Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Your breath quickens, yes,
Quickens, again, yes,
One last deep breath, yes,
And then, yes,
Oh yes, yes, yes,
One long sigh, yes,
And holds, yes,
Yes, yes, yes,
You behind my eyes, yes,
You watching, yes,
This is because of you, yes,
I dream you near, yes,
My breath hot, yes,
You are My Love, yes,
Sunday, February 25, 2007
My Darling Belovéd Princesa Che-Che,
I weep before your beauty.
I bend my knee to the power of your gaze.
I am prostrate facing you.
I beg to breathe again.
I beg you allow my heart to beat again.
I am helpless.
I am hopelessly in love with you.
I beseech you; lift me to where you are.
I seek permission to be alongside you.
I await your soft words granting me audience.
I am yours in my heart, my mind and my soul.
I faithfully carry your heart in mine.
Halo, Dear Heart,
Nais kung maging asawang lalaki…
There, I said it again!
How are you, My Li’l Love? I pray that all is well, that the exams and quizzes were easier than you studied for and that Mom is back to help around the house and to cook for you all. Whew! That was a lot to hope for all in one sentence!
BTW, you do know that I’m madly in love with you, don’t you?
Yesterday was a very interesting, fulfilling and gratifying day. I’ll tell you about it…
It began early—for me, at least—when I made my coffee and bagels at 6:30am. I showered, shaved, gave myself an insulin shot and dressed to be ready to leave at 7:30am for the hospital. Nothing serious for me; it was just a doctor’s appointment at 8:45am. I live so far from town that it takes about an hour’s drive at 60 miles an hour to get anything done. But, I got there in time enough and went in for my chat. He said I should have a full body x-ray to see if the cancer has spread anywhere else in my body and from that, determine if any other treatment is necessary. I had to go to the X-Ray department for a radioactive injection and then come back in 3 hours.
While I was in my urologist’s office, I told jokes to him and his secretary about my responses to all this stuff. He’s so serious all the time that I resolved to get him laughing, often. I’ve succeeded.
I went back home—only took 20 minutes—answered some email, listened to a lesson from The Science Of Getting Rich and did my homework there. After that, I returned to the hospital for the x-ray scan. I stopped into a jewelry store on the way to look at rings for you and even had your “Che-Che” ring sized. Here in
After I finished the scan, I decided I would get something to eat. I went to “Burger King.” While there, I went through a strange physical episode. I sat down with my food and began to get faint, very faint. I almost passed out right in the restaurant. I didn’t want to do that because no one would know why I was getting sick and the result might be they call an ambulance. I knew what was going on—I was having an insulin reaction (too much insulin in my body) and needed to eat or drink something sugary as soon as possible. My friend, Connie (who is a nurse) just happened to call me on my cell phone at this same time and told me what I already knew: get some sugar in me to counteract the insulin, too much of which was causing me to go into shock. I very carefully stood up—the room was getting dark around me as I was about to pass out—and made my way to the soda dispenser to get some “full-on” Coke, not Diet Coke, which is what I usually drink, since I am a diabetic. I don’t usually like the taste of regular Coke because of the sugar content so I mixed it with what was left of my Diet Coke, sat down and started drinking the mixture.
The effect was almost immediate. As the drink got into my stomach and then passed into my small intestine, (where all nutrient absorption takes place) I began to feel more aware of my surroundings and the previous darkness began brightening up. It took maybe five to ten minutes for my situation to begin improving. Instead of my head resting on the table top, I could sit up straight and breathe normally. I was still feeling somewhat uneasy but, I knew the worst was over. I stood up without being shaky or weak and went toward the movie theatres in this shopping center. I found a movie I wanted to see, bought a ticket, got some popcorn and sat down. I didn’t want to chance driving back home after what had just happened in case I might get faint again; better to fall asleep in a movie theatre than in my car on the highway.
I wanted to go to a cancer presentation at a church far away from here and meet my friend Connie, the nurse. It didn’t start until 6:00pm and it was only 3:30pm when the movie began. Obviously, driving home and then turning around right away to come back was out of the question. So, I sat through “Breach” (the title) until about 5pm and left for the meeting. I felt strong as normal.
