:

My Daily Prayer to My Almighty God

You are above all of creation.

In it You have created all universes and everything in them.

In it You have created millions of stars and planets, far apart.

In it You have created the greatest physical force in our Universe, the magnificent sun.

In it You have created the planet for us all to live on, the Earth.

In it we have You, the sun, oceans, mountains, caves, rivers, lakes, rain, snowflakes, waterfalls, forests, land, air waves we cannot see, every living creature and the most powerful force of all, Love.

Thank You my Almighty God for everything on our planet, Earth.

I ask You, my Almighty God, to forgive me for any harm I have done.

I ask You, my Almighty God, to forgive anyone who harmed me, whether I knew it or not.

You are above all human beings that You have created.

No one on Earth can be compared to You, my Almighty God.

Amen.

June 17, 2002

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

BOY WITH AMARYLLIS AND ORION

















It was in February of 2008, when Richard was in his fifth month in the stroke rehabilitation unit of the V.A. hospital in Palo Alto, that I had the healing dream that inspired the last poem in my book of art and poetry. Today something told me to finish up with the preview of my book.

There are four pages of art and poetry that follow these two pages and then the catalogue of art work at the back of the book and an "about the artist/poet" page.

The black and white images in my book that I drew on my iBookG4 screen using the trackpad and the Appleworks6 "Painting" program were drawn in January of 2008 with Richard in mind.

The poem was written on Good Friday, two years before Richard died. Richard stopped breathing on Good Friday of 2008 but was resuscitated and lived one more month before a brain tumor ended his life.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Child With Gift / Christmas Eve 2009

















"Child With Gift"
iBookG4 drawing

(page 58)

Richard's sister, Dorothy, sent me the makings of a gumdrop tree. Fun!

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

His First Word Was "Light" / 2006 -- 56 years old

















When there was no teacher, life gave us a bridge.

(page 57)

And from the Taittiraya Upanishad:

"From Joy all things are born; by Joy are all things are sustained; to Joy all things return."

Oboe playing Arctic fox. It's cold out there:






















Oboe's cat grass -- a gift from her friends at the art farm:






















Watch someone whose laughter embodies "To Joy all things return."."

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Then I remembered

















This was how I experienced love.
I was innocent of forgiveness.

(page 55)

After several false starts, I was able to begin weaving on my inkle loom last night. The pattern is not the one I had planned. I made a simple mistake as I was putting the warp on the loom last Thursday but didn't notice it until last night. My decision last night was to leave the mistake as it was and see what pattern it produced instead of the little rectangles I had hoped for. Then, as I was weaving, there was a power outage!! Funny, the obstacles that arise when I try to weave this particular pattern. Later, when the lights came back on, I took this photo of Oboe and the inkle loom:






















When I saw this post by Solitary Walker, I remembered the words of an elderly Jewish woman who remarked that, given some of the experiences during her lifetime, she didn't have to be a Christian to be moved by the story of the life and death of Jesus.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Evolution of Forgiveness / 2000 -- 50 years old

















"Talking 48-Hour Day With Roots Gathered From Coincidence"
Gouache and watercolor

(page 50)

loving the silent holy night,
the wild blue sky of day,
the courage of redwood trees,
the beloved ocean
still mirroring our wild hearts ...

(page 51)

And today, with its overcast skies before the winter solstice, is luminous in black and white:






















Listen.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Skeleton Woman / Grasping At Rainbows / Living In The Present -- 2009

















"Skeleton Woman"
Gouache and watercolor

(page 48)

It's been many years since the beginning of my recovery from anorexia, bulimia and compulsive overeating. I wrote "The Door" in the last miserable years that I suffered in secret from compulsive overeating, bulimia and anorexia, and I remember the first holiday season during which I experienced an astonishing freedom from the eating disorders that had manifested early in my life.

