I’m breathing, hastily, but still… I am breathing. You can either thank the harsh, wet winter or the fact that I have survived another semester of the college life. I should be happy working on a second college degree, but lately I been frustrated. These days all I want to do is write. Write, write, WRITE!
So of course I am working on my third book once again after putting it aside for 18 months and focusing on a largely transition in my life from moving to a bigger city, getting robbed in six months of living here, consuming my life with institutional training and now working a decent job. All of this gives me a hard time to let my creative juices flow naturally.
But there is a positive note for my challenges. I have written enough new poetry for a fourth book to publish within the next year as well, but I need to get my third book done first! My ADD has other plans though. I have no idea what theme or design to create my book cover or even a title for my fourth book.
So, I pinch myself to refocus on my current projects and to finish editing this damn book I been sitting on (figuratively, not literally) for the past year or so. Ironically how I am killing time while typing you up a livelihood of an update in my articulate journey.
Life is fucking crazy!
Okay, I feel better now that I screamed that out…
…In my mind and onto this blog.
Bottom line: The Road to Healing: An Equestrian Journal will be published on 12/22/16. Two years after my second book was published! Speaking of my second book, I need to go back and edit the format for that book and my first book to make it more readable for my readers and republish those collections. After that, I can figure out where to go with my fourth book.
For now, I need to snowboard through this two-part snow storm to get my ‘happy-ass’ to work for the evening. I am closing with a sneak peak photo and poem that will be in my new book.
The institutional theory is the most complex theory in the aesthetics field. Also, the most recent that covers the definition of, “what is art?” According to this theory, the argument holds, “X is an artwork, if the “art world” says it is. The art world consists of individuals who have intellectual knowledge on aesthetics AND history of art.
Art therapy also backs up Collingwood’s theory, as art is supposed to express emotions. Many war veterans, amongst other victims of life’s disaster, use art therapy as a process in a treatment to recover from their pasts. Whether it’s painting, writing, or some other form of art, war veterans become artists.
In this case, therapists are considered the “art world.” If the art piece is not exposed to anyone else. Therefore, it is still classified as art in the sense of the classificatory definition. The piece is an artifact created by humans and a status is conferred even if it is just one individual. (“Emily Dickinson”) It is still not none. Therefore it is still art.
However, not all art is revealed to the art world nor was intended to be exposed to the art world initially. Therefore it can’t be art according to the early institutional theory. This includes the poems of Emily Dickenson that weren’t published until after her passing and also the likes of art therapy. Therefore, theorists could argue that these particular art pieces are not indeed art.
The transition of the institutional theory from early to later, excludes the conferring sense. So therefore, even if the “art world” cannot see an art piece, it is still art, even if it is not intended for the public eye. Therefore, art pieces created in art therapy and Emily Dickenson’s poems are still considered art.
“Emily Dickinson: Lives of a Poet.” New York: Braziller, 1986. Print.
|Leading a horse to water.
So for my birthday this week, I requested to ride Sterling. I didn’t get much time, because again, I am not very time oriented. I tried to pull off normal during my session. It didn’t last long. I didn’t open up much, but Sterling did react to my high anxiety the moment I stepped into the arena with him. My horse trainer spoke up about it.
Anxiety plays in a number of events in my life right now. I am permanently done with the army life, therefore a second try to a transition to civilian life. I am moving to a city that’s four times bigger than my present city, and I am finally figuring out my purpose in life after long adjustments in my personal life.
When stress is high in my life, the nightmares return and I become more restless than I already am. Not the war flashback nightmares, they only come so often. My nightmares are more symbolic and line up with my native spirituality whether it involves animals or natural disasters. Most commonly, tornadoes. This past week I was introduced to rattlesnakes and other venomous snakes. I think I have some research to do to find the meaning.
Anyways, back to my therapy session. The horse trainer was concerned. She warned me that if she felt tension and no comfort in Sterling, I’d have to get off right away. It was a chance I would take just to be on him. I trusted him and he trusted me. Sterling knew what to do though with my condition, before and after I was on his back. Sterling relaxed while I was grooming him and prepping. I kept hugging him to feel him breathe and sync with his calmness. Everything went smoothly regardless of having a new intern with us and my high anxiety issues for the day.
It was a bummer he doesn’t do bareback like Joseph does, but it felt good to be riding nonetheless. Bareback is how I also prefer. You have a better connection with the horse, feeling skin on skin. It’s the spirituality in me that allows me to feel the spirit/humanity in animals, let alone horses. Not everyone has the gift, but from day one, my therapist and my first horse trainer asked if I was a horse whisper. I guess the gypsy soul in me links with the spirit of a horse.
Be the change, don’t wish for it.
I hear it over and over again.
I do what I can, when I can.
Damn, I try.
Finding my purpose in life.
Not an easy pathway,
But I think I’ve found the light.
A new day passes.
The end of the tunnel expands.
The sun rays, I feel on my skin.
Clouds creep from the distance,
Threatening the moment.
I throw out the umbrella; let the storm come.
I’m at the finish line, I’m done running.
Fists up, ready for what may come.
A passive lover turned aggressive fighter.
Wanting all that I’ve earned,
Accepting the gifts I’ve been given,
Using them to make for a better tomorrow.
The road to healing is turning its course.
Arise from the mercy of the knees,
Re-baptized by the Earthly rains.
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