do you feel the wind rush through your body?
Please do not read if you feel like you may have a negative reaction to reading about mental illness.
and it is and always has been the little things that get us through to the next breath. it is the bird songs and the taste of wine and the way the wind feels when you stick your hand out the car window. the little things will carry us until we are able to carry them in our hearts. we will be able to love them as much as the warmth of a campfire loves you. as much as the sea longs for your attention. and we will become one with the things that bring us sanity and peace and, above all, the feeling of true happiness. the little things will get us there. they will take us to that spot in the sky we dream of when we cannot even fathom dreaming at all. the sway of the trees, the glow of the stars, the slow rocking of the swinging bench at the house on the beach. it is all here so that one day we may feel the weight of all the worlds we carry, lift right off of our shoulders. and i need that. so i will dream and write and laugh and sing until one day it is all i know.
I’m the kind of person that always wants to go home, but has no idea where that place is.
I feel as though everywhere I look in social media, people my age are struggling with their values and how to apply them to their friendships. The friends I have in my life are so important to me, and I make sure they know that. I just thought I'd write something about friendship, the roles my friends have played in my life, and a little about the values I hold in my heart.
Niki de Saint-Phalle was born Catherine Marie-Agnes Fal de Saint-Phalle on October 29, 1930 in France, to a French father and an American mother. She was the second of five children in a wealthy family, who unfortunately lost their fortune and business in the stock market collapse. Niki spent most of her childhood in New York City, although she maintained strong connections with her family in France through frequent visits. Her first career was her fashion modeling, and she had photographs appearing in Vogue and Life. When she was 18 she eloped with her childhood friend Harry Mathews. In 1950 Niki began creating her first paintings while her new husband studied music at Harvard University. Their first child, Laura Gabriela-Duke, was born in Boston in 1951. Unfortunately, the young couple did not take too kindly to raising a child, and they would often leave her in their home alone while they went out for a few hours. Their son, Philip, was born in 1955 prematurely and was kept in a n over-oxygenated incubator which left him with impaired vision, while his parents did not seem to realize there was a problem. In 1953 Niki was put into a mental clinic for a nervous breakdown after her husband found a collection of razors, scissors, and knives under her mattress. During her stay in the hospital she became consumed with making art and she decided to become a painter after she left the clinic. In the early 1960s Niki began her collection of “shooting paintings,” which were assemblages of different figures filled with paint that she shot with pistols, cannon fire, or rifles. The impact would create spontaneous effects, finishing the work. The shooting paintings evolved to become a sort of performance, drawing much attention. In the 1970s an old friend’s brothers offer Niki a parcel of land in Tuscany, Italy for her to build a sculpture garden, which has been her dream for a while. This work consumes Niki’s thoughts and energies for the next twenty some years. On May 21, 2002, at the age of 71, Niki dies in La Jolla, California. Her uncompleted projects are finishes with the help of her granddaughter, Bloum Cardenas, and her longtime assistants.