tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34048269278517748702024-03-12T19:47:18.158-07:00Mimi's ArtMimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.comBlogger121125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-29881902618005225452015-05-27T08:20:00.002-07:002015-05-27T08:21:28.100-07:00Blog has moved.Please note my blog has moved, and is now located <a href="http://www.mimisart.com/the-muse-speaks-aka-my-blog">HERE.</a>Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-56294421361474016622015-05-02T11:43:00.000-07:002015-05-02T11:43:16.636-07:00Painting LilyWriting a blog post on the run because I simply MUST have something more current - AND I have exciting news to share.<div>
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The decision has been made to indie-publish the novel you've been hearing about for the past two years.</div>
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Yes, PAINTING LILY will be available to purchase as an e-book AND in trade paperback by July 1, and quite possibly a lot sooner!</div>
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The first question, what's it about? Not going to tell you just yet.</div>
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But here's the cover. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FwjI0sz-CIY/VUUai5cBsOI/AAAAAAAABbU/RBO0c0NbDh8/s1600/PAINTING%2BLILY%2Bfront%2Bcover.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FwjI0sz-CIY/VUUai5cBsOI/AAAAAAAABbU/RBO0c0NbDh8/s1600/PAINTING%2BLILY%2Bfront%2Bcover.png" height="320" width="215" /></a></div>
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Enjoy!</div>
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MUCH more to come in the weeks ahead! Soooooooo exciting!</div>
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Mimi</div>
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-23910459661668905542015-02-19T20:30:00.000-08:002015-02-19T20:30:05.251-08:00Oh Wow.Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow.<br />
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Those are the words rumored to be the last of Steve Jobs, co-founder of Apple, when he died in October, 2011.<br />
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They are the same words I used to begin my mother's eulogy, after she died one year later in October, 2012.<br />
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And they are the words rolling around in my head this evening, as I attempt sleep, but am awakened by the realization that some hugely significant goals are beginning to come to fruition. Oh wow.<br />
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It's not like they're just falling into my lap. I've been working on them, one of them in particular, for two years now. Yes, I'm talking about the book thing. The novel. LYING OUT LOUD (the working title). Agents are being queried. There's a Facebook buzz beginning. And tonight, a random conversation turned into someone I know telling me they know an agent, and, well, so it goes.<br />
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"Are we there yet?" comes the cry from the backseat. No, not quite yet. But getting ever so closer. Be patient, my love. Just a little longer.<br />
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I can feel it. Can't put my finger on it, but something is different this time.<br />
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It was two years ago, after my mother died, and my other mother died (Jeanie Moyer - the one who was my art instructor from the age of 12 and one of the most significant influences on my entire life), and THEN, on February 25, 2013, I learned that my dear friend Evana died. One, two, three... that was when I decided I HAD to quit my day job at the time and devote myself to writing the novel. And of course I ended up taking another day job, for a while, but all the while, I continued to write.<br />
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Two hours every morning, parked in my car at the beach, I wrote the first draft, longhand, in about four months. I had no idea how long it would take to revise, and query for an agent, and get rejected, and revise some more, and query again, and get rejected again, and revise, revise, revise some more. <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7xyolYK83q4/VOa32UIa9RI/AAAAAAAABaQ/-wpn1wSmb7I/s1600/mobile%2Boffice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7xyolYK83q4/VOa32UIa9RI/AAAAAAAABaQ/-wpn1wSmb7I/s1600/mobile%2Boffice.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My "revisions" office!</td></tr>
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Until here I am again, sending out query letters, with fingers and toes crossed hoping that this time there will be an agent who will love this book as much as I do and who will find a publisher for me who loves it as much as I do who will bring it to life so that readers everywhere can fall in love with it as much as I have. And I will admit, yes, I have. Fallen in love with it. It's been like that Bill Murray movie, Groundhog's Day. I've been reading the same novel over and over and over again for the past two years, and every time I do, even though I'm the one who wrote the words, there are times I laugh out loud, and times I cry, and times I think "oh wow" this is really, really cool. I LOVE this book.<br />
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Why did I do it?<br />
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Because life is short. And we never know when. And we're told to not die with our music still in us.<br />
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And because I think it is an important story to be told. The characters came to life, as I was advised they might. They surprised me with where they went, and what they said, and what they did, and one time, the phone rang, and I thought I knew who would pick it up and it was an entirely new character who I didn't even know existed, but he showed up and said hello.<br />
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So there, I've said it. I've written a novel. I'm learning to say it out loud. And every time I do, there's a little voice in my head (I think she's about 13 years old, the one who says it) - she says "oh wow."<br />
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Stay tuned... the best is yet to come. Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow.<br />
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<br />Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-86149899023778636132015-02-13T07:00:00.001-08:002015-02-13T07:00:48.355-08:00Birthday Love...Tuesday, Feb. 10. Woke up with the cold from h**l. No party for this birthday gal.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oHoI_KPV5MI/VN4Q5lYhSWI/AAAAAAAABaA/jrrCAs83E3g/s1600/one%2Byear%2Bme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oHoI_KPV5MI/VN4Q5lYhSWI/AAAAAAAABaA/jrrCAs83E3g/s1600/one%2Byear%2Bme.jpg" height="218" width="320" /></a></div>
8:30 am. Check email and Facebook. WHAT?! NO birthday greetings??? Do my friends not love me anymore?<br />
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8:59 am. Phone rings. "Happy Birthday, Mama! How's your day so far?"<br />
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"Thank you, Anna, but so far you're the only one I've heard from. I don't understand. Usually Facebook is the most awesome thing on my birthday, but there's nothing yet - not a single person has wished me a happy birthday. Not feelin' the love today."<br />
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"It'll get better Mom. I promise."<br />
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Phone call ended, I go back to the computer. Occurs to me to check the privacy settings. Well, duh, I had my birthday info blocked. Have to Google around a bit to figure out how to fix it (not sure who I love more - Google or Siri - can find the answer to ANYTHING!). Open the privacy floodgates and whammo...<br />
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9:32am. They start POURING in! WHEEE! My friends DO still love me!<br />
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Yes, that was the way my birthday began. Kinda lame. But I gotta say - in the next 12 hours - over 100 friends, co-workers, ex-boyfriends, elementary school buddies, former everybody's... they logged in to say happy birthday! Over 100!!!!!! Say what you will about Facebook, but on my birthday, it absolutely rocks.<br />
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I'm a bit of a sap when it comes to birthdays. Love to celebrate others... and cherish the day personally. I've thrown successful surprise parties for others, and house gatherings for myself. Another year older - it's time to celebrate, not grump about growing older. I'm grateful to be here, and to be surrounded by the love of so many with whom I get to share the journey.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-v_O6i2Oxly0/VN4OuHfqTSI/AAAAAAAABZ0/YSz5vjdsLlY/s1600/birthday%2Bfireplace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-v_O6i2Oxly0/VN4OuHfqTSI/AAAAAAAABZ0/YSz5vjdsLlY/s1600/birthday%2Bfireplace.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a>This year was different (go back to that cold from h**l thing) so I spent the evening alone, in front of the fireplace, working on my novel - which a literary wise woman recently corrected me to say I need to stop calling it MY novel and call it by name - so let me say - ahem - clear my throat and speak it proudly - I spent the evening in my LazyBoy in front of the fire working on THE novel - <u>Lying Out Loud</u>. And it ended up being a lovely night. Had barbecue ribs and chocolate chip cookies for dinner (yes, seriously - no salad or sides - just ribs and home made cookies!) - Rosie the wonder dog at my side and Dora the daring cat on my lap - here in my cozy home that I love so much - and it was - yes - SERENE. Defined the word.<br />
