WORD PAINTINGS #98 - MONSOON!!!!

7/18/20 - MONSOON CLOUDS - LLANO QUEMADO, NEW MEXICO

3 August 2020 (Llano Quemado, N.M.) 6AM - The kitchen window is open about 6 inches - very cold air is pouring in - thinking that it will only be about five weeks before there will be the first snow on Taos Mountain and Truchas Peaks. A perfect cup of coffee. Except for my neighbors' roosters greeting the sun, all is perfectly quiet.  A short and intermittent monsoon season - so grateful for the rain!  Unbelievable sunsets due to the storm clouds.  The reds, oranges, purples - pale lavenders - definite heart palpitations - quiet blessings.  

About two weeks ago I deleted this blog because I was so close to the truth of what happened on the horse ranch.  In that time I reached my one year anniversary in this new studio which still feels like a gift from my Art Gods.  Pure Grace. It isn't easy to expose the truth of me.  Still feel an obligation to all my "she-roes" - Betty Ford, Ann Richards, every woman I met in recovery - their strength and courage.  It is important for women to know there is a way out of abusive relationships and addiction, but it can't be done alone.    God bless the Helpers!....women who openly share their stories - experience, strength and hope. The decision to be live a life of sobriety is the first step in a lifelong journey of healing.

            

One morning recently in that hazy still half asleep waking up time everyone came through as though in a dream to remind me of their influence in my life.  My first husband the college professor, Ernie, my parents - and my third marriage partner.  It was almost as if they were passing by in some crazy Memory Parade.  Finally I knew their importance.....each one gifted me with a reason to reshape my purpose and to change course toward greater health and stability.  All the pieces finally fit and I realized how each one offered me a definite path to healing.  After years of struggle to forgive the pain I felt a quiet acceptance for everything. My burden basket is empty! 

My first husband's infidelity brought me to Santa Fe.  In the beginning Ernie offered his protection and gave me some studio space to support my beginning work.  I loved him.  My third attempt at a happy and creative relationship crumbled abruptly; in the end it became quite dangerous.  He offered a temporary escape from reality and we were drinking buddies.  We pretended to have a spiritual connection, a popular trend at the time.  It was definitely a grand adventure.  I would never have gone to live on a horse ranch by myself!  Even though he is long gone, my deep love for Truchas has lasted through my paintings for 40 years! 

Fate, destiny - whatever you want to call those strange mysterious coincidences, this man had been a long-time member of AA and introduced me to some meetings in Espanola. Still in denial over my own excess, my first reaction was that I was "going along to get along".  I was completely shocked by this turn of events and felt threatened by this new twist in our relationship.  Although it took another year for me to wake up, this surprise introduction to recovery saved my life.  There are no accidents!

Next month I will arrive at my 81st birthday.  Mine has been a long and arduous journey of healing.  A few weeks ago I saw work by Ruth Homer  a Navajo weaver in Arizona.  Had such a strong reaction to this piece with four Yei Bei Che dancers during a sacred healing ceremony. I made immediate contact with Ruth's granddaughter for the purchase.  It was greeted with tears on arrival.  Soft wool, tightly woven - I felt loved by the woman who made it.  Still weaving at the ripe old age of 90, Ruth has inspired me to begin a new body of work.....surprise, surprise!  To be continued....     

YEI BEI CHE - NAVAJO WEAVING BY RUTH HOMER (90 Years of Age)

WORD PAINTINGS #97 - LISTENING TO MOUNTAINS IV - NEW LIFE

HOME, HOME ON THE RANCH (LLANO QUEMADO, TRUCHAS, NEW MEXICO)

1983 - Llano Quemado, Truchas, New Mexico - The horse trailers with our six new guests arrived in late winter after the first of the year.  Three were definitely with foal.  We purchased many bales of hay in anticipation and when the day came, we had read the book on "how to foal horses". We felt we were up to any challenge and ready to become "ranchers"!  The joke was on us - truth is when the time comes nothing can stop life from happening!

The ranch was built by a Dallas doctor  to raise his prized Peruvian Pasos - large beauties being bred specifically to cover long distances on mountain trails, creating a smooth-riding horse with a big, ground-covering stride. No expense was spared.  The huge wooden barn had many stalls, a training circle in the middle, a viewing mezzanine, an office room, and a small sleeping apartment next to the foaling stall separated by a large glass viewing window.  By the time we arrived the Pasos were gone and we never knew why. The enormous barn was silent and empty, just waiting to be brought back to life.

