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HOW HAS IT BEEN EMERGING INTO THIS EXPERIENCE?
Today's prompt is all about emerging into the process and our photo using one of my favourite creative ways to take a photo. It's a great one to help us emerge a bit more into the photo and this experience. How has it been emerging into the experience as a whole far?
Today was truly tiring. By the time I got to my Mom’s, I wanted nothing more than to just sleep the night away. All day, it felt like I could do nothing right. This morning, I slept in. Again. It’s what usually happens in my life when my insomnia leaves me tossing and turning, endlessly scrolling on my smartphone or thumbing through a half-finished book. I don’t bother having the television on, although sometimes I watch a movie or television show on my phone. Before my stroke sometimes I’d lay on my side and sketch in a sketchbook, fooling around with different coloured pencil techniques. But since my stroke I haven’t even done that, even though my physiotherapists have said it would be good to help rebuild the connections between my brain and my body. I don’t even enjoy myself that way some people do late at night. The stroke impacted my ability to be a man, and the various heart and antidepressants they have me on also leave me feeling empty inside when it comes to intimacy. Reflecting back, I don’t think I even took my morning medication. And by the time I was ready to face the world, it was after 1 in the afternoon.
I first went to Peace Arch Hospital where the elevator ride to the sixth floor felt like it took a hour, stopping at almost every floor with little to no people riding with me. I went to the IV Therapy clinic, to get a new copy of the bloodwork requisition form I needed, as I’d misplaced the one I was given a week ago to take with me to my 2:30 LifeLabs appointment. The nurse obliged, disappearing for awhile into a back office before coming back down the hall with the all important paper: my passport for another month of weekly tests. The bright light of the afternoon sun had broken through the clouds and shone down the corridor, making me squint a little & placing a hazy aura of white light around her silhouetted figure. I thanked her & left, feeling confident I’d get to the lab on time. Thankfully I did make it to LifeLabs on time, But LifeLabs rejected the form I was given, as they were adamant that there is no CP6 test the form asked for (which I later googled & learned stands for Chemistry Profile 6, or Chemistry Panel 6 in British Columbia). So I had to leave, with the hope I could get a third form during my IV appointment at 4.
I next went to Choices Market, as my Mum wanted one of their cooked chickens, which they didn’t have. So I got some slices of their own baked maple glaze ham, and a few other things before dropping it all off at Mum’s just in time to head back to the hospital for day 50 of my antibiotics IV. The same nurse who gave me the purportedly wrong form found it funny that LifeLabs didn’t know what CP6 was, and I heard her in the hallway joking about it with a few other nurses. They felt bad I’d been sent away. She also changed the bandages on my feet and toes, taking time to gently clean each toe. She told me that she was going to book time for me with a wound specialist on Friday to remove some of the hardened calloused skin that if left on the foot could stop the wounds from fully healing properly.
I then got a large bowl of pozole to go for my dinner from a local Mexican restaurant, Ay Chihuahua, as well as a couple of enchiladas, some rice, and refried beans. I then drove over to get something for my Mum from Boston Pizza, specifically, Boston’s Mac n Cheese. I had placed the order online before leaving the hospital, & I added shrimp as a surprise I thought she’d enjoy. But when she dug into it at home I found the addition was something didn’t like. At first she thought they were hunks of cheese to which I said “…no, those are shrimp. It had an option to add protein so I thought you might enjoy shrimp.”
She bit into a piece, spitting it out almost immediately. “It’s dry,” she replied with disappointing frustration. “Next time, just get me Mac n Cheese. Nothing else.”
My heart sank, as it seems whenever we get takeaway something is wrong with Mum’s meal. The only positive today was that I got her meal home quickly, so it was still hot. “I’m sorry,” I said, to which she said “…don’t be, it’s not your fault.”
I USED THE WORD 'EMERGING' BECAUSE I THINK IT'S IMPORTANT TO LET OURSELVES EASE INTO THE PROCESS. WHAT ARE THE COMFORT ZONES YOU'RE NOTICING SO FAR?
Are you noticing that some prompts are more outside your comfort zones than others? If you find yourself coming up against a comfort zone, could you let yourself use a tool like this and emerge into the photo gently rather than push yourself and make it all or nothing? Can you think of any other times you let yourself stretch into an experience, step by step and let yourself emerge gently?