The meeting was excellent. We listened to a medical doctor who was very spiritual (he once studied to become a Jewish rabbi) and who had a medical clinic in
As I came out of the hospital elevator, I ran into my “primary care” doctor, the one caring for my diabetes and general health. I had asked him back in December for a referral to another doctor in a different hospital who was conducting a “clinical trial” of a new medicine that fights Prostate Cancer. This new doctor would not see me unless my primary care doctor referred me so that my insurance would end up paying for this trial. I asked for this referral in December, again in January and February through his nurse/receptionists and still I had not received the form. I wanted to visit this new doctor and see if I qualified for the new treatment he proposed. Without the proper referral I was going nowhere. I confronted my primary care doctor right then and there while he was in his street clothes, obviously heading to his office. As I reminded him of my earlier referral requests, he countered with reasons why I shouldn’t even go that way. First he said, I wouldn’t qualify based on what he knew of the entry requirements. Then, he said my insurance probably wouldn’t pay for it, so why try? I looked him straight in the eye, poked my finger into his chest and said, “Never mind all that, I want the referral.” He asked if I wanted it mailed to me and I said yes.
That encounter kept coming up to me as I was bathed in the peace and harmony this spiritually-guided doctor spoke to us. I kept wondering why I was having so much difficulty obtaining a simple piece of paper from my doctor. In the end, though, I didn’t let that stop me from going up to this gentle man after his talk and asking if my insurance would cover visits to his clinic and what I needed to do to start my visits. He explained how simple it all was and yes, that my insurance covered my potential work with them. You can imagine how relieved and grateful I was.
I slept well that night and dreamed richly of you and me.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Those of you who have followed my blog, “Brittle Liquid’s Journey” (http://dickhoyer.blogspot.com) know that my trek towards world-wide fame (and the accompanying income) has been both arduous and easy. It’s been arduous in that I ended up doing everything else but pursuing art. I worked at jobs and businesses, some interesting, some excruciatingly boring instead of art. Art was a minor issue in my life as so many bills and money needs clamored for my attention. I didn’t grasp the idea that I could have fun doing something I loved and make money at the same time. I was chained to the belief that art was for children or very special people, who just happened to be crazy enough to pursue their calling. I couldn’t do it; I was so far away from having the drive to do artistic things for money that I pushed any art thought deeply away. I was convinced art was not possible for me.
Yet, so much of my thoughts were about art, either producing it or viewing it. There were times when my artistic “bent” was called to needful things, like designing a poster for the ACLU or in college, designing and building an award-winning float for Homecoming. Sometimes, I did things that were artistic but were disguised as something else. One thing that comes to mind is “The Champagne and Chocolate Couples’ 10K Classic, The Most Elegant Running Event in Hawaii.” This was a foot race, staged on a resort golf course that really lived up to it’s billing, “Most Elegant.” We had choral groups and violins on the golf greens. The race organizers wore tuxedoes or long garden dresses. The aid stations were decorated like hotel serving tables, including floral arrangements. All the volunteers wore white gloves and bow ties. The artistic element for me was in the grand design of the event from the applications to handing out roses to all the lady finishers. Everything was done with the idea that the participants were entering into a piece of art, were a part of the art and would leave the art with a vision of the art within them. Simply put, as art happens in the mind, so did this event, even though there was a physical element involved by actually completing the race.
I could see art in some of the lowliest things, like TV or print commercials or even the design of a can opener. I marveled at the ways art communicated ideas, even those of Salvador Dali or Picasso. I looked at some art and thought I could do better and tried to. My efforts were laughable, at best. Since I couldn’t get the idea transmitted on my first try, my impatience took over and I dropped my efforts. I didn’t know then that art is a process and a progression of efforts building to something recognizable, at least to the artist. All I had to do in reality was to do a little at a time, practice a little but do that frequently and, in time, I would find success. I buried even that small assignment in favor the larger issue of earning a living for me and my family.
I paid scant attention to my dreams which had me producing art; those were just night-time illusions. I was laid off or dismissed from several jobs in the past and every time and I mean every time that happened, always my mind said, “This is a good time to start your art career.” The thought was so strong that I might even go to a museum to see what might encourage me. I went to poster stores to look at what was selling and what I might offer. I went to bookstores and libraries browsing the art sections, particularly instruction books on how to create art. Hanging over my head though, was the need to get a job to pay the bills. I shut myself off from the possibility that I might quietly do some art and work full-time. For some reason, it was an all-or-nothing thing for me; either I was a fulltime artist or a fulltime employee, nothing in-between. Call me stubborn, if you will.
