Did a child do this?

This blog is short and simple.  It is about being comfortable.

As a new artist, and someone who has created a business that relies on expression, my life, at times, has felt like an out of body experience. 

In one of my past lives as a retail buyer, I was told when choosing a blouse or dress shown in various prints to never choose what you like.  Our directive was to put your personal taste aside and buy what your customer would or should buy.  In art, it is the opposite.  “Do what you know and what resonates,” is the phrase I keep repeating to myself.

To me, my style of painting appears childlike.  As I continue to paint and use more mediums the result is consistent.  No sophisticated or intricate designs or drawings come from my brushes

This weekend I was at an art store framing 3 pieces.  While laying out the pictures, the gentleman next to me was dropping off his art to be framed.  He glanced over and asked if one of my children had done the pictures.  I just smiled and shook my head.

After his comment the gentleman came closer and spent a few moments silently observing my pieces. He then started to identify the embellishments in the picture; glass, turquoise, pearls, beads.  He ended his inventory by correctly identifying the beaches from where I had combed my shells.  His package was wrapped just as he finished cataloging all the elements on my canvas. He turned and left without a word. Did he like it, I have no idea, he certainly engaged with the pieces.

My conclusion: a grown up child did create this picture, and she has grown into herself.

Start your breathing exercises now or you will be silenced!

Having just returned from a four city, 1600-mile road trip, I have been reflecting on the evolution of speech.  Isn’t that what most of us do on trips?  The trip was fast with many stops in public spaces, giving me abundant opportunities to eavesdrop.

One morning I was in a quiet yoga studio with lovely music, for an eight A.M. class.  While waiting for the class to begin a student entered the room, hugged the teacher and launched into an almost four-minute nonstop monologue.  Four minutes is a scary long time to speak without breathing or pausing.

The content of her early morning oration: “I miss class, I need to get back to class.  I have been on a month long fast (Welcome to California) and I’m just about done with my colonics.”  I thought to myself, “Isn’t sharing grand?”  As the road trip continued I noticed the same extended speech pattern everywhere I listened.

Sitting in a cafe and again eavesdropping on friends’ meetings and business gatherings, monologs were happening all around me. Three to four minute soliloquies all done with superb breath control.  When one person stopped talking the next person jumped in without a break or a pause.  Throughout the café there was little conventional conversation; just one upload after another, no downloading or reflection on what was said. 

Two friends were preforming monologues at the table next to me.  After one friend left and I said to the remaining BFF, “it must be so nice to reconnect.” She responded, “Oh no, we see each other once a week and text daily.”  Suddenly a new business opportunity materialized before me.  Exercise studios; DVD’s that show and teach lung development and breathe holding methods in order to completely dominate conversation.  My first clients could be politicians and broadcasters.

 I have noticed this shift in speech patterns is evolving into standard operating communication procedure.  Seldom are these speeches a “need to get this off my chest,” or, “You won’t believe this,” story, but often seem as a bombardment of useless information.  My visual for this effect is words coming out of a fire hose at full velocity spraying the listener, if they are indeed really listening (which they usually are not).

Here is how the new communication model works: you upload your information, I sit quietly and think about what I want to say, then upload my information.   All this is done loudly with no breathing allowed or breaks in between.  Again, these are not good or a must tell stories, but, “traffic was terrible, he/she was so stupid,” spray till you are done stories.  These speeches are repeated and ignored, then repeated again.  No listening required just keep thinking about what you will say next.

If you want to be able to use your speech for monologues, not conversation, please stay fit, or you will be silenced.  Keep repeating to yourself, “enough about you and now more about me.”  No need to worry about downloading, that would be too much like listening.  Texting is suddenly looking like a wonderful alternative; quite, calm and short. 

