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she loves her

art met soul.
swan-gazed they embraced,

each their stillness of
frenzy; blushed with their curiosity.

Twins, Art met Soul, #shelovesher, work in progress, digital drawing, part of Standing Human

my art met my soul when I was just a little girl. I didn’t know it. Its probably a good thing. She was a quiet constant in my life; art and soul. When I met the both them, I was in college and home where I had always been; submerged in the Creative.

it was 1994, within my installation of Bearing the Burdens of the Father; personal reflections with the Stations of the Cross, where I came to know her and accept that she was me, and this me loved the connections with we.

she did not really belong to me; I always knew that. I was her hands and her feet. She taught me and told me what she needed; entrusted me to care for her needs, to meet her voice with mine.

not just my art and my soul, but your art and your soul too

here we are today, standing human, together. she loves her which means she loves you. Have you met her? If so, how are you; how is she? If not, what stops you from holding her hand? May you know her, may you be satiated.

paint much love, always,
Connie Karleta Sales
a.k.a. This Crooked Little flower

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i am in love.

with the wind
of steely gray charcoal;
grit and truth.

life of the upside

rolling down hills of my Spring.

I am in love.
I am in love.
love feel Spring am I.

where are you
within your Spring?

paint much love, always,
Connie Karleta Sales
a.k.a. This Crooked Little Flower

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Indeterminate Cycle of These Bones

Introducing #wheelchairwednesdays
Living with chronic illness is hard and joyful, frustrating and beautiful. We adapt within an unknown journey. For me, it is not only the physical illness but the journey through the mental as well. Diagnosed with PTSD, DID, anxiety disorder, depression, eating disorder, self-harm; all as response to years of abuse. Then, as an adult, reaching out for that help was a journey in and of itself. And then today, as my physical illness comes with its own depression, the fear it brings back. Sideways and weird-ways, it took many years to find my path. With that, I experienced what so many do, women and those diagnosed with mental illness; disrespected and dismissed; treated poorly and vulnerable to other kinds of abuses and neglect. Wheelchair Wednesdays is about this journey. It is the joy, the difficult, the downright ugly. It is also where I go for comfort and safety, out in the landscape.

The following is a flashback to 2016, a day of fatigue and neuropathic pain. This is how I expressed it; how I got it out of my head, coped, and what I did about it. Acceptance of allowing the pain and fatigue to be, and yet not giving up or giving in.

There is a cycle to the bones;
Muscle and nerves.

There is a cycle to the static.
Muscle and bones.
More Static.

There is a cycle to the madness
Bones and muscle.

Physical static.
Painful static.

There is a cycle to these bones.
and the end?

string and cans.

The Cycle of Bones, black and white digital photography

Description Study
Acceptance in attempting something else

The past days have been tired ones.  My stomach feeling as though it is doing crunches in a workout even though I am at rest in bed.  The back of my calf muscle aches deeply; toes twitch, hips, arm, thigh; quiver; head. simply hurts.

Fatigue once again places itself upon my body, and I drag myself around because I determine it so.

Frustration.  How much can one person, rest?  I have things to do.  I have things I want to do.  I get up. I lie down. I sit at the computer.  I turn the computer off.  I rest.  There are those days in which such nonsense overwhelms me.

And, I want answers.  I want to know what is intermittently happening again and again.

And, in such cycles I know I must remain diligent in stating what is better, because much is better.  No, I am not making the gallant strides I once achieved.  Small moves.  One step forward and two steps back.

How about two steps forward and one step back.  Yes, this is better.  All of life is a cycle, so why not this?  It is merely a cycle.  My eyes will come around again, and I will see more clearly; physically and mentally; rest dear Connie, rest.

Today I wanted to write about something fun.  I shall work on that for next week.  For now, gratitude list to make. Take care my world.  You are beautiful.

Paint much Love, always,
CKS a.k.a. The Crooked Little Flower
words and images ┬ęCKS, 2016

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Sketching Breath

Sketching Breath Connie Karleta Sales

Slight wind
leaves are turning, why?
A smile is a blessing to a
loose heart
losing heart.

Colorless soft silence;
Feels as though my chest is caving in.

Gravity hit me.

light harmony
tinker of notes
have nothing
have it all.


transient in
her harmony;

notes about everything.


Sketching Breath, digital drawing, 11 x 8 1/2 in (27.94 x 21.59 cm)
from series in progress, and so I shall be, reflections with Jeremiah,

A single poem; Three poems; dance in the togetherness of love.
My Father , Son, Holy Ghost.

Light of my Christ, Light of universal light; beyond the self of my body. Of Buddha, of you; of other; of we. Daily.

How do you read the words above? Does it change in a day, each hour? This is how my life lives forward. A dance of the flow, of moment unknown; of smiles and tears, miles and rest.


I lose heart, and I loose my heart. Never a static beat. I breathe in and breathe out. I move and I rest. Does it matter where I go? Does it matter who I am?

I have been drawing next to Jeremiah again. I just love him and all that he is and is not. “Heal me and I shall be healed.” he says. “Save me and I shall be saved.” “for You are my praise.”

That Love within you, the You within you; that dances in the good and the hard. The Buddha’s Breath “. . . and I shall be. . . “

Is it enough? to know I am safe; safe to be who I am.

paint much love, always,
Connie Karleta Sales
a.k.a. This Crooked Little flower