performance anxiety

Artist, Josh Cajinarobleto, has been performing daily in the gallery. His work engages sound and simple repitition. In the performance pictured here, he wears a blindfold and spins for 15 minutes on top of a stage that he constructed. Becoming dizzy, he sometimes trips and loses the edge. He has admitted to falling in the past. His performances have caused me such anxiety that I have dreams (nightmares really) about them.  

In one dream, I see him tumbling forward, down each level of the stage,

crashing into the pedestal holding ceramic work nearby.

I told Josh that his work disturbs me and that he has become a recurring interruption in my

otherwise sound sleep.

He responded with a huge smile and "THANKS! That's great!!"

spring - sort of

Pollen is everywhere. I'm sneezing non-stop. Leaves are fresh and green. Sunshine is sun-shiney. Sky is blue. So where are the azalea blooms?

James keeps wandering around the yard - befuddled. Last year, our azaleas bloomed magnificently all through March and April, each taking its turn. He missed it because he was in Miami. The year before that we were in New Orleans.

This year, our dogwoods sort of bloomed and one azalea in the front yard, plus maybe two in the backyard. Each of the plants that bloomed were exactly the same color - magenta. We have, I don't know, 30-40 azaleas. Generally, we have countless shades of red and pink as well as a few white ones. 

So what gives?

Superbowl Sunday

We don't watch football. Sometimes, James will watch a game if Miami is involved, but I don't even bother with fake enthusiasm. However, this week, in anticipation of Superbowl Sunday - we planned a party for two which included potato chips, pretzels, various dips with sour cream and cheese, etc. I really like the idea of a Superbowl party and thought I'd actually be interested in seeing it if we had access to food we never buy or eat.

Sunday rolled around and at 5pm, James started pulling our snacks out of the fridge and placing them on the counter. Surprised, I asked when the game started. He said "6:30 - this is the pre-game snacking." I'm easily swayed, so I jumped right in and we happily sat and ate our chips and pretzels and dip, chatting about the world. Me, asking questions like "So, who is playing tonight?" He, commenting on how fun it was to eat our snacks.

By 6:00, we'd eaten all we could handle and at 6:30 we sat down to watch the game. At 6:35, we changed the channel. By 6:40, I convinced him to watch the documentary on Rwanda that I ordered from Netflix. After that, we ate pumpkin bisque soup for dinner and I wandered off to read my book on the Scarlet Macaws of Belize in bed. I really like Superbowl Sunday.

The Cove

Last night, James and I watched "The Cove." We put it off for two years. We knew about it - thought we should watch it, but couldn't bring ourselves to watch a documentary about the death of dolphins.

While living in the Bahamas, we were witness to the beaching and death of two beaked whales. These were not mass beachings and the whales weren't being fished, but there is strong evidence to support the fact that the sonar used for military testing in the tongue of the ocean - just a mile off shore - frightened and confused the whales, causing them to swim toward land. Officials representing our employer, along with those from the Bahamian government, and the US and British Navy, denied this possibility and stated that the mother whale beached herself because of difficulties post-labor.

None of these entities acknowledged the second whale James, another friend, and I found beached a mile north the following evening, though the whale was covered in military-issued blankets. We were informed that we couldn't speak with the media. We were also adamantly told that the whale was not actually a whale, but instead, a dolphin. At the time, I didn't know why this mattered. After watching "The Cove," I realize this is because there are international laws and organizations that protect whales, but there are no such protections for dolphins.

Two weeks after the beaked whales were beached on the island, several large pods of dolphins came to shore in Miami. News reports stated there was no known cause, but that the dolphins were migrating and seemed to have lost their way.

We left the island shortly after these beachings and we began to write letters and to talk to people. We received little response if any - often a simple form letter thanking us for our concern, but reminding us that we were not experts. We were left feeling helpless to make a difference.

The oceans are home to many, many living beings and, whether we believe it or not, these creatures are impacted by the way we live our lives.  What we eat, what we throw away, where we go on vacation, how we train our military - all contribute to the maintenance and/or decline of ocean species and their environment.

