New Quit Date

This is a watercolor I painted of a B&W photograph of my brother's first cat, Squeaky. He was supposed to be my cat (I named him I'm afraid), but I abused the privilege by dressing him up in doll clothes one day when he was a kitten. Hey, I was a kid... Thanks J.P. for sending me three photos of your cat Rosie. I might try painting one of them to send to you.

Well, I've been smoking. Twice this week and I see all the warning signs. If I don't take steps to stop it now, I'll be back to a pack a day in no time, so I joined The American Lung Association--Freedom From Smoking program today. The sad fact is that most people need to make several attempts to quit before they can quit for good. Last September when I quit was my first attempt in about nine years and I stayed free of it for over ten months. I'm proud of doing that, but now I slid into making excuses. I think one of the mistakes I made was in not keeping up with the online support. I found a really good site called Woofmang.com and I think I will go back there too. I'm impressed with the people who've quit who stay in touch with the boards and offer support long after they've quit. I hope I'll turn into one of those people.

Right now I'm not physically addicted to the nicotene, but I'm right on the edge of it. I hated being tied to a cigarette day in and day out. It was like being a prisoner to it. It took me a long time to get sick and tired of it. The first year I became psychotic, the voices attacked me for smoking and forced me to try and quit, but I couldn't and I don't recommend trying to quit when you are very stressed out. It's best to wait till you're more stable. You have to be ready to quit. I'm getting ready by writing about it now. The Freedom From Smoking program suggests you set a quit date three weeks from starting the program. Three weeks from today I'm going to try to quit for good again--November 3rd, 2008.

I started smoking when I was twelve, but not a lot. A boy I liked smoked and I thought he looked "cool", so I decided to try it with another friend. I was too young at the time to realize that I was toying with something that would eventually hook me. My first boyfriend didn't smoke (his mother did and he hated it) and so I didn't smoke during the five years we were together. After we broke up, I gradually returned to it. I smoked maybe half a pack, but not every day. It was soon after I moved away from the city and got involved with an abusive alcoholic that I jumped up to a pack a day. Then I smoked because I was stressed out in the relationship, but afterwards I continued to smoke a pack a day. That's when I tried to quit.

That lasted five months and then I went right back to smoking a pack a day again. Then I became psychotic and tried to quit in the midst of the worst of it. That was pretty traumatic and kept me smoking till last year.

The thing is I know what I should do, but a lot of times I don't do it. I sabotage my well-being by making unhealthy choices. All I can do, all anyone can do, is get back on the wagon and keep trying. So that's what I intend to do.

Checking In

Here's a funny picture of one of my cats, Ozzie.

Okay, I'm going to try again to write every day or at least every other day, even if it's a really short entry.

I was looking for online art classes to see if I could get some feedback on my artwork and ran into multiple art communities. The one I just joined is called About.Com-Painting (you can find it with my favorite links if you're curious). It's got extensive active message boards and a ton of articles; it's even got some video tutorials on painting techniques. (I still don't have video on my computer unfortunately...I have to work on that). And many of the people who post on the message boards have websites to visit which is fun. Last night I went to the message board for open critiques and feedback and gave my two cents on two paintings. Today I uploaded my "The Looking Glass" painting in hopes of getting some feedback for myself.

The issue I brought up was that some of my better work is of paintings based on other established artists' work, in this case Jock Sturges' and that I was realizing that I can't sell those works without getting permission from the artist. (I went to Artid and made the paintings based on other people's photographs not for sale.) So far I've gotten three replies, all positive about my watercolor, but firm in saying that I would need to get permission to sell the image. I got several suggestions to use my own photographs or work from a live model. I could also use some reference photos that are listed for free online. If my house weren't such a mess and I were braver, I would try to get a model to pose for me from the university. I still have to check out whether the university has an open sketch class this semester. I've thought before of setting up in some out of the way spot in town or in a park and sketching/painting. That would be a challenge and it would be good for me.

There are other alternatives, such as setting up a still life to draw and paint from or doing more self-portraits. I can continue with abstract paintings. I can also continue copying from great artists for study, though I still don't know if it's okay to paint a copy of say a Cezanne to sell. I noticed someone on Artid selling reproductions of great art and so I thought it was okay. I'll have to do more research on that.

