The Emperess's New Clothes

Deconstruction, Self-portrait in White, Steele Bridge c 2013

Yesterday I had an out of body experience.  It was amazing, really.  I must admit, I have a cloud of self-consciousness floating about as I write this, but I have committed to letting myself be seen so here it is.  First, a little background. When I was 10 years old, a student from Italy was transferred into our school.  She had just lived through a natural disaster and the teachers asked for donations of clothes.  I put a bunch of clothes into a hefty garbage bag and invited her to come over after school.  We ate Wise potato chips and drank Coke and though I really wanted to watch Dark Shadows, I searched the UF stations for Italian programs… I did not find one, but left it on a Spanish speaking station thinking it would be the same.  I had a great uncle in the garment district (New York) and my grandmother would take me shopping every year before school started to pick out some things from the show rooms.  The only piece of clothing I can remember from those days was a chiffon orange and white polka dot long sleeve blouse.  I was still pretty much a tomboy then, and didn’t wear frilly things, but my grandma insisted and so it was.  I remember wearing that shirt once and when a friend came over and said she liked it, I traded it for her shirt… which was not chiffon, nor frilly.  I remember my grandmother coming over that year and seeing that orange shirt on my friend and exclaimed, “you traded that shirt for a schemata!?” In Yiddish, that means…rag.  But I digress…  I have always had the pleasure of giving away my clothes to my friends or whoever, especially, because even as a young woman (and embarrassingly, not so young), my grandmother still took me clothing shopping, but now we were going to Saks Fifth Avenue and Lord and Taylor…  still buying me clothes (conservative, office-like clothing, hoping this would lead to me become a paralegal!) mixed in with the occasional funky pieces that even my sweet and fashionable grandmother liked.  Still to this day, I enjoy passing my clothes on to friends and stepdaughters… it makes me happy to see them enjoy something that was mine that I can share.

I have tried many times, shopping in second hand stores and can count on one hand how many times I purchased something to wear from them.  I felt the struggle… and the self-judgment… about how it was difficult for me to wear something that was somebody else’s… yet I had no problem being the one who gave the clothes.  This always bothered me in some way but I couldn’t put my finger on it.  I wondered if I was spoiled or snooty… and thought about what it would be like if I didn’t have that choice. What if I had to wear someone else’s “hand me downs” – what if I couldn’t afford to buy my own clothing?  And, lo and behold… as in most cases of my life, the universe presents opportunities for me to learn and grow.  I have not been able to buy a whole lotta clothing, not really even a little… and yesterday, I spent the day playing and working with a friend.  We have been researching stores that might sell our artwork.  We walk from one to the other, surveying and asking questions.  Along the way, we pass by clothing stores, with the cutest clothes and bags, and shoes in the window… clothes that I know I can’t afford now. Sometimes we go in and peruse and I even try on something. I am tired of my clothing, that I love, but wear over and over again, and right or wrong, they get stale and I’m a woman and I like to wear something new, something fresh from time to time.  I told my friend how I have put a ban on buying clothing right now and as we were walking back to the car, she said, “I have bags of clothing that I was going to give to charity, you can go through them and see if there’s something you like.” 

And as I live more and am aware of miracles more, I knew this was one. It was not just about the clothing, it was much bigger than that. We went back to her house and she got the bags and in her dining room, we went through them together, and I tried on piece after piece, and it was as if I was watching myself from a corner in the house (like Andora from Bewitched!). Her generosity of heart  amazed me. I was always the one giving away my clothing. Ironically, the only other person who ever gave me her clothing was… yes, my grandmother.  However, my grandmother was petite and I was not, and could hardly wear anything, try as I might.  My friend's clothes fit just right and they were just my style… and it touched my heart so… and she wrapped them in tissue paper and we laughed as she placed the garments in Nordstrom shoping bags.  There was much to learn from this exchange.  I am humbled and grateful and I am thrilled that I now know that joy of receiving in this way. I have a deeper understanding and compassion for those who cannot afford to buy brand new clothing or anything for that matter. And, I have a more grand appreciation for the value of love and kindness.

 I am writing this wearing my ‘new’ black funky shirt that is worth the world to me.

I Won't Grow Up!

