From as far back as I can remember, I was designing or creating art. Destined to be a designer from way back, my mother would give me all the junk mail to play with, and before I could even read, I was cutting and pasting words and pictures into layouts that were aesthetically pleasing to me. As I grew older, I continued to create art but never thought much about where it would take me. I didn’t know it could be a lasting love or much less, a profession.

As a senior in high school, I was looking for a part-time job to pay for tuition at the University of Houston. Ignorant of the whole Advertising/Graphic Design profession, the only thing I could think of becoming was a teacher. This seemed to be the mainstream choice of a career for a young woman in the late 1960’s.

My mother knew someone who was working in an advertising department of a local business. She contacted her and set up an interview for me at the company. I was stunned when I arrived there! I had no idea that graphic art and design existed as a career. I had found what I was destined to become. I loved it immediately and started out at the University, fall of 1968 following a Bachelor of Fine Arts Degree plan with a major in Graphic Design. I was in heaven! I worked for them part-time for five years while attending the University and have been designing ever since.

Now almost 50 years later, I am still head over heels in love. With Art. I am so grateful and fortunate to have found my passion at such an early age. So many people merely have jobs but I never felt that way about art. Granted, it did support me monetarily, however, way, way more important than that, it supported my passion.

A dear, dear friend recently went through a breakup of a long term relationship. I have known him for many years and he is absolutely one of my favorite designers. What he wrote on that day, inspired me to write this post. Here is what he said:

“The one redeeming relationship that I have been passionate about, has never failed me for the last 47 years and has formed a lasting bond, brought me great satisfactions, pleasures of working and living with, a constant flow of inspiration and discoveries about myself, it has never cheated on me, let me down or left me, it has always been there 24 hours a day 7 days a week, it introduced me to numerous great friends, provided rewarding opportunities, recognition in the community and given me financial rewards. That relationship still exists today, ART (not a guy).”      — Steve Collier

Steve also posted this quote from another great designer:

“Being a designer isn’t a job, but a way of life. Everything a passionate designer does is guided by design. My life is tied together by design. The commercial work, the socially focused work, my home and surroundings, my paintings, collages, and assemblages all come from my love for design and my aesthetic sensibility. Passion is the key. If you don’t love what you do, and do it with passion, you probably won’t do it very well…”            — Woody Pirtle

Both Steve and Woody captured exactly how I feel about loving Art (not a guy).

 

One of my followers with whom I visited with yesterday at a New Year’s Day party commented on how much he enjoyed reading my blog. I realize that I should write more frequently and he inspired me to do so. I guess that will be one of my brush strokes on this brand new canvas titled 2016.

A new year gives cause to pondering about the past and dreaming of the future. However, I go against that age old pattern and choose mindfulness. Not worrying about the past or the future but living in the present moment.

That does not mean I don’t have visions for this new canvas of 2016. It will be bold, bright and filled with color. There may be some sharp edges contrasted with soft and soothing smooth flowing texture. There will be some familiar images, perfected over time, with others being abstract, dreamy manifestations of ideas and fantasies. It will be a yearlong process creating a an illustrative whimsical representation of 365 days.

I invite you to paint your own canvas of another year in the Universe. There is nothing more inviting or intimidating than a blank canvas. It reminds me of a line from one of my husband’s songs, “Fill It Up…. to the Top and Let It Go.”

We married in June of 1978 and starting that year we began what would become an Annual Christmas Birthday Gumbo Party. We both love Christmas and having December birthdays made it even more festive (Steve’s is the 18th and mine is the 27th). The first party was a great success and grew exponentially through the years. We had a lot of Texas friends living in other states, mainly California, who would come home at Christmas time to visit their families. Everybody knows a lot of time with family can become trying or just plain boring. Where did these people go to get some relief? Why, Steve and DeeDee’s of course for some cheer and gumbo!

We had the party every Christmas in Houston until we moved to Los Angeles in 1986 where the tradition continued throughout our 25 years there. We did take a break for a few years when it just got too big for our tiny Burbank bungalow and when we realized there were people there wandering through our house that we didn’t even know! Seems that some of our friends invited other friends who invited other friends and so on. We had to nip that in the bud.

We started it back again with a small group. Actually it was a guy hang. Steve would invite his musician buddies over, I would make the gumbo and we would sit around a cozy fire and sing Christmas Carols with Skip Van Winkl playing our old out-of-tune upright piano. Gradually we started adding a few more people and before long it was back to a big crowd by the time we left LA to go home to Houston in 2011.