I spent so much time on the computer today, I didn't paint much. I worked a bit on a self-portrait in watercolor, but got lost in the shifting skin tones. I made some areas too red and other areas too orange. I still don't have a strong grasp on creating skin tone and making shadows. So I live and learn. That's the point, to keep learning.

Fainting, Politics and Painting

This is a photograph of my ying and yang poster that I have in my living room with early morning shadows framing it. I keep it as a subliminal reminder that there are greater forces at work even in my life.

I want to write a blog entry, but I'm having trouble deciding what to write about. I'm somewhat envious of those bloggers who actually post once a day. I haven't been able to do it. How do you sum up a day in a couple of paragraphs? I keep feeling like I should have something important to say, but most of my life is quiet.

Yesterday I brought my brother to the hospital to get some blood taken for tests. He sees his doctor next week to monitor his diabetes. I waited for him in the car thinking it would take no more than half an hour. An hour went by and I got restless, so I went into the hospital to check on him. A nurse took me aside and said that my brother had fainted after his blood was drawn. She took me to his room. It was a small room, brightly lit, with a bed in the center. On that bed was my brother in a hospital gown talking with some friendly animation about English soccer to his doctor who was standing by the bed. As the doctor began talking I noticed he had an English accent. I could see that he was torn between giving medical advice and talking soccer. This reassured me that my brother's condition wasn't serious.

Soon after that he was discharged with the strong recommendation that he take it easy for the rest of the day. I drove him home and then went and got us lunch to eat at his house. I worried a little about him fainting again and what would he do if he fainted when he was alone. I've had similar worries about myself getting incapacitated when alone at night. Not that I think I'm particularly likely to. Mostly I felt detached, not wanting to engage in worrying, but the truth is my brother and I are getting older and we are no longer feeling the invulnerability of youth.

I feel protective of my brother, especially since he doesn't drive. I also just love him. He has his share of character defects, just as I do, but he's smart, honest and funny. He talks straight and he doesn't try to be anything but himself. He's the person I'm closest to in the whole world. I don't want anything bad to happen to him and I want to be there if he needs me. My family is so small, just my mother and father and uncle and my brother and me. That's it. If Rob and I are fortunate enough to live to an older age, I know we will be involved in each other's lives. We might have to live together. I'm hoping we move within ten years to a small city with adequate transportation and medical services and some culture. We shall have to see in which direction the country's economy turns in the next few years.

Speaking of the economy, wow, are we in trouble. I am an absolute boob when it comes to the economy, but I know that the whole world is struggling with this right now. I'm praying those in charge will make wise decisions and pull us through this. Being a Democrat I'm also praying that Obama wins the election in November. I don't trust McCain to be wise and I certainly don't trust Palin to possibly assume the office of the President of this country, let alone be the Vice President. My feeling is that the Republicans had their turn for two terms and now it is time for a change with new and different leadership. Whoever wins will have a tough job ahead of them trying to repair the mess of the previous administration. I hope the young people come out in droves and vote for the Democratic ticket. It's their future that's at stake and they should participate. I'm just amazed at the number of people who don't vote. There are countries aching to be democratic and some of the people who live in the US take the democratic process for granted. This election may be different. The internet has changed the game and made participation more natural. I wonder, if at some point any one of us could vote from a personal computer, would more people do it? My brother is registering voters today, the last day to do it, at least in New York.

Otherwise, I've been painting. I've done a series from Jock Sturges' photographs in watercolor and am struggling with one in acrylic. I don't know, is it okay to base my paintings on the works of another artist? I remember asking my teacher this when I was painting my Bluegirl painting and he said why not? I feel like I'm taking something that's not mine, when what I'm doing is more like transforming or translating something from one medium to another. Really, I'd rather work with color photographs. It's quite hard to make up color combinations than to follow them. Following the color of a person's body or of an object is an art form in itself unless you are painting colors expressionistically and intuitively (which can be a lot of fun). I'm sorely tempted to buy a book of Sturges' color photographs. Then again, working from a black and white photograph forces me to think about color. In the watercolor paintings I tried to be more naturalistic, but in the acrylic painting I am painting skin tones in blues as I did before, kind of following the Bluegirl painting.

