To express our emotions and our views in an artistic manner, we must picture what our feelings look like on the outside of ourselves and show how we see people, places and things in creative ways. To discover knowledge, we must first envision a theory and then go through the steps that will lead to locating the truth of what’s there. To experience change in both our emotional responses to life and our logic of who we believe we are, we have to imagine bringing ourselves to a different position before we know what it’s actually like to be in that place. Each of those desires, as well as so many other things, rely upon the use of imagination as a part of the series of movements that guides us to what’s possible but not always to what we hope we will find. In today’s picture, the designer of it has placed three inanimate objects where they are together but not together on a board. Visually the space between the items makes their separation obvious and their particular appearances is also another way to see how they are not together but since they are resting in the same location, what would be the reason for them being there? If those things were the visualization of the artist’s feelings, which ones do you imagine they represent? What, then, about that piece of wood that is an obscure part of their togetherness? Would placing them in different positions on that board change what each is capable of? Or what if one or all of those pieces were no longer beneficial in their established role, could they then be used in an unexpected manner? Now turn around and visualize as well as feel some of the weight of the world that you, yourself, are keeping together but not together within you. What if you were to rearrange the positions of your things from front to back or into the shadows from the light? Would what you see and feel then change or remain as they have been established? Can you imagine each being used to bring you to a place other than the one that you have become familiar and comfortable with? One of the most painful and challenging parts of losing Ryan has been in learning to take my intense feelings and repurpose or transform them rather than just move them around or close the door on the mess as had been established by me in the yesterdays. As a work of art in progress, I am also discovering the beauty of those out of the blue wins when my kind of life, a so very heavell one, doesn’t always hold what I hope for, or it throws me off of an emotional cliff into the place where my dragons are not in the form of mystical creatures but are just as scary for me. Today is a good moment for you to take what has been yours to carry and use all or some of it to be loud in expressing yourself in ways that you haven’t imagined were possible because of what has been together but not together in your theories. After all, you never pictured yourself here and yet in this place you are so take the chance to envision, step by step, what you will look like after you leave this particular part of your journey in your matter of time. If you need a reminder on how to imagine more of something, think about how even in epic tales, boxes of tissues have been established to be used for the moments that individuals cry from pain but in a different truth they are just as important when tears stream out of our eyes because we are laughing until our stomachs hurt about those dreaded “f” moments that no longer live in our messes. Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
Thank you, Mom, for always sharing your love of art with us and for teaching us to pay attention to the details because the whole will be all right if the particulars are together, but the entity can’t be what we hope for if the parts are not together even when they are located on the same board or picture or trail or page or whatever.
There are two places on the inside where our particulars provide us with the critique of who we believe we are through what we think and what we feel. In a sense we move back and forth between two distinct poles trying to find a balance with the facts of our lives and our emotions that have the ability to turn an inanimate object into something that we cry about. Even in epic tales, our connection to the fictious characters is in part because they give a voice to the clash that we experience as they go through their trials and tribulations with emotions and logic that are often in conflict. But even though we are linked to those personas whose enduring qualities are the ability to appear as we do, there is something that separates us that is not the easily seen differences of made-up lives versus real ones. In other words, what do those roles use as a tool when they are turning around between the two points of truth and passion in order to continue on against the odds? Perhaps you are thinking that it’s their goal that motivates them? Or maybe you feel that their hope is the key? Both of those are important parts of all journeys, but the answer is actually an obscure thing that is also found in all music, the story of a field, the chaos behind a door, a forest, works of art and so much more. It has the ability to appear in any form in any place, can be found when looking in the mirror, is used in all sorts of ways to facilitate logic and frequently keeps us on the edge of our seats in our desire to experience it. In fact, the definition of that implement is so extensive and colorful that it would need its