Our first Christmas in Texas was spent moving into our newly built home on three beautiful acres outside Houston. We couldn’t get it together to have the party yet, but come 2013 we were back in full swing with 85 guests. We made, literally gallons of gumbo — 15 to be exact and hardly had any left. We also added live music. Steve equipped his studio with all necessities and the musicians could just pick up an instrument and play together with whomever. It had to be one of the best gatherings ever!

In 2014, we celebrated again and it too was grand. The weather was chilly and we added outdoor fire pits and 2 patio heaters. This was also the first year I introduced my “Dessert Bar”. I had always made sweets for Christmas but I took it a step further, baking 12 different items and displaying them on serving platters and tiers with a “legend poster” showing a photo of each item with their description. People want to know what they are eating!

We are preparing for this year’s celebration with more experience than we have ever had with a party this size. Tables and chairs are ordered, Heaters are ready for warmth and I’m planning my baking for the dessert bar. Fifteen gallons of gumbo need to be made however I’ve got that down to a science. It helps that both myself and my husband are half-Cajun (his Mom, Gracie and my Dad, Frenchy).

We absolutely adore giving ourselves and others this party. It is a gift to us and to our friends and family.

Let the festivities begin!

In 2003, I had just received my undergrad degree in Psychology from Cal State Northridge and had been accepted into a graduate program as a university intern for a Teaching Certificate. I had closed my graphic design firm and was now jobless. I needed to find some income. Fortunately, because the graphic design company was a corporation, of which I was an employee, I was entitled to unemployment income although a mere pittance to what my salary had been.

One Sunday, my husband and I were going to the local dollar store to shop. We were extremely low on funds and this was the only place we could afford. On the way there, we passed an antique shop that had wonderful old furniture scattered about on the sidewalk in front. I said, “You know, I always wanted to go in there, but we have no money.” My husband said, “Well, it doesn’t cost anything to look.” And so we stopped in.

As soon as we entered the store, the proprietor looked familiar. I recognized her as the person I had bought two chairs from for my office a few years earlier. Her name was Sally. I looked around while my husband sat down and had a long conversation about music and players they knew. Turns out she had once been married to a local musician.

My eyes roamed about the shop until something caught my eye. It was a Tiffany style emerald green lamp off in the corner. I got my husband’s attention and said, “You know how you have always loved Tiffany lamps but I didn’t?” He says, “Yeah” and I say, “Well I love this one.” pointing to the green lamp.

I asked Sally how much it cost and she said $500 and that it had just came back to the shop. It had been used as a prop in Jack Nicholson’s apartment in “As Good As It Gets”. Now, I wanted it even more but, alas, 500 bucks and me with no job or money! I was resigned to the fact that it was not to be. Not yet.

That Saturday night I fell asleep early and woke up at 3am wide awake. I turned on the television and guess what movie was on? Yes, “As Good As It Gets”. I was staring in amazement at the exact scene from the movie showing the lamp! I took it as a sign that it had to be mine. All I had to do was figure out how to get it. Sally had mentioned that she needed a part time worker and I thought, hmmmm, maybe I could work for her in exchange for the lamp.

Sunday morning, I began looking through the mail that I had dumped on the dining room table the day before. To my surprise, there was my first unemployment check for $470.73. Without a second thought, I knew I would spend it on the lamp. However, it was a Sunday with the next day being a holiday. That meant the store was closed for two days. I was quite anxious that someone else would get the lamp before me and couldn’t wait for Tuesday at 11:00 am when they would open.

Tuesday arrived and I went to Sally’s shop. I said, “I have no job and no money and have no business buying this lamp but it just feels like I must have it!. Sally said, “It will bring you good luck.” I said, “But you don’t understand, I am looking for a teaching position and have sent out letters and resumes to 80 different schools to no avail.” She said, “Come over here and hold my hand.” I did so and she looked me in the eye and said, “You will get a call tomorrow morning to go to a nearby school for an interview. You will get the job.” I didn’t know what to think and was skeptical about what she had said.

Wednesday morning I received a call from the Principal of Benjamin Franklin High School in Highland Park, only 10 minutes from my home in Burbank. I went to the interview. It lasted less than five minutes, and I left thinking, “No way, I got this job.” I arrive back home and the light is blinking on my answering machine. I play the message and it is the principal again saying that I got the job! Sally’s message had come true, plus Ben Franklin is one of my favorite people — an artist, a writer, an inventor and a scientist. Plus, Highland Park is also the name of an affluent neighborhood in my home state of Texas. Two more signs.

Gazing into the emerald green glow of my lamp, I call Sally. I told her what had happened and she said, “I told you!”

And that’s how I became the owner of a beautiful emerald green, magic lamp.