The Art of the Theory: brought to you by a friendly zombie

My blogs are about the power of words and the expression of writing.  This topic allows me to share a theory that explains the irrationalities of how we feel and act.  The head shaking, “I can’t believe it,” moments, the daily events of crazy human behavior that defy logic.  Much of this can be explained in a very wise Yoga term titled “Mindful Body.”

The expression, mindful body, is used as reminder to stay present in our body.  It keeps us present, rather than getting lost in our busy craniums, which we are constantly doing.  Watching people in a hurry getting out of their car is intriguing.  First the car slams into a parking place, a head pops out in frenzy, reluctantly pulling a body along. The poor body runs into people, hunched over with sad shoulders, constantly trying to keep up.  Our heads, filled with preoccupied thoughts come first and our bodies seem to be dragged along as an afterthought.  This separation of head and body is an example of an unmindful body.

As people bump into one another, trip over each other, and step on each other’s’ toes, a universal complaint is loudly shared; “Everyone has become so rude.”  It got me thinking, “Do we all wake up each day and plan our rudeness?  Or have we become so isolated and immune to rude behavior that it is a foreign concept, unless it directly affects us?”

I was imagining what a full “unmdindfully” rude day might consist of.  I could go to the grocery store and take up half the isle with my cart.  As people try to get around me I would bob and weave between shelves, preventing their passage.  I could later go through airport security screening; take out each coin, one by one, go back, forget to take off my belt and shoes, and drag out the process for an insurmountable time.   At the Golden Gate Bridge toll both I would act surprised that I have to pay, while counting out coin after coin during rush hour.   I’d say my day is planned and is rudely full.

My theory of why the brain has stop talking to the body is simple – the zombie effect. As a retailer, the movie, Night of the Living Dead, explained shopping behavior more effectively than any metric marketing study.  After watching it, it suddenly it seemed so obvious why shoppers are completely unaware of their surroundings.  They have the zombie mentality of, “When approaching a retail environment, detach head from body.  Stand at doors and attempt to gain entrance.  Upon entry, wander isles.  Do all of this while moving in a stupor.”

We face multitudes of choices; all garnered toward separating us from the present and detaching us from what’s important.  Currently there is an inundation of vampire shows and fairy tale characters in our media.  Relentless news reports given by zombie broadcasters bombard us with images like the Mayan Calendar freak show.  Experts explain this deluge of pro-zombie behavior helps us handle tough and draining emotional times.

A big NO to that enlightenment!  Having observed crowd behavior since I was a child, watching shoppers forever, I am here to tell you, the Zombie effect is real and it does exist.  Beware!  It grows worse!  Watch for heads dragging poor bodies behind, and feel free to use my theory if it helps in anyway.  Now I have to go and find 200 quarters to pay for my gas; the zombies’ made me to do it!

Three “Wilfrida” stories from the closet

As an educator, mentor and supremely patient and loving person, my mother Wilfrida imparted many lessons onto me.  Her voice was always calm and collected and her advice was sound and true.  I have been reflecting on some of her wise lessons, and since Mother’s Day is coming closer, I wanted to share some of them with you.

 

A life lesson

Working on her masters in English, Wilfrida had a job teaching preschoolers.  She felt this experience gave her an important life lesson at a young age.  She acquired a skill to teach young children how to make decisions.  It is a simple technique that includes the child’s participation in the process of decision-making.  

There are two critical and crucial elements to this method.  First, offer only two solutions for the child, one more, is one too many.  Piling on selections causes confusion and a baby’s first analysis paralysis.  Secondly and of tantamount importance, provide two solutions that are amenable to you. Don’t include a choice you are not willing to live with.

 This life lesson is a win-win, one that I have used from playgrounds to business meetings.  It still amazes me to observe a situation with toddlers or grown-ups where the person offered the choices is unhappy.  Unhappy, because their choice wasn’t picked and they sadly start making all decisions.

Safety lesson:

As I was an active and curious toddler, all who watched me racing around touching objects expressed concern.  Concern that a quickly snatched treasure would end up trashed or choking me before anyone could come to my rescue.

