lydialardy-blog

[lydialardy-blog]

Kind of like the sunshine...

Dee fish I like to paint them!

FAMILY

every day @ 5:30

Hiiiiiiii again Seattle!!!!

Parrotfish yumm

Lychee invasion

Speargun, homemade bamboo rod and shade! Kings

Youre not blending at the moment little dude!

Don’t give me that attitude.

cheesin hard!

Feeling good.

Lots o meetings today at the office. With coffee plants.

Not much to look at.

It’s been too long my cousin! So grateful to have incredible family. Good peoples.

They never taste the same anywhere but Papa Aloa.

My best friends in the PNW. They love me so much even though I’m borderline nuts.

Why yes you can be my porch, thank you.

More good food.

MT I think about you every day.

I like it!

SUMMER 2015!

Aloooohaaaaaa!

I feel so calm and at peace. I have given in to this reality that every thing is OK, and every thing, even the bad, is good. There is a shift in my life this year, something I have not acknowledged or truly believed in a long time. That shift is the recognition of self, and the power of the mind. We have so much control in our lives, and often the more we struggle to gain it, the more we lose it.

Wanting to know the answers, wanting to find the way, and the truth, and who I am- and wanting it now. I have felt that struggle within myself that past few years, and strangely enough, it is slowly drifting far away into the horizon beyond my sight as each day passes. There is a wash of calm upon me this year, as if, the simpler I can become with my intentions and actions; the more clear and concise happiness becomes.

There is much light to be let in, always. It is a matter of letting it in.

I am in a land that so heavily reeks of respect and simplicity that I can not help but soak it in through my skin. It's only been 3 weeks of immersing myself in plants and dirt and I already feel as though I have learned a new language. There is a holiness in plants and animals that can not be compared to any deity or god that we have classified and assigned to each other. There is truth in nature. I like that.

The more I respect and fall in love with these plants and animals the more I respect and love myself.

I have always been indebted to things larger than me, ever since I can remember we were always headed to the mountains or the river. Why do we flock to them? It's almost as if it is still engrained in our blood to worship them- to ask them questions and find the answers in them. Mountains rivers and oceans make me feel as though everything is as it should be. Something bigger, something more complex, is happening and way smarter than us. Why fight or ruin it? Why not enjoy it and support it?

Again, the more I selflessly respect what's around me the more I apply it to myself and people around me. What have I got to lose? I want to give and give and give.

Sometimes when I'm not finding any fish anymore I lay on my back close my eyes and float. Almost like a deprivation tank. No feeling, no restraint or control. Just holding my breath and letting whatever wash over me. It's a safe place. Nothing to be afraid of. Just a floating thing on a huge ocean. I love being meaningless and lost, and somewhat out of control out there. Salty meditation.

I have learned some things lately, about my family/friends and truth and pain, and they hurt. But one thing I have recognized is that they partly hurt only because I have had a false image the whole time. I have this downfall of idealizing things, pushing so hard to believe the best of every thing and every one. Not that this is terrible, but it stems from denial… an imaginary state where you decide what reality is…or as my aunt jokes to me.. Lydia Land. Nothing hurts more to me than others silently struggling, or hating themselves. The life that could be sustained and thriving is endless. I've seen loved ones prosper and live forever, and I've seen loved ones dwindle quickly and let go of all pure potential. How do you regain life lost? Physically or mentally? You can't. All you can do is be yourself and continue to pour out love and respect.

Pain and suffering exist, and they are inevitable.  

If the dark is consistent and inevitable then why can't the light be as well?

What if each day had the potential to be the best day of your life?

I still don't know where I'm going or what I am doing but the strongest torch I have found on my path is love, and strength. It's nearly impossible to act out of love 100% of the time, but almost every situation can be argued down to love.

The other day I was up in a tree and I had this picture in my head of every human as a universe. Do you know how complex a universe is? How do you simplify a universe?

Love.

