Day 2793: Picture this

Picture this:  one thousand, six hundred and fifty-four days ago (can you picture who is counting?), I published another blog post “Picture this” including pictures of

• my son Aaron as a little boy and
• my old office in Newton, Massachusetts, USA with pictures on the wall by my friend, the talented photographer Kathy Tarantola, who has taken pictures of Mitt Romney and his family, as well as not-so-famous people like me and my good friend/ex-business-partner Jonathan Stark (pictured in previous posts here, here, and here).

Picture this: Jonathan thought we should be pictured in a Gap print ad in the 1990s, using a great picture by Kathy Tarantola.

Picture this: I haven’t yet revealed why the title of today’s blog post is “Picture This.” Yesterday, I discovered a  free phone app “PictureThis” which identifies plants and flowers. Can you picture how that affected the pictures I took yesterday?

Picture this: I’m on vacation from my job, so I’m letting someone else do it this week and next.

Here‘s a YouTube video about PictureThis:

 

Here‘s “Picture This” by Blondie:

 

Here‘s “Picture This” by Kero Kero Bonito:

 

Can you picture being at a live concert with crowds again?  Picture this: I will be at a live concert again, I just don’t know when.

I am now picturing the comments I’m going to get on this “Picture This” post.

Whenever possible, I take pictures of gratitude, so that you can picture my thanks to all who help me take pictures to create these daily posts, including PictureThis and YOU!

 

Day 1750: Water

Water can be

• healing,
• destructive,
• nourishing,
• polluted, and
• the inspiration for blogs and for quotes.

You can’t cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water. — Rabindranath Tagore

A woman is like a tea bag – you can’t tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water. — Eleanor Roosevelt

The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea. — Isak Dinesen

No water, no life. No blue, no green. — Sylvia Earle

The mind is like an iceberg. It floats with one-seventh of its bulk above water. — Sigmund Freud

Study how water flows in a valley stream, smoothly and freely between the rocks.  Also learn from holy books and wise people.  Everything — even mountains, rivers, plants, and trees — should be your teacher. — Morihei Ueshiba

My fake plants died because I did not pretend to water them. — Mitch Heberg

Water is the driving force of all nature. — Leonardo da Vinci

Yesterday, most of my photos were of water, as I visited  the Fort Point Arts Community Open Studios.

 

 

 

Repeating the question from yesterday’s blog post — What’s your favorite picture?  Or quote?

Also, during my travels near water yesterday, I purchased something pictured above.  Any guesses about what that might be?

Yesterday  was the anniversary of the first performance of Debussy’s La Mer (The Ocean).

 

Thanks to the ocean, Claude Debussy,  the Fort Point Artists Community (including Jennie Griffith and my old business partner Jonathan Stark),  Tacey Luongo, all the people I quoted, and — of course! — YOU.

 

 

Day 1022: Works in progress

In my work as a psychotherapist, I invite people to think of themselves and their lives as works in progress. I hope that creates progressive room for people’s progress in healing, patience, acceptance, and gentleness with self and others.

Yesterday, while I was not at work and I was looking at other people’s work instead,  I saw this:

That “Work in Progress” by Carolyn Callahan was at the Fort Point Channel Artists Open Studios. My friend Deb and I saw many works in progress there, including ourselves!

That’s Deb, whose colorful hair reflects the progressive work of Mia, our wonderful hair artiste in Watertown. Deb and I were working on our breakfast,  at Flour Bakery in Boston, when I took that picture and  saw more works in progress, including this:

After breakfast,  Deb and I  progressed to the Open Studios, where we saw some progressive works by Jenifer Mumford.

Jenifer told us about somebody who had progressed into her studio the day before and had turned around the work hanging on the walls, declaring “These look better like this!”

  

Deb and I thought it was quite progressive and kind of Jenifer not to tell that guy what a piece of work he was.

After we talked to Jenifer, we saw some wonderful work by my ex-business partner Jonathan Stark,  whom I worked with in the 80s and 90s, creating progressive corporate videos and other advertising/marketing work.

That’s Jenifer Stark,  Jonathan’s lovely wife, who does amazing work creating fabrics and clothing.  Jonathan and Jen got married in 2010. Good work, Jonathan and Jen!

Here are  some other works in progress we saw yesterday at Fort Point Channel, Boston USA:

 

Actually, I saw that last work at a supermarket in Waltham, Massachusetts last night.  Do you think powdered peanut butter is progress?  If not, what progress do you see here?

When I progressed to YouTube to look for progressive music about work, I found this great work by the Cannonball Adderley Quintet:

Now I need to progress to work.

Progressive thanks to all the artists who helped me create today’s post and to all the works in progress out there, including you!

Day 454: My brain is like a sieve

Here’s another post, people, where I riff on something that was in my brain …

… when I woke up.

 

My brain is like a sieve …

… is a phrase that has been bouncing around in my mind, lately, because

• somebody wrote that to me on Facebook, a few weeks ago, regarding the Paul Simon and Sting concert we both attended and
• it’s a song by Thomas Dolby that I often hear.

When my friend wrote “my brain is like a sieve” on Facebook, she may have meant

I forget too many things

but I did NOT use the helpful skill of reality testing, so I’m not sure what she meant, exactly.

