Meri's Play Place

Haiku My Heart "Strong Against the Storm" © 2017 Meri Arnett-Kremian/MeriMagic like a sentinel she stands, feet firmly planted strong against the storm

Some experts claim that nail biters suffer from anxiety and that the act of biting your nails  reduces anxiety levels. Others think it's just habit. And that could be. . .  because for me, it's so ingrained that I rarely realize I'm doing it. I've tried painting on the nasty tasting stuff. Getting artificial nails. With the fake nails, I just start picking at any loose spots and eventually strip them all off, taking the top layers of my nails with it. The few times I've fought the urge and finally grew them out to the ends of my fingers (or even beyond), my nails are really soft and tear and break so easily that I give up and go back to the raggedy, bitten look. Whatever the etiology, maybe it's not something I'll change in this lifetime. What intractable habits bedevil you?

Haiku My Heart butterflies alight resting on her heart, eyes, hands integrated sight

I know it's a scourge to property owners who are often required by local laws to cover it up at their own expense, but I have to admit that well-executed and imaginative graffiti intrigues me. But I express my urges in a nice, polite, digital form.

I must admit that I think I've drifted to some far, far shore in a Land of Lovelessness. When I hear the "Be My. . . " part of Be My Valentine, I just think of Mr. Rogers and "Won't you be my neighbor?" I think somewhere along the line, all the love stuffing  got pulled out of me.

Isn't Nature mind-blowing?

It might have been the full moon and the penumbral eclipse (which I couldn't really see  because the eclipse was too close to moon rise here in the Puget Sound region, so the moon was still dallying behind  a curtain of Douglas firs) that had me remembering my first trip to Paris. Springtime in Paris. A lover's dream. I've celebrated Midsummer's Night in Paris. Not much interested in winter in Paris. I'd rather winter in Provence. But October in Paris. . . . that sounds lovely. With a side trip to Burgundy and Champagne. Haven't seen those regions yet. Let's raise a glass to exploring old and new places to love.

It must be the incipient arrival of Valentine's Day that makes me hopeful and thinking of love. Its power. Its ability to inspire. Its steadiness.

Two important messages. They might be related. Wow.

Compassion. Kindness. Seeking to understand. All these flow from love.

"If I choose abstraction over reality, it is because I consider it the lesser chaos."  -Robert Brault

   Stuck in the Middle with You Could U.S. politics get any crazier? I hope not.

Regroup. Recharge. Redirect, even. But keep on keepin' on. The world needs your energy, your vision, your dedication.

I'm drawn to this color palette. . .  soft blues and greens, punched up with some hot pink, peach, and yellows. And then bold black/charcoal for a counterpoint. Abstract No. 43

On those rare occasions that I paint these days, I'm drawn to abstraction. (Notice I didn't say I drive myself to distraction.) There's something about the power of color and form and line  that has a purity  that's somehow diminished by introducing representation into the mix, at least to my way of thinking. I've been drawn to creating abstract pieces on Polyvore lately, as well. Here's one such piece. I called it wait for it. . . . You are Art. I hate being predictable. More to Follow.

There comes a tipping point for every individual when they've committed themselves to speaking out to doing what makes them a little fearful to shining their divine light into the darkness of complacency or ignorance or willful blindness and there's no going back to the safety of the cocoon.

I bought Rebecca Solnit's book Men Explain Things to Me for my Kindle. That little digital marvel is making the time I spend  on the Octane exercise bike go faster. Not very far into it, but I know what she means. Too many men feel compelled to explain things to women (us poor addled creatures that don't know nuthin) even when they don't have the foggiest idea of what they speak and we may be experts on the topic. Did I mention I rarely date?

At Judkins Park during the pre-March rally, there was a young man with cloth bags full of long-stemmed roses of all colors, some even multicolored. He was offering them to people who went by. Most declined. Not all. Some carried these little works of beauty with them. Don't know who he was, but thanks. It was one of the moments of delight I experienced. And that's no small thing. Narya Marcille poster, available on etsy. Just search for the Women's March poster. I just bought one.

