I am a great believer in signs….I am always talking to God, the Universe and the ‘forces’ unseen, asking for guidance to questions, directions, and connection.

And I usually, especially if I am paying attention, get the answers I seek and sometimes even when I’m not asking.

Like yesterday.

I came home from shopping at the local health food store.   When I walked in the house I noticed the painting that is usually above my stove was now on my kitchen counter.   This particular painting is one of my father’s later works’ of art.  And also one of my favorites.

My father died two weeks ago yesterday.  My first thought when I saw the painting was that my son, Michael had taken it down in the hopes of being able to bring it home with him when he left for the day.  He’d been here watching Mark, so I could go to the store.  I was ready to tell him he could forget that idea.  There was no way I would part with that painting.

But when I asked him why the painting was on the counter; he told me that he’d found it on the floor when he’d come in from the barn.

That’s when I knew my Dad had sent me a sign.   There is no way that the picture could have fallen on its own.  Even if one of my cats had walked up there and had knocked it over(which neither one did because they were both outside) there would have been a lot more items to come down with it.  Nothing was disturbed other than the picture.

There have been other signs since he left as well.  My nephew said at the time my dad passed, one of the pictures my dad had painted for him, fell off the wall, right in front of him.

At my father’s house, when he died, all the lights in my parents condo flickered and later we discovered that the neighbors heard a loud boom like a transformer going out, but no one lost power not even for a second.

The electrician that came the next day to fix the power box in the garage told us that he has seen this happen time after time when someone dies.

My mom keeps seeing a shadow floating by her.

My dad was bigger than life when he was here and it appears that he is still a force to be reckoned with.

All I know is that when I realized that he was here………I smiled and said….”Hi Dad.”

This past weekend was like taking an emotional roller coaster ride….crying one minute, laughing the next…up and down and around and around….lets see how far we can take this ride.

We will….. all the way to the end.

Friday evening Frank and I went to see my Dad and Mom.  I had not seen my father in a week.  The changes were undeniable…he is in a downward spiral.  But his spirit is strong and humor in tack.  He was disorientated at first and then fell into a choking fit; trying to cough up the fluid built up in his throat.  Knowing that I’m sensitive to certain aspects of the bodily functions -he informed me to get my ‘a…’ out of the house until the situation had passed.  I laughed and hung in there.

A few moments later that same man said to me, “Come over here and give me a kiss.”  I quickly obeyed.

And just so you know, for those of you who don’t know…my father has been battling cancer (his last diagnosis)for two years.  He is 84 years young.  This time it looks like he may have to surrender.  But I have a feeling no matter what; his spirit will remain strong even after he says his last goodbye and/or takes his last breath.  He will continue to soar.

Yesterday some of our family gathered at my parents house to spend time with Dad and Mom.  My sister and nephew arrived first.  Then me.  My brother and sister in law called from Utah.   My niece and her fiancé came next.  Followed not too long after by my son and his girlfriend.  And as much as I would have liked to have Frank and Mark there…this ‘ride’ is not one for Mark.

Each time one of us came in, Dad greeted us like we’d been gone forever and he was so happy to see us; welcoming us back into the fold, his and Mom’s.

We gathered round’ in love ….sharing and talking about the happenings in our lives all the while keeping a watchful and loving eye toward the center of our focus… Dad.  Friday night I watched, as my husband gingerly administered to my father whatever he needed in that moment.  Yesterday I witnessed each of my family present; showing Dad in their own ways their love for him, wanting to do whatever they could to ease this transition for him.  And my mother…she is a champion above all champions….standing with and for my father every inch of the way.

His health may be going downward and like the roller coaster ride gathering speed as it descends; but like the seat belt on the ride that keeps you safe and locked in; our love will hold us together and show us the way to be there for him.

He is the youngest of our herd and the only male…

And he scares me to death.

He is so sweet and so friendly and so big!  Not as big as a typical Charolais bull, they grow to be huge.  No Lucky wasn’t so lucky there….he was castrated young and suffered complications; but because of the love of his previous owners he came to live with us versus going to market.  We are vegetarians; so our cows have a home for life.