Watch "The Cove." Not because it is easy to see - not because it will make you feel better about yourself. Watch it because it is important to learn what this film will teach you.

To do or not to do

I almost decided to go back to school last week. Almost.

Needing some intellectual stimulation, I spent time looking up UF courses. I picked one - Sub-saharan Africa, Healthcare and the Arts. Upper level undergraduate course. I looked through the associated textbooks - they sounded inspiring, exciting - just what I needed.  I then e-mailed the instructor and shared my interest with her - she happily replied "Yes, there is space! Join us!" I started my registration paperwork and, last Wednesday, I walked into a classroom.

Upon entering, I first aimed for the back, but then thought, "No, I'll sit right up front." I pulled the chair from under the desk and was surprised to find a single thumb tack placed exactly in the center of the seat - ready for its next victim. I was shocked. "Isn't this college? Surely that wasn't intentionally placed in this chair to harm someone...." I removed said thumb tack and settled in.

A few minutes later, class began, the syllabus was distributed and intros started. This student was an undergrad in pre-med, that one in the arts, that one minoring in African studies.... Feeling over-qualified & slightly out of place after my brief intro, I flipped through the syllabus, looking at the projects and assignments, I was surprised to find that I already knew about most of the topics being discussed and I also knew most of the guest professors.

I suddenly realized - I'm past all of this. Not because I don't love learning and I can't benefit from the interactions, but at this point in my life and career, my time is better spent doing rather than listening to others who do.

Perhaps I've just made a new rule for myself as a life-long seeker of knowledge -
no classroom required.

greeting cards

My significant other rarely takes interest in holiday cards. For this reason, I've given up asking him to sign the card or write a note. Imagine my surprise this year, when he spied the stack of sealed, stamped cards and said "Oh, I didn't get to sign the cards." I still didn't think much of it, until later that day, he asked "So, do you mind if I take the cards to the woods so I can decorate them?" Of course I was hesitant (the woods and holiday greetings seems like a recipe for disaster), but I figured he'd forget them. He didn't. He took the entire stack of cards to the river and returned with them a few days later - the envelopes are a sight. Images of trees, rivers, critters, chimney smoke, and even the faces of the card's recipient. He decorated every single card he took with him.  I was disappointed that I had already mailed some of the cards before he discovered the stack.

I mailed his decorated envelopes and showed him that I had written a few more. That morning he sat happily at the table adding adornment to the remaining cards - giggling on occasion as he drew this or that. Who knew who much joy something so simple could bring?

Life's simple pleasures.

Sideshow continues.....

U. Florida’s University Gallery Featured Historical Circus Banners

one way shipping

In our little campus galleries, we don't often pay shippers to move art. Generally, we have staff rent a truck to move it or we hire art students. We have a teeny, tiny budget for the year and most of that money goes to receptions and print materials. Today, I requested a shipping quote for 20 pieces of art - 10 paintings and 10 sculptures - to come from NYC to FLA in April. The quote I received was $4662.00 - one way.

So, today we are discussing the possibility of canceling the show and I'm considering my new career as an art shipper.

A Heather in Wolf's Clothing

After an evening masquerading as a wolf, I decided I prefer to be a Heather.

Wolves are scary. Heathers, generally, are not.

"I thought you was a city girl!"

"I didn't know you was no country girl!" my friend, the art school janitor, yelled across the hall to me this morning. She wasn't heckling me; it was a statement of admiration and understanding (loud though it may have been)- and when she said it, I felt good.

She and I bumped into each other at Alachua County Farm and Feed about a month ago on a Saturday morning. She was buying collard starts, I was buying lettuce starts. She didn't recognize me in my pony tail and gardening clothes and apologized to me the next week when she saw me at the gallery, explaining that she was so surprised to see me there that she forgot my name. Since then, whenever I see her, she asks me about my garden and I ask about hers. We discuss what is working and what isn't, which bugs are the worst and how planting under the full moon was the best thing we could have done for our fall crop.

