Each jumping bean below is as empty as my friend, who has a hole in her head. The little bug ate its way out and the bean will no longer move. Once upon a time a mommy stopped at a pet store saying, “Stay in the car and I’ll bring you a birthday present! I’ll finally get you that pet you’ve been begging for!”
The child waited and dreamed of puppies, kittens, and bunnies. The ‘mom’ brought out a jumping bean!
The six jumping beans below are drawn in children’s Crayola Crayon. What is it that great people (people with major talents and skills) have in common? Year after year, researchers have studied accomplished people’s diets, types of education, personal discipline programs, and more. Every study comes to the same conclusion: Their moms have spent a great deal of good time with them.
Create a unique car, never before seen, and the salesman says, “I’m famous because I’ve learned about the car, I’ve communicated, and I’ve sold it! I am famous!”
The same thing is happening in the art world where the gallery people say, “The artist conceived of something new, created the thing, but they are nothing. It is I who actually turned the picture into art when I communicated and convinced a buyer to buy it!”
In the book, ‘The Memory of Blood’, by Christopher Fowler a character explained that when he was young the youth of the day aspired to be nurses and policemen. To be of service and fulfill a duty. Now people want to be famous for doing nothing!
The painting below is called, Cranberry Queen of Portland.
I was a small child and ran to my mommy for a band- aid. Mom always made an inspection and usually found hurt feelings and anger not broken skin, so she sent back outside to the ruffians without a band- aid.
I’m glad for her help. Now I stand against hardship and I don’t even tape myself together with chocolate cookies anymore.
A few miles away lives a small simple house which looked as if a big full- sized pine tree grew straight up out the living room’s pointed roof! I thought, “I must have seen that wrong. I must have seen a tree growing close behind the house and merged the two images in my crazy mind.’
What I thought I saw was correct! I never did knock on the door asking to see inside. I’m still too busy inventing various interior decorating scenarios. How did the human inhabitants close off the holes, floor and ceiling, around the big trunk? Did they hang traditional red barns or tree pictures on their walls?
I’d add sky lights at the top and open them so the lizards or snakes, who lived with me inside, could step out to sun themselves or grab a bite to eat. Then the critters would scramble back in, so I could rub each one under his chin.
The eye in the tree sees all we do. Some of our doings make stars shine brighter, but others fill angels full of sorrow.
Both are shown in the Crayola Crayon picture below.
My dead husband once said, “Everything I hear reminds me of me.”
We can consume all that is around us, then let our bones vibrate to Mossorgsky, next we cannot sit still while contemplating quantum physics. Our energy can be still, almost petrified, while confronting something new. Our souls shrink from bad and our cells ring with the good. It’s then we are awake as is Sally below.
I stand outside. The sign on the door announces, ‘closed’ so I don’t even try the knob.
An hour later I’m inside and the sign on the door to outside says, ‘closed’ so I don’t grab the door knob.
Sometimes I don’t open all the doors I could. Sometimes I live below my approbation.
When I was little my grandfather hurt me. Years later, when my Mom could finally speak of it, she said, “He was just so full of love. I thought, “I’ve got no idea what it’s called but what he did was not love!”
Years later Grandpa died, leaving me a bit of money. It was a very small amount but it pulled on me as if I was carrying around a ton of contaminated earth. It was the exact amount of a necklace that dangled heavily with glass and metal hearts.
First I grew to appreciate Prokofiev, but now I am unable to do anything but listen – stone still. I can hardly breath, especially to Capulets and Montagues.
My friend said, “Your limitations are defined by knowing which questions to ask.”
But I was afraid I’d grown too old to ask questions. I tend to immediately identify what is presented to my ears, eyes, and mind. I identify it, and I file it away in its place in my mind which is a good thing as far as survival is concerned.
When I draw a telephone pole, I attempt to draw the wood’s molecules spinning together and wonder if the tree’s spirit is still living in the dry wood, but I don’t ask enough questions.
Everyday I’m disappointed when I open my mailbox and complain, “What? No tiara?” So Amy bought me a bright plastic one for my birthday.https://nancy-mauerman.pixels.com/featured/2-self-portrait-nancy-mauerman.html
John served in Vietnam. I helped him carry the load.