But what Lucky lacks in size, he more than makes up for in spirit.  He has so much life and vitality; that sometimes he runs just for the sheer pleasure of it-hind legs kicking up in the air, back humped up, head tossing this way and that- looks like a bull ready to charge.  And he usually greets me this way.  Which is all well and good’ as long as he and I have a fence to separate us.

This past week my husband and oldest son, Michael- decided to move the herd into the back paddock of our farm.  That is the same paddock that my younger son, Mark and I use to walk on.  Mark has autism and a seizure disorder.  He sees the world differently so being amongst all these gentle giants doesn’t faze him.

Me on the other hand…not so much.  There was a time when I felt the same way.  I’d get in the middle of the ‘girls’ as we refer to them and not give it a second thought.  But there was this one day when I was taking a walk listening to music on my Walkman’ when I felt the earth start to rumble.

I turned; saw our herd headed my way.  At that time we had sixteen cows and a bull that we called Wooly- he had curly hair and weighed easily over two thousand pounds….and he was leading the pack.

See here’s the thing….whenever we need to move the herd to a different paddock; I am usually the one whose voice they will come to.  Maybe they think of me as their mother or the one who feeds them…I’m not sure why.

So on this particular day when they saw me; they got excited and came charging.  Now if this were to happen when Frank or Michael were out there, it would be no big deal.  They’d just hold up their hands and the cows would back off.

Calm, cool and collected…Not!  I screamed for Michael to help me divert them.  He was in the house on the computer (this is when we had a hard drive) He looked and instead of getting up to help me; he yelled out the window “Run!”

I threw my Walkman down, thinking that they thought I had food and ran like hell to the nearest barbed wire fence to crawl through.  Wooly and the ‘girls’ stopped to smell and inspect the Walkman; giving me a chance to escape.

Legs that had turned to rubber and shaking….I caught my breath on the other side.

Ever since that day whenever I see a cow or young bull coming my way I get a little nervous.

Frank got home from work and I insisted, begged, pleaded, bribed, insisted and insisted again that they move the cows back to the other paddock.

Both Frank and Michael rolled their eyes.  And Mark may have too but he was out in the field walking amongst the herd.

What can I say.   The cows are moved…Lucky and I can talk with a fence between us…just like all good neighbors do…and all is well.

 Frees me to create the world I want to be in.

This past summer Mark and I were sitting on the back porch.  I was writing; he was drawing.  Jon Bon Jovi’s music played in the background.  The last song on the CD came on.  The title, I’m not sure of, but the lyrics, learn to love the world you’re in, spoke to me-loud and clear. I don’t think I was loving my world so much that day.  No, if memory serves me right…. I was finding fault with a lot of things and feeling just peachy keen….NOT!

All of us want a world that we can love (and in this particular instance I am talking about our own personal one).  One that makes us smile, our hearts’ sing…dreams that come true.  Life that gives us meaning, substance, and beauty.  And usually we have a picture in our mind of what that looks like.  And then we look around us and see the ‘reality’ of our world and the two may look very different.

Learning to love the world you’re in… What this means to me is this-  stop judging it.  You can hate it and all the things that might be wrong with it – your world, my world- if you want to, but then everything just keeps going on like it always has with no real change.   When I need my world to change before I can feel better; then everything freezes up and the only thing that does; is to make me feel worse than I already did; left with the feeling like I want to jump off of this ‘runaway train’…another song and another story- for another day…:)

Today I am giving myself this…. by loving (not judging) my world I am free.  Judgments that weren’t serving me in the first place; only holding me down; along with the negative feelings that were attached to it….. I let go.

And I am left with the freedom to pursue creating the world I want to make; without needing anything to change in order to feel good….. because I’m already there.

Today is September 11th,….the day we remember and honor all those who died when our country was struck by terrorists.  Everybody has a story about where they were that day.  I remember mine as well.  Besides the actual details; I remember the feeling of fear….for the first time ever, I wondered if we would be attacked.  I remember looking upwards to the sky; keeping a close watch for planes coming overhead that might be sent to hurt us.  And even though we did not live in a big city….I still didn’t feel safe.