Our group of six filled all the empty spaces.  Each horse had her own personality and our man of the moment happily took charge of their care and feeding.  He mucked out the stalls with great energy, wrapped the pregnant girls' tails in preparation for birthing.  I painted every day, tended to the house - cleaned and cooked.  Once the horses arrived,  my studio was moved across the exercise field down to the mobile home just in back of the wooden teepee platform. I set up my oil paints on my palette, arranged the canvases and easel and took out my brushes. Time for some new work.  Winter became spring, we planted a small vegetable garden and waited for our payment from the owner of the horses.  We never heard from him with his promise of monthly boarding fees.  Oooops!

My favorite horse was a beautiful white Arabian named Radiant Wind.  One afternoon we noticed that she was restless and started making small kicks toward her belly.  We took her into the foaling stall.  I had fallen truly, madly and deeply in love with this horse! This was her first baby!  Wished my partner goodnight, took my pillow and blanket down to the barn and settled into the apartment next to the foaling stall.  In my human arrogance, I decided I would act as her doula encouraging her through the labor and birth pains.  Truth is she was a stoic through and through and just tolerated this silly human who kept blabbing all through the night.  Exhausted from all my encouraging words, I fell asleep.  When I opened my eyes, Radiant was nursing her sleek new baby boy.  We named him Paco!

In reality my partner and I were living a rich fantasy life.  Tons and tons of Magical Thinking skewed our vision of reality. Our afternoon toddies also fueled our imaginations.  We were definitely not thinking straight.  The other two pregnant mares gave birth soon after Radiant Wind.  We now had three dogs, nine horses and an orange barn cat named Maxie Mozart.  The owner of the horses was nowhere to be found when it came time to paying us for the boarding fees.  Our winter supply of hay was almost gone. And my Santa Fe gallery had gone silent as far as sales were concerned.  Tensions began to build. Cracks were beginning to appear in the walls of our happy honeymoon cottage.

In all honesty this was not a marriage made in heaven - both of us were escaping, running away.  One morning I looked at my new partner and said "You are my father".  There were a thousand reasons why this was Truth with a capital "T". I never parsed the words.  I only knew that our being together on this journey was no accident.  Until that moment it hadn't been apparent to me that I was running away from what I hoped was my old life - that in some magic moment I would be reborn without the need to escape from anyone or anything.  In the click of my heels I would wake up the next day perfectly shiny and new - without the need to numb myself with scotch.  Tell God your plans....raucous laughter resounds!  The dawn broke and it was apparent why this man, this ranch, these horses were now my reality....what to do?

Our imperfect union lasted less than 18 months.  Although I sensed my partner had secrets, I never dreamed all his reasons to hide away on a horse ranch in the mountains of northern New Mexico.  The Big Ball of Reality was poised to drop - mysteries were soon to be solved and terrible secrets revealed.  Wait for it.....

WORD PAINTINGS #96 - LISTENING TO MOUNTAINS III - AWAKENING

"HIGH COUNTRY MONDAY MORNING"

It wasn't difficult for me to adjust to life on the horse ranch.  In the beginning I felt caught between two very alien planets.  Santa Fe's over the top social scene, the intense competition in a newly developing art market, trying to earn a living from making and selling paintings was stressful.  Two ex-husbands in the same town were definitely adding to my confusion.  Truchas was an entirely new planet!  The sudden silence of this country life was indeed a New Beginning; an important first step in trying to save my own life. Prayed with all my heart that this move would cure me of the need to anesthetize myself with scotch!  I still believed in miracles.

Life in the little Hansel and Gretel house was strange at first.  In the middle of autumn, with the first snow on the peaks, it was necessary to settle in and prepare for winter.  Several cords of wood, we filled up the freezer, tuned up the old Ford station wagon.  Around four every afternoon, we toasted our success. The ranch was for sale although no potential buyers came that winter.  It was easy to imagine that the ranch had been abandoned and was ours to keep!  Oh, Magical Thinking! 