own series of books in order to hold all of its details. As we pass between what we think about ourselves and how all of it feels, what is the instrument that has been missing from our process that holds the possibility of our being a little more unstoppable even with detours, weeds and falls along our trails? During Ryan’s substance use years, I had a lot of perceived thoughts on his addiction as well as how if he would just do as I say and stop using, everything would be all right. The longer that didn’t happen, the more determined I was to prove that it was literally that simple. I was in essence fixated on that particular thought which when battling things such as fire-breathing dragons is really like throwing a cup of water at it while expecting not to get burned and yet I repeated that for years despite what continued to be replicated. I believe that when we are in that kind of fear-invoking place, or any type for that matter, it becomes easier and easier to be caught between what we think we know, a finished product, and the emotions that help feed the hell. Over time, then, what we have established in ourselves roots us in a pattern that is more likely to ensure that the view on our rides will stay the same and the change we want will be fleeting. So, if our knowledge about ourselves or others and what needs to be done becomes defined by the dreaded “f” word known as fixed, we are leaving out the instrument that turns impossible into “I’m possible” which is the very tool that characters in epic tales’ use. Our critique of ourselves comes from turning around and viewing what has already been with the assumption that we will continue on as we are familiar with. That’s a place on the inside that those personas can’t stay in if they are going to defeat mystical creatures and in our excitement of their narratives, we don’t actually perceive of that movement. Ryan never envisioned becoming an addict nor did I and the length of our time together in that position was in part because we were both established in our thoughts about it as well as ourselves. We wanted out of that hell, but we never actually imagined what that would look like other than to have the goal of his no longer using substances as well as the hope that he would never again. Of course, it is difficult to visualize that as a part of our series of movements, imagination is a key to not only holding on but to transforming a mess. As I turn around and look at the yesterdays, I can see how change has always been enfolding me in ways that I love as well as ones that I hate but together all of it is a part of my work of art in progress that is only limited when I forget to imagine what else is possible along my journey. Stay curious about yourself as you become aware of what has been established in you and then leave room to imagine you as so much more. After all, characters in epic tales are the imagination of writers who always envision those personas going through and you are the creator of your story where you get to imagine climbing emotional cliffs, traversing through the weeds, picking flowers, throwing your hands in the air on your ride as well as slaying your kind of dragons despite those established details of your life. Have the best day POSSIBLE for you as you perceive that fixed becomes a dreaded “f” word, a prickle of sorts, if it encourages you to believe that yesterday’s moments have already established tomorrows before you have even gotten there. Love Always, Heavell
All narratives, written and lived, are not just about the flowers because as works of art they are the stories of the highs and the lows that challenge us to understand that life is really just like the painful and yet rewarding process of creating a bed of roses as well as a wished-for place in the sun that feels out of reach when the view of it is from the midst of our messes. Even those authentic “mystical creatures” that appear to be an impasse on our journeys are a particular of the pitch that slows us down in the weeds so that we may discover that the pursuit of happiness is not merely a place to arrive at but one that lives along the way in the sweet blooms that grow from the things that we never ever imagined could hug our hearts or cause us to cry tears from laughing until our stomachs hurt. It’s hard, though, to imagine let alone see all the details that it takes to be all right wherever you are when the appearance of a finished product or a goal has us believing that we are left empty-handed if we don’t have it or we take too long to get to it. There is an object in my home that is a visual representative of my safe-enough and fear invoking rollercoaster ride as the mother of an addict but to most people, its image is just of an inanimate item used to cover food. The definition of that device is understood but the emotions that are connected to what’s there are where it becomes so very personal. What would you think and feel if you had seen me in the yesterdays collapsed on the floor crying hysterically while holding the empty box of what is meant to be used for enclosing food? Would you have perceived of the summary that it shared about just a part of the whole of Ryan’s life? Would you have been able to sit with me while I “flipped out” even if you didn’t feel the same way about that product or what it represented? The thing about those prickles, or dragons or weeds or triggers or whatever word you want to use, is that they are filled