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THANK YOU to each and every one of you - the 100+ who took the time to type happy birthday to me this past Tuesday. THANK YOU to those who picked up the phone to call. THANK YOU to those who sent me beautiful, thoughtful cards.<br />
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EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU brought a smile to my face. And whether or not you heard it, with each one read, I said thank you, out loud, here in front of my computer screen.<br />
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It is said there is a ripple effect for every action we do, good or bad. The simple act of typing happy birthday - or smiling when passing a stranger on the street - we never know how much it might make a difference in their life. Never stop saying I love you - or reaching out in whatever way feels right to you at the time. Life is meant to be celebrated. It is a gift that is meant to be cherished.<br />
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55 years now I've had the privilege of being on this planet, with so many dear ones come and gone. May each and every one of you know how VERY much I appreciate you... sending warmest hugs of gratitude, smiles, and virtual birthday cake! I DID feel your love - I DO feel your love - and I send it right back to you!<br />
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xo<br />
Mimi<br />
(yes, that IS me on my first birthday, with my brother Bob looking dapper in his bow tie!)<br />
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<br />Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-2707421790848036582014-08-15T17:48:00.001-07:002014-08-15T17:48:24.819-07:00A lovely nightIt started with a canvas, given to me by a friend a couple of months ago. The canvas originated with his artistic, autistic daughter. Was passed on to his mother. Neither of whom chose to paint on it. It landed in the backseat of my car one night after dinner. "Here, you might be able to use this." <i>Well, sure, thank you,</i> I thought, <i>I'm always happy to have new canvas.</i><br />
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I used it to paint a portrait, a commission piece that was rejected by the client, in exchange for a new attempt. Rather than stare at a portrait that made me sad, I painted over it with fresh white paint, ready to take on a new project, another day.<br />
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That day was last night. <br />
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Before I came into the studio, I went to the beach for an early evening swim. And the sky was spectacular. Like this...<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XRfB32_sPlQ/U-6ioU7LczI/AAAAAAAABY0/0xP-ZRQ-Hq8/s1600/Sky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XRfB32_sPlQ/U-6ioU7LczI/AAAAAAAABY0/0xP-ZRQ-Hq8/s1600/Sky.jpg" height="200" title="" width="160" /></a><br />
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Then I came into the gallery for the evening, and decided to paint what I had just seen. Grabbed the painted over canvas, put it on the easel and got to work. A family came in - mother, father, son and daughter, while the painting was at its earliest stage. Just some streaks of blue across the sky. I invited them to come back in after they'd eaten dinner, to see the progress.<br />
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They did. The painting was about 75% complete at that point. I invited the daughter, age 11, to take the brush and put a few strokes into the sky. She did, timidly. Then I invited her brother, 13, autistic, to do the same. He grabbed the brush boldly, and made one long, determined vertical stroke right in the middle of all of the horizontal clouds. And a grin spread, a wide one, across his face.</div>
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The family stayed a while, we chatted, it was a lovely visit. </div>
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After they left, I was faced with the decision of what to do with the painting. Should I "correct" that one bold vertical stroke, or simply leave it as is.</div>
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I opted for the latter. So that the painting might stand as a reminder to me of what is important. Because when they left, my thought was "THAT is the juice of life." It's not about how much I sell and it's not about being perfect in execution of the colors and strokes that make up a sunset. The creative process is about JOY. It is about sharing. It is about people, and beauty.</div>
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The blog I originally intended to write this week was going to be about life, and how we are reminded how precious it is only when we lose someone dear to us. So many of us mourned the suicide of Robin Williams... a man who most of us knew only as a comic genius on the tv, or in a movie. And we wondered how a man so loved, so funny, so brilliant and quick of wit, "successful" in the eyes of the world - how could he feel so unloved, so desperate, as to find the only way through life to be to find a way out of it.</div>
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I ran into a former co-worker in a store this week, and in a hurry, didn't bother to say more than a quick hello, and move on. I didn't take the time to stop, to ask how she was. And was horrified a few days later when I read the newspaper to discover that just a few days before I saw her, her thirty two year old son had died, tragically, unexpectedly. And I felt absolutely awful, in hindsight, for not having taken that extra minute to care. To connect.</div>
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Life offers us reminders of the impact of one small act of kindness. Sometimes on a grand scale, sometimes in the seemingly smallest of ways, but all important.</div>
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The painting stands. I find it a pretty cool "full circle" thing that the canvas originally bought for one with autism ended up being a source of delight to another of the same. Coincidence? I think not. God at work in the lives of all involved? Absolutely.</div>
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The next time I rush past someone I know, I pray that I will be more mindful, to take the time to connect. I pray I do not allow my own hurriedness to prevent an opportunity to show compassion, one that I missed, badly, this week.</div>
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I'm searching for a lofty last sentence and not finding one. I simply felt compelled to share, to inquire more deeply into my own feelings and reactions. If you read this, please comment. I've love to hear what you have to say.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tzs-V8xKXJM/U-6fP5biBBI/AAAAAAAABYo/jSw8EgXgZLA/s1600/Kelsey'sCanvas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tzs-V8xKXJM/U-6fP5biBBI/AAAAAAAABYo/jSw8EgXgZLA/s1600/Kelsey'sCanvas.jpg" height="320" width="235" /></a>Oh - and here is the painting. As is. With love and gratitude to you for reading this. </div>
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Mimi</div>
Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-51794244042386955622014-06-14T16:22:00.002-07:002014-06-14T16:52:38.735-07:00From There to HereSaturday evening in the gallery. May I muse on a bit with you? <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0xoMhCT-7A&feature=kp" target="_blank">And here's a soundtrack to accompany this blog (click to YouTube)</a><br />
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It's been an interesting string of weather... not quite summer yet (and the calendar gives us another week anyway), but the trees are thick and lush, certainly not early Spring either. "We're getting there" seems to be a common phrase. Which begs the question of where is "there?"<br />
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Obviously in the case of weather discussion it is summer. Idyllic time of flip flops, longer days, open windowed sleeping at night, and here on Cape Cod, boating, swimming, and all varieties of beach time.<br />
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I muse on the "getting there" question. I've been a church musician for the past ten years, and about once a month after church, there is a retired organist who says to me, about my organ playing, "you're getting there" which I think is her way of offering a compliment, though I always find myself walking away, shaking my head, and wondering where the "there" is to which she refers. And how will I know when I have arrived? <br />
