Rise through darkness; Sun glittering amid her trees. Awake. Alive. Revisiting the feeling of being. CKS
What does it take to rise out of the darkness? What does it even look like? How do we do it? How do we cope? How do we keep moving forward?
Ethereal layers of thin, temporary places. Each giving us support and adding that little bit of stability and security in times of chaos and unknown.
This is a constant theme in my meditations, prayers, and reflections. I use my art to help me find those thin layers creating a life more stable.
I am excited these 2 paintings from my on going Heal Me Open portrait series are included in the group show “Out of Darkness into the Light” at dk Gallery in Marietta, GA the month of October.
If you are in the area I hope you stop by and see the show.
paint much love, always, Connie Karleta Sales a.k.a. This Crooked Little Flower
lay down your burdens lighten with the sky dawn a new day no matter what they say. CKS
not gonna lie, its been a rough road lately. still not feeling all that well.
a lot of resting and sleeping, more resting, more sleeping. . . and being frustrated and a bit lost. allowing depression to grasp at me. allowing fear to have a little taste of me too.
I recently found my old ipod and it has my favorite Yoga Nidra practice on it. I had allowed this practice to fall off. It is back in my life.
It feels good. It helps. It helps ease my soul. and my mantra or Sankalpa (short positive statement of intention) is:
I give myself permission to accept my body just as it is.
How do you feel about your body? Do you accept yourself? Do you struggle with judging yourself? I wish for us all to find peace in acceptance.
paint much love, always, CKS a.k.a. This Crooked Little Flower
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
from Brave House Secrets
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
Holy Darkness River of unbroken rigidity. Resonate the overcast softness; Mitigate my distress. CKS
L123
Plains in the middle of nowhere; I simply stopped; to paint my words.
Always armed with supplies, I always enjoy simply driving out on the back roads and finding what I find. Sometimes, like here, I simply am struck by the simplicity perfectly explaining my thought process.
This is in the middle of nowhere. I cannot remember what state, or location. I do remember firing up my little personal stove, making a cup of coffee, and a cup of soup. I put on my finger-less gloves and settled in the absorption of the moment.
A vast plain with one lone tree in the distance, seemed perfectly content, so I asked it why and how.
paint much love, always, Connie Karleta Sales a.k.a. This Crooked Little Flower
She stood still; And danced The journey Come true. CKS
L752
Kathryn Albertson Park Boise Sesquicentennial in search of the iconic dancing with friends.
What a weekend this was! Boise was celebrating 150 years! The city decided to have a Plein-air Art Competition. I am a pretty solitary soul, however this weekend I accepted invitation to traipse Boise in search of the iconic with art friends.
What fun! This particular day as the rest of my crew went further into the large park, I was taken back by the entrance.
It was as if I was seeing it for the first time. How the light danced across the panoramic scene. Here in this tiny painting, I played and bathed in a smile. Knowing just how human this park was that day.
paint much love, always, Connie Karleta Sales a.k.a. This Crooked Little Flower
freedom from the control, influence, support, aid, or the like, of others. (dictionary.com)
As we in the U.S. come to celebrate July 4th, independence day, I have been sitting with the word, Independence. Both in self and in community. In a time when things feel very out of control. I grieve. I fear. I look for the helpers, because there within is light. The divides feel greater and greater, and I don’t understand. In all the people I know, we are more alike than we are apart. I look to this. To move past the noise so I am not paralyzed into inaction.
Dear Rainmaker, there are discerning days. there are days of unknown melancholy. and then, there are days; days in which that clutching darkness dances around my wandering mind, and I question tomorrow’s dawn.
then I catch a brief smirk upon my lips when I remember the lilies of the field.
am I sitting with flowers? am I sitting with flowers, yet?
Fall into the coolness of the meadow my child. there is no grief and no madness, however great, that darkness can consume.
My strength and My peace shall surround you. My light shall fill you.
Dear Heart, I love you. lean on me, through the strength of those that surround you. you are loved, my beloved CKS
We can feel helpless. We can feel hopeless. Grieving in anger, frustration, and disappointment. We pause, we breathe, we hang on until hope and love reside next to us.
I share today a poem I wrote awhile ago, and it is within a greater story and resides in Rainmaker and Flower; pray on dirty knees, my first poetry book.
I share it because I return to this poem when I am in that well of darkness, and feel quite sad and overwhelmed. When my world is spinning and nothing gets accomplished.
Deadlines I have not met. Responsibilities not lived up too, and hope for forgiveness and more patience. When my emotions and mental capacity has weighted me down until I only hear the echo of “I am a loser. good for nothing.” and even less gets accomplished, and I hear less and less, and see less and less; and I want nothing more than to hide within myself.
I become paralyzed in fear. everything, even my art becomes suspect, and I am paralyzed; deciding maybe I should start over; abandoned all together.
Does your world ever appear in bleak darkness? Let us read it together, and know you are not alone. And there is no darkness that light cannot overcome, that fear cannot be comforted; that grief cannot feel kindness, that love cannot find.
It is okay not to be okay. My dear friends, I share my heart because this is what I do. I am with you. I am here in your disappointment, in your anger, frustration, grief. in joy, triumph, and happiness.
We are together, praying as we are; our dirty knees resting in the fields of the lilies.
Enjoy this 10 minute visual meditation:
paint much love, always, Connie Karleta Sales a.k.a. This Crooked Little Flower
When I read this for the first time, I immediately felt the connected, “Yes! I know this!” You said what I have not the words. I drink of this. Now what? Just because I drank that Kool-Aide does not mean anything, truly. It is more of a question than an answer? A connection rather than a confirmation.
Where do I turn but into that deliberate seeker; tiny spirit; bright. I seek it where I meet sky; where I meet mountain; where I meet you.
I am still. Seeking simply is; a journey onward walking. No trying; no attempts; I am as you are. and We; we, are enough. We are tiny spirits bright! Shining with such brilliance; need no polishing. We dull ourselves in the trying.
Up there, in that tiny moment, life; a gift of exquisite beauty.
paint much love, always, Connie Karleta Sales a.k.a. This Crooked Little Flower
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.
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
Desert Cliffs with Sun-drenched festivals of light cascading. CKS
L352
Spring View Cliffs at Succor Creek Oregon
My husband introduced me to Succor Creek and Leslie’s Gulch, Oregon. It is the High Desert landscape located not far from the Idaho border.
If you time it just right, you will see the desert flowers blooming in the spring before the sandy dry colors of yellow overwhelm the landscape.
Here, the flowers are not yet in bloom. The desert she is preparing. It was a lovely brisk day with green sprinkled within the dance of sun and cliffs.
paint much love, always, Connie Karleta Sales a.k.a. This Crooked Little Flower