As some of you may recall, my re-birth as an artist occurred when my most recent marriage broke up and I was left with many choices about how I would spend my time after work hours. Not surprisingly, that still, small voice within said, “So, Dickie, wouldn’t you say this is a good time to revive that artist idea?” Suddenly, the thought was easy to entertain and I set about to do so fiercely. All the drawings I had surreptitiously kept away from my family were dragged out and judged worthy or not. I set about drawing or tracing all manner of photographs, especially those of female nudes. I bought art supplies and set up my daughter’s now-vacant room as a studio. I drew from the moment I got home until I collapsed in bed. I made up for lost time with a vengeance. Even when I dislocated my right middle finger from vacuuming the house with so much vigor, I kept on drawing, taping the pencils to my cast. The drive to produce was insatiable. I couldn’t get my ideas down fast enough. At work, I kept a notebook handy and doodled in it constantly. The courage to produce came easily and soon I was making stuff that was not only recognizable to me but, attracted the attention of some important people and in the words of the poet, I took a different path and that “…has made all the difference.”
I realized that my art was going to be different if it was to gain any acceptance and lead me to my goal of becoming a world-famous artist. I chose stained glass art as it was an area few people tried because of its perceived difficulty. I had a background in it as I had been a glass artist some years back in my first marriage. I had a modicum of success then, selling anything I produced. Yet, the vagaries of paycheck production won out and I demurred to getting a job. This time, it was the subject matter that would be different. Instead of making “staid” glass windows of traditional ideas or even those that reflected Hawaii, like poi pounders or plumerias, I would take stained glass in a direction no one had thought of just yet. I would take stained glass as often found in churches and create erotic stained glass.
The most frequent response I received when I talked about my idea was, “I’ve never heard of that.” It was like music to my ears. Those responses meant I found a niche and now all I needed was a market. With a lot of help from a stained glass studio, I produced a one-man show, “The 2004 Hawaii Couples’ Stained Glass Classic: Original Erotic Art” which was staged in a downtown restaurant, Café Che Pasta. The show was for a month and I sold some pieces. Some of the work was censored and had to come down, a huge disappointment to me. I think the only person disturbed by my offerings was the Catholic Arch-Bishop of Honolulu, who, it is reported, immediately cancelled his weekly luncheon reservations for the entire month of my show. Well, as far as I was concerned that very reaction told me I was on to something—or so I thought. I set up a website, www.dherotica.com and marketed it through Google with lots of hits and no sales. I wondered as to what would attract buyers. I went so far as to commission a study and presentation for the pornography industry, www.dherotica.biz designed to show them that erotic stained glass would be an ideal addition to their product mix. I was doing a lot of this while I was unemployed though I had some money from a small inheritance to keep me in rent and food.
Eventually, I ran out of money and had to go back to work. By now, however, I decided I would concentrate on producing erotic art rather than windows. I had no place to make my pieces, anyway, but I could use the same PC program used to design stained glass windows to simply create art. The program included color stained glass samples within it so I could instantly color my works once the drawing was done. I found lovely flesh colored glass to bring my “girls” to life and interesting other colored glass for backgrounds and such. All I needed was models.
And they came forward in the person of Che-Che and her cousin. They posed for me and brought much delight with their various pictorials. At one time, I was receiving about 80 photographs a month which I turned into art as fast as I could, sometimes two or three a day and seven to ten on each weekend day. As I did more, I got better, up to and including their faces. The art became more realistic. Their facial expressions became more accurate in reflecting their moods. I learned to portray them with a minimum of lines so that their portraits were simple but powerful. I learned how to size the projects so that I told their story not necessarily from head to toe but using the most engaging parts of them. I created hundreds of art works of them, learning something new with each one, making progress each time, if only it was to change the thickness of the lines I used in portraying their eyes.
