This took a while to post because my internet got blown off… we had a wild rain/wind storm here and bu-bye went my connection… thankfully only briefly)...
Today is Mom’s birthday. I will call her. Will this be her last birthday? Strange and sad I think about that, but I do. Samuel smells not so great, I hear, I read, I hadn’t noticed. My stomach hurst. It hurts. I’ll give Samuel a shower before school today, be sure he feels confident. I worry so much about him.
Mom. Love. Receive. I woke up thinking those two words. Receive. Love. If this was my last day, how would I communicate that, love – to those I love – to those all around me? To those people I experience like the woman in the store this morning as I bought mundane stuff like eggs and tomatoes and sausage and frozen pizza? How would I share love with her beyond what I naturally do? For Sam, right now – the way I communicate love to him is sitting next to him as he does his work. I do my work, he does his and it helps him. He volunteered to do his homework this morning. So this is progress. I am certainly not complaining. Love. Receive. Mom,. Love. He is learning about remainders and he does his division in his head. I showed him how to show it to me and to his teacher: his work? But he doesn’t have to show his work to figure it out. That is something I have to do. I could have suggested he was wrong for not showing it but that didn’t feel right at all. I process the work through seeing it. Maybe this is why I want to be taught Math in person. “Every work of art is a form, a living structure possessed of an organic oneness that sets apart from the other objects and makes it a work of art.” This is from Mrs. Gardner from Gardner’s History of Art, think the third edition I bought used. I love what she says and given I am way off time on getting my art vision done, I need to pick up the pace a bit. I need to see my Art Vision as a work of art itself. I created art this morning, just like that “snappity snap” when I couldn’t find my new dictionary. Someone absconded with it. It is raining. I am fearful it is out in the rain. I will check when I am done writing. Oh, those smooth pages, lost – would be a tragedy, wouldn’t it? Mrs. Gardner also says, “A work of art is the objectification of a human experience.” that is TRUTH. I feel the truth in that. TRUTH for whatever it is, actuially. That intangible quality that is evidenced, for me, in the slowing of breath, a confident, slow, unworried breath – in fact, all of truth is confident. It makes no excuses. It is present.
I pulled myself out of my malaise long enough to rehearse last night. That was good. My big mouth was not so good. My less than, hanger-on demeanor. Tonight, last night, they ran we ran the show. It is improving, some don’t think fast enough perhaps. Each director runs the ship, you know. Communicates, holds space for the art. Open the space. time for me to finish with Samuel and I did. Love, Mom, Receive, Love, Mom.
Samuel left clean and covered with… what is that manly soap? I can’t remember its name but he wanted to use it. Everything freshly scrubbed. I show love that way, scrubbing and loving and laughing and drying. We sat side by side and did his homework and he loved that. He is almost done. Half a page left and then some reading. I looked at his comprehension work and some of those words I don’t even know. Yikes. Sheila tells me Hunter College is a good space for training teachers to teach children on the spectrum. And one other. I need to look them up and perhaps ask the experts. I know educators don’t normally like being “told what to do” but perhaps if I offered up a resource, it would be ok.
It is how I show love. How I give love.
How do I receive love. Oh, man. Upset this morning. I hope he lets it go. Works away and forgets being afraid or being hurt or being worried. Tonight I need to get from rehearsal to rehearsal and I am not sure how I am going to do that. I need to review the Trotsky scrip. I need to get focused on my actors and the intention behind each scene before we just leap into it. Pre-work. I won’t worry about annoying. I will be focused AND I will work on receiving. Giving. Receiving. Giving. Receiving. Giving. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. I went beyond 750 and that is just right. Ahhhhhhh.
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