Good morning! Wake up, It's your Birthday...

Wednesday, June 16, 2010 10:27 AM

Good night Nene Cecil. Thank you for everything. I have two meetings tomorrow, a criminal case in the afternoon, and a deadline for the Supreme Court. Good night.

Happy Birthday, Son and Inday Leah

From the "Shed A Tear" collection.

My mind is agitated and my heart is healing and then breaking and then healing and then breaking.

Today, nineteen years ago, I was hanging from a trapeze. The obstetrician and nurses were running out of options and before they took out the big gadgets and the last option of rushing me to the operating room, they let me hang from a trapeze, the way the Indians did long ago, so I can deliver my baby. It did not work. My obstetrician told my husband that our son's heart and brain waves were strong and healthy, so they were avoiding an emergency cesarean section. They will use some gadgets and do some bedside procedures and if they don't work, then they have to rush me to the operating room. I have been in labor for 17 hours. My epidural anesthesia has worn off hours ago and I finally prayed that I would not die for I would feel horrible  leaving my husband with a newborn. I felt a huge sucking sensation. My obstetrician used the vacuum, the forceps and performed a fourth degree episiotomy that prevented me from sitting down for two months after delivery. My son was born. I was so exhausted I could not even lift my arms to touch him nor turn my head towards to kiss him. My husband said our son was so alert and just looking around. For nineteen years he has put me on the edge. He is the most loving, faithful, loyal and protective young man I know. When he was young, he did not want me to stand in the driveway in the evening because he was worried that people will drive by and hurt me. I listened to him so he would stop worrying. He makes me proud and happy.

Today, he shares his birthday with my sister Leah. True to her word and promise, my sister Leah celebrated Christmas with my sister Mercedes and then her birthday today. I could not call because I could not get an international line. I could not call her because she could not talk to me. She continues to struggle with cancer. 

My heart is bursting with pain. Sometimes tears fall like a mountain cataract because I am so angry that the kindest, most altruistic, most intelligent, brilliant and smartest of my siblings has been deprived of her brilliant mind. I am so sad. Dammit. I am sorry for cursing, but my heart aches. My heart cannot contain my love for my sister. It is the same with my other sisters and brothers and my sisterfriend. It is the same for my husband and my children. So here I am. I am so happy that my son and all of us here have come a long way from the growing pains and yet my anguished mind and my breaking heart is blinding me with tears. 

No amount of squiggling can relieve that sensation. I suppose I should be honored and grateful for I am awake and can write this... my sister cannot.

I really wish that love had real power...


P.S. When my son was a baby, I used to play Ella Fitzgerald's songbooks and I danced to this song while I carried my son and held his face next to mine.

Oh Veeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

To all my blog friends and visitors:

Thank you for your visits and comments. I appreciate them very much. They make me happy and joyful in the midst of a very busy and occupied state. I hope to visit all of you soon!!! Tsup!!!

My Beloved Sisterfriend Vanessa Brantley-Newton:

Vee,
You are my sisterfriend.
I love you.
I wish you joy and happiness.
I wish you fame and fortune.
I wish you success.
Thank you for making me very happy.
Thank you for being kind and generous to me.
Thank you for loving me.
You are my sisterfriend.
You are in my life.
I love you, Vee.

My beloved, beautiful sisterfriend Vanessa Brantley-Newton is one heck of an illustrator. There is nothing that lady can't do! Her illustrations remind me of the soothing comfort of yesteryear. I met Vanessa through my darling sisterfriend Bella Sinclair.

Vanessa is one of my Oak Nymphs. On the left she is tending to an acorn of the Quercus turbinela.

Vanessa is a true gem. Just thinking of her makes me smile. Her comments are so full of energy. When she writes that she has tears in her eyes, I really see the tears in her comments. But when she says she is laughing, watch out, I have the biggest grin in my face and I scream AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!

Oy Veeeeeeeeeeee!!!