Everything I did was but a step closer to my dream of being a world-class artist. I finally got to the point where I needed the court of public opinion to tell me if I was on the right track this time. I took a couple steps in that direction by showing some of my artist friends what I was doing and they seemed to be suitably impressed. I asked my first college art teacher for his comments and those changed my art for the better, immeasurably. All I had to do now was find a way to expose this new art to as many people as I could and see what happened.
Suddenly, as I was now open to directing my efforts to exposure, several websites came my way. Each showed promise but the one that caught my attention—and my dollars—was http://yessy.com/dickhoyer For just pennies per day, I would get exposure to literally thousands of art aficionados, some of whom might even buy. In truth, since January 21st until today, February 2oth, some 4,000 people have at least clicked on my site. Because of that frequency, Google has me listed by name on page one of their engines, if one only types in “nudes.” Surely that means something. Then, I found http://brittleliquid.artremains.com which put me in the company of other artists. Some of them found my work intriguing and commended it to others. By now, I found myself feeling more courage and confidence when a “call for artists” arrived from the Honolulu Academy of Arts for the “Artists of Hawaii, 2007” show, an annual event. This was what I had been working toward for so long: acceptance. I immediately offered three pieces, “My Storied Scarf,” “I Am,” and “Obedience,” all of which can be seen at http://yessy.com/dickhoyer. Let me caution you, they are all nudes.
To be accepted into such a prestigious art show would launch my career, surely. Once I submitted my art through the appropriate channels, all I could do now was to wait as the jury would meet sometime in April for the July show. At last, a chance to reveal my works to the public in a very important way. If you know anything about me by now, I won’t be sleeping much for the next month or so as excited as I am.
Watch this space for updates on my progress toward possible acceptance and certain success…surely, right?
Always I feel the warmth of your love and affection.
You never leave my thoughts.
I have your heart because I carry it in mine.
You are the spirit that keeps me going and going.
You are thoroughly within me, in every cell and molecule.
I breathe you in with every breath and sometimes I hold my breath for a
moment or two, keeping you inside me for just a little longer before I
let you go.
I’m selfish; I don’t want you further away than that last breath.
But, I am comforted knowing that the very next breath will have you in
it and so,
I breathe deeply again and you are here again and again and again…
Friday, February 16, 2007
e.e. cummings D, SONNETS-REALITIES,XVIII
my girl's tall with hard long eyes
as she stands, with her long hard hands keeping
silence on her dress, good for sleeping
is her long hard body filled with surprise
like a white shocking wire, when she smiles
a hard long smile it sometimes makes
gaily go clean through me tickling aches,
and the weak noise of her eyes easily files
my impatience to an edge--my girl's tall
and taut, with thin legs just like a vine
that's spent all of its life on a garden-wall,
and is going to die. When we grimly go to bed
with these legs she begins to heave and twine
about me, and to kiss my face and head.
I looked up what is called the Minimum Daily Requirements for healthy living and found out some surprising information. I’m told there some basic things that must be included in a person’s life everyday or face unhappiness, despair and gloom. There a wide variety of things described but there was one item that caught my eye. It got my attention so thoroughly that I researched it in my own life to see if I might be at risk because I might be missing it.
I spent hours on the internet. I called experts in the field of healthy living and asked hard specific questions on how I might know whether I was missing this key ingredient. They all said it was characterized by listlessness, inability to concentrate, staring at walls for long periods, sleeplessness, lack of hunger and unwillingness to participate with others except to tell others that something was missing and to ask for help finding it. These experts all agreed on one thing: missing this one ingredient for more than one day in my life was risky to my emotional, mental and spiritual health to say nothing about my physical health.
I knew what they were talking about, for sure. I was experiencing those pangs in my consciousness for the last two days. I couldn’t sleep for more than two or three hours before I would get up, check my computer for the tiniest shreds of information and see if any responses might lead me to some small comfort. Alas, my searches were fruitless; I found nothing of any help.