 

Untitled, Deconstruction, Self-portrait in White Series

I recently went to see Peter Pan, the musical at the Pantages Theater.  I had no idea what to expect, it was date night, we just had a delicious dinner, I had a little wine and I was prepared to sit back and be entertained.  I waited, with anticipation, for the curtain to open as the orchestra began to play. I started thinking about the story of Peter Pan and I really couldn’t remember it. All I remembered was being in the play of Peter Pan as a kid and singing the songs at camp in the mountains of upstate New York.  One of the special aspects of this night was Cathy Rigby starring in this musical.  My husband brought me to the show because he knew she was one of my heroes and role models when I was a young gymnast.  While we waited for the musical to start, we read about Cathy in the playbill and all the organizations she has created; for terminally ill children and for aspiring actors. 

The narrator began to speak and then it was time for the show about never never land to begin.  Peter Pan came flying through a window, sprinkling sparkly fairy dust. Agile and graceful, this 60-year-old woman was performing acrobatic moves in the air while singing.  I was right there with the kids in the audience smiling and enjoying song and dance and then I realized how fortuitous it was to be at this show, at this time in my life, listening to words about thinking joyful thoughts that make one “fly.”  I still was thoroughly entertained, only now I was beginning to see the metaphor of the story of Peter Pan unfold as well, at least in my mind.  Peter taught the other children to fly by encouraging them to think happy, wonderful thoughts.  I saw him as the true representation of the “Self.” He was honest, non-judgmental, and strong and loving and so open to miracles that he could fly.

Before too long, Captain Hook entered the scene and we learned that he was determined to kill Peter, to take him down, to never let him fly again.  Naturally, he represented the “ego.”  He was paranoid and strategized, manipulated and planned to find Peter and destroy his high flying spirit.  And, at one point, when Captain Hook put poison in Peter Pan’s medicine, Tinker Bell drank it to save him.  And who was Tinker Bell?  An Angel, of course!  We all have people, angels, beams of light that if we recognize them, help us along the way.  But most of all, we learn that the light shines within us and even after Captain Hook temporarily grounds Peter, before too long, Peter is back, choosing to think happy, joyful thoughts and flying again.  

It occurred to me that wisdom is not exclusive to age or beauty and that one does not have to be old or beautiful to possess it.  In fact, children are great purveyors of wisdom.  They live in the present moment, not attached to outcomes, they laugh when they want, cry when they want, sleep when they want and they play when they want.  Here, in Peter Pan, was this little boy not only teaching fellow children to think happy joyful thoughts but eventually he inspired the adults as well. 

The “story” of Peter Pan touched me so deeply that I felt a part of me was changed and not just because of the metaphor of the story and the beautiful music or the fantastic acting.  There before me, was the epitome of Beauty and Wisdom… Cathy Rigby. And in case you forgot what I wrote at the beginning of this essay, she is 60-years-old, a mother, a grandmother, and she was performing acrobatic moves in the air that most teenagers are not able to do on the ground. She “is” Peter Pan, having fun, believing in anything and everything and actualizing all that she believes in. It is no wonder that she now gives seminars on “The Art of Reinventing Yourself”, because she is a shining example of a woman who has reinvented herself. Cathy studied singing and acting for 7 years after having a career as a gymnast and winning 8 gold medals internationally. After that she became a sports commentator for 18 years. She has also created a company with her husband and together they are Executive Producers, a title that seems quite fitting.  At the end of every show she comes out to personalize signed, purchased posters and proceeds of these posters goes to Discovery Arts, an organization that brings music, art, dance and drama to children with cancer, serious blood disorders and life threatening illness while they are in the hospital receiving treatment.  My sweet husband bought me a poster to get signed by Cathy Rigby.  I waited on line nervously because contrary to what most people think of me, I am timid and shy at heart, but I was not going to let an opportunity like this slide by. When it was my turn to meet Cathy I thanked her for inspiring me as a gymnast when I was a kid and for inspiring me now, as a grown woman, to reinvent myself.  She gave me the warmest loving hug that will last forever in my soul. My thoughts are confirmed: age is truly an illusion and beauty most definitely is a by-product of happiness, as long as you believe and as Peter Pan says, “Think joyful, happy thoughts”.  I most definitely agree with Anne Lamott when she wrote, “Joy is the best make-up.”

In this quest of seeking who “I” am as a woman growing older in years, you helped me believe that I too, can fly with delight and I hope to always remember how to live in that delightful wonder of a child and to ‘be’ beautiful.  Thank you Peter Pan, and now, “I gotta crow!”

