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She Walks, Dreaming in Love

These drawings, such an important part of dreaming forward.
Series, She Walks, Dreaming in Love

Often, when I dream, I am walking; dancing in the meadows in the fields, with sunflowers and lilies, most often. Recently, when I dream, I have full use of my hands and am a carpenter.

These dreams are so vivid, I sometimes wake up disoriented as my actual reality of limited use of my arms and hands, and no use of my legs abruptly makes itself aware.

Walking dreams, and dancing, began since i first became severely ill in 2015, and was initialized paralyzed with this disease. I learned this is very normal within paralysis community.

At first, I would cry, be confused, frustrated. Deep sighs of despair as I lie there in bed. I found it backwards. Dreaming was real, and waking was the nightmare.

To be honest, it was the measure of the stress and unknown at the time. Our world, mine and my family’s world was shaken. I was alive, and making progress in physical and occupational therapy. I was hopeful, and I needed cheerleaders to help me in this.

There were so many unknowns. How do you digest hearing “if your alive in 5 years, most likely will be blind and wheelchair bound.” then move into “well, we don’t know, and we don’t have the ability to help you.”

Feeling very alone in moments like these:

2016, Idaho. I am struggling in Occupational therapy. My therapist does a few evaluation tests on my arms/hands and finds my strength and grip strength has decreased.

She sends her recommendations to my primary care physician, who then sends it on to the neurologist. I am now sitting in the neurologists office with my sister in law at my side.

He says “The rehabilitation hospital does that.”

I say, apparently not because my occupational therapist sent it to my primary who sent it to you because she said you do it.”

“No, they do it.”

The OT’s recommendations and concerns went into what I call the Bermuda triangle of passing the buck into never-land of no action.

Now, look at this:

2017, North Carolina. I have been in physical therapy for a little while, mainly learning wheelchair skills, and learning to use the electronic stimulation device on the various muscle groups to help them fire and in turn help with muscle tone etc. Then things turned from these skills to re-evaluations, and then trunk control, and then the day came when my PT compassionately said that he ethically could not continue because PT was doing more harm than good. My body was clearly struggling and he was calling my doctor.

He scheduled me for two more visits; one to finish the final muscle groups with the EMS machine, and the second to teach my family how to help assist me in transferring from place to place.

That first last appointment came. My husband was with me, and I was not well. My PT just immediately taught my husband full assist transferring and even practiced it with our car. and told my husband, I am immediately calling her doctors.

Yes, and that is how 2017 began as I know it today. Only this time, doctors, nurses, home health, speech therapist, PT, OT, medical social worker; they all came on board,

and no one shrugged their shoulders and left us alone.

My family and I were hugged, were cared for, were taught, were provided for. We were provided with the physical, mental, and emotional tools to grieve, to be, to learn, to practice, and to become.

Now, I am a fighter, I am a glass-full kind of girl. Even in Idaho I found those moments. My PT’s and OT’s were amazing. I love them today, and hope I get to talk to them again. It is with that help, that love.

If you want to hear about one of those moments you can listen here:
https://soundcloud.com/radioboise/stray-theatre-december-24-2017-story-story-nights-dazed-and-confused-rocked-and-rolling-stories

So, what does it mean when I say, She Walks, dreaming in love?

Today, I enjoy those walking dreams. They are magical. I wake up in a smile and not tears. My limitations are everything and nothing simultaneously.

It is not easy. Don’t get me wrong – There is nothing about this that is easy. For my family, and for myself.

Life does continue. It does ease as we move through and adapt. Little by little equipment and routine happen.

We get to practice patience, and delayed gratification.

We get to greet the sun, and say hello to the moon. We get to walkabout in love, no matter what it looks like. My wheelchair walks for me, my computer talks for me. How cool is that.

and I am never out of reality, I am always dancing in the fields with the sunflowers and lilies; with dandelions wisping through my hair, caressing my cheeks.

These are what these drawings are. They are the dance of love, the dance of choice, and power. They are the dance of grief, the dance of the unknown.

They are my dreams. They are the simultaneous illness and life of my body.

They are the moments of never being alone.

They are the dance of dignity; created with all the limitations of this body. braces and Velcro, pillows and positioning belts, whatever it takes to dance.

She Walks, Dreaming in Love VI, 30 x 22 inch, paper, ink, graphite on paper, 2018
She Walks, Dreaming in Love II, 30 x 22 inch, paper, ink, graphite on paper, 2018
She Walks, Dreaming in Love I, 30 x 22 inch, paper, ink, graphite on paper, 2018

available through dk Gallery

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

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afternoon in the Telling Place of her studio

To grok in Your being
I unleash in slenders
and leap in-subversive;
substance of my body.

Underwinter,
you follow my
displacement and supplant the
nearness of my come after.

unsubstantial frailties
of my countenance,

hear our prayer.