The fun thing about painting in acrylic, as opposed to watercolor, is I get to exaggerate the forms and then go back over them and refine them. I started this recent painting by laying out the composition in ultramarine blue, which is a relatively dark blue. In the beginning outlining is fine because the paint being opaque means you can paint over or close to the outline in lighter shades of color. This allows for lots of layering possibilities. I feel a sense of power when I go over certain areas and remodel. Or change an entire color scheme. It took me a while to learn that lesson: that you don't have to keep what you initially start out with, that you can rework it like a sculptor with moist clay. That's not as true, I'm finding, with watercolor which requires more delicacy and precision. Truth is, I like both mediums for different reasons. I let go with acrylics and rein in with watercolor, so there's a kind of a push me, pull me thing going on when I work back and forth between them.

Klee Inspired Explorations

More New Work

I painted this watercolor this weekend and am calling it The Looking Glass. It's based on a black and white photograph by Jock Sturges which can be found in his book The Last Day Of Summer.

I had been struggling with a couple of small abstract acrylic paintings and then switched over to working in watercolors. I was getting some ideas from a book on Paul Klee. I concentrated on an abstract watercolor painting he did in 1922 called simply, Green, Violet against Orange. It's primarily a hand drawn geometric design skillfully filled in with colors from dark to light to subtle in between colors. It has an architectural feel to it and uses some of the shapes like magical windows. I thought, this might be a good work to loosely follow. I soon found out that I couldn't reproduce the colors or even the shapes very well. I did two paintings of it, one hand drawn and the other drawn with a ruler (except for the circular shapes). In the first painting I had little control, the colors splashed over the lines and I changed the colors to make it brighter and less subtle. I decided that I was painting to practice getting more control and not to paint a finished piece. So, in the second painting I was more careful, but this didn't necessarily make for a better painting, just a cleaner one. I then tried making up my own design in a couple of more paintings. On the whole it was just plain fun to work at this and I plan to do this as a practice to learn more about shapes, colors and values in watercolor.

Before I went to bed one night I picked up the Jock Stuges' book and the very first photograph captured my attention. I thought that it would make a good painting and so I sat down and drew it on watercolor paper. Then I tried to get some sleep, but couldn't, so I got up and started painting. I find that my process when I'm into something is often quick. I also find that I have to keep changing projects and mediums to stay interested in my work. But I've been very pleased that I have been consistently working for three weeks now. A good ending to an unproductive summer and a good beginning to the fall season.
May it continue.

I posted a blog on the Artid site about going through an artist's block this summer. One artist commented that this is not unusual for artists and that sometimes a "block" is necessary downtime. I thought that was interesting, that artists need to not work as part of the process to getting back to being creative again. Perhaps one's unconscious needs time to assimilate new experiences, or maybe it's a spiritual process as well. Having said that I still prefer to work than to not work because I am happier when I work, but I can now be more forgiving of the time away from work this summer.

The Displaced

This is a watercolor painting based on a photograph taken from a recent Time magazine article on Pakistan. The caption to the photograph reads: "Collateral damage -- Air strikes against militants in the tribal areas caused 260,000 to flee; many ended up in shelters like this one near Peshawar." It's an image of men and male (as far as I can tell) children. A father holds his child; the child has a swollen eyelid. The father looks concerned and is talking to someone near the photographer. The little child looks directly into the camera. There's pathos in this picture with the father flanked by children on either side of him while the older men hang back and watch. This image stirred up feelings of sympathy in me for that father and especially for the children. What will happen to them?

Another Cezanne Study

Cezanne Study

This is a watercolor painting I've recently done of an oil painting by Cezanne, a self-portrait. These last two weeks I've returned to painting and since I have no teacher to guide me, I decided to try and loosely follow a Master. Cezanne has been a favorite of mine since I was in college the first time. I'm drawn to his use of color, to his solid brush strokes and to his unpretentious subject matter. So far I've done four watercolor paintings, including this one, based on his paintings which I will upload to Artid in the next couple of days, along with others not based on Cezanne. I only have one book of his work and all the reproductions are of oil paintings, but I know he also mastered the art of watercolor and I look forward to seeing some of those works. Following Cezanne has been liberating for me. I hope I can apply what I learn from him to my other paintings.

On Exercise

I am 60 pounds overweight and when I look into a mirror I have trouble accepting it. I know that it is common for many people suffering from schizophrenia to be this overweight due to the medications, but that is of little comfort to me. I’m not miserable about it, but I do withdraw from social contact because of it and I no longer even consider having a romantic relationship. My voices have told me that I have to lose the weight because it compromises my health. My bad cholesterol is too high and my good cholesterol is too low. I am just in the danger zone for having a stroke or a heart attack. What I need and have needed since I became psychotic is regular exercise. Exercise is not only good for reducing bad cholesterol while shedding pounds, it is good for reducing depression.