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We do that with so many things in life, don't we? We seek the perfect relationship, the perfect home, the perfectly organized sock drawer (ok, just making sure you're paying attention!). But what if "there" is an elusive goal to which we can never quite arrive? And the real "there" is more honestly "here?" What if in our quest for perfection, we miss the beauty and joy in the here and now?<br />
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I learned that lesson when I watched my mother decline for several years in a nursing home. We hoped she would improve, focused on finding ways to help her in the process, and yet she continued to decline. And with our emphasis on improvement, we missed the quality that she maintained at the time. And it continued to disappear. And we continued to miss it, until the very end, when we finally accepted that it was as good as it was going to be. And then she was gone.<br />
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How many perfectly exquisite "here" moments do we miss in our question for "getting there?" I far prefer, at the ripe age of 54, to focus on what is in front of me, right now. To allow myself to be spontaneous, rather than plan every moment of my days. Sure, I still have goals. It is important to continue to grow. Yet not, in my humble opinion, at the expense of losing the joy in where I am right now. What relationships do I have that I value? To whom might I show a little extra love and concern, whether they ask for it or not? What word of joy might I offer, or maybe even a simple smile, that could brighten someone's day?<br />
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A couple of weeks ago, in the gallery one afternoon, I looked out and saw a woman I know getting into her car. Not someone with whom I was close. I wasn't even sure that she would remember my name. I hadn't seen her in several months. So I didn't take the time to go out to say hi. Then less than a week later I heard the news of her involvement in a life-threatening car accident. And I kicked myself for not having taken the time to share a friendly word or two with her, when I could, because I could.<br />
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So what's your point, Mimi? My point is that maybe in our desire to get there, we miss here. Right now. This moment. The light outside my window. The gentle music on the stereo. The beauty around me. The kind words offered to me earlier in the day by a virtual stranger who passed through the gallery. <br />
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Stop, please, for just a moment. Take a deep breath. Maybe another two or three. And look around you. Feel the grass underfoot. Pet the dog. Snuggle with a loved one. Be. Right here.<br />
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Are we there yet? Oh yes. Right now. In every moment.<br />
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Peace and blessings to all.<br />
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xo<br />
Mimi<br />
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<br />Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-25091823002002638992014-04-09T09:44:00.005-07:002014-04-09T09:44:40.998-07:00A new day...It's done. Finished.<br />
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The novel.<br />
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Yes, I know. I've said it before. October 15, 2013, to be exact. I was in query process for an agent.<br />
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But it didn't work, then. So I asked a few trusted wise women to read it, and discuss it with me. Went back to the proverbial drawing board, or in this case the writer's desk. Added characters. Allowed new plot twists. It grew from 69,000 words to 87,000 words. I read it again. Revised. Read again. Revised. Read again. And changed the title.<br />
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It's done. Again. And I spent the past week writing the next batch of query letters, to seek an agent, the perfect agent. The one who "gets it" and wants to help me share the story with the world.<br />
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Now it's time to let it rest. See what comes back. I must be patient.<br />
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The good news? During my last full read through, on April 1 (April Fools' Day - gotta love that!), I found myself laughing out loud, cursing at the antagonist, cheering on my beloved protagonist. Yes, after reading variations on the same novel, over and over and over and OVER again, for the past six months, I still love it. So whatever happens, whether it ever reaches the New York Time Bestseller list, I have written what I felt compelled to write, and I feel good about it. No, correct that. I feel in awe of it. Comparable to the training I did to complete my marathon back in 2005. A disciplined process, showing up at the page every morning. Did the work on my own, but with the love and support and encouragement of a whole team of friends who cheered me on in the face of what looked like a ridiculous waste of time. I did it!<br />
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The bad news? You still have to wait to learn more. Sorry about that.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZgZFLTB8pYg/U0V2CkEBARI/AAAAAAAABXI/HZeKKUKQbiw/s1600/photo+2-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZgZFLTB8pYg/U0V2CkEBARI/AAAAAAAABXI/HZeKKUKQbiw/s1600/photo+2-1.JPG" height="300" title="" width="400" /></a>Meanwhile - I have this lovely new gallery/studio to enjoy. Time to get back to the paints. Please do stop by to say hello. I'm at <a href="https://www.google.com/maps/place/410+W+Falmouth+Hwy/@41.5926918,-70.6357207,17z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m2!3m1!1s0x89e4da1d104b52a9:0x593a42cf259588bf" target="_blank">410 West Falmouth Highway</a>, right next to the Chapoquoit Grill restaurant. I'm experimenting with what hours I'll be open, so just give a call or text before you come by and I'll be sure to be there. 508-548-3278<br />
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Now, step away from your computer, go out into the sunshine and breathe in some gorgeous spring air! And thank you, as always, for reading my blog.<br />
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xo<br />
Mimi<br />
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<br />Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-83460053971698766152014-03-12T15:17:00.000-07:002014-03-13T05:08:59.113-07:00A fifth chance...Often, life offers us a second chance. Less often, we are offered a third, fourth, or even fifth chance.<br />
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Three years ago today, I took the sign down for Mimi's Art Gallery and Studio on 95 Palmer Avenue in Falmouth. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MzYT1ukOhT4/UyCz9oFZM-I/AAAAAAAABWY/tlXCE1eo-C0/s1600/194077_1752853735203_5816945_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MzYT1ukOhT4/UyCz9oFZM-I/AAAAAAAABWY/tlXCE1eo-C0/s1600/194077_1752853735203_5816945_o.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">March 12, 2011<br />
95 Palmer Avenue<br />
the sign comes down!</td></tr>
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Today, exactly three years later, I am blessed to rehang the very same sign at 410 West Falmouth Highway, West Falmouth (next to the Chapoquoit Grill on 28A)<br />
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My first thought when I came home the night I got the okay on renting the space was "Wow, God, you're giving me a second chance! This is amazing!"<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-91HpxOmQrVw/UyDY5nLruzI/AAAAAAAABWo/fLMYn8gqDMM/s1600/new+gallery+pic+w:sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-91HpxOmQrVw/UyDY5nLruzI/AAAAAAAABWo/fLMYn8gqDMM/s1600/new+gallery+pic+w:sign.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">March 12, 2014<br />
410 West Falmouth Highway<br />
the sign finds a new home!</td></tr>
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After further thought, I realized this is actually the 5th incarnation for the gallery. First there was a tiny breezeway gallery in my home in West Falmouth back in 1997. Followed by a larger studio and gallery space in my home in North Falmouth in 2001. Followed by the commercial retail space at 95 Palmer Avenue in 2009. Then a small studio space at the Cataumet Arts Center in 2011 for just a few months. Then a period of only a home studio and website.<br />
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Each one of these locations served its own unique purpose at its time in my life. I consider not a single one to have been a failure. I believe (and hope, oh so very much hope) that I have learned something from each of those other experiences that will enable me to make a better go of things this time around. This time, the fifth time, there is a new, vibrant energy.<br />
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It is located immediately adjacent to the Chapoquoit Grill restaurant, so I intend to be open most evenings, to coincide with the restaurant's open hours, as well as Saturday mornings. Significantly smaller than the gallery many of you knew at 95 Palmer Avenue, the focus will be mainly as working studio, with ample wall space for gallery display. Other details? Stay tuned! They will evolve over the weeks ahead.<br />