When I was two years old Wilfrida started taking things out of my hand or mouth while using a singsong voice.  Her tune, “we don’t pick up or put foreign objects in our mouth.”  Her tone, patience, and look apparently took hold because the minute she said that items were put back or my hand moved away.

We were together in a crystal department when I was five.  I was pointing to what I liked and the poor sales associate was following us; terrified that I would turn into an earthquake. She mentioned her concern to my mother.  As a five year old with infinite wisdom I looked up and said, “I don’t touch or put foreign objects in my mouth.”  I was quite used to saying it especially because it stopped people in stores cold.

Critical thinking life lesson:

My favorite Wilfrida quote was used when I did something amazingly stupid, which was a common occurrence. My mother, in both a serious and lovely voice, would look into my eyes and say, “Rita, this is not one of your better ideas.”  

One morning I got the grand idea that I would help my dad out with his chores.  Our car windshield was icy, not a frequent occurrence in Arizona.  Following what I had observed Guido do, I poured warm water on the windshield and scrapped it with a serrated cake cutter.  It was Arizona; who knew there was a special ice tool?

Guido, the perfect-pitched tenor who knew operatic arias by heart, started singing a lecture that became quite loud.  It referred to the quality of my education, my ability to learn, and my future safety and the safety of others that would come into contact with me.

My mother sent him off, got me to school, and said, “I know what you were trying to do, but this was not one of your better ideas.  You need to think through each part of your ideas. “

Thank you Wilfrida for making me believe one of my bad ideas would be balanced by a good one and that those around me should be given the same break.   I do eat food that seems quite foreign, but always thoroughly investigate, and two choices are plenty for me.  I am grateful for all these lessons my mother, Wilfrida, imparted upon me.

Super Name

The other day I happened to catch a reality show segment featuring the soon be the proud parents of a baby boy. Viewers watched the expectant parents create a name for their child the same way a company does when choosing a brand name.  These parents were searching for a name that when seen in print, on-line, and uttered out loud will tastefully scream - President of the World.

They did what all parents do when playing the name game; hire brand consultants.  Put 10 consultants in a room and have them find a name that evokes power, leadership and authority.  Mesmerized, I wanted to yell at them, “Choose me!   Give me your money!  End the search and name him Supreme Male Child of the ruling clan.”

The naming thing has always been important as parents, tribes, and civilization take into account the power of words and their effect upon the reader / listener.  The last article I read suggested staying gender neutral with straightforward names if you want your child to be an economic or political powerhouse.  Names for your consideration: Huntington Moneymaker, Vota Forme, Mundo Master and Above Reproach.

Avoid names that show too much creativity or seem like you were partying too much before signing the birth certificate. Creative names such as Star Spangled Simmons, Crayon Rizzo, or Portia Pluto might cause others to form a bias before the bearer of the name is ever meet (unless the child will be a celebrity).

The next step is to set up Baby’s Facebook and secure a domain name to track a lifetime of extraordinary achievements.  Don’t wait too long your choice may be gone, hint, register your grandchildren’s names now the good names are going fast.  (Honest)

With this in mind I am now hyper aware of dogs names because my dog has a Facebook page. Her name, Emma, seems so embarrassingly plain compared to the names of her dog friends.  I am in awe of the creative, original, and amusing names of her canine buddies. Now I have a bit of empathy for the name hunt and some guilt.

One night while up late painting I Looked at Emma and posed the question, “Emma it’s not too late for a new Facebook name to go with your new hip.  Bonita Bedazzled Bernese or perhaps Martini Chocolate Bernese, what do you think?” Suddenly her eyes opened, her head popped up and she emitted a huge dramatic sigh.  The paw was extended; in Emma Dog language that means speak to the paw.

                                            

  

So Emma will stay Emma, which I am pleasantly familiar with.  But I have to say; her friends have some fantastic names.  She isn’t jealous, just me.