In desperation, I tried calling on the phone—no answer. I emailed incessantly—no reply. I packed my Yahoo Instant Messenger with wondering words, pleading paragraphs and sorrowful soliloquies begging for a return to my remonstrations in some small way—no one to accept these. I entreated those on “the other side” of my quests to at least wink back or to lift a hand in acknowledgement, even just a finger. Ah, but that was not to be. Only a silence greeted me. What more could I do? I found out…
First, I had to admit to myself that I was missing that key component of my personal Minimum Daily Requirement. Next, I had to settle for a measure of something that I previously denied myself. Finally, I needed to address this issue head-on. Here’s what happened:
The Minimum Daily Requirement I discovered missing was a daily dose of Che-Che. It didn’t matter what form that came in—email, IM, phone conversation, postal mail—as long as I had some contact daily I could live healthy. Without that daily dosage, I was a sufferer of “Lover’s Loneliness, (LL)” characterized by the symptoms I described earlier. Only a small quantity was necessary, but that dosage outweighed anything else I could do; eat; drink or exercise. In fact, that dosage did more to accelerate my pulse than a daily jog. What wonderful feelings arose from just a little connection with Che-Che? I could dance all night. I could sing all day. My smile looked like I had slept with a clothes hanger in my mouth. My eyes were bright and clear. I didn’t need a car to get anywhere; I was floating from place to place anyway. My friends knew I was well and good and healthy not from me but from the energy arcing across the sky, brighter than the sun. Complete strangers suddenly greeted one another in loving embraces in grocery store checkout lines. Parking spaces quickly opened up…
Okay, okay, maybe not all of that stuff actually happened but, what does happen when joy fills the world? I suppose things like that could. I mean, I knew joy unbridled when Che-Che was before me in print or on the Webcam. Colors vibrated with sound. Sounds were colorful. Her every word or gesture brought me sights of what heaven must be like—pure breathtaking beauty. Her words rolled by my eyes over and over again; I practically memorized her missives. One look from her and I was that deer frozen in place by bright headlights, I needed reminders to breathe again. I was slowed down by whatever she did, so taken was I by her grace, poise, confidence and power. I welcomed this tempo; I embraced it for it represented the surcease I sought from the discomfort of “LL.” Just a glimpse or a word from Che-Che was enough to lift me off my knees, get me shaving and eating normally. In the grand scheme of growing things I brought myself to the acceptance of things denied earlier.
I needed to learn and practice patience.
You know the old prayer, “Lord, please give me more patience…and I mean RIGHT NOW! ´” That was my mantra up until now, except I left out the “Lord” part. I just tried hard not to make my impatience evident or obvious usually by couching it in sarcastic utterances. I thought people would understand my rushing to get things done if they just listened to me. It worked sometimes and I even got ahead—sometimes. Meeting Che-Che was a chance occurrence, declaring her my friend was a choice but, falling in love with her I had no control over. And that changed most everything in my life, mostly in my patience quotient. I find I am calmer than before. I rush to fewer judgments. Drivers find me waving them ahead of me in line. I strike up conversations with others in cashier lines. I watch others with more consideration of their outward condition. I understand others more deeply and I find people revealing themselves with more candor. All this was happening as I kept myself aware of the value of patience—“…all things come to he who stands and waits…” or “…patience is a virtue and virtue is its own reward…” It’s been a lifetime of unconscious “hurry up and wait” up until now for me. Suddenly, (well, within the last two months anyway) I was learning to slow down, really smell the flowers (in Hawaii, they are dream-inducing) and look, really look at everything that was good and decent in my life. I was learning to be grateful anew for everything—good and not so—all because of falling so deeply in love with Che-Che. After all, she was proof positive that my being happy was because of being grateful for everything.
And so, I confronted this “LL” head on by recognizing the symptoms and being patient enough to wait for Che-Che to appear again, either in print or in person on the Webcam. I went back over saved IM conversations, re-read her emails or visited her blog http://chesjourney.blogspot.com/several times a day. I produced fresh art of her and posted them in my online galleries http://yessy.com/dickhoyer (Warning: most of these are full nudes) and it was better art than before, done with great patience and attention to appropriate detail. I learned to slow down, savoring the precious moments of my memories of her, directing my night dreams to be full of her; in short having her by my side all the time. And thus, I cured myself and took my Daily Dose of Che-Che, my Minimum Daily Requirement for a full, happy and healthy life.
Thanks be to science!!!
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
But fate's been kind the downs have been few
I guess you could say that I've been lucky
Oh, I guess you could say it's all because of you.