My work began to take on a new sense of "connection".  Until this time I was painting to sell; trying to fit in, develop a recognizable style and paint that way forever and ever - the same painting a thousand times - soul-killing commercial success to pay the bills.  Once I settled into my new studio in the horse barn, memories of my last trip to the Art Institute to see the magnificent Wyeth work began to surface.  Finally I understood his fierce vision and his self-imposed geographical limits.  He simply painted the life he knew to his core....a very narrow range of inspiration which give his viewers intimate glimpses of simplicity - peace, tranquility, magnificent light and shadow; a rock-solid knowing of his subject matter.  He knew who he was as an artist and his vision never wavered.
  
My Art Gods were challenging me to create in a new way - give up the dream of being the next art world wunderkind.  Now was the time to travel some unfamiliar roads.  It was becoming clear that this was my opportunity to explore - open myself to a new way of being.  CHANGE in all capital letters became my new mantra.  Deep quiet all around - the first time I heard the sound of birds' wings in the air as they flew past.  I felt sheltered and protected by the surrounding mountains and saw the brilliant sky with a new sense of wonder.  There was a tepee platform in front of the mobile home.  The sun warmed my bones; I would lie down, stretch out my arms and just watch the clouds.  It wasn't obvious to me then but I was in a place of no return. Perhaps I could let go of the high heeled shoes and make-up and just get REAL! 

That spring the man of the house returned from one of his mysterious trips to Santa Fe and announced that we would be boarding six Arabian horses - three were about to foal.  Eloy the Western Union guy needed a safe place to pasture his animals and in an effort to earn some income a deal was made on a handshake. We would feed and exercise the horses in exchange for boarding fees and purchase of hay from local ranchers.  We bought a book on "how to foal horses"! 

WORD PAINTINGS #95 - GONE TO SANCTUARY

Llano Quemado Studio this morning - finished paintings and works in progress.

3 July 2020 (Llano Quemado, New Mexico) - Up at 4AM today - thinking, thinking, thinking- bad case of monkey-mind.  Turned on Morning Joe - he is such a bloviator! Switched him off after five minutes.  Tried to go back to sleep...nope...fixed a cup of coffee as the sun rose over the foothills toward the Pecos Wilderness.  The neighborhood rooster crowed his little chicken heart out for over an hour.  Just another day in Paradise! 

Relaxed my social distancing a bit last month - short visits with some friends and family.  Helpers came back in - overwhelmed by trying to keep up the house.  No time at the easels!!
Watching TV thirsty for any good news. Downward spiral every day!  We are living an apocalyptic nightmare and no Knight in Shining Armor is showing up to save us.  The election is almost a joke due to gerrymandering, faulty voting machines and Russian interference.  Our very stable genius behaves more like a humorless Mafia godfather than a world leader.  No word from him about the Russians paying the Taliban to kill American military.  More than 500,000 new cases of the virus a day.  Oh, and don't forget the huge cloud of sand and dust blowing into the U.S. from the Sahara - all the way up to Wisconsin!

New Mexico is surging in new Covid cases in the last few days.  Deciding to go back into serious isolation again until things stabilize or flatten.  Time to hunker down.  

Perhaps I am having an out of body experience, but a few days ago I decided to just be grateful and as cheerful as one can be under the circumstances.  The uncertainty of this time could turn me into a non-functioning robot! Attitude is everything!  Celebrating one-year anniversary in this new studio.  Not only has this house sheltered me, it is truly an inspiration - sunsets, storm clouds, heart stopping birdsongs and neighborhood coyotes.  Twelve new small paintings almost completed.  Planning to put them up for sale this weekend. Will finish "First Snow" next week.  Blank canvases all over the studio - one more order of oil paints from Jerry's Artarama.  Sketches and photos for a new body of work.  Listening to One Step Away from Paradise - the true story of a Lama's search for Shangri-la after the Chinese invasion of Tibet.  A good story will keep me at the easel every day.

Have held back in writing this blog.  Some parts of my story aren't pretty.  Life is not a fairy tale!  Recently saw a documentary on Netflix about Polish Holocaust survivor Sonia Warshawski.  She is an inspiration!!!! Her story of courage and determination is a must see.  Unvarnished truths need to be told and shared.  Stories of survival can keep us moving and give hope to those still struggling.  I was encouraged to be more honest and open after listening to Sonia.  Also recalling AA speaker Angie Dill from L.A.  Her grit and honesty sustained me on my path to 35 years of sobriety.  Fair warning: The truth isn't always pretty.  Some people in my life do not fare well.  If we had all behaved better there would be no story.  Planning to be as fair as possible to everyone without holding back.  Becoming whole is a profound secret.... sometimes secrets need to be shared. 