I suffer from depression; this is also common for people who live with schizophrenia. This past spring I had a reprieve from it. My spirits lifted, I had a lot more energy. I started working on projects that might give me added income this year--painting portraits and doing craftwork. I joined an artist’s group online called Artid and posted examples of my art work. I got a good response. I was hopeful. Then over the summer I lost my momentum and gradually stopped working. For a week I smoked cigarettes again. My motivation level sank. I stopped painting, exercising and cleaning and I distanced myself from my online friends. Luckily my friends have been very patient with me and I’m still in contact with them. I decided that there was something I could do to help myself: join the fitness center at the university in town. The benefits were obvious: to get out of my house, to be around people, to improve my mood, to reduce my cholesterol and to lose weight.

On Friday I went to the athletics office and paid for a six month membership. On Saturday, armed with my iPod and a bottle of water, I headed for the fitness center. It was late afternoon and there weren’t that many people there. The ones that were there were young and fit. I was the only overweight middle aged person there, but that didn’t stop me. The fitness center is large, much larger than it was a few years ago when I was still in school and took an exercise class. I headed for the treadmills. In front of the treadmills were multiple TVs. I chose to look at CNN while I walked at a 3 mile an hour pace. I walked for 40 minutes and then switched to a stationary bicycle for 20 minutes. I kept up a steady pace, but didn’t force it. I did this same routine again on Sunday. I skipped a day to go out to the bar with my brother and then on Tuesday I again went to the fitness center. There was no available parking, so I parked a 10 minute walk away at my brother’s house. This time there were more people, one man in his 50s and a young woman who was somewhat overweight, the rest were once again young and fit.

I have no illusions about losing weight quickly. I know it will take a year of consistent work to lose the weight I’ve put on. I’m trying to look at going to the fitness center as a lifestyle change, rather than as some punishing quick fix. So far, I’ve been enjoying the change. It gives a little structure to my day and gives me something to focus on, a goal to strive towards. More important than losing the weight is improving my general sense of well being. So far, that’s been the case, but it’s too soon to tell if I will commit to the change or veer away from it once again. This is the test: to see if a regular exercise program can in fact dispel depression. If I stay aware of the process and prove to myself that it does, I’m more likely to stick with it. It’s not a solution to all my problems, but it’s a start.

For those of you out there newly diagnosed with schizophrenia who are starting to take anti-psychotic medications like Zyprexa and Risperdal, please consider joining a fitness center or getting regular exercise in some other way. I wish I had done so before I put on all this weight. In the long run it can only help you. I guess that goes for all of us. Exercise is a must.

On Lovingkindness And The Trip North

“We may look for that which is stable, unchanging, and safe, but awareness teaches us that such a search cannot succeed. Everything in life changes. The path to true happiness is one of integrating and fully accepting all aspects of our experience. This integration is represented in the Taoist symbol of yin/yang, a circle which is half dark and half light. In the midst of the dark area is a spot of light, and in the midst of the light area is a spot of darkness. Even in the depths of darkness, the light is implicit. Even in the heart of light, the dark is understood, acknowledged, and absorbed. If things are not going well for us in life and we are suffering, we are not defeated by the pain or closed off to the light. If things are going well and we are happy, we are not defensively trying to deny the possibility of suffering. This unity, this integration, comes from deeply accepting darkness and light, and therefore being able to be in both simultaneously.” Sharon Salzberg , LOVINGKINDNESS -- THE REVOLUTIONARY ART OF HAPPINESS, p. 11-12.

Light in darkness and darkness in light. I’ve found this to be true. Without the perfect balance that emanates from the yin/yang symbol, there is suffering, but not just suffering because I think all of us shift in and out of a kind of perfect balance. There is joy when there is balance and suffering when there is not, but each state is not totally separate. I’ve heard Buddhist teachers say repeatedly that one thing is certain about human beings, we all want to be happy. Is it possible to settle into being happy knowing that the future is uncertain and that death awaits all of us? Is it possible to be happy when we know that we will continue to intermittently suffer? I believe it is so, but it requires a dramatic shift in point of view.