And if anyone should ever write my life story
Oh, whatever reason there might be
You'll be there between each line of pain and glory
'Cause you're the best thing that's ever happened to me
You're the best thing that ever happened to me.
Lord, there have been times when times were hard
But always somehow I made it through
'Cause for every moment I've spent hurting
There was a moment I've spent loving you.
And if anyone should ever write my life story
Oh, whatever reason there might be
You'll be there between each line of pain and glory
'Cause you're the best thing that's ever happened to me
You're the best thing that ever happened to me...
Monday, February 12, 2007
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
Monday, February 12, 2007
Halo, My Darling,
I write this a few hours after we were cut off by PLDT—again, it seems. We were just getting into a serious exchange of thoughts and poof! Gone again…
Bummers! I didn’t get to tell you how much I love you…
Anyway, perhaps I can just state my case this way and you can read it and decide how to respond.
As I was saying, I think finishing your accounting degree is important for several reasons. You will prove to yourself that you can take on a project—any project—from start to finish. If others want to know if you can complete assignments you can point to the degree. Having a degree also says something else: you know how to do research, how to find out what you need to know to complete a project. So, with a degree you tell future employers you can do two things. You can finish things on time (getting your degree in the prescribed amount of time) and you know how to look up stuff. It doesn’t really matter what the degree is in, anyway, though it is very helpful to have a degree that matches the job you’re looking for.
Another reason is the money you’ve already spent to get this far. Surely turning away from what is a possible career (accounting) is probably foolish at this time. And, going for what you really want—psychology—is not quite the career move that makes sense right now, particularly in PH, as we both agree. I can understand that your heart is not in the “numbers game.” For now, this is the only game worth pursuing if demand is high in PH and if, of course, you decide that staying there is the right choice for you.
That decision is complicated, for sure. There is the possibility you can get hired quickly in PH, maybe even close to home. You may not make as much money as you would say in Cebu or Manila, for instance, but here is another consideration for you; Mom’s health. If she gets through this latest illness, that is great! If she doesn’t get through it and she requires home-care, who will do that? Let’s be realistic here and hope for the best but have a plan for the worst that can happen. If she gets worse, are there family members that can care for her while you continue in school? Will you be able to finish school, at all? What happens then? You can expect that I will do everything I can to help you but I will have limits for a while as I build the business up to something profitable for us. But, we have to be practical and think about what could happen and how to handle that. Let’s pray she goes through this surgery well and no further complications arise.
You know I love you very much. I’ve said it in many ways and I’ve variously demonstrated it, as well. Surely it is interesting to have me as your love since there is so much distance and yes, even years between us. There are surely some differences between us but for now all we discuss seems to be similar and likeable. Over time, you may find some of me is not necessarily attractive and you may accept me anyway. Yet, there may be some things that you feel strongly about and that you don’t want to have in your life and you may reject me as a future husband. You are free to do that I can understand that.
I know for certain that much of my depths have been changed by knowing you and loving you. I constantly search my mind and soul for those negative traits I might have and strive to work on them. I am impatient but I find a new willingness to wait for you to express yourself and that has affected me in other areas of my life. I don’t yell at stupid drivers anymore. I’ll wait in line to be served by an overworked store cashier and even make small-talk to make our shared experience pleasant. I find honesty a pleasurable experience and up until now I wasn’t sure I could tell the difference between being totally truthful and only partially so. I am also more aware of what is honest behavior in others. So far, I haven’t been disappointed in leaving someone if I find they are less than honest with me, although I tend to give people too much time to prove themselves dishonest. This must be because of my caring nature, which has also improved due to knowing you.
Up until now, I played with businesses instead of being serious about making them create money. For now I see this art we have created as a serious thing, something no one has ever seen before up until now. Once it “takes off” (and I firmly believe it will) we will be in for a deliciously profitable ride. For the first time, I am very positive about what I am doing with the art of you and of Até Rory. Because you permitted me to portray yourselves in all manner of ways, I am an excellent artist and now I am working on becoming an excellent businessman to promote the art and sell it. Your participation in my dream of becoming a world-wide famous artist is an absolute key to my success. I could not do it without you and I will not do it without you.