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When asked during the past several years "what do you miss most about your gallery?" my answer was an easy one. Hands down, it was the opportunity to meet new people every day, and share my work with them - to hear their reactions, their questions, their stories about how art influences their lives. For there is no greater reward, in this artist's humble opinion, than to see someone's eyes light up, and a grin spread on their face, when they view one of my creations.<br />
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Today, a new chapter begins. Each painting tells a story, and I am learning to more boldly tell mine. And yes, the novel is still in process, but more on that in another blog entry.<br />
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With deepest gratitude to each and every one of you who share this journey with me,<br />
<br />
MimiMimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-32920878922176331262013-10-15T11:51:00.000-07:002013-10-15T13:36:44.326-07:00To tell or not to tell... that is the question!I have this bad habit of telling people too much too soon.<br />
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I say that it's bad because I think sometimes it clouds my ability to make my own wise decisions. It invites in too many other voices and opinions, which of course are based on someone else's experiences, not my own, and then I feel beholden to listen to them. Which is not always wise. I need to trust my own voice, my own wisdom, my own intuitive knowings.<br />
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I spent the past six months writing a novel. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9fmqe4gwwH0/Ul2kCuBeqzI/AAAAAAAABVg/Iyy2F5Bb_Do/s1600/Mobile+office.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9fmqe4gwwH0/Ul2kCuBeqzI/AAAAAAAABVg/Iyy2F5Bb_Do/s320/Mobile+office.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mobile office</td></tr>
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There. I've said it. Just blurted it out.<br />
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And I've found that when I say that, the next question is always, "oh, really, so what's it about?" To which I must answer, "I can't tell you, yet." It's hard for me to not share more, but I know that in this case I must, and hope that others understand.<br />
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Because it is a delicate process. One in which it is dangerous to invite in too much opinion.<br />
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Now I find myself in the querying process. This means telling the people who have the power to take it somewhere larger, or not. It means that I am submitting a one page letter meant to encapsulate 70,000 words in such a way that an agent will find it intriguing and want to take me on as a client to sell my book to a publisher and launch my career right to the top of the New York Times Bestseller List so that I can call my real estate agent and buy the home of my dreams where I spend my remaining days sitting on my porch overlooking the ocean writing future novels on my laptop while the gentle breezes blow through my hair...<br />
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oops! did I just run away with that thought? (and how's THAT for a run-on sentence!)<br />
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It's the dream, of course. It happens. Really it does. Whether or not it will for me is yet to be seen.<br />
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For today, it's just the next thing on the to-do list. <br />
1) Query five more agents.<br />
2) Read possible rejection emails. <br />
3) Pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all... well, you know.<br />
<br />
Seriously? There IS a novel.<br />
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I HAVE done a countless number of read-throughs and edits and revisions. And I hope it doesn't sound too egotistical to say that after reading it through so many times, and being the one who created it, it still has the power to move me - to laughter - to tears - and occasionally to a cold shower. I like it. I really, truly do. I just hope that an agent and then a publisher and then several million other people do, too.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Which of course is all subjective, now isn't it? The liking it part. I've never read a Stephen King novel, and he's done just fine in his career without me.<br />
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I'm a firm believer in "right time right place right agent." I firmly believe that it will sell. I'm just not sure yet how many zeros will be attached to the advance check. Or how many letters I will need to send to find that one right agent.<br />
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Meanwhile, I am starting to write novel #2. Not for the money. But because I have a story to tell.<br />
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Which more truthfully is why novel #1 was written. <br />
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Which also means that if it never goes anywhere other than those few confidantes, it will be okay.<br />
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Though I really hope and pray that it does. Go somewhere wonderful.<br />
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The number one rule of novel writing is show, don't tell. So I will wait til I have a finished, published book, then proudly show the world.<br />
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For now, please, I simply invite you to be patient with me when I can't tell you more. And to believe with me. Believe in the power of a dream. Believe in the power of beauty, truth, and passion.<br />
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Breathe in some fresh fall air. Take in a sunset. Give thanks for all that is good in your life.<br />
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With peace and blessings this day from me to you.<br />
<br />
Mimi<br />
<br />Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-37837769539171380662013-08-12T08:23:00.001-07:002013-08-12T08:26:16.450-07:00Trusting the MuseIt happened. The muse rushed in, just when I was doubting my ability.<br />
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It was a commission painting. I had the entire thing done, except for the figures, and I was afraid I would mess it up.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JSF80gRWrxk/Ugj9neFT17I/AAAAAAAABU4/FWc0TSeZUxo/s1600/Sunfish:Leitner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JSF80gRWrxk/Ugj9neFT17I/AAAAAAAABU4/FWc0TSeZUxo/s320/Sunfish:Leitner.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Sat down, took, pencils in hand. And it just happened. As if they painted themselves.<br />
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There is no rush in this world to compare. When the muse shows up, and takes over, it is as if we are being guided by something much larger than our own self. Call it Spirit, God, whatever you wish. I just know it when I feel it. And it is, I believe, the very essence of what us creative folks live for... hope for... pursue with all our hearts.<br />
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I have set a goal for myself this week of completing the first blush of edits on my novel to get me far enough that on August 15, just three days from now, I can start sending out query letters to agents. It's a massive undertaking to do in such a short time, but I've found that I work best under a short pressure deadline. Because I have to. Because I am far more likely to surrender, say "oh help me please" to my muses, and allow for the magic to happen. So whoever is out there listening... let's go!<br />
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wheeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!<br />
<br />
Love to all.<br />
<br />
MimiMimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-47974850027785451982013-07-29T12:19:00.001-07:002013-07-29T12:27:45.598-07:00On denim...Denim has always inspired me.<br />
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I surround myself with the color. I've longed for years for a denim couch. I find it soothing. Comfortable. To the touch, and to the eye.</div>
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Memories of my teenage years, hanging out at the barn after school with my horse. Denim was my uniform.</div>
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It remains my favorite thing to wear when I paint. It even appears in what I consider to be my signature piece - my business card image - my favorite most personal painting.</div>
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I've often thought that if ever I marry again, it will be on a beach, wearing a favorite pair of faded jeans, a white t-shirt, and a fabulous veil. First things first - I need to find a groom. I wonder if I can find one of those in denim?</div>
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When Evana did my "<a href="http://www.fashionfengshui.com/learn/index.html" target="_blank">fashion fang-shui</a>" analysis, she pronounced me as predominantly water element, with a hint of wood. The color of water, and the natural fabric construction of the wood element.</div>
