Broken Frida (Dedicated to Frida Kahlo) by Devi Nina Bingham

My body is a story I know all too well. Trapped as a princess in a tower or a prisoner in a dungeon, I could not get free of it, and freedom is the only thing worth having. I hated the fragility of the body because my will was an iron rod that nobody could break, while my spine had been shattered by an actual metal rod. I was the opposite of a potted flower. A clay pot protects a delicate flower; I was the indestructible center surrounded by a cracked pot. They say in Japan that a cracked pot is more beautiful than the perfect original, that its many imperfections make it a piece of art. Then my body surely was my finest work of art. 

It is true of people who live in a broken casing that, by default, their will becomes fortified beyond the average person with fine health. This is because their challenges are nonstop and never-ending, and therefore one must muster the strength to push on. You must also not complain about the walls you scale on a daily basis. Walls that are not noticed by others, so if you were to complain, they would think you a weakling. What they do not see is how hard you must try to do the simplest things from a wheelchair or a bed. They do not stop to consider how their life would change if they could not walk or even sit upright by themselves. How would they bathe? Would they cook if they could not stand? You need your spine for so many things, which supports the entire framework. I had a broken spine from a terrible accident when I was an adolescent, and for the remainder of my existence, I fought to preserve my self-efficacy, my dignity. Over the years my spine deteriorated, so I elected to try back surgery. It would help for awhile, leading me to hope, and then the experimental device would fail. The doctors were doing all they could, but what worked best was pain medication. It allowed me to sleep at night and to function during the day. 

However, your body becomes accustomed to prescription pain pills so that you must take larger doses for the same effect. And at a certain point the body becomes addicted. There were many times when I was filled with such rage and anger that I was in a pitiable predicament, for friends and family were going and coming wherever they liked, whenever they liked, while I stayed home in a wheelchair or bed-bound. Can you imagine such a thing for yourself, being a wing-clipped bird? I did not know who I was more enraged with. Was there a God who would leave me in such a dilapidated condition? The church had said that God is love, but leaving a child this way for her whole life—that could not be the love they spoke of. 

And then my personal life was always falling apart, another accident. Married twice to the same man who tended to my physical needs as best he knew but who did not know what to do with the rest of me. He respected and admired my determination with which I tackled life, but he was intimidated by my strength and life force of will when it came to our relationship. Rather than stay and learn how to love me, his attention wandered to women who were easier to love, women who did not ask as much. And of course these wanderings were the reason for our divorces even though I pretended not to care. He liked the idea of loving a force of nature but did not know how to. I thought of him as my little bird, for he would alight with his giant mitt-sized paw on my shoulder and stay awhile, then fly away when the demands of married life became too great. I took his rejection to heart for a long time and tried to devise ways to make him stay. But it was not me he wanted, and this was the core issue. He wanted to explore, to travel, and to live in other places than Mexico, where I was. He did not want marriage, but he married me to give me a sense of security, which is what I needed. It was not until after the second divorce that I stopped blaming myself for not being enough. I was too much for him! He was not up to the task, but I say this with love in my heart for him. We can love someone with our whole being and not be a good match. Love is not all you need. It is a foundation for a relationship, but if you do not want the same things out of life, like it or not, you will be headed in opposite directions. 

It is clear that my physical disabilities were a weight on his shoulders, and I detested that I, who loved my little bird more than life itself, was the cause of his discontent. My relationship is recounted so it can be known that those who have disabilities abhor it more than anyone and would give anything to live a normal life. You have no earthly idea how much anxiety, guilt, sorrow, depression, and frustration they feel not being able to do what the body was designed to do. Likewise, those with mental disabilities are perhaps worse off than anyone, because while they deal daily with impairment and medications, it cannot be seen like a physical problem can, and it is assumed they are not suffering or inconvenienced. There is no worse suffering than debilitating feelings of depression due to high anxiety or crushing despair. As a physically disabled person, I naturally dealt with these two off and on due to my ailments. But to feel the crushing weight of them without respite is one of the worst fates to befall you. It takes enormous courage to face a new day knowing you will be met by these monsters. If you or someone you know has a brain that is not working like it was supposed to, please realize that they do not want to face the hellish reality that they do and are trying some days to get through the day without screaming. Having a dysfunctional brain is no different than having a dysfunctional spine. Both are problems of the physical body, with different symptoms.

It is easy as a non-impaired person to look down on a disabled person and think they are not trying hard enough or they are lazy. But you do not know what it would be like to get through the day with the symptoms they face. Remember, they will not be complaining about their pain, anxiety, or depression, because nobody wants to hear it. They are suffering in silence. It may look like they are doing fine; what have they got to complain about? How nice not to have to work. When the disabled person would give their arm to be normal, to be able to work. Do not be fooled by the brave faces you see. I painted on the face of a strong woman every day because I did not want the public to pity me. I wanted them to marvel at my courage. So every day I became the Frida you know and love. Truth be told, that was not me. That was a caricature of Frida. The real Frida was someone who endured loneliness, heartbreak, frustration, and even apathy. I became so despondent that only my animals or children who came to visit me could cheer me up. And the real Frida was afraid, a lot more than you might guess. I was afraid of my condition worsening, afraid of never seeing Diego again, afraid of death, even afraid the public would forget me and no longer call for my work. Fear was a familiar emotion. But I would not show it; otherwise, the myth and mystique of Frida Kahlo would die, and I had worked hard at making all of you believe that I was stronger than I really was.

My heart is with each of you who put on a brave face every day because life decided to play a rotten trick on you. I know you fight hard to keep your head up, and you do not let others see how going on can seem impossible, yet you do it. Regardless of what anyone thinks or says about you, I know how hard you try. I have to believe that all of it has a higher meaning and purpose and that you, like me, will do something wonderful with the little bit of life you were given. That is all that matters: not that you are "normal," but that you faced the challenge and said, "I can," and so, "I will."

