In the dark...

My spouse was already out cold. I’d almost completed the rituals in preparation for rest and stood at the side of the bed after a very long day. I flicked on the light, set the phone alarm, applied lip balm, fished the sleep mask from the top drawer and skimmed it into position across my eyes effectively blocking all visual information. I kicked off the slippers and slid into bed, pulled up the covers and the universal sigh of “I finally get to lie down” emanated from somewhere deep in my soul. Blissful deprivation with the relative quiet of evening in a suburb of twenty thousand people right over the back fence from 2 plus million. I’d curled into my favorite dream position and was dropping off when the voice came out of the dark, very close to my ear…


“So, Zorro, you gonna sleep with the light on all night long?”


I’ve mentioned before our bodies are the evolutionary product of thousands of millennia and physically our responses are slow to catch up and cope with the myriad of technological stimulations we’re subjected to. Back in the day, we slept in caves and didn’t have to deal with blinking cell phones, glow from alarm clocks, computers downloading at three a.m. and street lights seeping glare through the blinds. I’m told there are even those who sleep with the television on. In the bedroom.

The consequences of these exterior conditions are hard on the health of our still indigenous bodies. Melatonin is a hormone necessary for the regulation of numerous critical physiological functions. Melatonin doesn’t trigger and function properly in the presence of a light source, no matter how small. Recently, studies suggest women who sleep with lights on have a higher incidence of breast cancer. Yep. It’s serious.

One of the solutions, when we don’t have the option to regulate our environment, is a simple sleep mask.

So, turn off the lights and keep the sword handy, just in case.

Kumari Devi

Thought it may be time to post some of the work I’ve been doing in the past months.  A departure from the usual in some cases, all of it fun to do.

2012, gouache on watercolor paper, 9.25 x 9.25, private collection

Kumari Devi means virgin goddess. She certainly was a pleasure to paint and get to know.

 

Hope


 

What if it were this easy?

What if we could look up the hill when we’re slogging through the dark places of our nightmares to see a sign announcing hope only 16 miles away? Not only that, we’re offered rest and time out for a little fishing.

Hope is a commodity so dear to the human condition we’re willing to walk through the fire if we think hope is waiting with a cold drink and cool towels on the other side.  We all seek the relief of hope.  

What happens if we’ve trusted the sign, and we’re halfway down the trail with a burning thirst and blisters and wonder if we really saw a sign?

When the flare isn’t this clearly visible, where do we find hope?

Often, hope ignites when a complete stranger shares a moment of compassion through kindness and our optimism restores or hope may be a spiritual gift from a gracious Universe very personally invested in our aspirations.

Most frequently, hope resides as an eternal spark in our own murky interior. When we can’t find hope in the present we can access our memory of hopeful times and memory will stimulate a regeneration of incentive. Because of the way the mind works with memory, the same chemicals produced at the time of the initial hopeful episode recreate in the present and flood through our systems to bring the uplift we desperately need. This is one of the times there is merit in looking back.

We humans are in all, amazing creatures.

Eternal Memory...

St. Nicholas Memorial Chapel built in 1906 over the graves of Father Igumen Nicholai, Makari Ivanov and a monk whose name is not recorded. I painted this structure when I was very young and now have the opportunity to paint it again. Most of the homes where I spent early childhood were destroyed in the earthquake or burned. This humbly elegant building remains ever constant.