with the unseen distinctive details of our stories that pierce us until our pain and fear finds any kind of voice to express what our hearts need to be heard. Funny thing about those very same prickles is that eventually its possible for them to turn and become the reason for the boxes of tissues that we wipe our tears away with as our pain blooms into the funny memories that we presently laugh about. If you look through those different but still real truths about sharp-pointed outgrowths or pain, it’s the place that you are at that determines which one you are seeing and feeling but it doesn’t mean it’s the only position that you will ever hold. Even now as I reach for that inanimate object, with a smile on my face and in my heart, I loudly announce, “There better be foil in the pantry Ryan!” knowing that wherever he is, he’s smiling with his twinkling blue eyes while yelling back “There is today, Mom!” just as the last year and a half of his life had been, but I also laugh because if it’s not there, I am the reason for it. Once in a while I also pause to think about the yesterdays and how the absence of that food cover had the strength to push me off of a cliff even when the last piece covered our leftovers or how for some time seeing it brought me to my knees with the reminder of the loss of him. I never imagined that such a simple item could become a part of the weight of the world for so long and the problem wasn’t what it was, but rather what it had become on the inside of each of us until that long process that works of art go through changed it again. Now, just a glimpse of it on the shelf reminds me that together we gave everything to battle and slay so many dragons in our epic tale where the sometime warriors in the story fell down a lot while learning that there are always details that we can’t see about each other that lead to the different truths and the understandings that take a word like impossible and rearrange it into the ability to breathe while on a trail in hell. After all, a food covering is just a finished product until we give it power with our emotions that come from our pain as well as our fear. What about those prickles of yours? Have you found any blooms amongst them? What do those look like? Or do you need a moment to just sit with you? Have the best day POSSIBLE for you because it’s most definitely about those prickles and the happiness that can be found as you go through them on your way to wherever your wished-for place in the light is. Love Always, Heavell. Seriously though, Love Always, Heaven and Hell
Have you ever thought about the phrase “life isn’t exactly a bed of roses” and how it’s frequent use is for the purpose of implying that to be able to lay on the soft aromatic petals from those inspiring flowers would be an indication of an existence that was easy and desirable? The fact is that those blooms from those plants are indeed a wonder of color for the eye to see, and their sweet fragrance that permeates the air does entice us to lean in to smell them but what about why they have prickles that protrude from their stems? Or what of the balanced environment that those works of art require to grow in let alone produce their blossoms in comparison to other far more comfortable and yet still awe-inspiring greenery that are more flexible with what’s available to thrive in? Or what about the number of petals that it would take just to make a bed that was soft enough to want to rest there? In other words, it seems that a way of living would be pleasant if it were to only hold the ease of exactly what we hope for as well as our goals, but the real truth is that there is a lot of effort involved, as well as pain just from those sharp-pointed outgrowths, that has to be done to have that desirable place to lay. If we had to repeatedly do that work, over time wouldn’t we become tired of the stress of those flowers while no longer seeing their beauty and reaching to cover our noses to prevent their sweet but now pungent aroma from entering our nostrils? Wouldn’t their value fall and we would begin to wish for something else with the idea that life is unfortunately exactly like a bed of roses? Perhaps those plants would even eventually be perceived of as dreaded weeds? That particular phrase focuses on the beauty of a finished product as proof of a desired existence while leaving out the details that each bloom is merely the silent celebration of the challenging tempo and yet often inconspicuous journey of the whole rose bush that has prickles as a part of its story. Over the years of Ryan’s substance use, I had the strong desire to get to that particular part of my trail where life would be like laying on a bed of rose petals and the more it eluded me, the more desperate I felt to get there and the unhappier I became. Some of my “flipping out” back then was a result of that need as well as my limiting belief that happiness is the absence of problems or challenges and a place where breathing is never ever difficult. I thought that a mess couldn’t hold within it the key to finding different truths that lead to those out of the blue wins so closing the door was a better choice. In essence, I wanted the ease of a finished product without understanding the flexibility and patience required to achieve that while at the same time expecting Ryan not to fall when the prickles or the chaos pierced him. As I pass this way again, I imagine that he also had desired the