In the Studio

 

The weather this year has been dire, this picture was taken on July 4th and is a rare specimen as it features sunlight glancing on the patio.

I find it hard to get motivated when the sky is grey but usually when I get into my studio I can find my mojo. At the moment I am working on a few paintings and doing a course in psychic development. I like doing courses, I have diplomas in all sorts of things: mindfulness, CBT, counselling, intuitive healing, tarot, freelance journalism, spiritual life coaching and others. Years ago I did a course in counselling before it had even become a thing, I still have my certificate which is dated  2002. Life sort of gets in the way though, people need you, children need you, partners need you, schools need you, work needs you, parents need you, animals need you, and you need yourself. So, life is busy. But it's not so busy now, my children are adults, my animals have gone over the rainbow bridge, dad needs me, grandchildren need me and my health has been a very unfunny joke: new hip, pneumonia, sepsis and cancer all within the last decade have all taken their toll. Yet there is always that feeling that I should be doing more, contributing to society, helping others, I don't know, is this a girl thing?

Anyway, I have a lot of diplomas and to be honest all the things I have learnt have been incredibly helpful, mainly to me, but also to my friends and family .I started out with the idea of being a therapist when the children had flown the nest, and they did fly but I'm still  keeping the nest warm, filling it with twigs and warm things for when they visit with their chicks.

Now that I'm older, I'm not so drawn to regular therapy, I can see myself as more of a psychic therapist, or a spiritual life coach. Also, to be honest, I think that listening to people who are struggling with their mental health would lower my vibration to a dangerous level. I would rather cleanse their chakras and meditate with them, maybe read their cards or do some art therapy. 

For now though, I'll keep looking after dad, the children, the grandchildren and me.

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I've been reading like a mad person and have discovered Rachel Cusk.

Wow. I feel humbled by her intelligence. She is described by Hilary Fannin of The Irish Times as, 'A writer of almost electrifying intensity.' That about sums her up.

I would be frightened if I had to sit next to her at a dinner party, I think I would just stare at her in wonder while trying to imbibe her psyche.

I've read; Outline, Transit,  Kudos,  A Life's Worth, and Aftermath and am now reading The Last Supper.

There's a line in The Last Supper which has had a profound effect on me. In one line she has encapsulated all that I feel about religion, its terrible toll on our way of life, history, present and future.

She is desrcibing a painting by Piero della Francesca; The Resurrection...

..." The art lovers move away a little and the lower half of the painting is disclosed. I see that he (Jesus) is not quite as peremptory as I thought. There are people in front of him, men, lolling against the tomb. They are asleep, he is awake. He is fenced in behind them. He is the victim after all. He looks straight ahead. He wears a disquieting expression of terrible knowledge..."

That last line makes my skin tremble, my blood turns white, the unsayable said.

Was he the last good man?