“Everything in life changes.” The trick is to go with the flow, to ride the wave. When we were children, my brother loved to ride the ocean waves in the summer, but I couldn’t do it. I asked him to show me how and he found he couldn’t explain it in words. It was something you had to do for yourself, something you had to feel out and practice. The Buddhist teachers I’ve listened to are trying to explain how they have learned over time and with much practice, to ride the wave of life. Listening to teachers like Sharon Salzberg is comforting and helpful. She comes across as a person willing to learn the lessons of life, but even more importantly she is willing to repeat the lesson to others.

The lesson I’m trying to learn is loving kindness or metta towards myself. Ms. Salzberg and other Buddhist teachers say that this is the foundation for loving others. I have practiced for several years sending metta towards other people, including strangers. Towards myself, there’s been a lot of silence. Why? Because it’s difficult. Not only have the voices said disparaging things to me over and over, but I’ve taken up the negative mantra and said the same things to myself. I do it unconsciously. So every time I turn to the spiritual guidance of established teachers, I give myself a new opportunity to wake up to the fact that I am a good person who deserves happiness. In order to feel some of that happiness, I have to give myself permission: “May I be safe. May I be happy. May I be healthy. May I live with ease.”

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This past week I spent with my family mostly in Canada. We went to the Shaw Festival in Niagara On The Lake. It was generally assumed, considering my parents are in their 80s and my brother doesn’t drive, that I would do all the driving. And I did. I also did a lot of praying while driving. My favorite prayer is “May I not hurt any living being on or off the road including myself and my family.” My parents had rented a small cottage nine blocks from the main drag of the town. The cottage was great, but the distance walking a little too far for my parents and so I drove us into town so that we could go to the theaters and eat out. For the most part we set the pace slow, taking long naps in the afternoon and eating some of our meals at the cottage. My family often watched the Olympics in English and French while I read a novel by Ursula LeGuin called THE LEFT HAND OF DARKNESS. We went to see four plays, two by Shaw, one by Lillian Hellman, and a musical by Stephen Sondheim. I enjoyed all of them, especially since I rarely get to go to the theater. My mother stubbornly refused to bring her hearing aids on this trip and had trouble hearing some of the actors and actresses. Still, she and my father and brother all seemed to have had a good time.

The voices were subdued for most of the week, but I did have several disturbing dreams. In one dream an ex-boyfriend was a serial killer, in another dream I betrayed my therapist and she wanted retribution. I slept deeply nonetheless. There were minor tensions in the family, but mostly we got along. There was a bakery a couple of blocks away and my parents made a habit of picking up bread and treats, so I wasn’t always eating wisely, but I did enjoy it. I got to tape record my family talking around the kitchen table. We talked about what it was like to summer at the beach, about the cats we’ve had and their different personalities and about remnants of a chimney blown off a house and into the bay by a hurricane before I was born. Another night it was just my mother and brother and me and my mother was playing a game with us. She read out clues to her crossword puzzle that she had already figured out to see if we could come up with the answers. It was fun and I’m glad I have a record of it on tape.

On the last day I managed to get us to the Buffalo Airport which I’ve never been to before. We ate lunch together and talked. My mother almost cried saying that we wouldn’t see them till Christmastime, which is true. This year I’ve only seen them twice. And now with the fuel prices so high it is getting too expensive to travel often. At some point my parents will stop driving and will be even more tied to their retirement community. These are just the facts of life, but I’m not used to it yet.

It was a mixed blessing when I got home. My house still a mess, but the cats were all right and I was relieved. Very quickly I started feeling stressed out about the various things I had to get done. I made a list and the list kept getting longer and longer and I kept getting more negative about myself. Then I asked for guidance from the voices and they suggested listening to Sharon Salzberg. I also started to re-read her book. One of the first exercises in the book is “Remembering the Good within You”. I thought about my first boyfriend who lived in a one bedroom apartment with his alcoholic and sometimes abusive mother (who slept in the living room). My boyfriend had needed the refuge of my home and my family. He became a member of my family for several years and I feel good about that. I should be able to collect good memories like fruit off the vine to bolster me up in times of suffering.

Affirmations

I received a call today from a woman who wants me to paint a portrait of her granddaughter. Actually she called several days ago and left a message. She left her number, but not her name. It took me about an hour to prepare to call her because I am rather phone phobic in the last few years. When I did get the courage up to call her, a different woman answered the phone and didn’t know who I was. Luckily today I was home and identified the woman’s voice and picked up the phone. She is going to send me several photographs so that I can get a feel for her granddaughter’s features, but there is one particular picture that she wants me to paint. I am looking forward to the challenge of this. I think this project will pull me out of some of the negativity I’ve been falling into. Practical work is good for the soul.