It's time for a shower beer so I can get up at sunrise and start over. If you read this whole thing wow! Congrats! If you come find me I will personally make you dinner. That may or may not be a good deal.

xoxo

[lydialardy-blog]

Push/Pull

Creatively, I have been on fire.

 I feel a change coming, not a Bob Dylan change, more a Deepak Chopra change. It has lit me up in a way that causes my actions to be so intentional and reclusive that the physical manifestation of such thought has been a bit jarring; but refreshing nonetheless.

I had a stoner moment on an excursion the other weekend. Wandering in a new environment… I found an awesome patch of daisies: stinky as hell and ripe. I picked the shit out of them and began to weave a chain. The chain made me miss family for some weird reason… I’m not even going to try and connect those two because let me tell you it was random. But I think it had something to do with the understanding of pushing and pulling in my relationships, and the art of letting go mixed with the art of pulling really hard. There are many I have let down in my life. And simultaneously many I have inspired. But there are many I haven’t even scraped the surface with, family members even! I want to lengthen my chain.  

Tonight I dipped my paddle in a little deeper and continued with this current. 

I decided I should make paintings for my first cousins as gifts they could have forever. As a representation of someone who knows them, through their mothers, and years before they existed, but more so, as family. Maybe as a representation of their potential? Through the eyes of a bystander by blood?

This evening tossed me in to something much more complex than I had planned. (surprise surprise)

One of the strongest attachments I have to my youth is imagery. Whether art, or faces, or landscapes: imagery was so key to shaping my memories. So I transfer that to others, whether or not it’s relevant to them who knows. But it’s all I’ve got…

These are the children of my cousins, in case you were wondering… (I was; I had to Google that) which makes them cousins…

To think of my cousins as having children is just as outlandish and unthinkable as other avoidable topics. Such as Jack-a-lopes or…taxes. 

But that's life, people grow up and life keeps moving. I have met these children. They are beautiful, young, and intelligent. No older than 10 years old the lot of them.

As I began to sketch what I would paint for each of them, (there are three) I realized that they each had distinct personalities. Even with few moments together, every Christmas or so, I knew how to represent them. 

Allison: the Goddess. Jacob: the Warrior. Silas: the Thinker… this was simple enough. I can represent these with imagery. Easy. That’s what I’m good at. I came up with this: Allison: a Monarch butterfly with daisies and looming mountains, Jacob: a tiger with intense patterns and ferns, Silas: an octopus with jutting coral and sea life.

Something hit me while creating these pieces: Beauty is easy, ugly is not.

Here I am, creating the most ideal, amazing auric readings I can of these children. What I see them to be, what I feel them to be…yet I know that with life comes yin and yang. I suddenly feel as though the imagery I am creating is half-way a lie. 

How do you prepare a child for the darker things in life?

How do you explain loss, depression, addictions, divorce, suicide, disappearance, heartbreak, cancer, loneliness…? I start to imply my own life experiences and those around me, and interpret their new fresh starts as rough paths… I know these things will interfere with their lives, if they have not already, and I feel like:

Maybe instead of masking these inevitable life experiences I should react! And explain to them: life is hard…and not pretty.

After some consideration, I concluded that the latter is inevitable. A lot of the darkness that creeps in unsuspectingly and takes over our lives is either a result of our behavior or a result of something else that is actively involved in our sphere without our control…

Without control.

No control.

I speak openly when I say that the experiences I have had without control, or warning, or primer, or precursory measures, have been the most substantial of my life. 

So why worry about preparing another human from your negative experiences, when the fact is inevitable? Why not expose them to the unimaginable, to the magnificent potential that they have? That will be much harder to forge than the inevitable? 

I cannot expect to change some kids life with a painting, or a letter. Nor can I expect to change someones’ life with my career. Nor can a smile I give to a stranger most definitely change their demeanor and the world. Nor can a painting I make change a young humans perspective on their pure potential, and who they may be as a person. 

Who knows? They might break the frame, or color on it…Maybe they’ll save it in a chest until they have their own house? Maybe they’ll use it for cocaine at a house party in highschool? I don’t know. But I made it for them, with the best intentions, and it’s all I’ve got. 