Today her smile and stories transformed my day and my attitude. Today I am proud to be a country girl.

Let me see your tongue

Each week for the past four, my physical therapist has given me this directive. "Let me see your tongue" So, I abide - not sticking it out and saying 'aaaahhh' for better tonsil viewing - she really just wants to see my actual tongue. Apparently, because she is a doctor of Chinese Medicine, she can determine how my entire body is functioning just by that one act. My tongue has been purple/ pink and not too shiny - it should be pinky/red & shiny. The purple tint indicates blockages and pain in the body - when it is more pale than shiny - that tells you the body is weakened or possibly anemic. She also looks at the coating and then the regions of  my tongue to get more info - she can tell if I have a cold or flu or other infection, if I've been having trouble sleeping, if I'm constipated, if I've been depressed. After I stick out my tongue, she asks me questions to confirm what she has learned.

My therapy has been for a strained rotator cuff, but we talk often about how an injured shoulder can only heal well if the body is in optimal condition to help it. So, she is using acupuncture, ultrasound, cold laser, and massage therapy to put my whole being back in order. Once a week, for an hour and a half, I feel pampered and  cared for by a doctor who has my best interest in mind. She doesn't rush me to heal, and, instead, encourages me to be patient and enjoy the healing process, because pain and suffering create awareness, and with healing is growth.

the circus is leaving town

For the past 6 weeks, I've been surrounded by the bearded lady, lobster boy, rubber boy, the tallest man, the smallest woman, the queen of tattoo, half rat/ half rabbit, Gaucho, the world's smallest horse - all ALIVE!!!! At least they were at one time, maybe not anymore. All are gigantic banner paintings of real people & animals who spent their lives on display in the sideshows that used to travel with circuses such as Ringling Bros, Barnum & Bailey and Hall & Christ.

Each Friday at noon, we've had performances to celebrate the excitement and daring of the circus. Aerial dancers, mod dancers, jazz ensembles, and even a sword swallower entertained us.

The show and performances brought people who have never been to the gallery - including circus animal trainers and retired performers. All with memories and a great love of the big top.

Bittersweet to say goodbye to the banners and their stories. Until next time the circus comes to town.....

momentum

A previous student, Salisu, emailed me this week. He asked about my life and I brought him up to speed.  His question to me was "Why are you are working at the University again? I thought you returned to Florida to follow your dream." "My dream?" I wondered to myself. What was my dream?
Isn't it- wasn't it - hasn't it always been - to explore, to learn, to teach, to eat, to share, to laugh, to love, to be loved, to play, to give, to take, to hope, to win, to fail, to always always keep keeping on????
What I know about me and what I guess I failed to explain clearly to my dear friend is that my dream is always to dream bigger, to do more - differently, each time than what I've done before.
This, unfortunately, isn't measurable and doesn't fit into a five year plan.
My dream is to move forward, to know more people, to have more experiences, to make a small difference in the world every single day.
I figure, if I'm going to dream - why not dream big?

Back in Gainesville, back to work, back to school, back, back, back.

senior envy

For a mere $10, a person or couple aged 62 or over, who happen to travel the US in the same car, can own a Golden Age Pass. This magic card not only has a pretty picture, but it grants you unlimited entry to US National Parks and Federal Recreational areas - for the rest of your life. For a one-time fee of $10, a senior citizen can see the Grand Canyon, Yosemite, Smoky Mountains National Park, Yellowstone, Crater Lake, and so much more - and you can put up to 3 other adults your car(these adults don't have to be 62).  The whole US is at your fingertips, seniors, so -  GO - pay the equivalent of one dinner at Shoney's and see this amazing country.

