mail art

Here's a link to an exhibition in the UK to which I sent a mail art submission. The theme was: Is Mail Art Dead?, and I haven't been able to find a pic of my submission, but I really love how the show was hung. Also, link to the site of emma powell, one of the curator's, who invited me to participate. (Reminder, until I figure out how to link, you'll have to cut and paste.)



http://homepage.mac.com/emma_powell/is_mail_art_dead/PhotoAlbum53.html



http://www.rejectamenta.com/



This week's personal lesson was about not rushing. I started running to catch a bus, something I never do -- and ended up tripping on my too long pants, and falling on one of those subway grates in the side walk.

As I lay in bed last night trying to fall asleep, I realized I didn't have an appendage that didn't hurt. Between chronic karate injuries, and these new minor traumas, I'm hobbling around and very aware of the gift of mobility, arms, legs, even the fingers I'm now using to type this.

The evening I actually tumbled, I lay on the couch thinking about how upset kids get when they fall and scrape their knees, and not really remembering my own childhood falls so much, as having compassion for how traumatizing it is. Your whole body gets shaken up. You're really not sure what has happened. And then there's the heart racing fear...Maybe there's a metaphor in all this for the daily tumbles and falls we take. Of course we get up, brush ourselves off and get on with things, but what's the big rush. My evening at home nursing my wounds was good therapy. Just wish I'd followed my heart home, instead of trying to catch a bus to get to a karate class I didn't really want to go to, before I took the fall.