Why not toy with the unimaginable and reinforce it than prepare for the worst? Why not contribute as much energy to the impossible, the dreams? The positive. And make it all real?Even if it's just through art.  

What if we all had this mentality? Despite our pain and “destined” fate, we always carried the good flag, no matter how blood-stained it is and bruised our souls are?

Why do it?

You tell me.

[lydialardy-blog]

Exposha' (or "exposure")

Exposha' (to be pronounced with an Australian accent) : revelation of an identity or fact, subjected to action or influence, exposed to contact with something.

There is profound strength in vulnerability. There is freedom in exposure.

Lately I have been interested in the idea of vulnerability and how it can contribute to my success and growth as an individual. I've noticed a pattern amongst many great minds, living and gone; and that pattern is exposure. I think exposure and vulnerability go hand in hand with output, and how much we pour ourselves into our daily lives. To be guarded, and fearful, means you are most likely not comfortable with who you are, and unsure of your value. Undervaluing yourself and holding fear isn't necessarily your fault, sometimes it comes from incidents you've experienced where you have been rejected or hurt. We remember these moments, very vividly, especially if they involve our work or being vulnerable in the past. 

The key component of most inspiring works and humans to me is their sheer amount of output. They practice "shipping" and pushing things out the door that could potentially hurt you or give a wrong impression of you, to continually try and try and try all for the sake of putting it out there. Forming a legacy. This entire process takes exposure and vulnerability. Being vulnerable has a negative connotation to it. To be vulnerable means you lack control, you are potentially "weaker" than you should be. You are more "susceptible" when you are exposed. 

Susceptible? Does this mean if you put yourself out there in everything you do you are susceptible to an enriching and meaningful life where people reciprocate the same intimacy? Now we're getting somewhere. 

I don't know about you, but the magical opportunities and meaningful results that have come from many of my idols' "exposure" are fucking worth it.

I would like to sever the strings I attach to the meaning of vulnerability and exposure. We are dwelling in the age of pluralism, we have so many resources at our fingertips to do whatever we want, say whatever we want, form our own legacy and be proud of who we are. We are lucky to have this right.

Practicing vulnerability should be applied to every relationship you have in your life. Life is not a poker game.

To be intimate with the world and all of it's inhabitants- isn't that the meaning of life? You can not form intimacy unless you practice vulnerability.

Thank you, SERIOUSLY, thank you, for being vulnerable. I hope you realize that every time you are- someone notices, and this is how you change the world.

Be vulnerable. Be free. Make it count. Don't leave your passion at the door when you come in. Bring it baby.

[lydialardy-blog]

Hello Brother, Hello Sister

Nothing I write is ever new, groundbreaking, original or that profound. 

This is true for a lot of things we do or create. This common thread that we all share captivates me. In contrast, the only unique characteristic about one move or another is that it was made by you. And there is not another organism on the entire planet that is exactly the same as you. That's a fact. (for now...)

 I'm certainly not a worldly person by any cultural standards, but something within me tells me I have been everywhere, and met everyone. A weird, "deja vu" if you will, that puts me in a spin quite often. Is there an identified part of the brain that correlates people and places, along with sounds, smells, and feelings, and then just perpetually makes you feel familiar with everything the rest of your life? By applying these patterns and correlations to everything you do? Do you follow me? What I'm getting at is, I feel a deep sense of kinship towards most humans, if not all.  There are certainly times of danger or just straight sketchballs on my path, but for the most part, I feel calm and connected to most humans. I don't treat everyone as my brother or sister, (not even my own brother at times) (that shithead) (man I love that guy) ... but I certainly feel that way, and from today on I am going to make it a mission to take more action in acknowledging my brothers and sisters.

