Un regalo para mí – Yelapa part 1

On this cold, rainy, gray spring day, I am reaching into my storage of Vitamin D that I tucked away in my core while I was in Mexico for a month earlier this year. I also stored patience, perspective, joy and some lush green and blue skies to hold me through to warm Colorado days. I left the Mexican folk music there.

Last year my wonderfully inspiring friend, Carrie, a.k.a. Wild Mama, invited me (and my family) to join her (and her family) in the small fishing village of Yelapa, Mexico. They have been going for years for months at a time and she has written great essays and talks with a spark in her eye about how this magical place feeds her soul and spirit of adventure.

It was an unmissable opportunity! It was a gift.

She found us a great palapa

Casa Iguana. My home away from home
Casa Iguana. My home away from home

that would accommodate all of us and via a Skype phone call, we booked it for a month. I decided to go ahead of Chris and the boys for two weeks by myself to paint and just be. It was a gift for myself! Un regalo para mi!

I was excited to escape the cold brown winter of Colorado that makes my insides feel the same. I was nervous. What was I thinking? I speak three words of Spanish and understand less when it is spoken to me.

Alone in the jungle? Even just alone!! What would that be like? I’m never alone for more that a few hours. Two weeks?

Scorpions… snakes…. spiders…

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EEK!!! I killed it with a skillet!

 

But the promise of the beach, salt water, warmth, sunshine, flowers, time to read, paint and think far outweighed any fear.

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So mid February, I packed my bag with paints, brushes, bathing suits, hiking shoes, books, journals, bug spray, sunscreen and colorful dresses. Carrie and her family greeted me at the pier in Puerta Vallarta. We loaded onto the water taxi and were off to Yelapa. The Sierra Madres rise up out of the bay with the clouds sitting on their tops! The salt water sprayed my face taking me back to my childhood and suddenly I’m 12 again. Watching my friend mother her two children on the bumpy ride to the cove we would call home for awhile was pure sweetness. When we turned out of the bay  to Yelapa, the sun streaked through the clouds shinining down on the pueblo and beaches. I could see the waterfall behind the white dome of the church. A lovely yellow house sat on the rocks at the water’s edge reminding of my yellow house back in Colorado.

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I love this yellow house

 

 

Orange, blue and white umbrellas lined la playa.  The palmed roofs of the palapas are sprinkled amongst the brightly painted buildings. And that green!!! EVERYWHERE!

Arriving in Yelapa. We had a wonderful beach landing! Fun!
Arriving in Yelapa. We had a wonderful beach landing! Fun!

At the beach, Carries’ husband, Chris greeted us and enlisted a friend to carry my bags up the VERY STEEP hill to my palapa.

About half of the hill to my gate, then stairs up to the Pelapa
About half of the hill to my gate, then stairs up to the palapa

I’m not sure how I would have done it without them. My two story casa for the month was lovely! A huge table to paint on, a laundry line to hang them to dry, a wonderful space to read and write, a magnificent ceiling of woven palms to sleep under,

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palapa ceiling

 

an incredible out door shower with a heart made of shells and rocks under foot

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and a palm tree “roof” along with hibiscus, bird of paradise, bougainvillea, geraniums, ferns, a view of the beach down below, and electricity (which I wasn’t expecting)! There were fresh flowers on the table from my hostess, cookies and wine from my friends and two weeks of time ahead of me to enjoy. My cheeks already hurt from smiling.

The kitchen... soon to be studio!
The kitchen… soon to be studio!
My view of the cove
My view of the cove
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The hibiscus out my back door.

 

For the first few days, I read, set up my new “studio” and hiked all over the place to get the lay of the land. I battled tremendous waves of guilt for getting to be in this space and time. I had sensory overload in the best possible way… vibrant colors, new people and culture, new foods, new sounds… like the chachalacas that wake you up every morning, new smells…. like the soapy smell of the Bella Donnas,

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The canopy of Bella Donnas I walked under before reaching my hill towards my casa.

 

not to mention a new language which I was butchering.  I thought I would journal, but there was so much to take in, I found it impossible. They only way I could was to paint. Hours would pass and I would be covered in new colors of this wonderful place and I managed to get some on canvas too.

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I felt my brain and heart expanding and settling simultaneously. It was a wonderful way to be.

relaxed and happy in palapa
relaxed and happy in my palapa

It is impossible to sit and write all that those two weeks by myself meant, not to mention the magic of two weeks with my family. I will have to break it down into parts. But the biggest truths are that Carrie’s invitation was a gift that changed me at what feels almost a cellular level. The time and support that Chris gave me to go off for two weeks by myself, restored a part of me that I didn’t realize had been so completely buried and depleted. And the gift I gave myself was to be in the present moment, enjoy my own company (easier said than done for two weeks straight), and challenge myself to soak up everything that I experienced, thought and felt; all of it!

Stay tuned for the dance of the chickens… another day!

* I just type and publish… I’ve got paintings to do! Yay! Boys to take care of! Dogs to walk. Chocolate to eat. Gardening to feed my soul and I probably need a shower. Sorry for not editing!