I now take care of my health better than I have up until now. As you know, I have two things to concern me: diabetes and cancer. I am getting better control over my diabetes by changing my diet. I now eat salads, vegetables, chicken and fish. I make juices out of apples, carrots, ginger and spinach. My blood sugar levels are getting better, too. Although I have to inject myself daily with insulin to keep my sugar levels under better control, the diet and accompanying weight loss is making things better, too. Because of my love for you and my desire to remain alive for many years to come with you, I do more healthy things than before. You know I quit smoking last summer and I have not missed it a bit. I do have an occasional glass of wine from time to time and I find that relaxing. I sleep fairly well. I drink a lot of water, too, and sometimes my sleep is interrupted in order to go to the comfort room during the night, but I fall asleep quickly after those visits.
Because of you, I have less loneliness in my life. I do miss you immediately after we end our conversations but I find “…i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)” as the poet says. That keeps me full of you until we can speak again. There are times, I have to admit, that missing you hurts so much that I can’t stop myself from crying. It’s then that I feel weakest and am in most need of hearing from you. And you know what? Almost every time that I am on my knees weeping, something comes in, either you on IM or an email. I promise you, just when I need you most, you show up. It doesn’t happen all the time. I mean, I’m not always crying, of course. People would take ME away if I was doing that all the time. Just occasionally, I feel sad about not hearing from you for several days.
Because of you, I now know what it means to be a “best friend” to someone else. You act differently around me from how you describe yourself around others. You open up and tell me what is on your mind. You allow me to ask you about yourself. You trust me more each day. I appreciate the confidence you place in me. I’m glad what I say makes sense to you. I’m glad it is useful. I’m proud that my suggestions to you are taken seriously, simple as they may be. Up until now, I really didn’t understand how important my role might be in someone else’s life. When you turn to me for advice or you just make comments of one kind or another, I take what you say seriously. There are times when you tease or make me laugh and I appreciate that so much. You do things gently and in a kindly manner with me and I softly accept. Up until now, that was very much missing from my life. But now, I know what it is to be important enough to someone else to be called a “best friend.”
The poet once said, “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” Looking at you, I know exactly what he means. You are beautiful. Your eyes are dark and deep and so inviting. Your nose is so European, straight and narrow. Your cheeks show your deep heritage to ancient civilizations; high and filled. Your lips are full and appealing; so ready to be kissed. All of you is delicate and well put-together. I adore you, Princesa and I can hardly wait to be held by you, stroked by you and wrapped around you. You are indeed a flower unfolding right in front of me and I am enraptured by you.
I love you, Dearest CC, and my last breath will have your name on it.
Friday, February 9, 2007
I’m glad you’re into the creative process again with the sewing. I still think your abilities with interior design could be a pleasant—and very possibly profitable--experience for you even though it may seem late in life. Despite your commitments with all the children/grandchildren, your creativity is special enough to warrant a closer look. If you were to casually mention to friends and others that you can help decorate homes, you may well find a willing and supportive audience and clientele. I don’t think I’m telling you anything you don’t already know deep inside, Naneo.
Being willing to acknowledge the creative urge and then do something about it is a very powerful and natural step which few of us actually do. We are consumed by what we think is important and cannot seem to make a space for what we may well consider frivolous—our artistic drives. Yet, we are all artists and are so from our earliest memories.
Think back to one’s own original efforts at art or even to our children’s or grandchildren’s efforts. We spend a lot of time recognizing their efforts, praising whatever is put on paper or—heaven forbid—walls and even posting this art on refrigerators or framing and hanging it in hallways. Every child has this talent and we do encourage it as adults—for a while. Then, inevitably, we start telling these incredible prodigies how to draw and paint. We tell them that coloring books should have colors within the lines. We ask them to explain specifically what it is that they’ve just drawn. And then, horror of horrors, we start telling them it is more important to read and do math than it is to follow their creative urge. Few are avidly encouraged to follow their creativity since there are careers of greater significance than art.
I speak with some authority on this as a recipient of the directives described above. I remember very much wanting to draw and paint as a child. I recall Mom and Dad requiring me to set up my easel and water colors in the bath tub so that I wouldn’t mess up my bedroom with any possible spills. I remember wearing one of Dad’s shirts as if I was wearing an artist’s smock and even donning a beret to complete the look. Even though the art I created was important to me, what was important to them was how silly I looked in my costume. After all, their plan for me at 7 years old was for me to become a doctor not an artist.