celebration that is found at the end of a pathway but not the work that was and always will be required to get there. Happiness is what then? Is it a place in the sunlight that you think you see but it’s just out of your reach because you are surrounded by rose bushes that use prickles to clamber over everything in their path in order to get there for six to eight hours a day and don’t care if you get punctured in the process? Is it something that only happens when you can cry the kind of tears that come from laughing until your stomach hurts? Or is it that happiness is not the perfect environment but rather the showing up for you as you treat yourself to the experience of all of you? It’s taken a long time for me to perceive that Ryan’s words of “be grateful for the tough lessons mom” meant that happiness breathes wherever we are, but we have to look both ways in order to admire the beauty of the flowers as well as the sharp-pointed protrusions that pierce us. Happiness, for me, is not a destination but what anything can become if we adjust as we go along especially when in the weeds. I am five days away from the third anniversary of his death and I would happily go through every single dreaded “f” moment again just to see his smile and to feel his hug because our happiness lived as a part of the series of movements of our journey rather than the finished product seen at the end. After all, if you look through, you can see that it is most definitely not just about the flowers because it takes a lot of things just for a plant to even produce a single bud. Have the best day POSSIBLE for you as you discover what happiness is in all the ways you live your so very heavell life. Love Always, Heavell
Words are merely letters that have been placed in a particular order to create a term that represents someone or something, and while they seem powerful, they are not until we ourselves give them their strengths and weaknesses through our experiences as well as our emotions that we attach to them. The term dragon, for instance, in one epic tale can be defined as the evil force that needs to be defeated while in another it is the symbolism of a protection that just happens to fly through the sky. Both types can have us on the edge of our seats, and we can either hate them or cheer for them depending on the story that each resides in and what we feel a connection to. Of course, our encounters with those mystical creatures are through things like novels and movies so how is it possible for us to react so passionately about them? In other words what makes them feel authentic in our hearts when we have never actually encountered one? Perhaps it is because the things that do happen in any kind of life can make it seem as if we are surrounded by fire-breathing giant reptiles who know everywhere we try to hide even in the places in our hearts. Over the past month, I have been dealing with quickly losing a very important person in my life as well as experiencing the pain from the loss of Ryan as we approach the three-year mark of his death. As I assured that significant individual that it was okay to let go, I offered up that tale of a smile on my face that is my symbolism of a protective dragon even though I wasn’t necessarily feeling that way. That particular moment even held the familiarity of one that occurred three years ago, a trigger of sorts, where I also reassured Ryan that I would be all right if he died. In the use of simple words that offer encouragement or being positive or even in having flowers, everything sounds good and seems possible but when our chaos holds painful feelings that express their voices through raging dragons, what’s there can cause us to fall hard as well as burn “a whole city down” because it is difficult to breath and think in the midst of a mess. Once I was away from needing the appearance of that grin, I had a few “flipping out” moments that I had to apologize for because while it has always been easier to excuse our behaviors through the justification of what we are feeling or going through, nothing will ever change until we look through to understand how yesterday is still serving a purpose in us today particularly if that form is causing us to walk in circles by remaining the same. What dragons are you battling on your journey? Are you afraid of them because they feel so powerful or is it what they represent in you that you hate? Is there one that is your symbolism of protection? Is it really an expression of your strength or only the appearance of one, such as in the tale of a smile, so that others think you are all right? Words, just like musical notes, are placed in an order that are as strong or as weak as you decide they are based upon your encounters and emotions and while fire-breathing dragons may be the mystical creatures that are used to represent evil and good in grand stories, they can also be found in all the ways that you live your authentic epic narrative. It’s just that their form is seen in pain or fear or anger or addiction or even in the tears that come from laughing until your stomach hurts. This is me, a work of art in progress, and this is also you as you look through. The most important flowers that we will ever hold come from the out of the blue wins that are found in our presence in the weeds because that is where we take each challenging moment and slowly change what’s there into a strength by showing up to learn about who and why we are. Grab