However, I do hear people in my office saying, in one way or another

I forget too many things

as they grow older (as we all do) or if they have any history of memory ailments in their families. When people express concern about their memories, sometimes they use metaphors like

(which was the first Google Image for “my brain is like a sieve). But, no matter how people express it,  I often witness worry and anxiety about forgetting.

And, worry and anxiety can make people’s brains more like sieves. I think I’ve demonstrated that, quite nicely, in several of my blog posts. I can’t tell you which ones, exactly, right now.

My brain is telling me, now, that I should turn to what Thomas Dolby means, when he says

(image found here).

Since I don’t know what Mr. Dolby was thinking when he wrote that song, the best I can do is to present his words:

My brain is like a sieve
sometimes it’s easier to forget
all the bad things you did to me,
you did to me.
my brain is like sieve
but it knows when it’s being messed with
if you wanted you could come in,
so come in.

When you said you loved me
when you told me you cared
that you would be a part of me,
that you would always be there
did you really mean to hurt me?
no, I think you only meant to tease.
But it’s hard to remember,
I lost my memory. See,

my brain is like a sieve
sometimes it’s easier to forget
all the bad things you did to me,
you did to me.
my brain is like sieve
but it knows when it’s being messed with
if you wanted you could come in,
so come in.

You ought to be ashamed of your behaviour
when you’re treating me this way
as if I had deserved to be a place to vent your ire
some day I’m gonna douse that bonfire
we make a crucial team for a dying world
and style is a word I never even heard
in your vocabulary, victim of a murder mystery
…murder!

My brain is like a sieve
sometimes it’s easier to forget
all the bad things you did to me,
you did to me.
my brain is like sieve
but it’s a place where we both could live
if you wanted you could come in,
so come in.

 

Now I’m

• wondering what your brain is telling you, about the meaning of those lyrics and
• noticing my own thoughts about them.

I can’t know what you’re thinking (unless you share your interpretations in a comment), so I’ll stick to my own ideas about those lyrics, for now.

Unlike Thomas Dolby, I do NOT find it easier to forget the bad things that have happened to me (whether caused by people or other things).  No, quite the opposite.  As I’ve written about here, many times,  the bad things — the painful experiences — are the things that tend to stick.

As a matter of fact, here’s another possible title for this blog:

The Year(s) of Making My Brain The Opposite of a Sieve, Regarding the Good Things, and Making My Brain More Like a Sieve, Regarding the Painful Things

… but that’s too long, don’t you think? Even if somebody had a perfect memory — a brain with absolutely no sieve-like holes in it — that title would be very difficult to remember. And, it would be much harder to communicate, when I’m telling people about this blog.

Which reminds me of the opening I went to, last night, of the Photography Exhibit, Ravishing, which includes works by Leonard Nimoy, Bear Kirkpatrick, Alicia Savage, Jeffrey Heyne, and — last, but certainly not least — Jonathan Stark, who is my long-time friend AND my ex-partner from Koplow Stark Creative.*

Here’s a photo I snapped at that event, last night:

Left to right, that’s Alicia Savage, Jonathan, Bear Kirkpatrick, and Jeffrey Heyne. Leonard Nimoy couldn’t attend, but he may appear, via Skype from California, when Jonathan gives a talk at Gallery 555, in South Boston on April 19.  The photos, in my photo above, are by Jonathan, which he’ll be speaking about in April.

Here’s one more image I captured last night, at the photography exhibit opening:

I snapped that work, by Bear Kirkpatrick, at the same time I took my other photo: during the panel discussion with all the photographers.

My brain, right now, is reminding me of a transition I left dangling in this post, above, regarding the length of the title of this blog.

Remember?

If you don’t remember, that does NOT prove that your brain is like a sieve. Not at all.

This is what I’ve left unfinished, in this blog post:  Last night, I typed, into somebody’s cell phone, the title of this blog, which took a little while, because it’s so friggin’ long already.

Here’s what happened: As Michael and I were leaving the gallery and saying goodbye to Jonathan, Jonathan introduced us to Bernard Murphy.  Bernard  immediately noticed my Chakra Bracelet:

(which has appeared previously in this blog, here).

In response to Bernard’s compliment, I said, “That’s a bracelet I purchased from another blogger.” I then declared, with some pride, “I’m a blogger!”

And Bernard said, “I’m a blogger, too!”

Guess where Bernard blogs?

Here’s the link to Bernard’s blog: http://redlights2graythoughts.wordpress.com/

I just visited there, and it looks like Bernard and I have some things in common.

I wonder if Bernard posts goofy photos, like me?

Thanks to Wikipedia (for the photos and entries for “brain” and “sieve”), to my friends (on Facebook and elsewhere), to Thomas Dolby, to Jonathan and the other wonderful photographers I saw last night, to Bernard and the other WordPress bloggers I’ve been honored to meet (including Irene, who made the Chakra bracelet), to those who express their fears and other feelings as best they can, and to people whose brains are like sieves or like anything else. And — of course! — thanks to you, for visiting my brain, today.

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* Koplow Stark Creative was an advertising/marketing company that Jonathan and I co-founded and ran in the 1980s and 1990s. We did some great work together, if I do say so myself (and if my brain is not a sieve).