For those of us 62 and under, we can purchase a pass for $80 per year. Still an unbelievable deal when individual park entries range from $20 - $30 per car.

sometimes you walk

james and i have gone approximately 80 miles by foot in the past month. never a strenuous journey - never running - never carrying a heavy load. just casually walking through the forests of tennessee, kentucky, virginia and north carolina. just to see what is there. just to hear the birds and sit in waterfalls. the more we walk the more we realize that we can never walk enough, we can never see enough, we never be outside enough. we need our time to be quiet, to reflect, to exercise, and to energize. we need it so that we can continue being normal every other day that we live and breathe. we need it like we need food and air and water. we need to be outside, we need to walk. we think other people must also need it, yet, mostly on our walks, we see no other person or people.

we walk to live. to cope. to be normal. we invite all others to walk outside for the same reasons.

tired feet - happy heart

Today was filled with my favorite things.....Lazy morning, Indian buffet at Mela in Asheville, hiking with good friends in Pisgah Forest (once again a longer hike than anticipated, followed by a double scoop ice cream cone (one scoop Moose Tracks, one scoop coffee) at Dolly's Dairy Bar. Now I'm sleepy and watching my friends make dinner. I love summer vacation.

ready or not

sometimes you do things that you are ready for. you go to the grocery and you have your list. you go to school and you have completed your homework. you go to cut your grass and your lawnmower has fuel. it's simple. you have advance notice of your task - and you do it.
sometimes you do things that you aren't so prepped to complete. you show up at the grocery and you don't really know what what you need. you go to work and you forgot to finish that excel spreadsheet. or - like James and me - you go on a hike - thinking that you were ready for 2. 5 miles - you are stretched  - you have food - you have energy - you are good to go - yet... the hike is longer, higher, harder, and it never seems to end. You stop for snacks underneath a giant old oak and you talk about the fact that you've been walking for 3 hours yet you seem to be nowhere near the end... you walk a bit more and you stop and drink some water and take another look at the sad little campground map... you walk another half hour past that and you resist the urge to sit on the rock and instead keep walking almost vertically - up - to the next point - "I'm sure it was supposed to take two - three hours."  Finally, you admit that you don't know where you are, where you've been or what might happen next and you turn around. Maybe you are defeated a bit, because you didn't finish the hike, the journey, the goal. But the reality is, you tried, you did something, you made the effort, you went outside, you were alive - today. So, who cares how high, how far, how hard you went? You went - that's all that matters.

avoid'n the rain

when all that sits between you and a potluck is a violent rainstorm... you might miss the potluck.

today has been worth a million bucks.
farm tour 2010 has been our motivation. firefly farm our destination.
for the past two days - we've counted visitors, shared info about the farm, played with puppies, told stories, heard a few, gone for a swim in the south toe river, picked some greens, made a salad.
life is good. we're sleepy.
and as the rain finally falls, we're sure glad we're the ones on the porch.

mountain retreat

James and I headed north last Tuesday. Our plans keep changing, so we weren't sure where our first stop would be. We drove through Georgia without even a brief hesitation and ended up in southeastern Tennessee before ever blinking an eye. Though we didn't know we were going there, when we arrived in Cherokee National Forest in the Chilhowee Campground, we both knew we'd stay for a few days at least.
Our last visit to the campground was two years ago during a forced evacuation from New Orleans for Hurricane Gustav. We ended up therequite accidentally after spending a few days in Alabama with our good friends Jill and Pinky. We couldn't return to NOLA yet and knew we needed to retreat to nature, so we headed northeast toward the NC mountains. We arrived in TN, saw the Ocoee River, and I (in a rare moment of bossiness:) demanded a cabin by the water. Alas, no cabins were available, yet the nice park ranger pointed toward the mountain and told us to head 7 miles north. We followed his instructions - drove to camp spot C12 and stayed there for the next four days. We couldn't remember what we did during that time, but we knew there were trails and a waterfall.

So, on Tuesday when we arrived, we were surprised at how much we remembered and didn't remember of that journey. We followed the trail that wound its way to Benton Falls and we sat at the top of the falls the first day. The next day we returned again and sat at the bottom of the falls. Other people came and went. We watched them and we watched the water. We took walks, smelled the green of the forest, and the reddish brown dirt, we read a little, talked a little, and felt amazingly complete and content. Some places in the world are meant for healing and recharging - this one serves that purpose for us.