Or maybe it owns me.

After 4 years of struggling to find where I belong, I have found equanimity and that’s where I live. It is a state of calmness even in times of stress. It is so lushfully lovely to be in this state and I love my life and all things in it.

More explanations of equanimity from buddhism:

“Neither a thought nor an emotion, it is rather the steady conscious realization of reality’s transience. It is the ground for wisdom and freedom and the protector of compassion and love. While some may think of equanimity as dry neutrality or cool aloofness, mature equanimity produces a radiance and warmth of being. The Buddha described a mind filled with equanimity as “abundant, exalted, immeasurable, without hostility and without ill-will.”

Remaining calm and not overtly reacting to stress has made my life so pleasant and free from worry. After spending much of my life in misery and depression, I have found the way to peace and harmony.

I recommend it for everyone.

My dream last night:

I was in the military. The particular division of service unclear. I was returning home on a train. Dressed in military gear. Helmet, combat boots, shorts and a T-shirt (huh?) and it was not camouflage. It was, of course, all black.

Nearing the station the train had a mild crash. We were all okay but a bit unsettled. The train station was in Burbank, CA and I lived in the house on Griffith Park Drive (where we lived from 1988-1994). We departed the train and boarded waiting buses to take us home.

Typically, in my dreams I am unable to use or work my phone (classic dream interpretation of being unable to communicate) but this time I had no problem and I called my Mother (who died in 2012). She said she would find out the next bus stop and pick me up.

I am on the bus, looking out the window and spot my Mom waving to me in her 1966 red Mustang (from many years ago, obviously). The car is loaded with cinder blocks, cement, pebbles and sand. I get off the bus and get in the car. She says all the supplies are for building a foundation and off we go.

Interpretation: My mother is my rock and my foundation who will always come to my rescue even though she has departed the earth to shine in the night sky.

A little over a month ago, I went to visit my daughter, daughter-in-law and grandson in the Seattle area. My daughter works during the week so we spent the first and last weekend of my 10 day vacation being a family. On Sunday of the first weekend, my daughter dropped me at the Seattle dock to catch a boat to Friday Harbor, San Juan Island, WA. It was a quaint but tiny town and I enjoyed an afternoon strolling about, a wonderful dinner overlooking the harbor, excellent night’s sleep at The Earthbox Inn and Spa, and a delicious breakfast at Rocky Bay Cafe. I needed to catch a ferry to Sydney, B.C. at 9:40 am. I walked to the tiny harbor and waited with a group of people for the ferry to arrive. When it arrived, we loaded in and all found a seat. Within minutes we were on our way. While looking at the shrinking image of the harbor, I happened to look at my watch. Wait a minute! It’s only 8:45. How could the boat leave early? Weren’t there others who would want to take the 9:40 boat? Then it hit me. I was on the wrong boat.

Settling into a mild panic, I waved down an attendant and asked where is this boat going? He says, “Shaw, Orcas, Lopez and Anacortis Islands”. NO, NO, NO, I shrieked inside my head. I took a deep breath, and even though I was freaked out, I calmly asked, “Is there anyway to get to Sydney, BC on this boat?” He says, “No, oh this is bad”.

I am in suspended disbelief. I am always early for flights, buses, boats, etc. but this time I was too early! This nice attendant immediately called the captain to see if they could turn around. I mean, we could still plainly see Friday Harbor. No answer from the captain as I am sure he and his crew were on the floor laughing.

Another attendant wanders over and together they figure out that after I visit these three other islands in the San Juan Archipelego, They instructed me to get off at Lopez Island and catch a different ferry to Anacortis, where I would then catch yet another ferry to Sydney arriving at 5pm instead of 11:00 am if I had boarded the correct boat. I breathed a sigh of relief.

As the attendants leave, I notice a woman approaching me with a knowing look on her face. She said, “My mom and I did the same thing. We are also headed to Sydney and got on the wrong ferry.” I said, “Well, let’s keep each other company for this afternoon adventure. I’ll come sit with you two.”

I sit down with them and we begin to chat. They ask me where I’m from and I say Houston, because most people in the US or Europe know where Houston is. Nobody would know where Crosby is, so I never say that when I travel. Just makes it easier. So, the woman says, “Wow, we’re from Texas too.” “Have you ever heard of Crosby?” I am amazed and say, “That’s really where I live, too.” Turns out that they live just a few miles from me. What are the chances of traveling in the Canadian Northwest that you would run into people from your tiny home town?”

We made fast friends. The woman and her mom were absolutely delightful and the time spent together as a result of taking the wrong boat were incredibly fun.