some tissues as you look through and may your tears also include the joy of loving you the way you are in a so very heavell life. After all, it is always all right to not always be all right, some dragons are just that fierce, but the power can’t remain the same when we expand our field of view in order to redefine what has been into what will now be. I will start by admitting that my smile, a simple flower of sorts, has definitely been a way for me to avoid dealing with my pain. What are you willing to say, even if only to yourself in the mirror, is the way that you have been keeping your pain at arm’s length even though that dragon always knows where to find you just like mine does in me? I will also acknowledge that at times I express myself through strong emotional terms rather than use the words that would help others to understand me better despite it not being in my best interest nor for anyone else for me to do that. When you look through, is that how you have expected to be heard? What would happen if we just sat down with ourselves in that moment and leaned in to hear what our hearts are really trying to tell us rather than allowing a raging dragon to speak on our behalf? I am going to have to keep trying to do this better especially after I have fallen or even thrown myself off of a cliff. Have the best day POSSIBLE for you as you battle some of your dragons and find safety amongst the rest. Oh hell, it’s definitely not about the flowers unless of course they are the ones that started as weeds, then it is always about those kinds. Love Always, Heavell
In order to tell a story through words, an author places terms in such a way that it allows us to visualize the experiences of the characters even when we cannot see what is happening. To do that very same thing through songs, the sounds of the instruments as well as the vocals unite to create a theme that gives a voice to the emotions that have been or are being felt from an encounter in life. Accompanying those forms of sharing an account is also the utilization of various mediums in order to reproduce a person’s view onto canvases or sculptors that express the color, beauty and powerful emotions seen in people, places and things. We are the readers, the listeners and the admirers of those finished products but as with everything, there are unseen details that surround the creator of each narrative that plays a role in bringing life to those venues. Have you ever thought about what it takes to complete the journey of a work of art or even the context of what the author of it may have been carrying for it to become the authentic interpretation that it did? Or have you thought about how a rapper uses words in a rapid rhythmic way when talking about a pounding heart while an orchestra employs intensified sounds to express that exact feeling of palpitation? There are a multitude of ways to say the very same things but what changes our perception of each expression is how a work of art is emitted, whether we are able to connect to that way or not and the value that we place on it based upon our own beliefs. In your epic tale that is being uttered through your feelings, terms and actions, are you able to find the worth, those out of the blue wins, in how you are expressing yourself even if those things have not been in the best interest of your work of art? In other words, the fear, anger, addiction, grief and “flipping out” are the visuals and the voices of your particular narrative that needs you to sit down with it and if your focus is on the detail of how yours is being emitted, especially in contrast to someone else’s, you won’t be able to hear what your heart is really trying to say. Imagine if a flower could only be painted in a particular style with one color or that all songs were played on one instrument with the same vocalist singing the words or all epic tales could only be about an exact kind of mystical creature or that the story of a field meant only one product ever grew or that the word beauty was defined by a single detail. If life were like that it would appear to make everything easier but then there also wouldn’t be any reason for us to be on the edge of our seats or to admire a work of art or to have hope and goals or to believe in the value of who we each are. Learning to perceive that my grief over the loss of Ryan doesn’t always show up in the tears that require tissues but can also be felt in my laughing until my stomach hurts has helped me to understand that the tale of a smile doesn’t just mean someone feels joy and that the tears that come from breaking a glass cup occur because the door to pain decided it was the perfect moment to throw itself open rather than that the broken object mattered. Even the pitch of a moment or a day can turn the word impossible into “I’m possible” and then force those letters back together again to form impossible in the next moment or day but the more you have knowledge on what your work of art carries for you, the more you will understand what brings life to all the ways you feel and live each and every day. After all, the art of living in heavell isn’t just about the flowers but rather about how you sit with yourself in the weeds while looking in the mirror and giving yourself that reassuring smile that you so easily give to others. Have the best day POSSIBLE for you as you lean in to hear you. Love Always, Heavell
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