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It's me. What can I say? When I finish my novel edits, find an agent, who finds a publisher, and then the book tour, perhaps I will allow myself to wear denim. And a black tank type, or silk blouse, or v-neck sweater. Pearls. No veil.</div>
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The painting is titled "The Real Me." And that's who I continue to work on becoming. Authentic. True to my core. On the inside and on the outside.</div>
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Truly blue. Truly Mimi.</div>
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Truly yours.</div>
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-46532457725297082742013-07-01T07:13:00.001-07:002013-07-01T07:18:20.397-07:00A novel ideaI've just completed the first draft of my first novel.<br />
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It's a huge accomplishment.<br />
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So why then am I feeling so frustrated today?<br />
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I think it's because the easy part is over. <br />
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I wrote it longhand. I'm now in the process of typing it into my computer. And today, I'm stuck on a scene that was one of the hardest ones to write. One that is based loosely, well, actually quite tightly, on an experience out of my own life that was a hard day to live through. And now I am re-living it.<br />
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That, and it's humid outside. And everything in my house is sticky. And there are these tiny little ants that just won't go away and show up everywhere, like cartoon characters whose job is simply to annoy me.<br />
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I'm pulling out every tool in my procrastination arsenal, to avoid sitting down and just typing. Seriously, Mimi, they are just words. Copy them. Get it done.<br />
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Remember, this beats the heck out of a lot of other jobs that you might be doing today.<br />
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I've poured a lovely glass of iced tea. My body wants a donut. I tell it that it doesn't, really, it just thinks that the sugar and white flour will make the task easier. It won't. It will just go to my hips.<br />
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Ok, so still I'm not being fully honest as to why I'm procrastinating. The real reason? It's fear. Fear that what I've written isn't good enough. Fear that the project that felt, while I was writing it, like it was my true calling in life, that I'd finally found it, fear that it won't be good enough. I've started reading far too many articles and books about the process of finding an agent, editing, getting published, and my confidence in what I've written is waning, fast.<br />
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It's the thing that creatives need to avoid. Thinking about whether or not the project will find financial success, rather than simply enjoying the process of creating.<br />
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I did enjoy writing it. Delighted in it. Had moments of sheer elation at how a sentence would be crafted. At how a character would take an unanticipated turn. One time, when the phone rang (in the novel, not in my house) the main character answered it, and surprised even me, the one writing the story, when the person on the other end of the phone was someone different than even I expected. Someone I hadn't envisioned yet. But there he was. And I'm still not sure where he came from.<br />
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That is the magic of the creative process. When the muse enters in.<br />
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Today, I'm just a secretary transcribing the text. It's like I'm just taking dictation. But then again, that's how the writing process felt. Like I was taking dictation from a muse somewhere out there, whispering in my ear.<br />
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A ha. There's the answer to my fear. Trust my muse. No, muses. I have several. Stop reading those articles that create fear. Spend my time in the process. Move it forward to the next step.<br />
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I will type it now. I'm ready. And then, when I'm done, I'll say "ta da!" And I'll treat myself to a swim.<br />
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Blessings to you and yours today. Happy July 1. A new month. A clean slate. What lovely thing will you create to bring joy to life today?<br />
<br />
MimiMimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-65048966696646139482013-04-01T19:44:00.000-07:002013-04-01T19:44:04.773-07:00April 1 - Fool or no Fool?Fool - defined as "a person who acts unwisely or imprudently; a silly person. Or as a verb - to trick or deceive someone.<br />
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April 1 - known as April Fools Day. A day of tricking and deceiving.<br />
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Back on March 1, I issued a personal challenge to myself to complete 30 paintings in 30 days. It was fun, and exciting, and promised me an opportunity to get back to painting. <br />
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And I was successful, for 15 days. Then, I stopped.<br />
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"Why" you might ask.<br />
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I've been asking myself the same question. Until just now, when I looked back at the calendar, and found my "ah ha" explanation.<br />
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At about that same time, I made the decision to leave a part-time job that I had been working for the previous 13 months. Please refer to my blog below dated February 25 if you would like an insight on the "why" to that decision. My last day on that job was March 7. I spent the following week trying to catch up at home with some things that had been allowed to pile up. And then, around March 15, I made a new commitment, to endeavor into a fairly significant writing project that had been bubbling up in me for quite some time.<br />
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So I think the answer to what happened with my paintings was that I switched the direction for my creativity. I began writing. It wasn't that I didn't have time to paint. I just felt my creative energy moving in a different direction. Several hours, every day. Without missing a single day, until yesterday, when I allowed myself the day off for Easter. Back to it at 7:30am this morning in my car at the beach, where I stayed until 10am.<br />
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I was feeling like a failure for not completing the 30 in 30. Was I a "fool" for taking on such a task, making it public, and then not completing it? I think not. There are still 15 new paintings that were published. And so many of you kindly asking me about it, following me on Facebook. I do intend to complete it. Though in all truth, I may not get back to it for another week. I feel the need to allow the writing process to become truly anchored as an every day activity. It is a significant part of my life right now, and deserves its place in my life, right now.<br />
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Back to the fool definition. I'm surprised to see the word silly. Silly? yes, I certainly hope that I'm silly. Silly to me is far different from foolish. Silly means the ability to look at life and laugh, perhaps when others might not. The capacity to find joy in sometimes the smallest things. Embracing life with eyes wide open to the magic within each and every day. And seeing God's grace at work in and through all of it.<br />
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Laugh. Laugh broadly. Laugh wholeheartedly, and unashamedly, as a girlfriend and I did the other evening at a restaurant, that had people asking us what we were laughing about that we were so "silly about it."<br />
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So sure, call me a fool if you'd like, for setting that 30 day goal, making it public, and not finishing it, and being willing to it. I'm not worried.<br />
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I hold it true, whate'er befall;<br />
I feel it, when I sorrow most;<br />
'Tis better to have loved and lost<br />
Than never to have loved at all. (Alfred Lord Tennyson)</div>
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Yep, done that too.<br />
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So, I'll paraphrase:<br />
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'Tis better to have painted and paused, than never to have painted at all!!!'<br />
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<br />Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-80565400578903019132013-03-05T18:40:00.002-08:002013-03-05T18:42:03.530-08:00Starting anew...I've just written the email that will make my new website live and public.<br />
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It's been on my to-do list for... oh... let's call it a year?<br />
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But too many other things were allowed to get in the way.<br />
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Tonight, I am poised at the beginning of a fresh new start for my career as Mimi the Artist.<br />