CKS

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


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Humor and Beauty

The self I make is indeed
steadfast and intractable.

Laughing myself elastic,
I am elastic resilience;
a magnificent voltaic buoyancy
learning love anew.

The self I make is indeed
resolute and unmanageable.

Dreaming myself silly,
I am jester juggler;
a clown inside out
learning freedom with you.
CKS

from I pray on dirty knees

learning to laugh
freedom in smiling
thanksgiving in the grief


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

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Letting Go Before We Say Goodbye

Holy Spirit, my lover, Come,
Get dirty with me!

Dig into me deep!
Cut away my destructions!

Holy Spirit, my lover, Come,
Get dirty with me!

Let us scratch the dirt with our fingers
And watch the edible beauty rise!

Holy Spirit, my lover, Come,
Get dirty with me!

With my heart’s sustenance, let me give
The energy of a genuine smile.
CKS


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


Letting Go Before We Say Goodbye, 42" x 31", ink, graphite, charcoal, paper
Letting Go Before We Say Goodbye, 42″ x 31″, ink, graphite, charcoal, paper

*for availability; dk Gallery – visit Here


*Series – Rainmaker and the Flower

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I Pray on Dirty Knees

Is it not simply Love’s Vow,
to withstand all light, and
all dark without fear?

Oh, she survives.
By the skin of her teeth;
She survives;
loneliness, isolation, and shame.

Her Love’s Vow;
a single promise and
fulfillment of
complete absence and
complete convergence.

Who is she to judge where she stands?
Who are they who stand where she seeks?

Oh, she survives.
By the skin of her teeth;
She survives;
because her path is illuminated
by willingness.

She stands blind and just keeps on walking.
CKS

from The Rainmaker and the Flower

naked prayer
dirty knees
mixed media on paper


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

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Not Super Girl

Within the words of licorice tea,
I find you.
sentient dissensions
owning the failure
of successes;
and the success
of failures.

Sensitive pallor
of prismatic translucence;
propensity’s inclination
night’s sky
you burn

In that same prismatic fashion
calling us
beneath the surface
of our own forgotten bodies.

Knowledge blurs our perceptions
love in a time of nowhere
and all-where

Dervishly
throwing off your own balance
knocking us unhinged
breaking our hearts
that we may sow intended.

A single strand
writes itself
into a parachute
for the many.
CKS

Night in the House of Poetry

she moves within the changes of humidity/barometric pressure
she is made of ink, charcoal, paper, and plaster-clothe
she finds she is empowered
asking for help; not attempting to be “super girl”

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


Not Super Girl, mixed media, 30” x 16”, ©CKS, Ready to Hang
Not Super Girl, ink, acrylic, charcoal, graphite, paper, plaster-clothe, 30” x 16”, ©CKS, Ready to Hang

Contact: dk Gallery
770.427.5377

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Evening Air, Mountain Charcoal Black

Magic voice
walking ache
dirt fell love
night’s embrace.
CKS

L981/982

mountain silhouette
black and white
ink of evening light


Peace in the evening air fills our heart as our cup felt bare.

Break and nothingness is an action immense.

We trudge our destined paths, allowing collaboration; inviting the mind back into the body and the heart into the soul.

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


*mountain and plains, 1 1/4″ x 1 3/4″ each, charcoal, ink, graphite, paper, ©CKS

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She dreamed of simple things in color-graphite lines of charcoal

she battled on
for she dreamed
of the simple things

the simple things
sweet-pie cookies
of dreams, she battled on

she battled on
and on she roared
dreams of simple

the clothes she whore
CKS


Violence comes in many forms both physical and emotional. It is inherently corrosive in nature. Far too many individuals walk through life in darkness; feeling isolated and shamed by the struggles and secrets of their experiences.

brave-house-2-connie-karleta-sales-feature-image
Installation View, Brave House Secrets (detail #1), Track 13, Nampa, Idaho 2014

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


*she dreamed of simple things, 65″ x 48″, pigment, ink, graphite, paper, ©CKS, 2013-14

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Immaculate Charcoal

unsullied, i am
in impurities.

unclean, i am
in perfections.

unfurled my chaste
i gather my temperance
on the paste-chalk lines
of charcoal.

sullied is
clean is

pure, breathe air
of imperfection’s delight
i temper my haste
in paper-sand-dust.
CKS

work in progress

love in a time of turbulence
repetitive contemplation
active listening


We must act according to our integrity.  How do we find such things?  Where do we find where we belong within the context of belief, integrity, and action?

Practice.

“Repetition strengthens and confirms” a friend once said.  Indeed.  True words.

Practice.

Never give up.  Repetition; teaches us into action.  Actions us into where our teaching needs attention.

Practice, teaching us to listen.

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