Awake My Soul

Awake my soul. 18 x 36 Waterbased oils on canvas. © Catherine Giglio

 

It’s been far too long for my soul since I sat here to write. How I’ve missed it. How many moments I wish I had taken the time to sit and reflect. No excuses on my end. I just haven’t made it a priority.

Last month, I reached a big goal with the help of many wonderful people. The opening of Red Threads was magical, emotional, inspiring, validating, special and one of the best things I’ve created since having my children. I know it sounds crazy, but in my mind it’s true.  People gathered in the spirit of community and art and the energy in that room was wonderful. It was beyond beautiful.

Art truly is powerful, connecting and healing.

I’ve been painting the spirit of the Red thread for three plus years now. It has been so healing. I paint it to honor my friend Laurel and her girls who left this world too soon. I paint it to honor those who inspire and create a world of good from heartbreak. I paint it to honor my belief that the relationships we have with each other and this earth we share are the reason for living. I paint it to honor my family members who fight cancer to see another tomorrow. I paint it to ground myself in perspective. I paint it to try to understand others. I paint it to bring back memories. I paint it to honor my dreams. I paint to honor… me. Really? Did I just say that?

The red thread in my paintings has become something I can’t imagine having not found. The price was/is impossible so I treat it with great respect. It is showing me the path that is within myself. I am waking up.

The red thread has pulled me forward in ways that I couldn’t have dreamed. It has been a life line when I didn’t want to put one foot in front of the other. It has opened my heart, given me wisdom, unlocked doors I never thought I’d stand in front of much less open, and created the most wonderful community of support and friendship. It never lets me down. I know it will always be there and be truly unbreakable because it is made up of all of you.  Whether I’ve known you for a life time, or just talked with you in line at the grocery store, read your words in a book, or watched you dance on a stage, exchanged a few words as you walk by my house with your dogs, or spent hours with you planning an art show, shared motherhood with you, shared a home with you, or just met you at an art opening because we both want to honor a part of our red thread we can no longer talk to but can definitely feel. It’s a huge comfort to know my red thread will always be there. Always growing and strengthening, even when it tangles, strangles, hurts and gets messy.  Sometimes those tangled knots are great lessons and make me work harder to be better.

I know now that the red thread is my life’s work and if I get to express that through my paintings and hopefully make the world a more beautiful and loving place, then I am the luckiest of people.

Awake my heart. Awake my soul.

Awake my soul. 18 x 36 Waterbased oils on canvas. © Catherine Giglio
Awake my soul. 18 x 36  oils on canvas. © Catherine Giglio private collection

 

 

Tough Love

How I have missed coming here to pound out my thoughts on the keyboard. I have a whole host of chores to do, a show to get ready to hang next week but it’s one of those mornings where putting my thoughts into black and white will help clear my head so I can focus on what I need to do. If I am really honest, I want to go crawl back into bed, but that won’t do much good.

This morning, I sent my son off to Eco-Week, where the entire 5th grade class goes up into the mountains for hiking, fly fishing, ropes course, campfire etc..  He has been away from home before, but he has been in a place of wanting to herd the 5 of us together, having some separation anxiety and I think he honestly is ready to hibernate for awhile; his fall instincts are on cue. So going off with 100 other kids wasn’t sounding appealing. I know he is going to have a blast and he will keep it together while he is there. It was just getting him to the point of putting on his pack and walking out the door. He had so many what if’s this happens or that? He doesn’t like surprises or not having a clear picture of what his days will look like. He cried, screamed and yelled for almost two hours this morning making himself almost throw up and had a rash all over his face.  He is much to old for that but the power of anxiety and fear took over. I knew he would regret not going and I almost let him off the hook because in the moment it seemed it would be easier (and those big brown eyes were begging), but it wouldn’t have been the easier or the right choice.

So, instead,  I calmly packed up his stuff while firmly and by hour two, too loudly tried to get him to stop crying and yelling. It was awful. Once he realized that I wasn’t going to let him give up, he finally surrendered and started asking questions. I gave him lots of hugs, told him I knew he could do it, put a heart rock in his pocket and told him where everything was. (Normally, I would have had him pack his own things, but I had to pick one battle today) He went and washed his face and then sat at the table trying to not cry. I had a clear memory of his first day at preschool and going through the same thing. It was gut wrenching to walk out and leave him, but we did it and we both grew; just like we did once again this morning.

Ry and I are actually so much alike. I know he is more my teacher than I am his. He holds a mirror up and seems to say “take a good, long look”. We have had an intense relationship since my pregnancy with him. It has been a lot of hard work on both of our parts, a lot of tough love moving him forward and into the world. But, we have a built a trust in each other that is unlike any other relationship I’ve ever had. I feel like we see each other so clearly and I know as he grows up that will turn into a friendship that will be powerful and so full of love and respect. Right now though, I am his mom first and have to keep giving him tough love so that he can open new doors and become his truest self and not let fear win. A lesson that I have been working on myself as I continue to put my art out into the world. The rewards are so much greater than the fear and I hope after this week, he can see that, too.