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How do I feel? Excited, scared, ready, set, oh, and did I mention excited???<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GJbFAfpnEj0/UTasQBaFcWI/AAAAAAAABSw/ZKPRJ-_DgmI/s1600/Day+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GJbFAfpnEj0/UTasQBaFcWI/AAAAAAAABSw/ZKPRJ-_DgmI/s320/Day+2.jpg" width="220" /></a><br />
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I feel like I've wandered away for far too long. <br />
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Time to get messy with the paints again, wear the old soft trademark jeans with those holes in the knees, and get to work!<br />
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I'll start with my 30 paintings in 30 days adventure (I'm already on day 5!) and see where it goes from there! 30 "mini-Mimi's" - the intention mainly to get me to the easel to experiment every day. <br />
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Different mediums. Different topics. No rules other than doing it. Every day. For 30 days.<br />
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So far so good. Here's one to share. Or it can be followed on my new website<a href="http://mimisart.fineartstudioonline.com/collections/56067"> here.</a><br />
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So grateful, grateful, grateful for the perspective that time away has given me, and even more grateful to be back.</div>
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Love, love, and more love,<br />
<br />
Mimi<br />
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ps - here's the website link! <a href="http://mimisart.com/">mimisart.com</a><br />
<br />Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-61975466269095380152013-03-01T19:50:00.000-08:002013-03-01T19:50:03.345-08:00A fresh startBest intentions... I just spent the past four hours working on my new website. I had planned to have it go live today, but am discovering that it is taking much more time to create than I expected. It is, however, a labor of love, and worth doing well, so I am now allowing myself the remainder of the weekend. With a new promise to have it ready by Monday.<div>
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The experience of collecting and posting the images of my artwork of the past 15 years is kinda fun, kinda surprising, and definitely jogging my memory. Places where I have traveled, scenes from my childhood, paintings that I had long forgotten. Some of them I may even paint again, to see how I might approach them differently now, perhaps with a slightly different (evolved?!) style.</div>
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And in the middle of that four hours, an email arrived from my daughter with the subject line "just found this, thought I should send it along." It was the audio file of my delivery of that eulogy that I referenced in my last blog post. I clicked on it, and heard my own voice start talking to me. And then, I couldn't figure out how to turn it off! So, I had to listen... even tried walking away for a little while, and then just turning the volume way down... but came back to it, just at the end, with the Steve Jobs quote that I also quoted in my last blog post. It came at me again.</div>
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And as I'm sharing that experience with you right now, a smile has spread over my face. "Aha! I get it!" I've just spent the past four hours doing that thing that I know that I need to do to be authentically me. I'm sharing my art with the world. I am reclaiming the title of artist for myself, after having walked away from it, mostly, for the past six months.</div>
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In summation... I'm back!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sv-0fgUw7aQ/UTF2I3Xzz3I/AAAAAAAABSk/3iNM-LcHDNw/s1600/photo-3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sv-0fgUw7aQ/UTF2I3Xzz3I/AAAAAAAABSk/3iNM-LcHDNw/s320/photo-3.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 1 - 3"h x 5" w - $30</td></tr>
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Oh - and I did start the "30 paintings in 30 days" effort today. That's 30 little mini-Mimi's, in 30 days, that I will offer at $30 each. Here's the first one. Enjoy!</div>
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Now stop reading at your computer and go share some love... make a phone call, write a thank you note, give a surprise hug. Just share it.</div>
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xoxoxo</div>
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Mimi</div>
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Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-13762595419241355182013-02-25T20:01:00.001-08:002013-02-25T20:15:22.767-08:00Endings and beginningsFebruary 25, 2013<br />
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When I considered writing this yesterday, my first line was going to be "In the past four months I have lost two of the most significant women in my life. My own mother, who passed in October, and the woman I refer to as "my other mother", Jeanie, my art teacher, spiritual teacher, and lifelong confidante from the age of 13." <br />
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Then, this morning, I learned of the passing of another dear soul - beautiful, graceful, inspirational Evana.<br />
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It was a magical morning from the beginning. Though I had to be at my office job at 9am, I found time this morning before work to paint, and to walk my delightful girl-dog Rosie, in the midst of what I described as "fairy tale land." It had snowed last night, lightly, on top of some rain, so the snow froze to the trees - white outlines against the cold February landscape. Magical.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6wyqedWTwqY/USw2N2KE42I/AAAAAAAABSA/W1OtK-v-LEc/s1600/IMG_1342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6wyqedWTwqY/USw2N2KE42I/AAAAAAAABSA/W1OtK-v-LEc/s320/IMG_1342.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Then the phone rang, and I learned of Evana's passing.<br />
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I wasn't as connected to Evana as to the other two moms. I'd known her for about ten years, rather than 40 or 50. But the news hit me hard. She was influential in ways too numerous to count, and I'm certain that I didn't thank her nearly often enough, or deeply enough, for all that she offered to me. She carried herself with such confidence and grace that I know, absolutely know, that she has most certainly moved on to angel status.<br />
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Which leads me to believe that even her passing, saddened as I was by it, crying in the shower, tears just behind my eyes at the office all day as I put on the happy face and did my work, it has to be somehow connected to the magic of the morning.<br />
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When I sat down to write this yesterday, I was going to talk about losing my mother. I was going to share with you the journey of the past four months. I wanted to post her eulogy for you to read, in case you didn't get to hear it.<br />
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But instead, I am sitting here contemplating how I move forward. That magic of this morning feels life changing.<br />
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Two quotes come to mind. The first, one that I read on someone else's Facebook page yesterday, that carries far more significance to me tonight. It says the following: <i><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Making a big life change is pretty scary. But, you know what's even scarier? Regret."</span></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
The second, from Apple founder Steve Jobs, that was how I finished that eulogy. I was going to try to summarize it, but here it is in full: <span style="color: #8e7cc3;"> <span style="font-family: NewPeninimMT; font-size: 12pt; font-style: oblique;">“When </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;">I was </span><span style="font-family: NewPeninimMT; font-size: 12pt; font-style: oblique;">17, </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;">I read a quote that
went something like: </span><span style="font-family: NewPeninimMT; font-size: 12pt; font-style: oblique;">"If </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;">you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be
right."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;">It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past </span><span style="font-family: NewPeninimMT; font-size: 12pt; font-style: oblique;">33 </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;">years, I have looked in the mirror
every morning and asked myself: </span><span style="font-family: NewPeninimMT; font-size: 12pt; font-style: oblique;">"If </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;">today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I
am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been </span><span style="font-family: NewPeninimMT; font-size: 12pt; font-style: oblique;">"No" </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;">for too many days in a row, I
know I need to change something.