After eating, I went to the guest room at Mum’s, which since COVID has become my home away from home. In fact, since my stroke & my issues with my feet, I haven’t been to my own place much at all in 2023. I crawled into bed and my little dog Kira jumped up to snuggle down next to me. My head throbbed as I mindlessly scrolled YouTube on my iPhone. Soon, I fell asleep. A few hours later my Mum woke me up, asking if I’d turned in for the evening and saying the garbage had to go out. She then looked down at the fan next to my bed, saw that it was dusty and that it needed to be wiped clean “…as it might catch fire!” She then went into the bathroom to get a cloth. I got up to attend to the garbage, & to make tea. That’s when we got into words, this time over the state of the guest room toilet which I haven’t cleaned since August. It’s these little messes that sets her off, as over time they’ve added up bit by bit. Every other day now the frustration over my laziness boils over into a war of words between us. The worst part is that I’m not mindful when Mum gets upset, my empathic nature picks up on her exasperation, raising the heat in my veins as well. It’s something I’m not proud of. It’s something I wish I could deal with better. I’m tired of my anxiety, depression, and now the 50 days of antibiotic therapy, all of which drag me down. Little victories of tackling the messes in my life seem few & far between, as I find it impossible to emerge from beneath their weighted strain that pulls me down. I want to get better, I long for it, cry for it, hell, I’d even die for it.
This was originally posted on Instagram.
Today’s photo prompt and reflective journaling questions for today was a part of the BE YOUR OWN BELOVED photo workshop challenge which is run several times throughout the year by photographer VIVIENNE McMASTER. It’s well worth signing up for, and doing alongside other participants.
First time in some 20 years I've been way out here....
//Probably one of the most interesting lighthouses in Southern Africa is Roman Rock, the fifth oldest in South Africa, situated in False Bay at the entrance to the historical naval harbour of Simons Town.
But what makes this lighthouse so interesting is the fact that it is the only lighthouse on our coast to have been erected on a single offshore rock (and one of only a few worldwide) and it is completely surrounded by water. It is exposed at low water, while at high tide is covered completely.
The 14m circular cast-iron tower of the landmark is painted white with a white lantern house.
The lighthouse owes its existence to a Joseph Nourse Commodore, Royal Navy, Simons Town, who when writing to the Secretary General of the Admiralty in London, stressed the importance of the safety of His Majesty’s ships coming in to anchor at Simons Town at night.
But the proposed site for this lighthouse was not always to be Roman Rock, and from 1823 to 1853, three or four other possible sites were suggested. But in the end it was Roman Rock who won, despite the great costs of erecting it on this site.
The lighthouse was designed by Alexander Gordon of the British Lighthouse Authority.
The cost was to be between £3,000 and £3,500.
It took four years to complete the installation of the prefabricated cast iron tower, with only 96 working days of calm sea.
But on the 16 September 1861 the Roman Rock lighthouse shone its first light, and still remains today having defied the South-East gales and surging seas which have submerged it every summer for 160 years.
Construction was undertaken by the shipping community of Simons Town who felt the need of a light to be so great that they offered to build it if the colonial government would maintain it.
Stone was quarried from Seaforth beach, assembled there and numbered, before being ferried out to the site. The cast-iron segments of the tower itself were prefabricated in England, shipped out and then bolted together in-situ.
The base of the lighthouse is washed by waves even at low tides so the initial design allowed for a circular trench cut into the rock as the foundation and for the first three metres to be filled with concrete. Despite this cracks soon appeared and the structure was then strengthened with wrought-iron hoops.
However, with the structural integrity of the lighthouse in question, the colonial government would not assume control and the responsibility for manning the lighthouse until their engineers were satisfied with its construction.
The base was then further reinforced with a 4 ft. granite wall cladding of blocks estimated at 3 tonnes each and a granite and Portland cement fill. The lighthouse was then finally handed over to the department of public works on the 28 February 1867.
Roman Rock lighthouse keepers manned the light in 7 day shifts and were amongst the highest paid in the service on account of the light’s isolation. The first keeper, Mr. J. Williams eared £110 per annum and his assistants £95 per annum. In 1914, a gas powered light was installed and since then the lighthouse has been unmanned and in 1919 a fully automatic lighting system was installed.
Helicopters were introduced in the 1960s and the protruding gangway was used as a platform onto which the visiting technical personnel and equipment were lowered.
In 1992 the South African Navy asked for the lighthouse to be electrified as by now the bright lights of Simons Town and Kalk Bay over-shadowed it.
In March 1992 a four-core 25 mm submarine cable was laid to power the new rotating beacon to a candlepower of 147 656 CD with a range of twenty sea miles at a period of 1 flash every 6 seconds.
In 1994, a helipad was installed on top of a freestanding stainless steel tower on a separate protruding rock, and solar power replaced the mains supply. The solar modules were mounted on the 13m walkway linking the lighthouse and the helipad.
An automatic weather station was erected on the Roman Rock Lighthouse during April 2002.
This new facility provides for an ideal monitoring site of maritime air.
You can view a part of the 1914 mechanism on display at the Simon’s Town Museum.
Bookings can be made on 021 786 3046 / 073 936 3786 or email education@simonstownmuseum.co.za for more info.