I remember having a “paint-by-numbers” art set where all I had to do was match the number on the art with the number of the paint, fill in the numbered block and voilá! a finished masterpiece. Yet, all I heard was how much the oil paints smelled up the apartment and to get back to studying science because, after all, I was to become a doctor. I can still see the drawings of airplanes hanging in my 5th grade class room, the only place I felt comfortable viewing my art. I remember staring out the windows of that same classroom at St. Bernadette’s
I can recall doing well in diagramming sentences in English class as I saw these efforts as just more art. I remember a Mexican boy in 7th grade who could draw water drops so realistically in pencil that I often wondered why the paper wasn’t wet. I admired him so that even in my adult years I tried to do the same thing and never got quite as close. I received an “A” for a geographic depiction of the earth in geography class, of all places, again because I considered the assignment one of art rather than where places were located.
Certainly, I have recovered from the medical path I was pushed into, even if I had to do poorly in every college class in pre-med studies just to avert that parental push. I feared a backlash from Mom and Dad if I flat told them I wasn’t going into medicine. After all, their hopes and dreams were that I would be the first one in the family to be a doctor, if only because I replaced Dad’s aspirations for medicine, interrupted as they were by WWII. I do remember responding to other adult’s questions as to “…what I wanted to be when I grew up?” with, “a doctor.” I remember the admiration they heaped on me for that answer and feeling good. I think I remember better how good it felt to be praised than what they actually said. I got so little praise or recognition from Mom and Dad for the things I enjoyed or did well. I only remember praise for responding to what they wanted me to do, for instance telling their friends that what I want to do “when I grew up” was to become a doctor. Anything else I did was simply a diversion from their goal for me: be a doctor.
It’s taken a long time to let go and let my creative talents come to the forefront. Whether it is art or writing, these creative urges drive my life right now. I can barely look at anyone without picturing them in a portrait. I examine facial expressions for clues as to how to portray people better. I read to glean a way of expressing myself better in my writings. I joined the Honolulu Academy of Arts to be closer to other artists, whether famous or otherwise. I attend various artists’ openings to see what makes them so attractive to others that they get a show of their own. I posted my art at http://yessy.com/dickhoyer on January 21st and until today, February 9th over 1840 people have seen my works, from all over the world. What I pray for right now is someone(s) to buy and launch me in the direction of my dreams. I believe that will happen. After all, 100’s of millions of people are on the internet, millions search for items of interest on the web, some of who are looking for art, a few of them for art like mine.
Watch this space for news!
Meanwhile, get quiet one day in your sewing room and listen carefully to your heart. Dismiss anything coming from your mind and just listen to your heart; it will tell you what you want. Then, take the first step and the rest will be revealed, one after the other. If you do this, ya just never know, you might just be hanging out a shingle that says, “
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know;
His house is in the village, though.
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep
Sonnets from the Portuguese, XIV
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say
'I love her for her smile--her look--her way
Of speaking gently,--for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day
For these things in themselves, Beloved, may
Be changed, or change for thee,--and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love, thereby!
But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity.
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix forever,
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
In one another's being mingle;--
Why not I with thine?
See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower would be forgiven,
If it disdain'd its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea;--
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?
by William Shakespeare
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love,
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
Oh, no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests.. and is never shaken.
It is the star to every wandering bark
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love is not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come.
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out.. even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Of Pearls and Stars
by Heinrich Heine
The pearly treasures of the sea,
The lights that spatter heaven above,
My heart-of-hearts filled with your love.
The ocean's power, the heavenly sights
Cannot outweigh a love filled heart.
And sparkling stars or glowing pearls
Pale as love flashes, beams and darts.
So, little, youthful maiden come
Into my ample, feverish heart
For heaven and earth and sea and sky
Do melt as love hath melt my heart.
by Stephen Foster
Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd a way!
Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,
List while I woo thee with soft melody;
Gone are the cares of life's busy throng, --
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea
Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie;
Over the streamlet vapors are borne,
Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.
Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,
E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea;
Then will all clouds of sorrow depart, --
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!