You see, I am a strong believer that we all have basic needs. What we lean on varies, but the basic needs persist none the less. At a certain point, when these needs are indefinitely "fulfilled", we diverge and separate onto our "destined" paths that are focused on needs much more intrinsic than food, shelter, and survival. Then, periodically throughout our lives, we circle back to these primal needs, whether by choice, or force. And within this retrograde, back to the basics, we reconnect to other humans in a deep, deep way. I love those pitstops in life. I think our innate separation and isolation is a blooming flower from a steaming pile of ego. It is a beautiful process, this self discovery. But it can be cold, and it doesn't have to be. Notice how "ego" and "destiny" do not survive amongst starvation, lack of shelter, or survival. Note that with some animals, mainly ourselves, when these basic needs are fought for, the man who stands alone and conquers, still dies off. Even if he succeeded and took the shelter, ate all the food, and survived- he is alone. How much of us is comprised of egoistic tendencies and solitary motivations?

I examine my own construction. "If I hadn't made me, I'd have fallen apart by now"... How have I built myself? How did you build yourself? What do you aim to be? What do you aim not to be? I am realizing these collective thoughts have pushed me away from my brothers and sisters. Isolated individualism. I was raised to "stand out, be strong, only count on yourself, rise to the top. Separate. Be unique." I think these lessons and ideals are important for us, to build ourselves a strong foundation. But they are so exclusive. Party of 1. The opposite end of the isolation spectrum sounds like "I'm on the bottom. No one understands my struggle. There is no home for me in my community. There's no home for me. I am unfortunate and cannot change my circumstances."

Isolation. I think isolation can be taken to the extreme within our psyches. The madness, insecurities, loneliness, struggle- it can be boiled down can't it? You and I are similar aren't we? You are my brother, are you not?

Whether you would kill me, or kill for me, you are.

[lydialardy-blog]

You're a Soul Hobo

You are lost and found. Where did you go? You wander along the metaphysical streets as if your home was determined long ago- yet somehow you lost it, and it will never return. 

The strong instincts, judgement, and ritualistic habits are only inherited. The meager motivation and diluted execution of the grand scheme and plan for your life is only placated through the simple thought of "It's all I can do considering the circumstances". There is a deep-rooted understanding that we were all once something, We are all going to be something. 

Are we all not beggars on the same street of understanding? Are we all not together in this cold, lonely search for that golden nugget of truth that tells us "all along, you were right"...?  Do we not all have that God-hole longing to be filled? Where does it lie? Where is the secret? 

Where does the soul rest, fulfilled and content by the fire? 

I feel it is silly to conclude we have lost ourselves. That all of our advancements and enhanced capabilities have somehow, in turn, derailed and disconnected us from what we truly search for. This is not true. 

I think we are simply at war.

We are not numb. Or dull. Our desires and dreams have not been laid to rest. They have only been set ablaze, the fire continues to burn as we travel and search for meaning; for a solution. It is indefinable. It has been the same yearning since the beginning of time. We all have felt it. It feels like something you have bled and cried for, yet it does not involve you at all. It feels like joy and sorrow, completing each other and becoming one and the same. 

I hope you are good enough for yourself. I hope this world, whatever it is, puts something in your pan and gives you something you believe in. 

There is a war. The war began long, long ago. It's when man decided to fight himself. It began when we questioned and undervalued our worth and impact.

When we underestimated- then overestimated only to get it back. 

Where did you go? Where are you going? What are you looking for?

Sometimes I meet someone, I don't even know them, barely talk to them, and all I can hear myself asking is, "Where are you going? What are you looking for? Where did you go? Where have you been?" These are not questions to ask someone in a casual manner. It's obtrusive. It's scary. It's weird. It's too soon and too fast in a conversation. But the worst part is that I know they would understand, and probably want to talk about it. 

There is a war. The war began long, long ago. It's when man decided to fight himself. It began when we questioned and undervalued our worth and impact.

[lydialardy-blog]

What Stands in the Way Becomes the Way.