— Source: capeofstormsdistillery.com/2021/04/18/the-roman-rock-ligh...
Waiting for the miracle to come.
This is a joiner collage I made when I was hospitalized back in February following a stroke I had on January 31. I took a fair number of photos when I was in the hospital, as it was fairly easy to do, but I was often so tired that I didn’t do much written reflection as I posted them. I like making joiners - photographer David Hockney is a British pop artist painter who first started doing these back in the 1970s / 80s. They give the image an analytical cubist feel, similar to the paintings created by painters Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque over 110 years ago.
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#sick #stroke #strokesurvivor #strokerecovery #heartdisease #heartdiseaseawareness #highbloodpressure #diabetes #diabetic #highbloodsugar #anxiety #anxietyproblems #depression #depressionhelp #mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #mentalhealthmatters #stress #joinercollage
#finearts #student #selfie #selfies #selfietime #writing #nonfiction #memoir #visualdiary #visualdiary_art #photooftheday
This was originally posted on Instagram.
Image Taken at the Oklahoma State Cowboys vs TCU Horned Frogs Basketball Game, Saturday, February 4, 2023, Gallagher-Iba Arena, Stillwater, OK. Mary Elizabeth Cordia/OSU Athletics
Clearly, the bathroom is great for "studio lighting" - amber Lambency flash diffuser. Or is that Lambency amber flash diffuser? (oh, I see it calls itself an "AmberVault")
Today is world mental health day. I’d like to introduce to you a graphics novel by a late friend that was published last month. The novel is about a young boy learning to deal with his worries. There is no text, the entire story is told through beautiful and highly polished illustrations.
Please consider having a look at this book next time you are visiting or browsing your bookstore.
www.allenandunwin.com/browse/books/childrens/picture-book...
Ch (S):
「小东西」
梅尔。特岗宁
「小东西」是一本沒有文字的图画故事书。书中描绘的是一个普通男孩的单纯世界，这个男孩感觉非常孤独，因为他有太多的忧虑。但他明白，帮助总是会离他不太遥远。
「小东西」也是一个普世的故事，通过描绘悲伤、焦虑亦或失却，找寻自身在世界上的位置。它非常简单却美得令人窒息。
Ch (T):
「小東西」
梅爾.特崗寧
「小東西」是一本沒有文字的圖畫故事書。書中描繪的是一個普通男孩的單純世界，這個男孩感覺非常孤獨，因為他有太多的憂慮。但他明白，幫助總是會離他不太遙遠。
「小東西」也是一個普世的故事，通過描繪悲傷、焦慮亦或失卻，找尋自身在世界上的位置。它非常簡單卻美得令人窒息。
Jp:
product.rakuten.co.jp/product/Small+Things+Mel+Tregonning...
Greetings from South Africa at 10:10 on 10/10/10
I couldn't think of anything original to do for 10 past ten on the 10th of the 10th, 2010 - no beautiful mountains, rivers, etc in our neck of the woods.
Then this popped out of the woodwork. Alex's t-shirts says "Save the World".
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Better with B l a c k M a g i c
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Every spring is the only spring - a perpetual astonishment.
Ellis Peters
A heart-warming (and mildly acrobatic) embrace while Fred (The Band!) perform in the summer sun at Cork's Mad Pride day in Fitzgerald's Park, Cork, Ireland. Mad Pride celebrates awareness of the widespread challenges facing us all in our daily lives.
Gosh, it's bright this morning. And I notice his mom dresses him like Clark Kent.
No, I haven't saturated those colours - for some reason everything is extremely bright.....
Available 10/25! Watch the debut on "Fox 4 "Good Day Dallas" 10/25. Visit my site www.heathermccready.com for more!
Joseph O'Leary of Fred (The Band!) perform in the summer sun at Cork's Mad Pride day in Fitzgerald's Park, Cork, Ireland. Mad Pride celebrates awareness of the widespread challenges facing us all in our daily lives.
DAY 4: THE STORY OF YOU
Today we're exploring tell your story, your body's story. Let's get inspired by one part of our bodies and tell their story, focusing on a part of your body you can invite in compassion towards through this story.
You might use some of these suggestions or create your own. Let some of those stories of you spill out onto this page and into your photo today.
THESE FEET HAVE TAKEN ME...
THESE ARMS HAVE HELD...
THIS BELLY HAS NOURISHED...
THESE HANDS HAVE CREATED...
THESE EYES HAVE SEEN...
THESE EARS HAVE HEARD...
These hands have created a vanilla sundae with whipped cream, chocolate syrup, & a maraschino cherry in a small clear glass desert bowl with a short stem & pedestal - only the sundae itself was crafted out of melted wax crayons for an art project Ms Reed had our grade 5 class make.