WORD PAINTINGS #94 - LISTENING TO MOUNTAINS II

There definitely is a certain poetry to life and it is usually discovered through the distance of time.  Waking up to reality, deep awareness is not for everyone.  I did not choose to wake up and gratefully scotch was helping me stay numb to many events from my childhood.  Debilitating panic attacks were frequent visitors.  Many were triggered by the presence of Ernie's loaded guns all over our house.  He had developed Grave's disease, had surgery; as he was recovering, developed a growing paranoia.  I wanted to stay to help him, but feared for the safety of my children.  That divorce destroyed our family in 1979.  The word "stalking" was not part of everyday vocabulary, but Ernie was around every corner for the next two years. One day he  appeared at my kitchen window at 6AM staring at me as I fixed my coffee.  His behavior became very menacing.  More drinking, more numbing myself out, more searching for answers.  I felt trapped in a downward spiral and feared there was no escape.

For one or two hours every Sunday I found a certain comfort and sense of safety at a New Age church service at the Santa Fe Women's Club.  Met a lady named Elizabeth Couse from Taos, the granddaughter of well-known painter E.I. Couse.  Elizabeth was a nurse at the Embudo Treatment Center.  Stay with me here - it eventually all comes together - miracles do happen!

There was cake and coffee after  the final song "Let there be Peace on Earth, and let it begin with me..."  I clung to every hopeful word! One Sunday a tall pleasant man introduced himself and over the course of several months we became friends.  Everyone at the church spoke very highly of him and I began to feel comfortable in his presence.  This was not a match made in Heaven for either one of us - we carried separate baggage and  totally different agendas.  The minister from the church married us.  Ironically, she knew his entire history and kept his secrets.  If she had told me about his past, the rest of my story would be a blank page.  The Universe works in very mysterious ways!

September 17th, 1982 - Truchas, New Mexico.  We emptied the pick-up trucks of cartons and began our new lives on the horse ranch at the end of a narrow dirt road that led to the Land Grant from the King of Spain.  Miles away from Santa Fe I breathed great sighs of relief.  The noise of my city life began to retreat into the background.  The panic attacks were less frequent as were the instances of recovered childhood memories.  Excitedly I unpacked my paints and brushes.  Enthralled by the beauty all around me I went to work on some new canvases as soon as possible.  I really wasn't fully aware that my life had been profoundly changed and I could never ever return to the old version of myself.

Each day was a new discovery - a new adventure.  Our neighbors generously shared the history of the village and their family stories.  A deep connection to this village began to build.  It certainly helped that the Pope and I were Polish - no other introduction was necessary!  My new landscape paintings opened wonderful doors - opportunities to know another culture. I felt so privileged to be a guest in this amazing place! 

Truchas is an agricultural community -  In spring the fields are plowed, the seeds planted.  Parcientes gather in teams to clean the acequias.  Livestock is herded  to lush summer pastures higher in the mountains.  As autumn approaches preparation for winter begins.  Chainsaws and pick-up trucks - cords of wood stacked neatly beside the adobe houses.  In this place a man's wealth is judged by the size of his woodpile!! Fields of hay are baled.  Pantry shelves groan under the weight of Mason jars filled with fruits and vegetables - hopefully enough to get through the winter. Livestock returns to lower fields.  Bales of hay are stacked  high in sheds and barns.  Fences are repaired and life becomes a silent preparation for the snowy days ahead.  

Watching and listening, I began to understand the self-sustaining nature of life in the mountains. Rhythm of the seasons, everyday routines gave life meaning and purpose.  After a time my friend Margaret Jamison would refer to Truchas as my spiritual home!   I never wanted to leave!!! 

