on grief

"you met me" c. '08 annie farnsworth
7.5" x 10.5" mixed media collage on recycled pasteboard.

I wanted to say again tonight how much I appreciate my friends. They've been there for me the whole time and willing to help but I've resisted opening up. I think it is hard to remember that true friends care about all of it, your whole experience, not just your sunny days. They want to be there for you in tough times too, but they can't if you never let them see that you're having one. And when you come right down to it, not letting them is a little like only wanting people to see you on a good hair day; it's dishonest and more than a little vain. I think it is hard, particularly, for people who are in the "helping professions" to show weakness or ask for help. We like to think we are here to help other people and that we can't do that if our own shit is falling apart. I had a great "talk" with a friend about the Shadow sides to personality; how if you do not acknowledge or allow them to be integrated into your life, they will come out and bite you in the ass when you're not expecting it.

My "Shadow" could be this whiny, weak, schoolgirl part of me with the unrequited love, who just wants to cry and listen to Fiona Apple and say "what if...?" and "if only I..." Let's just go ahead and call her "Baby." If I had acknowledged her earlier, let my truth show, weeks, even months ago... this process might not have been so difficult.

But maybe Baby isn't my "Shadow" at all. Maybe she's just a very honest part of my human experience, the part that feels those very human (but in some circles, unattractive) feelings like sadness and fear and rejection and jealousy and needing attention. Aren't those all very real parts of the human experience? Why do I fight so hard to keep her out of sight? I'm starting to realize that my Shadow is actually more like a Feelings-Nazi, who doesn't like Baby and is always telling her to suck it up. She walks around with a clipboard and checks things off, and dislikes weaknesses in others as much as she dislikes them in herself. Her main job is to prevent us from letting those weaknesses show. She wants us to be superwoman, to always keep it "together," to always be philosophical about everything. She is always practical and analytical and is afraid of being used or taken advantage of. She puts up walls, pushes people away. She is the part of me who thought things would be okay, and she was wrong and I am really pissed off at her right now. So I'm sorry if i seem a little whiny right now; if it seems like all i do with paper is make fires and hurricanes. Clipboard Lady can stuff it. It's Baby's turn right now.



"...there is no way around grief.
Can’t climb over it,
can’t crawl under it and,
as clever as I’ve tried to be,
no way to sneak around it.
The only way out of grief is through it."
~ Betty Ann Ruttledge ~

Locksmith

Yesterday I had planned to finish a sewing project and count that as my AEDM piece. My sewing machine, however, would have none of it. I adjusted and readjusted all the tension knobs, re-threaded and messed with it and still, I kept getting tight stitches on top and a looping tangled mess underneath. After ripping out countless seams, I was ready to throw the machine out in my yard. Fortunately, I can barely lift the thing at the moment so I contemplated asking a volunteer to do the "Singer Fling" for me. Then I realized if I was going to go to the trouble of soliciting a volunteer for that I could just as easily solicit a knowledgable sewing person to help me adjust the damn machine. I did the only thing sensible at that point: emailed my mom.

Meanwhile, using my frustration as fuel, I went ahead and made something else. I rather like it.

"The Locksmith Befriends the Snake" c. 2008 miz annie
(12.5" x 14.5" including frame)

This is a mixed media assemblage on some cool corrugated stuff that came as packing material for some item I can't now recall. I sidestepped the glue wrinkling issue by only using it on the edges of the paper elements and sewing the found objects right through the base cardboard. The frame is an old vintage piece someone tried to strip the paint off of at one point; I like the shabby chic "distressed" look they left when they gave up on it.

Later I remembered some words on transforming anger from a book on which I'd just finished writing a paper:

"While aggressive energy at its most primitive levels can become destructive, in its more evolved form it becomes creative power. Many spiritual leaders have warned against despising or deprecating aggression, pointing to the consequent dangers of helplessness and resignation. Rama Krishna, for example, used to narrate the story of an incredibly fierce and venomous snake. One day this snake met a sage and, overpowered by the latter's gentleness, lost its ferocity. The sage advised it to stop hurting people, and the snake resolved to live a life of innocence, without harming anyone.

"But as soon as the people in a nearby village realized that the snake wasn't dangerous anymore, they started to throw stones at it, to drag it by the tail and tease it in innumerable ways. The snake was having a very hard time. Luckily, the sage passed by the place again, and after seeing how badly battered the snake was and listening to its complaints, he simply said, "My friend, I told you to stop hurting people -- I didn't tell you never to hiss at them and scare them away." Rama Krishna concludes, "There is no harm in 'hissing ' at wicked men and at your enemies, showing that you can protect yourself and know how to resist evil. Only you must be careful not to pour your venom into the blood of your enemy. Resist not evil by causing evil in return."

(from Piero Ferrucci's What We May Be, c. 2001 Tarcher/Penguin