Tag Archives: feelings

The Journal of Dreams 02/14/2010

Today is Valentine’s Day.  I woke up wondering where that all came from and it seems it comes from ancient Roman rituals, the customs of Victorian England and Saint Valentine.  It comes from Christian and Roman traditions and the Catholic Church recognizes three different martyred saints named Valentine or Valentinus.

One legend states that Valentine was a priest during the third century in Rome who secretly defied the orders of Emperor Claudius II when he ruled that single men made better soldiers than married men and Valentine performed “secret” marriages for which later he would be put to death.  

Another legend is that Valentine was placed in prison and fell in love with a young woman.  It is said before he died that he wrote a note to the love of his life and signed it:  “From your Valentine”.  That is where the phrase came from and is still used in modern times.

There are many stories and their ties are deep in Christianity, Catholicism, and the ancient Roman times.  Funny, I had never thought about it before and doubt I learned it in school but the stories are indeed inspiring and well worth the time to read.  http://www.history.com/topics/valentines-day

The Journal of Dreams 01/23/2010

I was just thinking about calling my mother…she’s dead.  She died in 2006 unexpectantly.  I don’t know how many times I thought about calling her since then.  The day she died, I was living in Philadelphia and had been sick for 2 days, the flu or something and really bad laryngitis.  Feeling as though I couldn’t sleep anymore, and got up to start painting a picture for my daughter; the one I promised her for the past several years.  There was a specific photo of her I had in mind where she was wearing a velvet, olive-green, 1940’s short hat-the kind that just sits on the top of the head without sides and has mesh over the eyes to the lips.

I had started with the lips because I knew the detail of the mesh would be hard to do without messing it up.  Her painted red lips where a stark contrast to the olive-green of her eyes and the hat.  About 3/4 of the way through the lips I realized it was not that photo I had painted, it was someone else’s lips.  I continued to paint thinking I will paint my daughter’s painting after finishing this stranger I had found myself mysteriously painting.  I started thinking about the lips my mother used to put on napkins and give to us as children by pressing her painted lips against the soft paper.  They were kisses that were captured forever on the napkin that we could keep in our drawers, or books, or any place we wanted-forever.

The lips had evolved into almost the entire canvas, not leaving room for any other parts of the face.  I remember sitting there, smoking a cigarette, looking at the lips when the phone rang.  It was my father and he said:  “I don’t want you to crack up or anything but your mother is dead.”  I just kept saying:  “I know, I know, I know.”  I didn’t cry or feel shock.  I don’t remember what we said next, I just remember staring at the lips I had just painted.  Sometime after we hung up I realized I had starred at the lips for a while, wondering if my mother suffered at all and what exactly happened.  Then I realized I had been painting her lips at the moment she died…the kiss on the napkin that got bigger and bigger.

She was telling me goodbye through the skill that she had taught me, to paint.  She knew my great passion for painting and how more appropriate could it have been?  I named the painting:  MARY ANN’S LAST KISS and it rest comfortably in my private collection along with the other very special paintings which were given to me as gifts although painted by my hand.  Holy Mary is one-read about her on the home page and how she came to be at:  www.therevelationpainting.com.  The world is odd, things that happen are odd and I love these mysteries.  I miss my mother but know that she had a promise to fulfill for the time she was given.  If there is a God, he would not have let her leave if he thought she would not return.  She had an angel’s work to do.

The Journal of Dreams 01/10/2010

I thought about yesterday’s angry blog a lot.  Sitting in my car before work, I wondered if the most successful artist were “airheads” that never made intelligent remarks or showed their true feelings about life in general.  I wondered if I am defeating myself before I even begin this new life.  I wonder about the entire world sometimes.