Even as a very young child I used sugar as a sedative which gave me temporary relief from acute anxiety. It was only later, when I was 10 years old, that I became obsessed with losing weight, despite the fact that I wasn't overweight. My reality from my earliest memories was that I could not stop eating sugar once I started. I used sugar as a sedative throughout my childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood.

At age 36, I stopped eating foods made with refined sugar and stopped drinking alcohol. The terrible food cravings that allowed for no satiation were lifted. It wasn't easy at first and still isn't easy to live in a world where sweet foods are offered as love and reward, but I have had the support of others recovering from eating disorders for a long time now.

Twice in recent years I have experimented with returning to the use of refined sugar. Both times I found that I lost my appetite for food that wasn't heavily sugared and that I experienced insatiable craving again. Both times I began to suffer from ocular rosacea. Both times, it was very difficult to return to the way of eating that didn't trigger unbearable craving for excess food.

Knowing what I now know about alcoholism, i.e. the craving for alcohol (and for me, massive amounts of food) that is triggered by drinking alcohol, I have not tried experimenting with alcohol again.

Today, December 19, 2009, is cool and foggy in the coastal Pacific Northwest, but the Red-winged Blackbirds are singing this morning. Listen. It almost sounds like spring.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Holy Contradictions / 1982 -- 32 years old

















As we watch through telescopes,
our church of sky, land and sea
fills with healing hands,
human hearts and eyes that shed tears.

(page 47, "In The Church Of The Holy Contradiction, We Look For Tears Through A Telescope")

The gouache and watercolor painting I titled "Speaking Without Words About Holy Contradictions" was already in process in June of 1989 as I heard the first news of the Tiananmen Square Massacre.

Last night before I went to sleep, I unwound two hours of work from my inkle loom so that I can start again:

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Talking About A Season In The North Country / 1982 -- 32 years old

















We dance away,
overlapping,
shimmering,
surfacing,
we dance.

(page 45, "For Nijinsky")



This morning I got together with three women so we could spend time working on our separate creative projects for a couple of hours. We met at the home of the woman whose idea it was to meet for that purpose. She lives with her husband in a small house on a farm not far from Bellingham. There is a main house and then several small houses that are rented out.

As we were winding down our time together, I noticed that I had made the same mistake I had made with my inkle loom and yarns in February of 2008! To the untrained eye, everything looks fine and dandy,






















but it's the weaving equivalent of building a house without any doors. I'm going to have to unwind the yarn and re-warp the loom so it looks like this, and I can actually begin to weave!

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Nursery Rhyme / 1982 -- 32 years old / "May you always know the truth and see the light surrounding you"

















I was never pregnant, but by the time I was 32 years old my friends were beginning to have their babies. One day when I said parallelogram, one of those babies looked at me in surprise and laughed with delight.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Awake and alert / 1982 -- 32 years old

















Twenty-eight years later, I sleep through the night for the most part. It's been a long time since I've seen the hills of childhood. A few days ago, I put my paints under the table and brought out my inkle loom and my palette of cotton rug warp for inkle-woven scarves and belts:

Monday, December 14, 2009

Sunday, December 13, 2009

River / 1972 -- 23 years old / An ongoing meditation on war and peace at 60 years old

















"River Dreaming Of The Ocean And Sky"
Gouache and watercolor

(page 36)

I can't provide for you no easy answers
Who are you that I should have to lie?
(Bob Dylan lyrics from "When the Night Comes Falling from the Sky" -- 1985)



Part 2.

Part 3.

Part 4.





Oh night thou was my guide
oh night more loving than the rising sun
Oh night that joined the lover
to the beloved one
transforming each of them into the other
(Lorena McKennitt lyrics from "Dark Night of the Soul.")

Saturday, December 12, 2009

Forward / 1972 -- 22 years old

















"Woman Trying To Remember What She Is Trying To Forget"
Gouache, watercolor and pastel

(page 32)

Before dawn:






















"You often meet your destiny on the road you take to avoid it."
(French proverb)

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