the quilted air

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I’ve been doing a lot of this sort of thing lately.  Prints, on canvas, of a flattened wire sculpture.  Heavily embellished with permanent marker.  In my mind, they are not Art as much as they are ritual objects.  The process always ends up being much more interesting and useful to me than the product.  This particular one (which I call “the quilted air”) was an attempt to gain some perspective on the events of the last eight months as they reached an overwhelming Stress Crescendo around Christmas.

One of the major things that happened last year was that it became increasingly obvious to me that I needed to sell the Copeland Block to preserve my sanity.  Owning that building had become like wearing a giant cosmic “KICK ME” sign.  I succeeded in selling it last month, which continues to be a huge relief.  There’s some grieving to be done too, though.  Cleaning out my office was like finally saying goodbye to a beloved eccentric aunt, and there are relationships with former tenants which may not survive this transition.

The brain re-wiring continues.  It’s hard to talk about (even to my therapist, often).  Last spring, I took an 8-week course in Taking in the Good.  I got so much mileage out of it that I signed myself up for something called Awakening Joy, which starts in February.

While I was in the middle of Taking in the Good, I read an article on a genetic link to PTSD.  Apparently some people have a bit of genetic code that corresponds with increased emotional memory retention.  I was not at all surprised to find (thanks to 23 and me) that I am one of those people. I’ve started thinking of it as my secret superpower. (I’m also resistant to noroviruses!  It’s turning out to be a pretty awesome time to be me.)

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