“The creative mind plays with the objects it loves”
– Carl Jung
I recently visited the exhibit of Frida Kahlo at the New York Botanical Gardens. I took this picture of the desk where she painted. I imagined her sitting there looking around at her beautiful garden. I have many of her biographies and books that illustrate her work. The complexity and depth of her soul is in her work. I have different storage places for my paints, pens, pencils and brushes. These are among some of the objects I love. I see them as extensions of my mind and a creative source. All I need to do is walk by a vase full of paint brushes (the older the better) and I cannot resist the urge to create something. Sometimes I fall in love with what I have done and other times I put it away to look at again at a later time. It is my way of looking at things from a different perspective.
I took the picture but I also examined each piece very carefully. Each object had a spirit. Each has a purpose. Creativeness has a purpose. It was an amazing experience, almost surreal.
I read somewhere that in order to diversify your themes and topics for writing poetry or stories,you should write down the things you dream about as soon as you awake. Last night was full of pleasant dreams for the most part. I have mentioned before my dreams are usually colorful and many times surreal. My dream last night was about my mother who passed away about twenty-two years ago. In this dream she was very chatty. We sat alongside sipping from our favorite mugs. I still have hers.
The second part of my dream took place in this beautiful but surreal garden. I could actually smell the essential fragrances of the flowers and herbs. I felt like I was at a spa. The colors blended and kind of melted into each other. Some of the plants and flowers actually spoke to me but I cannot remember any of It.
I started painting what I remembered right away. Please send me your opinion and comments; I just love when I get comments.
What siege of our minds is this?
Fear infused with every megabyte of information
transmitted over every device imaginable
because we need to be connected to the surreal of our lives
Barriers block our logic
Our emotions cordoned off from our hearts
with yellow ribbons directing us to
“Do Not Cross”
might as well be bloody red
confirming our reality
“We Cannot Live in Peace”
Cause craziness prevails
Our ability to understand restricted
Check points drain our energy
Lives changed forever
What siege of our minds is this?
by Melba Christie
She “combated sadness ferociously”
with her paint brush
her most faithful companion
life reveals itself
mirrors reflect the surreal
and reality confronts her in the raw
but does not share the pain and anguish
deep inside she tries to draw
She is the courageous onlooker
But is not as courageous as she thinks
as far as she is concerned
it all stinks.
She fought in an eternal war
between light and darkness
fidelity and infidelity
truth and untruth
justice and injustice
Frida’s paintings haunt us
and make us more aware
We now watch the mirror that truly sees our soul
and reflects the still life on the table ( perhaps not as still)
as we continue to search for the stillness we so need
Did Frida realize that she planted a seed?
She showed us life
and how surreal it really is.