I grew up in the 60’s, so I remember the Cuban Missile threat under President Kennedy.  But I don’t remember feeling afraid even though at that time I lived in Miami.  I was a youngster then so my family was my world and I trusted that my dad would keep us safe.  Later on he built us a bomb shelter in our basement.  In hindsight I’m not sure that would have protected us…but it served well as a great place to make-out….shsh…don’t tell anyone…:)

The world, our world has changed since 9/11.   I experience it when I travel…the airport’s security is so different now versus before 9/11.  We used to go to the airport just to spend the day, enjoying the sights and sounds and the trams.  Not anymore.   And even going to events like a football game; my purse is checked to see if I carry something that could hurt others.   Things we didn’t even consider then, now are the standard.

There is a lot of hate and unrest in our world….and a lot of it directed towards Americans.   Whatever….I know where we come from.  And I know what we are made of.   United we stand, divided we fall.  And just like in the movies when it appears that all has been lost and there’s no hope for survival…..at that last minute, with only moments to spare ….the human spirit stands tall, takes the call and conquers all!

God Bless America……… and God Bless our world……………Peace, love, and freedom for all!

Everybody’s got something.

Something they’re hurting, struggling, or dealing with….with or without the answers.

What is cool… is that sometimes we can all come together and take a really painful situation… and play…together…for a minute.

I know there are a lot of things out there we wish as human beings we didn’t have to deal with.  Like disease, poverty, famine, global warming, war….just to name a few.

At home, maybe its a special needs child, or a broken marriage, or an estrangement between mother and daughter and/or siblings or the death of someone you love.

Just a little or a lot of hurt…going on, in and around us; all the time.

But sometimes again…there’s a moment of unity… community… playfulness that reminds us that we’re not helpless, that we can do something, even if its silly like pouring a bucket full of ice water on top of us….just to let someone else know who is out there going through it for real…that we’re here for you…we’re thinking of you…and we want to do something, anything that will help ease your pain…if only for a minute or second.

Because we care….I care.  And I see you.  I may not know first hand what it is that you are going through; but I’m here to witness and love you the best way that I know how…in this moment, this space…and hopefully give you a smile.   IMG_2997.MOV

This past Friday night was Gallery East’s reception and I was one of the featured artists.  Besides my paintings; I also had the hand-woven baskets that I make and my books.  The turn out was great and I even sold some of my books and one of my paintings.  I enjoyed the reception and later after the show was over; I had dinner at Riccardo’s restaurant with my husband, son & his girlfriend, her friends, and my husband’s friend along with his family.  A big group.  We ate, laughed and even performed a little impromptu karaoke with clapping and almost dancing; enlivening and entertaining the whole restaurant.  A life affirming happening.

Earlier that day, I found out that my dad had called hospice.  His pain has become such that he is at that point.  Not the point where he’s ready to give up or admit he’s at that point…but rather wanting and needing relief from the constant pain that won’t let up and the previous meds no longer work.  The word Hospice feels like a death sentence….and even though the people who are involved I see as God’s angels; the whole idea of what they represent brings tears to my eyes even as I write this now.  They are here to help my father transition from here to there.

Last year my dad shared the ‘limelight’ with me at the Gallery Reception.  His paintings sat right alongside of mine.  I felt so proud to have him there with me.  Both of us, primarily self taught artists being given a chance to share our work amongst those who have so much more experience and teaching than we do.  But we were accepted and our work valued, especially my dad’s which made my heart sing.  He usually doesn’t seek outside of the family’s approval of his work…so it was great for me to see him get all those accolades.

This year he was too sick to join me.  But he was with me in spirit.  So while I was meeting and greeting people at the Gallery; my father was meeting and greeting the people who will be his steadfast in the days to come in this part of his journey.

I know what Hospice means…but I’m not sure that they’re ready for the life force of my dad….Mom told me that everyone that comes in, gets a tour of their home to see each of his pictures and lots of animated stories of his life.

Go Dad………..I love you

This Friday is the Gallery East’s art reception.  They hold it every month on the second Friday of the month.