“The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way." —Marcus Aurelius

I once named a goldfish Marcus Aurelius; he died within a day. Unfortunately, what stood in the way for him was the lack of water outside of the fish tank. But for us less scaly creatures, not contained in glass, I wonder... how hard it is to befriend our obstacles and accept them as integral to successes? (interesting note: domestic little fish in your house are not suicidal, they are simply jumping out of their tanks because of instinctual urges to find new, more fresh bodies of water to grow in. Though with that shitty food you give them maybe they are trying to end it all, I'm not positive)

What if we actually lived our lives as if we were on a deadline? As if, death awaited as the ultimate deadline? We can't get past death. There is no way to avoid it. It IS coming. As a deadline. Let's examine the habits and mindset of someone on a deadline who is seriously not going to miss that mother fucker.

1. Action. Avoiding such thoughts as "maybe", or "hopefully"...there is not a whole lot of time to wish and dream and think about what could be, or how wonderful things could be. Each minute counts and action must be taken immediately. Examining what is instead of what is not.

2. Keeping organized with important reminders of the objective, the goal, the details of getting there, and the mission to get to the deadline.

3. Not procrastinating, and avoiding the "I can always start tomorrow" or I'll stay up all night and do a half ass job and it will be just fine, no one cares right? The deadline is inevitable right?

4. Delegating tasks, asking for help, and taking advantage of resources.

5. Learning to say "no". Not overcommitting to the "deadline". The fear of letting something go, or disappointing someone by saying no, is not even close to the feeling of saying you can- then not delivering.

6. Focusing on the current step of the plan to meet the deadline. Taking bite size pieces and really giving your all to those one at a time, as not to get overwhelmed by the bigger picture.

7. Holding yourself accountable. Taking responsibility for everything that comes of your actions...success or failure. Taking yourself seriously enough to own up to your lack of effort or miscommunication. 

Hmmmmm...

I'm going to take some of these career minded deadline tips and see how well they can apply to the ULTIMATE DEADLINE. (DUN DUN DUNNN)

You know...the pearly gates, the white tunnel... Before I bite the dust, cash my chips in, head to a Texas cakewalk, kick the bucket, wear a pine overcoat, kick the bucket, greet the worms...you get it.

Happy Tuesday. Now get back to work!

[lydialardy-blog]

Shut up for a second or two...

One thing I've noticed lately is the role of silence in conversations. My main conclusion so far from observing it is that it makes some feel insecure, and is usually quite awkward. Not in every convo, but most. It's expected of us to actively engage and contribute, even if that means running your mouth and interrupting... we take the risk every day of engaging in small talk only to placate cultural expectations. It's a waste of time, and certainly a waste of words.

In conversations I am a prime offender of a) repeating myself a lot and b) letting my thoughts come out of my mouth like fireworks without really filtering them, in turn cutting people off while they are talking. 

It is extremely conventional in conversations here in the US to not allow extended periods of silence. It's hilarious to me how awkward it can make things in a conversation.

I am kind of a sick person sometimes, and one of my favorite games to play is when your friend is drastically telling a story and long-winded- you look them in the eyes... and don't say a word for as long as possible.

Oh the panic! The struggle! The word vomit ensues!!! SOMEONE SAY SOMETHING WHAT'S HAPPENING!!? Then you speak and calm them down and say you were just trying to freak them out. It's really funny. It's especially funny when you practice this with a story that involves their insecurity. Like "So anyways, oh my god, I'm so embarrassed, I continued to make fun of her shoes and then I accidentally called her the wrong name, but I think it's fine, do you think it's fine?"....... (silence...dead eye contact...more silence...straight face...) It's the best. Anyways...

Silence is such a significant pressure that it is even used as a tool for therapists and investigators to provoke answers and confessions. When someone holds their response for a bit, we typically feel that they are feeling disapproval, disbelief, or judgement. It makes us squirmy. Early settlers were terrified of Native Americans for many reasons, but one of them is noted as silence and stoicism. Their ability to listen and peer in to souls without even speaking the same language was downright spooky to the white crackers.

In the right circumstances, however, silence can be very profound- more so than words.