A few days ago I was feeling too detached, when Nancy called me on the phone. Despite my phone phobia, I quickly answered. She had called me once before, but I had felt too self-conscious to answer, but this time I knew I needed her help. She was warm and smart and funny and very willing to be my friend. She had cautioned me to follow the positive thoughts instead of the negative ones and she encouraged me to be my own best friend. She said she worked at being her own best friend using affirmations.

After we had ended our conversation, I lay on the couch and said aloud, “I am a good woman.” I felt awkward saying it, but I persisted. And for the last couple of days I’ve been saying this to myself throughout the day. I think the reason I have trouble really believing that I am a good woman is because of the abuse I endured in my last romantic relationship. I’ve been alone for so long now that I forget that I was an abused woman. While I praise others, I unconsciously belittle myself. I feel both guilty at not “saving” my ex-boyfriend and ashamed as if there is something inherently wrong with me. Years ago my ex-boyfriend one day would praise me and the next day might treat me hatefully. I knew he was sick. I knew I was sick, but I internalized some of the put downs he would throw at me. I learned in an abusive relationship that I wouldn’t be allowed to express my anger and so I stuffed it inside and started to attack myself unconsciously.

Three years after I left the relationship I was thrust into the world of schizophrenia. The voices became my abusers and I returned to being some kind of psychic victim. Sometimes it felt like forces greater than myself were struggling for ownership of my soul. I felt like a human rag doll. But there were always guiding voices. Yes, it felt like I was close to abandoned at times, but never completely. And to this day I find some communion with the voices. There is method in their madness and sometimes I get lost wanting to understand them. I don’t know if I can ever accept that these voices that I continue to hear are purely crossed wires in the brain. Many, many people believe in God, but resist the idea of sentient life other than human life. But for me it rings quite true.

But back to the -- am I a good person or a bad person? dilemma (which seems to affect many people suffering from schizophrenia). This is a big issue for my voices. They won’t commit either way or jump from one perspective to another as if they are trying the view out. Is their lesson that I have to decide for myself? Well, this is a good lesson because I do have to decide for myself, which leads back to affirmations. One reason I think I can approach affirmations is because I believe human nature is essentially good. We all started out innocent, babies every single one of us.

Every single one of us has learned by mimicry. Monkey see, monkey do. Some mimic well, others not so well, some rebel and others follow the new thing. Positive learned behavior needs healthy role models and let’s face it, we are not the healthiest creatures on this planet. We are human. We make mistakes. We need some guidance. Some people guide themselves through reason and intellect, others through emotions and intuition. Some believe in the spirit of man to succeed and others believe in the spirit of God to direct. But children want to be loved and if they can’t be loved the right way, they accept the wrong way.

Love is the measure of goodness in life. If parents have trouble loving their children and children have trouble loving their parents, as is too often the case, bad behavior or mindsets develop on both sides. Bad, as in hurtful to the self and to others. And from there it is passes on to friends and lovers and co-workers. Are we “good” or “bad”? The best answer I can come up with to that question is that we are misguided. When we are young and impressionable we form imprints of behavior that we repeat over time in different situations. If we have not been taught by responsible children or adults to love in a healthy manner (and I do believe some children are very aware of the difference between right and wrong), we proceed to love in an unhealthy manner. When I write “love”, I mean all kinds of loves--family, friends, lovers, teachers, therapists, etc...

If we can accept that most of us have been misguided at some point in childhood and youth and stop thinking in terms of internalizing the mistake and branding ourselves as “bad”, we can put the focus on solutions instead of on problems. We can say honestly--”I am a good person who has made mistakes.”--without being swallowed up by the “who has made mistakes” part. And I know we all have at least one serious regret in our lifetimes, if not many. We are human, it comes with the territory. But we can’t live in the past or rewrite the past, we can only work with the present moment. Learning from past mistakes is important as long as we apply what we’ve learned to the present and don’t fall into forgetfulness, denial or simple avoidance.

Of all the qualities a child should be taught, I think honesty towards self and others is perhaps the most important quality. It connects us with our roots which combine innocence with intelligence.

So, I am a good person...who has made mistakes. I don’t forget that I’ve made mistakes and I don’t forget that I am good. Well, that’s the goal.