As we talked, we discovered that we had been on the same flight from Houston to Seattle, the same ferry to Friday Harbor, and stayed in the same hotel, The Earthbox Inn and Spa!

I have to say that this sort of thing happens to me all the time. I could tell you many stories of serendipitous synchronicity I have experienced around the world. All equally as amazing as this one. Does it find me, or do I find it?

All I can say about this encounter is that I don’t think it was the wrong boat after all.

I have three younger siblings. Much younger. My brother is 10 years younger and my two sisters are 16 and 18 years younger. Same parents. Just a huge gap in the childbearing department. When they were very young they adored me and I adored them as well. This continued throughout our lives and when I moved to California from Texas in 1986, they were 20, 22 and 26.

Throughout the years I lived in California, we would talk often. I would go back home a couple of times a year and they would visit California on occasion. My time spent back home was always wonderful. We had such great times and laughed until we cried. We all got along so well despite the age difference.

I moved back to Texas in 2011 after being gone for 25 years. The picture I had in my mind was that we would be able to have those fun times ALL the time now. What I didn’t realize was that 1550 miles and 25 years makes a big difference.

Our worlds, beliefs, and politics were so different. They simply did not mesh and, in fact, collided. I so wanted to fit in but the fact was I didn’t. I settled into just being content with myself and no longer buying the so-called “family myth” or believing in the fantasy I had created.

I can’t do anything about it but love them, wish them happiness and freedom from suffering, and I’ll be there anytime they need me.

Throw away the past. You can’t change it. Don’t worry about the future. It is a waste of your present state. Turn off TV, computers, tablets and phone and just sit quietly and observe. Here is what I experienced this morning:

As I sit in the chicken pen with my hens nesting all over me showering me with peeps and love pecks, I notice two beautiful cardinals observing us from the peach tree next to the pen. I hear knocking and look up to see there are two woody woodpeckers pounding the top of a dead tree, their red heads bobbing up and down like corks on water. I hear a ruffling of feathers off to the left. It is our peacock who is on the roof, proudly displaying his half moon array of feathers in all shades of turquoise and electric blue. I notice three small animals run past in a blur. Two weenie dogs and a tuxedo cat chasing a squirrel. Off in the near distance, on the front porch, I hear our two big dogs having their morning chat that sounds like scooby doo and his sidekick. From the studio I hear the sounds of drumming, keyboards and singing. Where am I? Why, in the present, of course. The happiest place on earth!!

Throughout my life I have experienced social rejection, mainly from family and relatives who think differently than I and are living a script that is foreign to me. I gravitate to those who think like I do. I consider the rejection as validation that, yes, I am not like them. And I don’t want to be.

I say this with love and affection for those family members. They just don’t see things the way that I do. They are happy in their bubble and I don’t want to burst it for them. I live in a totally different bubble and am happy just floating around in my universe.

A study by a professor at Johns Hopkins University, Maryland found that “social rejection can inspire imaginative thinking, particularly in individuals with a strong sense of their own independence”. For independent people, social rejection can be a form of validation to their own beliefs and spur them on to greater productivity. ¹

 For me, rejection by family members only confirms what I already feel about myself, that I am not like most others. I am an independent thinker.

I feel that rejection from social groups that don’t accept me, is indeed, validation and a positive experience that leads me to greater creativity.

Unfortunately, social rejection has the opposite effect on people who value belonging to a group. It inhibits their cognitive ability. They simply cannot wrap their brains around this concept. Acceptance into social groups, to them is validation that they are worthy. They suffer from insecurities that unless they are accepted into these groups, they are of no value. It is not a way that I choose to live.

Lynne Vincent and Jack Goncalo of Cornell University, decided to consider the impact of rejection on people who take pride in being different from the norm. Such individuals, in a term from the study, are described as possessing an ‘independent self-concept” ¹

What they are saying is that exclusion from a group can sometimes lead to a positive outcome when independently minded people are the ones being excluded.’

In the long term, the creative person with an independent self-concept might even be said to thrive on rejection. Yep, that’s me.

They go on to say that while repeated rebuffs would discourage someone who longs for inclusion, such slights could continually recharge the creativity of an independent person. ¹

Hey, it worked for Mark Zuckerberg: The Facebook founder has been portrayed as socially awkward – but had a very successful career trajectory.

¹ Revenge of the nerds: Social rejection can ‘lead to imaginative thinking and strong independence’

By EDDIE WRENN FOR MAILONLINE

PUBLISHED: 12:09 EST, 22 August 2012 | UPDATED: 12:09 EST, 22 August 2012