Have you ever had a convo with someone who really, really chews on what you are saying? They speak little, and listen deeply. They pause after every sentence you throw out. And really chew on it. It can be a tough process, but you realize that they are really hearing you, and feeding back to you rich, meaty thoughts and responses. It feels so good, and you feel as though that person is extremely wise and helpful. Have you ever vented so lavishly and diarrhea-esque to someone, only to have them take a minute of silence, and respond to you with a question? Or just a word or two? It is so refreshing, and usually provokes immediate action, or resolution to your chaotic thoughts.

I'm pretty sure silence indicates empathy as well.

You are able to hone in on someones tone, their clarity, their facial expressions, the speed of what they are saying..and read the situation lightyears faster than if you were caught up on their words and your own immediate reaction. You are respecting the other participant. Almost, removing yourself entirely and allowing them to just be. 

Silence is a gift that you can give to other people. So would you just shut up for a second or two in the next conversation you engage in? It takes effort, and practice. This is not debate class, nor is it about you... It's about removing yourself for a few moments here and there and really learning from conversations.

Once you master it with loved ones and friends, you can intertwine it with any conversation anywhere. The clerk at the gas station, the weirdo on the bus, the 3 year old kid, the banker, hey...maybe even your enemies.

Chew on it.

[lydialardy-blog]

Some Meaningful Words From Other People

By Lydia Lardy

"If it ain't right it's firewood" 

This one comes from my Grandpa. He was as much of an artist as any one I have yet to meet. He created saddle trees from rawhide and his bare hands. He had many tools and anecdotes, and most of all, he had my heart. He had everyone's, because of his humor. He taught me that everything can be laughed at. There was an understood disclaimer to his humor; you had to earn it. The best moments of laughter and peace from him came in the knitty gritty thick of things. If it's not right it's not right, move on, throw it away, start over. It's gotta be good for something, even if it is just firewood. This leads me to my next one...

"Each day, every day"

This one comes from my mom. A new dawn, a new day, it's a new life. So many dark nasty nights after long weary days have I heard this lightly whisper somewhere inside me. The darkest hour of night is just before dawn. My mom is crazy. She collects books and still likes to write her name in each of them and the year. And after her name and the year she always writes "each day, every day"

"Don't go home mad, now!"

This one is from my dad. I had the opportunity to work with him for 3 months a few summers ago. He build houses. I framed houses and was an all around minion for him in an average of 90-100 degrees all summer in Montana. There were many situations when I would fail; cut something off dimension a bit, forget a tool, spend an hour framing a few walls only to find out they are all fucked somehow. You screwed it all up. Emotion would enter- as it does for all of us, and you get frustrated. You want to walk away. You blame outside forces. You get stressed. You throw up your hands. You walk away. In these moments, my dad would yell "Don't go home mad!" Nothing puts more salt in a wound than the truth, and I love how this quote has such a literal meaning.

Why would you work so hard, toil, trouble, struggle, work, achieve, only to wither in the face of defeat? Don't go home mad. Go home proud, and enjoy your evening.

"Nothing gold can stay"

This is Robert Frost's.

I remember when I first heard this poem. The sweet is always too sweet. The bitter is always on the brink of making you puke. But then comes relief. This is why it is so important to realize that there is only one location, one opportunity to make it count, and that is right now. Whether so so good or so so bad isn't it a miracle in general that we can decipher between the two?

Nothing Gold Can Stay Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.

[lydialardy-blog]

Stay Hard

By Lydia Lardy

I tend to live in contradiction and (un?)fortunately find humor in that fact, as I feel everyone does in their own way (my mantra and life challenge in this go-around is "conviction") I would love to be sure. Sure: not to be confused with "confident", I carry blind confidence in a magical way that manifests rather quickly. But "sure", in a rest-easy kind of way. Anyways...

My friend was congratulating me on remaining optimistic about my current life situation. (Little to no plan, monetary net, or outside support.)

She said, "I hope you don't become hardened eventually".

As in, the world will smack me with a huge fish across the face and cross me over to the "realities" of growing up, and facing the "real" world.

