our inside selves

A few days ago I visited with an artist-friend in our studio.   My newly made Seville marmalade was the excuse for our meeting and partnered with her freshly baked scones, we settled into conversation.

I had shared some of my Letter Poems with her through email, and I showed her another,  pulled from the drawer. It was one I knew well, so I recited it to her rather than reading it.

She immediately said that she wanted to video me, standing against the white wall behind us, reciting the poem.  My reaction was loud and clear...."absolutely not!"  The suggestion ignited terror in me.

She responded that she was completely surprised by my reaction as she sees me as a person "out there" and "so self-confident".

Other people have said  something similar. It's what they see. It's not how I usually see myself.

I often come back to something a therapist shared with me, perhaps 30 years ago: 

"We compare our inside selves to other people's outside selves."

I think that my friend was comparing her vulnerable inside self to my outside self. Meanwhile,  I see her as an artist, not only of creative excellence, but also of great confidence.

Later in the day, while speaking to a friend, I spoke of a memory I had from my early days in Duncan.  At that time, I had immersed myself in painting: I was free and having a wonderful time.  

An artist friend invited Brian and me to her studio where she had a show of perhaps 40 portraits painted on small metal panels.  We took our time looking at her work, and chose one to buy.  

My perception was that she was extremely confident in her work to exhibit such a large number of paintings.  

What that meant to me was that she was super confident!

I was comparing my inside self to her outside self.

I am preparing to have books of my Letter Poems printed, perhaps as early as this week.

HOW BRAVE! 

Yes, that my be true, however that does not stop me from trash talking to myself! 

"What am I thinking?!"  "Who will want to buy one?!" "I think I should reduce the number of copies Island Blue is printing!"  

These negative thoughts are then added to my criticizing the poems I've selected to have printed.

So, while people see my bravery and confidence, they don't see the inner torment I'm facing, the "not good enough" cloud resting on my shoulders.

Writing this, I see that my vulnerability is part of who I am.  This emotional exposure and uncertainty makes me easily hurt, however it moves me forward.  It allows me to risk, trying new things

I love receiving comments and it seems email and Facebook are more reliable than this site.

my dear friend

 I am going through our book shelves once again.

"Will I ever read this book?"  I ask myself. And the question, "Will I reread this book?" follows in quick succession.

A pile of "No I won't" balances precariously on an Ikea black stool in our den.

I see a piece of paper tucked between the "30 Minute Seder" haggadah and The Diary of Anne Frank.

As I begin to read, I see it is a letter I wrote several years ago after my dear friend Jean died.

Today, as my blog entry, I will transcribe this note, just as I wrote it. 

It is an honouring of Jean.  

"dear source. I am needing your comfort right now as I feel compressed- holding myself too close- I wish to understand where to find comfort for the sadness I am feeling with the loss of my dear friend   Jean and the sadness I feel that I will not be able to walk around the neighbourhood with her and notice the trees' cones and the flowers, with falling seeds to put into our pockets. Who will miss me, I wonder- and where is Jean now? I believe she must be somewhere, floating around making shadows on my studio wall- beside me as I tidy my garden. Oh, the source of all- where do people go when they die? Where will I go? Who will hold my shadow in their arms, as I hold Jean's.

My dear Jackie- your heart is open- to sadness and also to love. The sadness will never leave you fully- it will sit and mix with gladness & the joy that your heart also holds. You will still notice the flowering plants & you will still gather seeds & put them in your pockets. The memories of Jean will be a part of your life forever. It will not be in the same way, and remember there are many many ways. An uncountable series of thoughts & feelings, and you will experience them all.

Jean is with you- though in a different manner than before.  Your parents are also beside you always. In the sun's rays, in the clouds' forms and in the dancing shadows on your studio walls."

   May her memory be a blessing.

This is the letter I found, tucked between 2 books

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