"Talisman"

I'm still painting obsessively tiny things, with far too much detail to be entirely sane.  Taking photos and enlarging them makes me very aware that all of this would be simpler to do in PhotoShop in the first place, or easy to fix things in PS, but that would defeat the purpose.  I want to spend time with my thoughts and paint brushes.  It's meditation.

This painting is related to my recent painting of the box.  There were too many things to put in that box so I painted some folders for topics to be addressed later.  Here, the folder on my last job is opened.  It's a work in progress.  I feel like I'm spending a stupid amount of time on what is essentially the background, but yeah, meditation.

Through the process, I own that there were parts of the job that I really loved.  I made real friends.  I got to design and write printed pieces I am proud of making.  I was very good at juggling numbers and data and people.  I saved enough of my earnings to be able to paint what I want for a while.

Glass half empty or half full?  It was also such a hostile environment I had to leave.  I obviously still have enough feelings about that to feel inspired to make a painting about it -- and even so, part of me feels grateful.  Not for the abuse, but the learning and experiencing in an environment I'd never go to if it weren't for the paycheck.

We always have a choice about where we put our attention.  I'm pretty sure there are certain people at the Shrine that I will always remember with loathing -- but why should I allow those people space in my mind?  I realize we don't get to choose our feelings, but we also don't have to let those feeling take over all the good around us.  I can think of my Shrine friends instead.  One of them recently got married and is having a second baby.  Woo hoo!  Happy, happy!

I originally thought painting negative issues would be seriously depressing and I'd be left with paintings I wouldn't want to look at.  I'm finding the opposite to be true.  I'm loving my paintings.  Instead of feeling down, I'm happier.  Wrap it up, tie it with a bow, and get rid of the sh*t.  Yay!  Documenting past ills lets me quit carrying them.  Even naming my anger is liberating.  Maybe I should become an art therapist?

Anyway, talisman... "an object thought to have magic powers and bring good luck."

Saint Ann's Shrine has 1st-class relics Pope-certified as pieces of bone of Jesus' grandmother.  The chapel and relics fell under my department, and while my title was officially "Development Director", I preferred to call myself "Shrine Keeper".  The Church didn't need to know I was inspired by Merlin in Mary Stewart's books*.  I was pleased shrine keeping is an actual job in the 21st century

Religion can be fascinating when viewed from an inside seat without the indoctrination.  I said I'd put energy into getting my book on the subject published.  I'm rather ashamed to say that I haven't done it.  I've been painting, and that seems more important right now.  However, I have followed through with my walking and actually made it to my park.  I even walked the flattish bit of the park.  I then walked home and discovered impressive blisters on my feet, preventing me from walking anymore this week.  Are we sure exercise is actually good for us?

*Mary Stewart's Merlin books are some of my all-time favorites.  They are:  The Crystal Cave, The Hollow Hills, The Last Enchantment, and The Wicked Day.

"Sound"

I've been working on my throat chakra which is associated with verbal expression, speaking our truth.  To clear our throats, we're to speak, shout, hum... sing.

I damaged my singing voice years ago, yelling at an unruly kid when I was substitute teaching.  Something tore inside.  Recently, a singer on tv described a similar injury.  She exercised her throat, starting gently and working her way up to full throttle.  I thought, "I can do that!"  So, I've been singing.  It hasn't been perfect, but it's getting better.  My dog looks less worried anyway.

From the musical Grease, I softly sang Rizzo's flirtations, but I belted out the last verse with full volume and accuracy.

I could hurt someone like me, out of spite or jealousy... I can feel and I can cry, a fact I'll bet you never knew, but to cry in front of you, that's the worst thing I could do.

I can do Cat Stevens' "Father and Son" pretty well too.  Apparently I sing feelings.

All the times that I've cried, keeping all the things I knew inside.  It's hard, but it's harder to ignore it.  If they were right, I'd agree, but it's them they know not me.  Now there's a way, and I know that I have to go away.

No doubt my throat chakra is messed up because I kept my mouth shut working for The Church, where intelligent, informed women aren't appreciated.  To prove this, they hired a completely incompetent man and demanded I teach Skippy how to do said job.  Perhaps you know me well enough by now to guess how I reacted?  They tossed in bullying and sexual harassment just to make sure I got the full Catholic experience.

Before you ask, they're allowed to bully employees.  While Skippy is younger than me, he's over 40 so the age discrimination rights are weak.  While multiple lawyers told me I have a case for the sexual harassment (which I documented and reported), they said the Catholic church is a well-oiled, armored machine to combat lawsuits.  (Ex. decades of unprosecuted pedophilia cases.)  AND, they're exempt from paying Unemployment benefits.  I've thought of clearing my throat chakra by screaming.

The top priest said he'd write me a letter of recommendation because I'm a conscientious worker.  "We're just going in a different direction" -- which is the opposite of the BS they promised when they hired Skippy.  In case you didn't know, priests lie.  A lot.

You may have noticed there was some time I skipped blogging in 2016.  Now you know why.  I hung onto the job for a while during and after this blackout, but I wasn't ready to talk about it through the limping, conflicted end.  I also really didn't want to blast everyone with my rage -- especially when all of this too neatly coincided with Trump and his followers' sexism.  2016 sucked.  Yay for 2017?  Oh, right, Trump won.  Fffff...

Onto the future.  My liberation may work in the convoluted way of the universe?  I'm looking forward to creative projects truer to my nature and beliefs.  The lawyers say I can talk about The Church as much as I'd like as long as it's true.  OMG that's a lot of material to work with!  It's the prize for allowing myself to be stifled for a paycheck.  I have a scathing book idea :)

In a nutshell, it sucks, I'm glad to be free of it, I have enough savings to get by for while as I figure out what to do with myself, and I partly wonder if I brought this on myself by envying my college pal's free and creative lifestyle?  Ask and you shall receive -- but be careful what you wish for!

I did this art my first year of blogging in 2010.  It seems like a long time ago, but also kind of like hitting restart in more ways than one.