(Don't forget to click on the links for surprises!  And leave a comment if you want to!) 

Do I Have to Kill Myself?

Deconstruction, Self-portrait  in White

Cathedral Park, Portland, OR

The concept of killing my 

“self” has crossed my mind.  There have been times when I have been so confused and so down that if a meteor came out of the sky and hit me on the head and took me to the next plane, that I wouldn’t mind. No, I never plotted a suicide… at least, not a bodily one.  I just didn’t want to be “here” like “that.”  The more I learned about my “self” and my “ego” the more I thought that I just might have to kill it.  But lately, I’ve been looking at all this in a different way.  I am being taught to have compassion for my ego/self.  Now, when a destructive or sabotaging thought comes into my head, I stop and realize that it is my ego. Then I kind of talk to my ego (in my head, mostly) the way I would talk to a little girl who is acting out because she is afraid or wants love. So maybe, it is not about killing anything, but loving it so much that it feels less threatened. I have always had a really hard time accepting  less than perfect or wounded aspects of myself… until now and I can feel a big difference in my life. How can I expect others to love me unconditionally or me love them that way, when I can’t even love myself that way?  And, if I only love what I perceive to be good about me, well, that’s conditional.  Sometimes, when I do my gratitude list, after all the “obvious” blessings, I list those things about me that I would otherwise beat myself up for… ie: my jealousy, my selfishness, my immaturity, my insecurity… and it makes me smile and feel loved in a way that I have really never known. I am happiest when I can feel grateful for it all, the good, bad and the ugly... it's truly all beautiful.

Here are a couple of videos of Byron Katie (click on Byron Katie) that I found extremely helpful on this journey. Hope you enjoy them too.

Following my bliss?

First Deconstruction Photo Session, Topanga Beach

-->

In my last blog entry I included the photo from my practice session. I had just received the remote for my camera and wanted to check it out.  I did so in my backyard.  Now I had to commit to doing a photo session somewhere else. I didn't know why, but I knew I wanted to wear white for this series and after some procrastination one day I said, this is it, and I went through my closet rummaging through any white clothes I had, which was pretty minimal.  Finally, I found the white dress I wore for my wedding in Kauai in 2006 and decided to do the first session wearing it. 

After getting the nerve up, I drove to a beach that we take our dogs to in Topanga. Took my tripod and camera and walked down to the ocean.  It was mid week so there weren’t a lot of people.  I set my camera up and discovered that I left my remote at home. So… I did the next best thing and used the timer.  I set it on 10 seconds and then ran down to the ocean.  I didn’t focus my camera so by the time I got into place, the shutter fired and the image was blurred.  I really liked it that way and took several more photographs with that setting and then I did a little bit of focusing to get a clearer image.  I’m still undecided about which I like better.  At first I liked the blurred, because it seemed representative of how I was feeling about so much in my life, confused and unclear about my path in life.

I used to love to twirl in the sand at the beach.

I thought about calling this series “Self-portrait in White” but to me, these images were more than self-portraits and that title was kind of non-descriptive so I decided to call this series Deconstruction, with the sub title, Self-portrait in White, because that is what this process in my life feels like.  As I deconstruct the life that “was” I am reconstructing a life that “is.” And when I say ‘life”, that is just a safe way of stating; I am deconstructing and reconstructing 'me'.  This brings a beautiful quote by Joseph Campbell to mind, “We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” What does that mean?  Good question.  To me, it means a good long and honest look at myself.  Where is there suffering in my life and why do I consistently get in the way of allowing prosperity and consistent joy into my life or as JC would put it, my bliss? 

The more I delved into this process, the more I felt like a severely shaken snow globe, pieces floating every which way and falling to the ground in slow motion. The truth is, I still do, but I am now able to glean glimpses of the peace that comes with full acceptance of my “self.” I have to admit, I feel vulnerable sharing this information, but at the same time, I feel compelled to share this process and my hope is that anyone who is going through a similar phase or process will not feel alone and perhaps even encouraged to reconstruct their “Self” too. I will share what I am learning from the teachers I am studying from and from the road I am on now.  To close up today's entry I will share a thought I have been pondering: It is one thing to have a desire to be noticed, but it is a completely different thing, to let yourself be seen, truly seen, by your own eyes first. 

Deconstruction, from the beginning.