Bella (dots), Ces (stripes) and Vee (geometric shapes) on The Sisterfriend Express during Sisterfriend Day.

Tears are a wonderful release of an overburdened soul...

My beloved Arija, draped in natural fabric art created by her daughter, the fabulous India Flint. Arija's blog says she is 1996 years old, so I tried to capture her in what I think she might have looked at 500. Levity aside, she is ancient in wisdom, yet youthful and not aging in her vision. Her beautiful eyes, not mere receptors of things that surround her but a teaching method for those of us who forget to stop, look and listen.


I asked Arija what color are her eyes and she replied "When I am happy and well they are green, sometimes they look black and when I am truly unwell they are a grey-green flecked with pale brown." I would love to gaze into those eyes of hers and say "Hello there, you are my beloved friend who dwells in my heart and I thank you so much for everything you have done for me and what you mean to me."


The almost monochromatic illustration above was actually done with sixteen different colored pencil hues, India ink, graphite pencil and pigment ink. Doesn't that confirm that the most meaningful and worthy entity may appear unassuming but may actually be comprised of multiple layers as opposed to something flashy, flamboyant and comprised of merely few layers and when stripped leaves you with nothing.

That I draped her with India's artistic natural fabric creation, is because Arija has been through so many droughts, fire that ravaged everything her family owned after being displaced by war and rebuilding, of illnesses and most recently a brush with death... Life is not fair, isn't it? Yet Arija is full of celebration for its goodness and not once did I ever hear her hum the victim's melody.

Ah she cries most certainly and says...

"Tears are a wonderful release of an overburdened soul, be it from pain, from sorrow or joy or the exquisite tightness around the heart for that which moves us deeply: light, beauty, character in an old experienced face, a simple blade of grass in the wind... the world is so full of beauty, my eyes keep filling with sheer joy when I look around."


One day I wrote something in my blog that was truly personal. I tried to be obscure as I can be but that did not escape two special people's discerning minds. I am sure others intuit my messages but that time, only two felt it in their hearts. Don't let anybody tell me that my blog friends are all in my mind. It is not true. They are in my heart and I shall carry them with me.

Of this series, I have a few more illustrations. I am excited to share with you an illustration of my wonderful younger sister and ooooh! I am drawing Vanessa. Of course I tried to draw my mother and I failed miserably. I ran out of 9"x12" Bristol boards and need to order more.


I wish everyone a wonderful holiday weekend. I am not ignoring your comments. Thank you very much. I will stop by when you are not looking. Please remember the soldiers who sacrificed their lives and those who are still in harm's way so that we may be free.

Shed A Tear, But That's It

India Ink, pigment ink, colored pencils, graphite pencil on 9"x12" Bristol board. Inspired by my most beloved friend.

She said:
That's right.
Stand firm.
Do not falter.
Shed a tear, but that's it.


I have drawn two other portraits with this series and as I drew them I kept thinking NOT about the tears or tear but about how I am inspired, strengthened and encouraged by these women. As I kept drawing, I cannot, in my heart continue to make this series dwell on sadness. When I started thinking of Bella, Arijah, Deborah, Manon, Vanessa and Silke, I started looking at this series in a different light. I have read these beautiful women's blogs and every time I read something a little heart tugging or breaking, my heart rejoices in witnessing their courage and their resolve. Feeling sorry for oneself does indeed take time and sometimes it is more romantic to wallow in sadness and talk or write about it, but it is not really my style. I never subscribed to the Victim mentality. I have this genetic tendency to view any event that threatens my peaceful state with resolve, to conquer and demolish it, I did not cry. I used to view crying as a sign of weakness or acceptance of defeat. No more. Giving tears their due time, allow me to acknowledge the pain and the hurt…then I move forward, having pondered the state from which I have to extract myself and those in my care.

Tell me, how do you view tears and crying?

Ah, as for me, tears are good and weeping is okay, but that's it.

Go on and move ahead.