I took this as warning instinctually, as I tend to trust my peers and think about what they're saying as a truth before I conclude it is or isn't. You know, that pang of truth that doesn't last long, but smells for a bit throughout the day, because you know there is arm's-hair of truth in it...

Are we to trust someone with experience, and learn from them and apply to ourselves? Is over thinking and mulling and act of someone who is possibly too sensitive to the truth? Or is it more of a constant search, to always consider the advice of someone trusted? Does my destiny apply to another? Does their's apply to me? 

"Fuck", methinks.

I hope so too. I hope the bright light shining with the sunrise doesn't ever stop to greet me with optimism and assurance of a new day, and a new chance. I hope the canaries never stop singing in my heart, I hope love continues to win. I hope no matter what; life, death, depression, evil, wariness, poverty, hunger, whatever the fuck you can think of- never wins.

Then I realized...I've been through a few of those. Everything challenging and downright earth shaking, positively maddening, gut wrenchingly depressing- has fueled my fight for good. Evil makes good stronger.

Harder.

"Fuck"! methinks... a voice came up from my ribcage, skipped my mouth and made it's home in my brain.

"I hope you don't become hardened", she said.

And I decided: to become hardened, one must have at first been too soft.

[lydialardy-blog]

I have one challenge for you today...

I'd like to start an international movement. I have just one challenge for you today and anyone surrounding you...

Ask the person next to you to describe mayonnaise without smiling.

Good luck.

[lydialardy-blog]

So...wouldya'?

By Lydia Lardy

I was able to watch Selma last night. I didn't necessarily plan on watching it on MLK Jr. day but shit just happens that way sometimes. Selma is a drama recently released about the SCLC voting rights marches, specifically Selma to Montgomery- which led to the signing of the Voting Rights Act of 1965. 

I recommend this film.

Besides enriching my historical knowledge, and obviously acting as one of many matches that lights that inspiration fire, this film evoked a deep rooted question that I have never fully inserted myself into...

Would you die for the greater good?

WAM! BAM! WOOSH! POW! My brain begins to stir and frenzy like an autumn storm or a furious school of fish. So many questions...

After pondering and soaking I came up with two main conclusions (based on opinion and simply results of emotion and research):

 You can never know until that decision is staring at you face to face. 

This decision and the course of action that follows is a response to fight or flight.  

Chaos. Chaos is, quite simply, disorder. I believe that it is instinctual for humans to enlist action or order in the face of chaos. Insert fellow man and injustice and you have the perfect equation for self sacrifice (depending on the person) which brings me to these questions... Is the willingness to self sacrifice dependent on the person's experience with death? Does it matter whom you are dying for, whether family or just in general those being treated unjustly? Isn't man the same as man, if you die for your son aren't you dying for his wife, and their children, and everyone in their circle and anyone who is affected by that circle? Is clear and rational thought even present when in the face of death? Is a self sacrifice something that the martyr himself would intend for generations to come to take personally, and worship them as a divine idol and one who is "holy"? 

See what I mean about the thought frenzy?

No one expects to die. Even in the military, I do not think it's possible to train a soldier to prepare for what it actually feels like to watch your comrade get blown up in front of you. Does that instill lack of faith or immortality? Or is a martyr born in that very moment of staring death face to face?

I think it all ties into our primitive response of fight or flight. Some of us have experienced this, some have not. Fight or flight is a response to situations that are emotionally or physically "terrifying" (chaos?). As we all know terrifying has many a different meaning to each and every one of us. Some have theories that daily anxiety is a diluted form of fight or flight. Some in the military exercise fight or flight every minute of the day, which often carries over to life after returning from battlegrounds. So, this fight or flight response is within all of us and is initially centered around self protection, the protection of offspring, or food. So what happens when someone like MLK, who had children, and a wife, knows that they could be shot down at any moment, in any given place, continues to push forward with tenacity and faith, for an immortal cause? Where does that faith come from? He claimed the Lord. What does that feel like?