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;">Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me
make the big choices in life. Because almost everything </span><span style="font-family: NewPeninimMT; font-size: 12pt; font-style: oblique;">— </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;">all external expectations, all pride, all
fear of embarrassment or failure </span><span style="font-family: NewPeninimMT; font-size: 12pt; font-style: oblique;">- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;">these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only
what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the
trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to
follow your heart.” </span></span></div>
<br />
I find myself, in this moment, in a very different place than I was just 24 hours ago. Instead of looking back, in sadness, I am considering, quite seriously, what I am to do with my time that lies ahead. <br />
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We never know how much time that is. I do not wish to live with regret. I will make decisions to embrace joy.<br />
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Thank you, Mary May Schlichter, Jeanie Moyer, and Evana Maggiore, for the love and guidance that you shared with me, each in your own unique way.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-47d0gmpvBk0/USw2NQkEueI/AAAAAAAABR4/nwknoi_WoHc/s1600/IMG_1358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-47d0gmpvBk0/USw2NQkEueI/AAAAAAAABR4/nwknoi_WoHc/s320/IMG_1358.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset 2/25/2013</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I've got three new angels in my corner.<br />
<br />
What choices do I need to make, right now, in order to move forward without regret? In order to be certain to use my gifts to the benefit of as many as I possibly can? I can't share those right now, but hopefully they will unfold in future blog posts.<br />
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I wish each of you who has read through this far great joy, blessings, and love in your own lives. Take a moment to tell someone you love them. Take the risk of saying I love you.<br />
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THANK YOU, abundant thanks, for being part of my life.<br />
<br />
With love and blessings,<br />
<br />
Mimi<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-11694799118909029232012-12-16T11:26:00.001-08:002012-12-16T11:26:21.117-08:00I wrote the following piece yesterday afternoon around 4pm, moved by the events of Friday in Newtown, CT.<br />
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Please pass it on if you find it moves you, too.<br />
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Peace and blessings to all.<br />
<br />
Mimi<br />
<br />
*******<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 15px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This morning. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I woke up in a cozy warm bed. My first thoughts were of sunlight and a day to relax.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I took the dog outside. Breathed in the crisp morning air. Made a cup of tea. Then I turned on the tv. Bad mistake.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">There it was. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I turned it off. And I continued with my day.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Decorated the living room for Christmas. Took the dog on a long leisurely walk by the beach. Ate a lovely salad for lunch. Baked a cake. Raked some leaves.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And all the while, it lingered there in my thoughts. As I thought about all of the things that I needed to do today, that I wanted to do today, I was also aware of those things that I did not have to do today.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I did not have to plan a funeral for my six year old child.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I did not have to face a room of toys and clothing and childhood stuff left, standing still, awaiting my child’s return.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I did not have to figure out how the heck I would survive the minutes, hours, days and weeks ahead. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And then there’s Christmas.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I, the one whose daughter is living a vibrant life in New York City, I will get to enjoy the celebrations of the minutes, hours, days and weeks ahead. I will go to bed Christmas Eve with her here in my home, and awaken on Christmas morning to share opening stocking, gifts, and hymns at church.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And all the while, I think, no, actually, I hope, that those other thoughts will linger, too. Not so that I can wallow in some sort of false melancholy, but so that I can appreciate all the more that which I do have.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I think it lingers in all of our minds today, even as we might not think it polite to talk about it in the midst of a party.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So the question is, what WILL we do with it?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Will we pick up and live our lives as usual? Or will we think, once again, about how precious life is? About how much we need to embrace the present moment? About how love is… the ONLY thing that truly matters.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I may worry about how I’m going to pay my bills. Or whether I should paint, or make music, or write.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Worry? really? I have no worries today. I live a charmed life. And I pray, I pray every moment that I can remind myself to pray, for those families whose lives changed forever yesterday morning at 9:31 am.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">God bless each and every one of them.</span></div>
Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-86006617914457673362012-08-15T14:04:00.001-07:002012-08-15T14:04:41.542-07:00Words<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I've just re-read my last blog entry. It was written during a particularly emotional time. I found it tremendously healing just to write it out.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I'm finding myself reaching more and more for words, and less and less for paint. I know that I'll come back to it, but for now, I need to give expression to the myriad of thoughts running through my head as I watch daily life unfold. And I'm finding that others are encouraged, and made more thoughtful, in my doing so.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I've started a new performance piece, called "Reading Out Loud." It's been a huge success, both times. Now I need to find new venues, and ways to make it wider reaching. Any ideas? Please do share with me.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I had opportunity to preach a sermon in church this past Sunday. And ended up essentially expanding a piece that I had already written for "Reading Out Loud," a piece that refers to the power of words, and names, and how we talk about, and to, one another.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Interesting - that last blog entry. I didn't even remember it to be so, but it too refers to the power that our words have on others. Seems to be a common thread.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The word is powerful. Both written, and spoken. I believe that we all need to do our best each and every day to be a voice of positive, loving encouragement to others. There is so much negativity out there... and whining and complaining. Let's be thoughtful in how we use our words to lift up one another, rather than to tear down.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Then, Mimi thinks to herself, "Let's have a go of this writing thing. With God's help, I pray."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">xo</span><br />
<br />Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-19024136151563981342012-06-01T07:07:00.004-07:002012-06-01T07:07:50.627-07:00Closure.The house where I used to live is being sold. I haven't lived there myself in over two years, but it still feels like a significant transition. For during the past two years, more than I even realized, parts of me remained. <br />
<br />