This month, I am one of the featured artists……  I have been busy getting my latest paintings ready.  I love color inspired by beach.  And with my recent weekend trips to south Florida; one weekend to the east coast and the next to the gulf coast- I’ve had lots of opportunities to soak in that ‘beachy’, artsy, bright, and sun inspired color.

And I’m infused with the colors too.  Besides the canvas a lot of the paint ends up on me, the furniture, dishes, dog, cats, and possibly my guys if they happen to be in the vicinity of …say the house….

I’m having fun; especially when I turn a deaf ear to those inner critics (my inner perfectionist)  that like to stick their nose in and have their say….Sometimes they whisper things like…”seriously are you going to leave that like THAT?”  or.. “you call that art?”  or …”I’m pretty sure that’s NOT how that’s supposed to look”….. or …..

I’m thinking about naming each of them and giving them jobs …like cleaning my house.  That would be a great job since my poor house has kind of taken a back seat to paint, brushes, canvases, and time spent creating.  They could also cook for me too since I do prepare meals- its just sometimes it’s pretty late, like three for lunch and 10 for dinner.

Here’s the thing… when I allow my self to create imperfectly or here’s a scary word but I’m going to say it anyway… paint, write, or whatever “badly”  – I have so much more fun…breaking the rules, doing what just comes naturally to me or not…and falling in love with the end product (or trashing it :).

So its a given that I’m not a Picasso or Hemingway….or the female versions…but you know what…its still fun discovering the person inside of me that wants to play…enjoying what I do, challenging myself to grow and do my craft better.   I do perfecwt imperfectly well…….

I hope to see you on Friday.  Come, surprise me.  I will also have my books, Sunny’s Story and It’s All About Attitude there for book signing.

Come ‘art’ with me………….:)

I just read those words on an email that I receive from the ‘Universe’ daily message.  I loved it!  Perfect words for me to hear today.  I love the sound and the thought behind it…peace and blue jeans…hanging outside under blue skies wearing favorite clothing and feeling so happy.

Recently I’ve encountered a lot of judgments flying my way…kind of like flies to an ointment or moths to a lightbulb, a huge lightbulb with tons and tons of moths traveling destination zing on the target…which they found.

And instead of welcoming them like greeting a loved one that you haven’t seen in a long time; I felt instead like I was being attacked from the aliens wanting to get me from all angles and just wanted to run and take cover in whatever hiding place I could find.

I have been accused many times by the people I love of being overly sensitive….who me?  not me….:)  I do admit that my skin is kind of ticklish and could use some toughening up and maybe that’s why I get all of this attention…the universal way of taking care of the lessons I need to learn in the school of life….I must be failing the test because I find myself in this same situation or classroom all the time.

I’d like to say that I just let it roll and have fun with the accusations and judgments that come my way…kind of like how I love to see the thunderheads building up into huge thunderstorms…so powerful and beautiful.  I enjoy them.  The  mean words and attitudes that are hurled my way….not so much.  (No I’m not dramatic… to be covered at a later date)

I wonder if there is a way to change my perception so that it is fun for me.  Then I would not ever need to hide, run away, or feel the need to wrap myself in a big plastic balloon to keep out all the naysayers, critics, and fellow human beings who are being who they are and not aware of the sensitivity of the person standing in front of them smiling but cringing, screaming and crying on the inside.

On the other hand I see how in our country people are so sensitive to other peoples thoughts and words that now most of us are afraid to speak our minds for fear of either being blasted in the newspapers, loose our jobs, or locked up.  And I think whatever happened to free speech?

See this is what I’m saying…I don’t want people to stop being who they are…or thinking or saying what they feel…but I would like to not see it as bad for me anymore when what they are saying isn’t necessarily what I want to hear…

So here’s to freedom of speech and I hope that you like my new head gear….ear muffs that tune out for me all the yuck so all I hear is the good stuff or wait minute here’s another idea…  I can decide to see that its all good………all I need to do is drop my judgement of the judgments.

yea good luck with this one……ha!  see me in life 10000000000000001…..

peace and blue jeans…………….K