Practice Session for Deconstruction, Self-Portrait in White

I was so inspired by DestinyAllison’s blog today, that I have decided to start writing about my experience over the last 6 months and post some images from Deconstruction, Self-Portraits in White, a series that is still in development.  I think it’s time to get really honest; naked honest… as that is the path I am choosing on so many levels in my life lately.  This choice does not come without necessary pain and navigation through what I'm learning to be, unnecessary suffering.  However, I believe it is a story that ends in ‘peace’ ever after. 

Deconstruction is a narrative self-portrait series about the stripping away of old beliefs and identities...mine, and the reconstruction of a belief system that opens the door to living a fulfilled life. The deeper I get into this series, the more is revealed. While I am learning that I have everything to do with creating my life, I am also learning I have very little to do with the creative process and ideas show up all hours of the day and night and if I listen and take their cue, I am fortunate enough to move forward in that creation.

This all started when I began to think of the next photographic series I would work on.  What cool subject can I come up with that will wow and interest viewers? What will sell? What will create a splash and get great recognition? Well, it doesn’t take a psychoanalyst to see how hungry and loud my ego was for attention, for acknowledgment, which is ironic, because when I created Beauty and Wisdom that ego had a very small voice and was hardly present or so I thought. When did wowing anybody even come into the picture? (No pun intended.) After months of jumping around from subject to subject, trying on different ideas, I was spent. Nothing felt right, nothing fit, and often I’d try something new and it didn’t feel like it was for the “right” reason. 

I have always known that I wanted my photography to be something that would add beauty into this sometimes-crazy world.  Beauty and Wisdom resonated with so many people and I found it fulfilling, lending images and voice to ageism and older women who I felt should be recognized for who they are and had become. They are amazing warriors to me and I felt passionate telling their story.  How could I find another subject that would feel as meaningful?  Or a better question should have been, how will a meaningful subject ever find me… again?

Cracked Reflection # 12

I never had the guts to do self-portraiture, nor did I ever think I would do that.  Me?  I take photographs of oceans, animals, landscape, cityscapes, people, women in beauty salons and the occasional photojournalistic narrative, but taking photographs of me? Never!  I should have known because just about every time that I have used the word “never” in my life, I have encountered that which I said ‘never’ to.  

I love to take photographs of things that make people feel good and that are beautiful. However, I began to feel that while the images I took photographs of were beautiful aesthetically, there was something missing.  It makes sense now, but then, I hadn’t a clue as to what was missing.  Now, I can see that what was missing was me.  Something in my soul was missing, something that I most likely have never had and thus began my quest to find out what that was.  This led me to consider taking photographs of myself.  I started by taking iPhone photographs of myself in the cracked mirror in front of our bed.  At first I wanted to replace the mirror but after I thought about it, it seemed perfect, the reflection of myself that I was seeing was cracked. I still take photographs with my iphone and post them on Instagram (Cracked Reflection series).  This was the beginning of exploring the deconstruction of myself and my art.

 

Beautiful Woman at the Beach

I noticed this woman as I was walking up from the shore the other night.  She was sitting, by herself, staring at the ocean and watching the sunset.  I asked her if I could take her photograph and at first she couldn't understand me, she spoke Russian.  Then she said, "I'm not beautiful." I told her that she is beautiful and that's why I wanted to take her photograph...because that was the truth.  I hope that if and when I am her age, that I look as beautiful as her and that I go to the beach to appreciate the sun setting over the ocean.

The nature of things...

I have had the flu for the last week.  I have never been  a good patient, restless and wanted to jump the gun and get up and go.  In the past, this had led to mono and pneumonia... when I was much younger.  I've been a good patient, until today.  I let myself feel pressured or insecure about not being 'up to par' not being able to 'perform' my house duties and being able to do my 'work.'  However, I think this week has been a gift... it has been a vision quest in that I have had to relinquish the do-ness of my life.  And, I am beginning to get that whenever I am doing to much and negating what is really important that it feels really bad and I get a sense of misalignment.  Then, I remember that where I am is right where I'm supposed to be, for today and that there is a world out there full of beauty and nature, both of which I am connected to. So even though I feel like a zombie, I'm going to go sit somewhere out in nature, in the sun, and heal and tap into the wondrous energy that is always there, waiting for me to tap into.  All I have to do is look at the water and Big Sur.... and breathe a little deeper to remember that nature is always there... big and loving and part of me.