I was asked to paint over a mural that I'd left behind. I did that. And thought I had closure. But not really. I was asked to remove items that were mine that I hadn't realized were still there. I did that. And thought I had closure. But not really. I found myself being required to go back again and again and again, and every time that I pulled out of the driveway, I thought I had closure. But not really.<br />
<br />
So I took matters into my own hands, and asked for an opportunity for one last walk through on the very last day before the real estate closure, and was told no. Others were suspicious that I had an ulterior motive. That I was ... I don't even know what. Making a play to win him back? Wow. Talk about misunderstanding.<br />
<br />
Yes, I will admit to an uncontrolled desire. But it's not what you think. Or what he thinks. Or what she thinks. This desire, this thing that compels me to do things often misunderstood, is a desire to find peace even in the midst of less than peaceful, unresolved situations.<br />
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I have lost friends, and family, without warning, as so many others have. Jay, in the car accident in 1977. My own father, by his own hand, in 1989. No time to heal. No time to say what should have been said. No time to share one last loving, kind thought, to leave that relationship in a healthy place.<br />
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And I have both experienced and witnessed others wounded by harsh words. Things that can't be taken back. "Oh, I was just joking. Where's your sense of humor?" It doesn't change the sting of what's been said. It doesn't heal the wounds.<br />
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We have a choice, every time that we open our mouth, how we use our words. And my intention, to the best of my ability, is to offer hope. And love. And peace. I'm not always successful. And I'm sometimes painfully misunderstood. But I try. And try again.<br />
<br />
My request denied, I went there on my own, in my imagination. To that house where I lived. And loved. And raised my beautiful daughter for ten oh so important years of her life, of our lives. I walked through each room. I remembered something lovely that had happened there. And another something. And another something. And I smiled. And shed a few tears.<br />
<br />
And then, in my imagination, I closed the door, one last time. And pulled out of the driveway. And found that closure that I needed.<br />
<br />
A new family will live there soon. And they will create their own new lovely memories. I wish them deepest blessings for love, and joy, and peace.<br />
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And I utter a quiet prayer for the same for him. And for her. And for me.<br />
<br />
Yes, really.<br />
<br />
<br />Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-3302287054229326532012-05-23T08:49:00.001-07:002012-05-23T08:49:18.403-07:00Tonight, I debut a brand new piece of creativity. "READING OUT LOUD" is part performance, part writing workshop, part I don't know what else to call it! What it is... is a series of writings that I have penned within the past year, that reflect on my own experiences of life, love, and loss. I will read, and following each (relatively) short reading, there will be a few moments of quiet, during which time audience members are encouraged to do some writing of their own, or meditate, or whatever suits them best to process what they have just heard... perhaps as a springboard to some of their own healing, introspection, growth, creativity. I am VERY excited! This could be the start of a whole new venture... xoxoxoMimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-66769583856411547842012-05-09T20:04:00.002-07:002012-05-09T20:04:50.593-07:00Something monumental happened today. Our President spoke out, actually taking a stand, in defense of gay marriage. No laws have been changed, nor legislation put forward. Simply a vocal statement of support.<br />
<br />
I know that you won't all agree with me, but I will speak my mind on this anyway.<br />
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I have never, ever understood why those who are so vehemently against this feel the need to be so. We are talking about two individuals who want to make a lifelong commitment to one another. Why would anyone be against that? We are talking about allowing the same rights to two individuals who happen to be of the same gender as those rights that are allowed to individuals of a different gender. I know, some make it an issue of religion, or Biblical literalism, but heterosexual couples get married everyday without any sense of religion between them. Do we really believe that anatomy makes the difference of who should be allowed to love, to make that commitment of faithfulness, and who should be denied?<br />
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I don't understand it. Really, truly. Love is... well, love. Pure. Beautiful. A gift from God. Who am I to deny someone else the right to do so, openly, sacredly, "so long as they both shall live.?"<br />
<br />Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-18003376840227123772012-04-20T11:40:00.001-07:002012-04-20T11:40:21.278-07:00Hello everyone! It's been quite a while since I've posted. Time to get back to it.<br />
<br />
These will be postings of whatever happens to be running through my mind at the time. Some will be about creativity, others spirituality, and still others... well, who knows what!<br />
<br />
If you would like to receive the updates as they are posted, you may do so either by sending me an email and asking me to include you (mimi@mimisart.com) or by clicking on the "subscribe to Mimi's Blog" button.<br />
<br />
Ok... so here's my first posting!<br />
<br />
**********<br />
April 20.<br />
420<br />
<br />
Whatever way you write it, the date has significant meanings in such a variety of ways.<br />
<br />
My mother's 80th birthday is today.<br />
Fenway Park celebrates its own 100th anniversary.<br />
It is also the birthday of Adolf Hitler.<br />
Which means it is also the anniversary of the Columbine school tragedy.<br />
And, for another part of the population, 420 has a different silly meaning (you're gonna have to Google this one if you don't already know the meaning of 420 day!)<br />
<br />
Such a variety of experiences packed into one day.<br />
<br />
That's life, isn't it? We have a choice, each and every day that we get out of bed, to decide what experiences will pack our day. Will we choose to focus on the drama? On the tragedy? On the darkness? Or on the joy and blessings and beauty?<br />
<br />
My mother was grumpy today, and insisted that April 20 is tomorrow, not today. There was no dissuading her. So the cake and flowers and gifts that I took to her didn't mean a whole lot to her. Such a shame.<br />
<br />
Fenway Park is basking in the sunshine. Oh Sweet Caroline...<br />
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I'm going to say a prayer for the tragic losses of the day, but not dwell on them.<br />
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And as to the silly... well, it's only 2:39 as I write this, not 4:20 yet.<br />
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What meaning will YOU give to this day? Where will you focus your energy?<br />
<br />
Will you look for ways to tear others apart, or ways to spread joy, and show gratitude?<br />
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It's up to you.<br />
<br />
Be sad, or be silly.<br />
<br />
You decide.<br />
<br />
xoMimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-47404087081136011112010-12-22T20:02:00.000-08:002010-12-22T20:04:03.787-08:00Day 100Wow. Day 100. Seems to have gone by VERY quickly. And yet not so much. Like life. Art and life. More writing in the days ahead. For now, sleep, Christmas shop, enjoy the weekend with friends and loved ones. God bless every one of you who have read this. With great big gratitude from me. xoMimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-87308541022571233572010-12-22T09:33:00.001-08:002010-12-22T09:33:51.719-08:00Day 99Oh my gosh - almost DONE!!! 100 days!Mimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3404826927851774870.post-82669345943533315482010-12-20T18:50:00.000-08:002010-12-20T18:54:01.367-08:00Day 98Oh my - only two days to go. Has been quite an interesting ride. Though I think I will save the waxing poetic until AFTER Christmas. Snowed today. And the puppy got to see her first. What fun!!!!! Digging through it, running around in it, little furry black face turned white. Good pup she is. xoMimihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08036555172698101456noreply@blogger.com0