Space For Jean

My Little Show

Every year our little church puts on a gang buster of an art show. It takes nearly a year to put it on but we have it down to an art, as it were, having put the thing on for 30 years now. This year's show went off as usual with nearly 90 artists in a variety of media. It lasts for a mere extended weekend and then it's gone, as though, nothing had happened. Well, not quite. There are a few of us who are fatigued to the point of being comatose afterwords and some who even drop down sick. It's work. Work that involves dozens of people when the show draws near.

Only a handful of us work on the show over the full course of the year, but when the equipment starts coming out of the closets to array the art, then dozens and dozens of people kick into action. Once the art arrives more volunteers come to make the displays. We do something different than the typical art show, we set it all up ourselves. We coordinate displays to show off mixed arrangements of paintings, jewelry, pottery, garden art and textiles. This year we included a small selection of art prepared by young people. This apple was done in pastel by my daughter. She was thrilled to have it in the show. And as art is sold new pieces are put in place so the show feels intact even though thousands of dollars of goods head out the door every day of the show. Leftover art goes home the evening of the final sales day. The next day the fixtures are put away and the rooms cleaned up and put back together.

This year I worked year round helping to track all the artists we considered for our show. I was in charge of the database which was not only useful for keeping track of who we considered but was also used to track paperwork once our invitations were sent out. I also ran a fund raiser that involved the show and selling canvas bags. I must admit I had not planned to do that sort of thing until the last minute. And then I helped to manage sales during the show. Up to that point it was all good. But once the show started it wasn't as fun as other years. I'm not sure what happened except that I was tired and worn out from the get go and never felt like I could stop and enjoy all the wonderful art.

Despite all that I had more people I knew come see the show this year than ever before. And that was very nice indeed. It's hard to convince a lot of people that this wonderful opportunity isn't as small-time as it sounds: "church art show". Does it make you think of crocheted lace and garage-styled woodworking? It does many people. Nonetheless there are are a coterie of regulars and the number expands each year and a great many folks find out just how elegant and chic a local art show can be.

Even though I am very tired and worn out I am also quite proud to be part of this experience. Aside from being involved with great local art I'm learning excellent leadership skills for myself. I wonder who we'll show next year?

Dog Fight

I feel that the last year has been a very good one for turning my life into a happier one. It's been a lot of work but I understand better now the application of positive thinking to improving ones view of life. It is really as simple as what you think about on a daily basis. It is becoming clearer to me that what you think about is optional. That was novel to me, but I think it's true. You can choose to think about one thing or another. We often don't, though, and are left to follow a train of thought that doesn't support who we want to be unless we wrangle that thought into something positive. I've been so negative for so long that it's a challenge to steer away from them. But I'm making headway. So it was particularly gut-wrenching to have an altercation at the local green space that sent my mind tripping very quickly back to some very unpleasant places.

I walk our retriever in the afternoons. She is old, ponderous and arthritic. She would also like to be the alpha female but we don't have any other dogs for her to supervise. She asserts her position in the park though and I generally veer far from other dogs to prevent any unpleasantness. On this day, the sun was out, and school was long over. We arrived at the park to find three girls with a lively, and big, dog, not quite in their control. The dog dashed towards us and I darted away with my retriever. Too slow, the other dog launched at my animal and assaulted her, growling and snarling at her neck and head. I pulled my dog toward me while the animal made another assault. The girls are crying, I'm mad and afraid for my dog. While all of this is happening a woman with a baby is watching without saying a word.

It's at this point I am appalled and angry and I shout to the woman, "Is this YOUR dog?" It was an offensive question. The woman looks disgusted and says, "NO, it's not MY dog! This is ridiculous!" and I cover her words with my own hateful retraction, "It's just a question! The girls should have better control of their dog!". She pushes her baby away talking to the street. I don't know what she is saying. The dogs are finally apart, I'm leaving the scene but both my dog and I are shaken. She has the saliva of the other dog on her coat but I cannot see any blood. At one point she had fallen to the ground when I hauled on the leash. I probably made it worse for her.

As we walk away I am shattered. I feel totally responsible for this poor outcome. That woman was so mad at me. I was angry and she called me on it. I am a terrible person. This thought rides with me all the way home. As the evening continues I am certain there will be a knock on the door. People will ask if my dog attacked their dog and caused the injury they found when the girls brought it home. Or they will accuse me of being mean to their children. I did hear a woman, whether the same or not, ask the girls if they were all right. I never thought about how they were feeling. I wanted to save my dog from harm. I will be held accountable for negligence. I will get in trouble. I'm watching myself slide down this terrible trail of hate for myself.

The last thing I want to do is go back to that green space.

The next day I think about this. Life happens, I realize. Sometimes dogs misbehave. Sometimes people get mad. Sometimes it is really just them. Still, I feel bad but I know I don't want to feel bad about me and I try to understand and let it go. It's not really enough but I'm ahead since I'm aware that I am making myself feel this way. It's up to me to deal with my own feelings.

And then something interesting happens. In the afternoon I hear a knock at the front door. When I arrive I find a young girl, not that different than the ones at the park the previous day. When I open the door she asks me if someone, a name I don't recognize, is home. I squat down to look her in the face and tell her I don't know the name, she must be at the wrong house. I realize I've been given an opportunity here. Children rarely come to our door like this. I felt badly about being angry with the girls yesterday, and here is a girl who can receive my kindness. So I am kind. We talk for a minute about the homes I know have children and which direction on the street she might try next. She thanks me and leaves. I feel a sweet brush of healing.

In the afternoon it's time to take the dog for her walk. I am anxious about returning, but we will only go a short way. The dog is sore from her altercation. We arrive at the green space. No one is there. I am relieved. I have also returned and not avoided the place. Another brush of healing wafts around me.

My heavy heartedness lifted rather quickly after this and I wondered at these events. I am glad that I am moving forward in my quest for happiness. But it is hard work for me. As I work through the what-ifs I realize I don't know how I could have changed the outcome at the park. My husband suggested I could have given our dog room to fight but I know I can never do that. Not a few days later there was a local news story about a family's Labrador retriever being killed by an aggressive dog not managed at all by it's owner. No, I cannot let her fight. I am not the sort of person who can do this. We can only be who we are. But we can grow. Yes, that we can do.