What sends a fireman into a home with a child inside? What urges a person to scoop up a wounded animal and try and prolong it's life? Why do men still throw themselves at hand grenades? Why do researchers test dangerous drugs for antidotes?

Combine the primitive notion of fight or flight with the heart of a lion and the vision of a God, and you have a martyr. 

Would you do it?

You can't answer now, but maybe consider this: Your every day actions and the legacy that you build through your behavior every second are just as influential and groundbreaking as a selfless act of martyrdom for mankind. I believe the two are hand in hand. The goodwill we practice at all times possible shape the world we live in. Shape the chaos and disorder of fight or flight, shape the environment that we all live in. These acts chip away at the masterpiece. Small little chips in the massive statue that is our world. Does this matter to you? You decide.

[lydialardy-blog]

Many Homes

I sit at a desk preparing to start a Monday in a world where time is money and structure is king. In Sunday evening's last few breaths, I was able to squeeze in some time to be abstract, and free.

I spent quite awhile just fucking around with color. Specifically cools. Deep ultramarines, Prussian blues, Indigos, and Viridians, which took me into some hots. I spent an hour just blending and shading and spreading and working. It felt so good- not only to see the bright juices staining the crisp, off-white surface, but to enter deep in to that oceanic abyss of the creative flow. My eyes feast endlessly on rising and falling planes of color that hold the entire universe. There are many homes in color.

I have a crusty old painting of a small ocean village in Italy, that is full of cools and impressionist flowers- with flashes of hot green glints on the water and haint blue buildings. I can smell the ocean and hear the hustle and bustle of the local market that I am sure is just outside the frame. I live there. 

On my walk to work this morning the sun was just waking up and sharing it's light. The fiery salmon glow made love with the lavender streaks of the evening, and my breathing became slower as I took it in. It reminded me of hot summer nights and bonfires, and the warmth of friendship. I live here too.

The magpie is black and white with distinct markings. Clean and sharp with high contrast and interesting shapes. In the right light, you see the the turquoise sheen and glint of emerald and sapphire that grace that bastardly bird's feathers. These jewel tones remind me of kings and queens with their adornments and festivities. So sharp and lavish, and acting like assholes. I've lived there.

The gridlines of the railroad tracks are moist, perfectly symmetrical and rusty brown. I am reminded of ladders I used to climb exploring the city with shaky hands and probably too much alcohol. They make me think of new cities with more ladders and more rooftops. I want to live there. The tracks inspire me to try new grids and layouts when I get to the office. As a designer I am lucky enough to digitally enjoy color and play with it daily, though it is far away from the real thing.

To get it on my hands, to enjoy it in the sky, to see it in someone's cheeks- this it where it really lives, and so do I.

There's something I need in color. I'm not sure if it's a yearning to escape, or a yearning to find something. All I know is that I find many homes within it, and for that I am grateful. 

And eternally distracted.

[lydialardy-blog]

Youth! Independence! Celebration! The Biker Chicks of Marrakech! There is nothing conservative about these ladies. Enjoy these captures by Hassan Hajjaj, and revel in the game he plays with common misconceptions of the 21rst century concerning the East and West. http://www.taymourgrahne.com/exhibitions/hassan-hajjaj-and39kesh-angels#2

[lydialardy-blog]

Evening poster action.

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Queen of stripes for a day.

[lydialardy-blog]

Never ever. Working on a commemorative poster for hip hop. This year, hip hop celebrates its 40th anniversary. A grim reminder of how even though it may have taken some unfortunate turns, the legends still live on within us all, and hip hop will never die. Everyone knows the classic 1973 story of the Bronx apartment where the movement began. Extend some beats, form the break, add some playful commentary on your friends hair or the fresh ladies, and BOOM (shaka laka, shaka laka): Hip Hop.  Two turntables and a mixer reformed our entire perception on what “music” is.  If ya dont know, now ya know…

[lydialardy-blog]

Tis' an ill wind that blows no minds. -Malaclypse the Younger