WORD PAINTINGS #93 - LISTENING TO MOUNTAINS Part One

 

7 June 2020 - Llano Quemado, N.M. - Caught up in all the drama and chaos of these past three months - have been self-isolating since the beginning of March.  Relearning how to live on my own....laundry, mopping and the damned dishes!  Can't comprehend the scope of the death from the virus and the destruction of civility due to the protests.  Wondering if no one ever read the book or seen the movie Serpico?  Wasn't anyone filled with fear for our country during the protests in Ferguson when the police showed up in full military gear sitting on top of tanks with machine guns aimed at the protestors?  Why were people shocked to see "spare" tanks from the Pentagon rolling down streets of Washington?   Now we have a "secret police force"!!! Question: Where do we go from here?  Life in America is forever changed!

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LISTENING TO MOUNTAINS.....

“I have an idea that some men are born out of their due place. Accident has cast them amid certain surroundings, but they have always a nostalgia for a home they know not. They are Strangers in their birthplace. Sometimes a man hits upon a place to which he feels he mysteriously belongs. Here is the home he sought, and he will settle among scenes that he has never seen before, among men he has never known, as though they were familiar to him from his birth. Here at last he finds rest.” – W. Somerset Maugham THE MOON AND SIXPENCE

17 September 1982 - Truchas, New Mexico - The first snow on Truchas Peaks.  We arrived at the horse ranch late afternoon -  the small Hansel and Gretel cottage, an enormous horse barn, a mobile home and a gypsy wagon on 20 acres. At the end of the property was a gate leading to the land grant from the King of Spain. .  This place was called Llano Quemado - "suburban" Truchas with a population of about seventeen stalwart souls. The snow clouds shifted and swirled with the strong winds. All the moving boxes were piled up in the horse barn. There were two huge sliding doors which opened onto a dirt road and the deep arroyo that separated us from our nearest neighbor.  I sat on a ledge and watched the mountain, knowing that no matter what circumstances brought me here - this place is where I needed to be!

Life is a mystery, isn't it?  Only when one can look through the long lens of many years can we begin to pick up some of the puzzle pieces and put them where they belong.  I don't believe in accidents!  Prior to this move, I tried  all the New Age movement had to offer - right down to the Course in Miracles. Magical thinking. Am not dismissing any of it, but nowhere did I get the hint that not drinking might be the answer to my many problems.  Instead I found a new partner who eagerly encouraged my fantasies of leaving Santa Fe and living in a small village in the mountains.  AAers call this  a "geographic" - moving to greener pastures - problems solved.  Tell God your plans... 

Once the cartons were unpacked some of my city confusion began to lift.  The ranch was for sale and we agreed to clean it up.  We gathered and burned brush and cut back the scrub oak.  My painting studio was set up in the office of the barn.  Mayordomo Cosme Romero, his wife Carmelita and daughter Susie arrived one afternoon to introduce themselves....the first of many visitors to see the new Truchas paintings.  My Santa Fe gallery wasn't the least bit enthused - there were no cowboys or Indians!  Was fully expecting them to recognize my genius in this new work. My painting sales were the only income expected to keep this fragile enterprise afloat! Oh, don't worry, tomorrow is a new day - have another drink and let's watch the bills pile up!

Adventures major and minor...trips to Santa Fe or Taos for groceries and supplies. We adopted an ancient wild mustang from Los Alamos - his teeth were bad and he was rib cage skinny. Used to roaming free he took great umbrage at being penned. To show his disapproval one morning, he bit Mr. Wonderful in the balls and knocked him to the ground. He didn't get much attention from the man of the house after that humiliating wounding.   The famous pink mustang died not long afterward - I was alone at the ranch on the morning he went to those big open spaces in the sky.  Did not know what to do with a dead horse!  Called my across the arroyo neighbor and asked him if he had a back hoe to dig a grave. He was too polite to laugh, said he would bring his truck and pull him down the road to the Land Grant - a form of Tibetan "sky burial".- I loved that old horse!

That winter we were stranded on the ranch over the Christmas holidays - 3 feet of snow and the plows  only came through when the schools reopened. Reading by the little fireplace in the cottage, painting in the barn - a quiet time.   Big mountain lion paw prints in the snow and black bear tracks down by the pond.  This ranch life was definitely an adventure!  Another toast to Good Times!   

