Eyes Are the Windows to the Soul

Watching any loved one grow older is always a saddening experience. This last weekend was hard for me. My Mom has been going to her ophthalmologist of 25 years for the last six weeks complaining of fogginess in her right eye. He reached the point last Monday where he said I don't know what's wrong, you'll have to see another doctor. On Tuesday I took her to her cardiologist who said "have you seen an eye doctor? You have an infection in your eye". No joke...we've been telling her we thought it had to be something more than an irritation. Cut to the chase. My sister is leaving for a short vacation and I'm left in charge of Mom so...I tell her to call the ophthalmologist and tell him that you need to see him again STAT!!! She calls, he passes her off to a younger doc in the practice who does a thorough exam and says her eyelid is infected as well as her cornea. Come in Saturday at 9 am. In we go, she sees the pediatric ophthalmologist because he's on call and he recognizes right away that she has eye margin disease. Which is apparently what kids get when they get foreign matter in their eyes. So Sat & Sun at 9 am we had a date with the pedi optho and now today we're back to the young associate who first recognized the problem.

I hate to admit that I was getting rather annoyed hearing about her eye since the Dr. was basically telling her nothing was wrong. I even was harsh with her on the ride up telling her she was concentrating too much on that eye. When we sat down on Friday to see that new doctor I saw my Mom's hands shaking on her cane and realized she was afraid. Of me (wow, what a reversal) the doctor, and her own beliefs. I've been much more gentle and understanding finding that those big brown eyes, now dimmed by age, are infected. So now the aggressive treatment begins and hopefully the last reading she got of 20/400 will improve enough for her to once again be able to read. God Bless you Momma...I'm sorry for acting the brat once again!

An Inauthentic Life

I recently started an ecourse with Kelly Rae Roberts. Her suggestion was to journal about our fears as a way of removing the blocks to our authentic creative self. Before I even had a chance to read her inspiring words I journaled this post while on vacation in PA.
5.30.2010
At 61, the whispers I've heard my whole life have turned to screams. All through life I've ignored their message because I've been in pursuit of money. Whatever I had to do to earn the dime, the quarter, the dollar, the hundreds of dollars at craft fairs, auctions, home shows, and yard sales. The money, always and in all ways it's been about the money.
First I had a father who wouldn't give me a dime that wasn't earned in some way. Then it was the husband who dragged me from one dream to another always depending on me to fill the gaps and stem the flow of cancellations, shut-offs and shortfalls with whatever art form I was involved with at the time. At no time could I afford to listen to those quiet whispers that told me to express myself creatively whether or not it brought in the money.
That's not to say that I haven't lived a creative life. I have most definitely been creative. For over 40 years I have found inspiration in many places and expressed it in a myriad of ways, all of which have brought me moderate fame and some money. BUT...all of the creativity that I have expressed has been 'borrowed' from someone else. At no time has it been authentic.
At no time has that little voice said "Oh yes, Carolyn, yes! This is what you were meant to do!" But wait...that little voice just whispered that's untrue. One time, oh yes, one time it was all about me. My authentic self was given free rein that summer of my 14th year when it was all about my love of sewing. I think of it as the summer of the Singer, the Barbie and Jake's Fabrics. Then, oh, then it was truly me being expressed through needle, thread and fiber. After that intense three months I continued on through high school with sewing and designing my own clothes. I've often wondered what might have happened when I told my parents I wanted to attend F.I.T. in NYC. What if they had said yes instead of an emphatic, NO! Would those whispers have become my authentic voice. Would I really have become the designer I longed to become? And now, 43 years later does it really matter?
I've done everything that others only dream of doing but it has always been me mimicking some other artist's work because it sold well and brought in the much needed money. But now when I listen closely the whispers still persist. Louder now because time is no longer a luxury. And they are saying ..."hurry, hurry...take the time to find your voice before it is silenced forever."

I miss painting :(

I've spent the last six weeks, scrubbing, cleaning, hauling, dumping and now tomorrow yardsale selling to get ready for my four month painting sabbatical in the wilds of Amish Country, Pennsylvania. I'm going to learn to paint AGAIN! This time painting for me, from my soul, from my own silly sketches that make me smile. Hope my friends on line will keep me company while I'm there...I'm taking my 'puter with me so I can keep in touch. AND I'll have a cam so I can talk to anyone who wants to see the crazy painter from Jersey who is on a journey to herself!