The Women's March in Seattle. January 21, 2017. On a beautiful January day in the Puget Sound region. People inspired to work for change  on issues near and dear to their hearts. People willing to be the change they want to see in the world. People who believe in compassion, inclusion, stewardship of the earth, that black lives have often not mattered as much as they should in this society, that health care access and affordable care are essential in modern society, that different doesn't mean diminished value, that love between two adult people should be honored and their marriage legal even if they aren't a traditional heterosexual couple, that diversity strengthens our country because it offers new perspectives and ideas. No every marcher subscribed to every opinion expressed. But there was room in the protest tent for expression, honoring the person even if not agreeing with the message. S...

I'm supporting the Women's March for Change in D.C. and cities around the country. I think it makes the good old boys nervous to see women who are angry and saying no to power. But marching isn't enough. It may have put pressure on the US government to end the war in Southeast Asia decades ago (that, plus the fact that by the mid-sixties almost everyone in the country had a television set tuned to the nightly news showing reporters embedded with troops and presenting a less rosy picture than the official government blather). Times have changed in the intervening decades.  Spending a day marching isn't enough. The sophistication of Tea Party tactics must be co-opted and used to promote a different, inclusive agenda. One that says we won't put up with policies that promote the 1% and leave the rest of us adrift. What we need is targeted, effective action. Lots of it. Day in and day out. Not for f...

Access to health care is threatened. Social Security and Medicare are under attack. Whether or not you voted for Mr. Trump or not, these issues affect you or someone you love. . .  a parent or grandparent,  a college graduate who hasn't found a job. Someone with a pre-existing condition who will be uninsurable, like before "Obamacare." Like someone who's had a catastrophic health crisis and has incurred equivalent medical costs so they've max-ed out their lifetime limit. . .  which the Affordable Care Act did away with. You may worry about climate change and the obliteration of species after species and the climate change deniers who are now holding the reins of power. You may be adamant about protecting water, banning GMO's, taxpayer-funded corporate handouts, the plight of the homeless. The dismal state of education. The cost of college tuition. You may be non-white, or non-straight, or not native bo...

Haiku My Heart a pomegranate symbol of fertility bursting with ripe seeds

When I created this piece last night and wrote "into every life a little rain must fall" I was thinking metaphorically. Little did I know that when I went to the mailbox this morning to retrieve the books that I'd ordered I'd be totally soaked from driving rain. Dripping! Drenched! Took a half hour of dryer time  to correct the situation -- coat and shoes both. But hey I still stand by the claim that Love is the Only Rule.

Sometimes we can only learn the hard way. We ignore red flags. We minimize stinging comments and say "He/she didn't really mean it." But guess what. Being alone isn't so bad,  as long as you don't take up where that other person left off in the emotional abuse department.

You may feel lost because of the state of U.S. politics and all the chaos and confusion. Don't worry. There's plenty of inspiration. Your story isn't over yet.

We all find ourselves confronted from time to time by detours in our life. We think things will happen one way, but reality is something else altogether. So we're off down an unfamiliar road, griping about what isn't as much as what is because we were really attached (and still are) to the outcome we imagined. Learning to love what is seems like one of the hardest things a grown-up has to master. . . . but it's all a matter of realizing that  you can't believe everything you think.

Haiku My Heart gondolas rocking vaparetto passing by Venice awakens

Have you ever been up, up, and away in a beautiful balloon? Once long ago in a galaxy far, far away my spouse arranged a hot air balloon ride and champagne picnic afterwards. The couple that went with us --  a business client and his wife -- we kind enough to not tell us that they'd been on a hot air balloon excursion previously and that they'd crash landed. We touched down with only a jolt or two and the chase car was waiting  to transport us to our feast. Somewhere in my memory box there's a small photo album to commemorate that birthday. That spouse is now planning parties for wife # 3. That's my story.