WORD PAINTINGS #92 - INTO THE GREAT UNKNOWN

Llano Quemado, New Mexico -   Unable to think of much else since making the decision to go ahead and share my experience, strength and hope.  Have tried to talk myself out of this, but the urge to persist is with me every day now.  Perhaps there might be just one other woman out there struggling during this pandemic, I want her to know that she is not alone!  There are sisters all over the world who share her experience.  There is no greater understanding than that of women in recovery - a strong life-long bond.....light at the end of that long and very dark tunnel....each day is a New Beginning. 


Thirty-five years ago there were treatment centers, group AA meetings, one on one sponsor support.  Help was available 24/7.  Those support systems have changed, broken down.  Am certain that chat rooms, Zoom meetings, texting and messages to sponsors, phone calls are replacements for the old ways in order to maintain social distancing.  Could these few chapters of Word Paintings be helpful?  This is my way to pay it forward and thank all those generous spirits who shared their stories with me so long ago.   

Santa Fe, 1978 - There was that first day when I knew alcohol had me and, even though I tried mightily to give it up every hour of every day, I kept going back for more.  My second husband was leaving for work.  I stopped him at the front door.  "I have a problem.  I can't stop drinking. Please help me."  He looked at his watch and said he didn't want to be late for school.  Prior to this revelation I had begged him to go into counseling with me but he refused.  That night he came home with a special gift - a vintage bottle of Chivas Regal.  A stark realization that this battle was mine alone.  It took six years of being "out there" before I surrendered and asked (begged) for the help I needed.

In the beginning of our marriage life was great - we were a happy family!  Ernie had some serious surgery sometimes in the late seventies and developed episodes of extreme paranoia.  At the end there were loaded rifles in every room in the house and a revolver under Ernie's pillow.  Tensions ran high; sensing danger, I knew it was the end. A long, long and very sad tale. Life took over and I needed to take my children to a safer place. We moved to a rented house nearer to their schools.  As much as we tried to make the best of this time - it was dark and scary for all of us.  A divorce did nothing to relieve the anger and bitterness of our situation.   As much as I tried I could not stop drinking....if anything our problems intensified the situation.

I have a metaphor for marriage - it is a large honeymoon suitcase.  Before embarking on Life's journey together, the groom packs all his experiences and emotional baggage and the bride does the same.  Without realizing it, all their damaged parts become one big weedy tangle of unresolved issues.  Both Ernie and I were emotionally damaged people.  If we could have had an opportunity to sit down face to face with a counselor prior to our marriage to share the unvarnished truth of our childhood lives  (Truth and Reconciliation) we would have avoided marriage and just stayed the best of friends.  Hope springs eternal, doesn't it?  Ah, romance....divorce.

Thus began my search for sanity.  Once I admitted to having a problem, I tried everything to make life better for us.  Denial was so strong - I thought Life was the problem. If only I could make things right. Counselors, astrologers, tarot readers and eventually Ernest Holmes' Church of Religious Science were little steps.  Six years of turmoil and confusion....always searching for the missing parts of me.  It honestly never occurred to me that drinking was my problem - even during my childhood alcohol was essential to any and all happy times.   Drinking no longer me happy - I was miserable - sick and tired!  Denial is not a river in Egypt!!!

Sadly I couldn't keep anything together.  Promises to  do better, be better and stop my destructive behavior never seemed to produce a happy ending.  Absolutely everything fell apart, including my little family.  Many mishaps and adventures during those "lost" years.  Truth is they were never lost - they were being lived to the fullest while drinking.  Many paintings, some shows, a few workshops - oh, not to be forgotten is my brief marriage to a genial fellow I met at church! He turned out to be a Dateline Mystery Man with a huge secret suitcase full of darkness  We were drinking buddies.

Truchas, New Mexico - 1983 -There are no accidents! We moved to the horse ranch in Truchas. The marriage was irrelevant, the universe conspired to bring me to this place of healing - I never would have found it alone. This scary relationship was my first encounter with "rigorous honesty".  One morning I looked at this stranger and said, "Oh my God, you are my father!"  It was time for me to do "the work"!  From then on I decided to do whatever it would take to live life without alcohol.  I've read that once one makes a decision, the Universe supports and empowers that action. It has always been my belief that sobriety is my spiritual journey.  Life in that mountain place was my true New Beginning.  Living in nature began my healing process....a very long and winding road.  Hard work, serious doubts - one boulder at a time...