The fingers of these hands have created the sound of music as they learned to dance across the ivory keys of the wood grained upright Yamaha piano my parents enrolled me to learn when I was ever so young. And these hands wiped away tears from my eyes on the days I’d have a temper tantrum, fighting with Mum over not wanting to practice.
These hands have created pencil drawings of the Cariboo-Chilcotin region I grew up surrounded by, in the heart of British Columbia, Canada when I was twelve years old - inspired by the pen & ink drawings of Canadian artist Al Ranger whose book “The Cariboo: Sketches, Maps & Trip Notes by Al Ranger” still has a place on my shelf today. One of those drawings won an honourable mention at a retreat in Portland, Oregon I attended through my first high school, the White Rock Christian Academy.
These hands have created oil paintings on canvas at the age of fourteen, when I told my Mum I wanted to learn how to paint like that easy going painted on television, Bob Ross. Somehow Mum found a local woman, Artist Vee Hansen, who ran a small framing & arts supplies store that also offered classes for adults. She let me join her class of adult painters, where I caught on quickly, recreating a scene of Mt St Helen’s before its explosion. It was a curriculum that eventually replaced playing the piano, a decision I’ve often regretted as I got older. But the painting has been something I’ve continued to do, on & off, ever since.
These hands have created a scar in me, when I woke to find them frozen with a tingling sensation akin to the feeling one has when their foot falls asleep. I’d felt sick before going to bed that night on the last day of January 2023, so much so I remember taking some nighttime cold & flu medication before falling asleep early, around 7pm. Around 10pm I remember waking from my slumber to a strange sensitivity that ran up my arms, into my chest & down my right leg. I remember laying in bed, slightly scared as I wondered what was happening as the awareness of something normal returned to my left side. I stumbled out of bed, & through my fog I wandered down the hallway to the kitchen to find my Mum, and explain to her how I was feeling. FAST, the acronym society uses to identify the advancing onset of a stroke didn’t seem to apply to me. FAST, but my Face wasn’t droopy. FAST, but I could lift my Arms above my head. FAST, but my Speech wasn’t impaired. So I decided to return to bed, hopeful the feeling in the rest of my body would return by morning, just as it had in my left side just a few moments before.
But it didn’t. I woke again around 6am, & struggled to even manoeuvre to the toilet. Pulling down my pyjama bottoms was a struggle, & wiping my own ass felt impossible due to that damn lingering sensation of a tingling numbness in my arm & what was my once dominant right hand. I flushed as it took all my strength to hoist myself up onto my legs, & I stumbled down the hallway to the entrance to the garage.
I sloppily stuffed my feet into my shoes, lumbering across the garage to go outside. There, I trudged through the snow to the mailbox that hadn’t been checked in days. I made it, collected the few pieces of junk mail in my left hand, and headed back towards the house only to find my right shoe had slipped off near the foot of the driveway not long after I had ventured out. It scared me that my bare skin hadn’t even noticed the cold, damp, snow as my foot took slow step after slow step to the community mailbox a block away from the house. Something was wrong.
But I still decided to ignore my aching distant desire to call 911, instead I chose to sleep some more. So, when I woke again around 11am, almost 13 hours after a part of my body decided to go on some kinda permanent vacation, I finally made the decision to call 911. After being taken to the hospital by ambulance around 2pm, emergency room staff put me through a barrage of tests. I remember the sound of my gurney’s smooth wheels gliding along the white medical grade vinyl flooring with grey speckled spots as I watched the two by four ceiling tiles pass by overhead, broken up by panels of fluorescent light tubes that lit our path. I was still conscious when a doctor came to my emergency room bedside to break the news to me. It was now around 10pm, almost 24 hours after I had awakened to my new reality of which this middle aged man offered clarity without comfort: I had suffered a stroke.
A stroke. Something old people have. A stroke. His words were scolding, for my not coming in right away, as any of the pharmaceutical cocktails they could have given me would now be ineffective. A tear streamed down my face. I’m certain anyone could have smelled the fear that was wound deep in my being at that moment in time. A stroke. Sometimes called a brain attack. An event the CDC describes as occurring “…when something blocks blood supply to part of the brain or when a blood vessel in the brain bursts. In either case, parts of the brain become damaged or die. A stroke can cause lasting brain damage, long-term disability, or even death…” A stroke.
Part of my brain was damaged. Part of my brain was dead. This was my new reality. Would these hands ever create anything ever again? Not knowing was the most terrifying of all. I sobbed deeply with the wail of a moan, a broken cante jondo. Nothing prepares you for these things. For things that have the potential to change the trajectory of the rest of your life.
(277/365).
This was originally posted on Instagram.
Today’s photo prompt and reflective journaling questions for today was a part of the BE YOUR OWN BELOVED photo workshop challenge which is run several times throughout the year by photographer VIVIENNE McMASTER. It’s well worth signing up for, and doing alongside other participants.