Finijo

Midway through the year and I think the last of my David cobwebs are clearing. The loss of a sibling is an experience that does a number on your head, but it's unexpected, because people never talk about it. It's like Ten Little Indians, then there were three, then there were two, and then you start to dread the idea of being the last little Indian standing just a little bit more than you don't want to die. Strange to me that there doesn't seem to be more poetry, writing, and art dedicated to the subject, given that the impact it has is unbelievably profound.

I managed to draw every night last week and some the week before, I wrote a poem a couple of weeks ago, and I'm feel the urge to cut the TV cord, again. My name is Fini and I am a Roku binger. Creativity seems to have found me again, which is a relief, because the gaping space that is left when the will to create vacates your soul hurts like hell. Another birthday is fast approaching and the need to express myself through words and art is becoming urgent to the point of bursting. Phrases are springing up and rattling around in my head and then the colors and lines in my world are just vibrating and calling me to pick up my pens and paint and let the pigment flow. Funny that I started off with black ink on white paper, but that is my fall back position - my art equivalent of automatic writing.

In honor of being midway to my goal (isn't that where we always are?), my first favorite poem.

Halfway down the stairs
is a stair
where i sit.
there isn't any
other stair
quite like
it.
i'm not at the bottom,
i'm not at the top;
so this is the stair
where
I always
stop.

Halfway up the stairs
Isn't up
And it isn't down.
It isn't in the nursery,
It isn't in town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head.
It isn't really
Anywhere!
It's somewhere else
Instead!

A.A. Milne

Another year draws to a close and I find myself reflecting. This year has been an ode to the acceptance of loss. There is no point in grieving what you do not have, but at times it is difficult to process that people who were in your life are now not. My brother died New Year's Eve 2012. I spent much of this year traveling back and forth to another state to deal with his estate and his business and to try to help his sons learn to live their new lives - without him. I doubt my success in that endeavor, but it was not for want of trying.

Now I am in the process of releasing several longtime friendships from my heart. Friendships that, truth be told, became one sided. For much too long, I have tried to hold up both ends all the while wishing that they would someday own their side once again. I thought I could hold on forever, but the weight became a burden that I no longer wish to carry. 2014 will be the year that I embrace endings, even when I don't desire them.

Choosing to let go is freeing me from the expectation that ghosts will provide comfort and support. Ghosts are memories, and while memories can create a wistful smile, they are not companions in the world. Even though they are transparent, easily seen through, their weight is heavy and cumbersome.

To all of my ghosts: I am grateful to have known you, to have learned from you, and to love you still. Now please be free, be happy, and perhaps we will meet again in the next life as friends.

This year has been pretty incredible. Synchronicity has crossed my path with a group of artists who are unbelievably nurturing and supportive, but they also like dick jokes, so our time together is never without laughter. This interaction over the last year has challenged me in more ways than I would have expected. What started out as a lunch group for like minded artists has turned into friendships and mentoring on so many levels. My paintings, photography, and assemblage work has been in eight art shows this year and have several more scheduled for the next six months. It might not sound like much, but these shows have forced me to work on my craft (which I need to do) and they have given me the opportunity to face a fear I had about showing my work publicly and especially of selling it. Now, after 30+ years of painting and creating, I've overcome my fear and also forged friendships, which has been the true benefit to come of all of these experiences. I am grateful to be exactly where I am today.

Murky Water by Finijo


Lost for the first time in months. I know it will pass, but the night is
a very dark place. Tomorrow my perspective may brighten,
but the ground has shifted under my feet. I can look, but I am
finding it hard to truly see through the muck.