With Love,

Frida

Women: Staying Composed When Facing Workplace Criticism (Dedicated to Frida Kahlo) by Devi Nina Bingham

Everyone has experienced being the target of acrimony. The word "acrimony" derives from "acrid," which is a strong, bitter taste. This is an accurate description of revenge. Revenge results from a strong bitterness. For example, I was under fire from men in the art world who did not want to share the spotlight with a woman. The famous painters of my day were mostly men, save a few brave women. To be included, we had to sleep with an artist in order to arouse their sentiments towards us. If I appealed to their sexual prowess, then my art was not taken as competition. This is an interesting psychological fact about men; if they can "conquer you" sexually, anything else you will do will not be seen as threatening to them. They will see you as "their" girlfriend or mistress, and because they enjoyed the sex and hope it will continue, they will do professional favors for you, such as introduce you to the right men to further your career. Today this is known as "sleeping your way up the ladder" and not seen as respectable, although it still is the way the game is played in many corporations. But in my day, because successful artists were men, if you were a woman, your art was not going to be seen based on its merit alone.

If I had not slept with them, male artists and art critics critiqued my art harshly. They used words such as "quaint" and "colloquial," pointing out that I was a Mexican woman with no formal education in art. I was puzzled as to why men were so staunchly against women in the arts. Then it occurred to me that if women were allowed to perform alongside them, their talent would not shine as brightly. Women needed to make inroads to the art scene. I became an artist's wife and thus a member of the art community. I sat at cafes with the boys, smoking, drinking, and debating the different artistic movements late into the night. I traveled to America where I met influential art patrons and their favorite artists. This was the only way to break into the art scene as a woman. 

Once my art began to be shown in public, I gained a following and momentum. Mine was a style the critics had not apprehended before. It did not strictly fit into any category but was a blend of Mexican peasant traditionalism and surrealism. Critics also did not know what to make of me personally. Like my art, I was an amalgum of old and new. The old Mexican Tehuana skirts and braided hair and the new statement that women were making in the workplace as depicted by my strong unibrow and serious, unsmiling demeanor were both feminine and masculine. This duality confused the critics. They were uncertain of how to approach me: as a vulnerable woman susceptible to manipulation, or as a formidable man who cannot be easily influenced? Had I not appeared as feminine, they would have rejected me outright. A woman dressing as a man would have been too much for them. I always thought about how I presented myself; how I must be careful not to intimidate or threaten male artists. 

The male artists were free to be themselves and seldom had to "fit in" with others' expectations. Therefore, when a woman enters their domain, she is subjected to intense scrutiny. I was seen as an anomaly and a source of intrigue. If not sleeping with them, I was criticized, critiqued, evaluated, and adjudicated at every turn. They would offer their opinions on my art without being invited and explain to me as if I were a senseless child how I could improve my technique. I didn't mind if they were trying to help, but many used it to say, "I am your superior." In my naivete, I believed that artists would be a unique group of men, too cultured and refined to engage in competitive games, but I was mistaken. I eventually believed it is within the male psyche to conquer his environment. He must feel he is number one in something. If not, someone else will feel inferior. This is the disappointing conclusion I came to. Funny, but men do not see this as a problem. They see their need to conquer as a means to achieve success. All men are constantly jockeying for position, and none of them thinks of it as a pathetic character flaw. However, I can tell you that women see the ego-mania in a different way. Humility is seen as strength by a woman, so men and women look upon the ego in a totally different way. 

Because I was a female artist in a sea of men, I learned to survive their ego-stroking competitions by being silent. Men do not concern themselves with women who are quiet. In private, among family and friends, I would smoke and talk incessantly. I would talk out of turn. But among my male colleagues I was quiet as a church mouse. I would ask questions, and the male egos were happy to offer me an abundance of free advice. But I did not speak unless spoken to. In this way, the men had nothing to fear. They knew that Frida would hold her tongue in public, never crossing them. Because more than anything, men fear being made a fool of in front of their peers, and especially by a woman. There were many occasions when I had to stop myself from smiling or laughing at what largess egos were on display. And it seemed the slighter they were in stature, the larger was their ego, and I saw this as compensatory.

The surest way, as a woman anyway, to escape criticism is to say little when you are the target. Let the egos boast, ignoring most of it. If your work is worthy, it will stand alone and stand the test of time. Art critics are never remembered for their smart words. Can you name one critic whose opinion was remembered? But the art endured, minus the criticism. These days women need not sleep with the boss to get ahead. This is because women who came before you did what was necessary. The work world has changed for the better in many regards, but men are ever men with fragile egos, and women must be mindful of this. A man will ruin your career if they feel threatened by you. So, take it from me—tread lightly with men. All men. And let your excellent work speak for itself.

With Love,

Frida

The Unfortunate Soul (Dedicated to Frida Kahlo) by Devi Nina Bingham

You have heard, no doubt, of the spirit or the soul. Religions claim that each person has one. In life I was not a pious person. I did not see an indication that God was merciful; if there was such a God, and who wants to pray to an unkind God? If you are familiar with the story of my life, you know that from the time I was a sickly child with polio, only one mercy was shown to me. And that one favor was greater than every pain that I suffered. One could say that this one gift was equal to or greater than my many tragedies. But as in everything, it depends on how you look at it.

If I were to list my misfortunes, they would stack up like this: As a young girl, I contracted polio, which left me with a weak and withered leg so that I limped and could not run as the other children did. Then, as a teenager, I was the victim of a trolley accident. I was crossing the street when a trolley collided with a horse and carriage, and somehow, a metal rail from the trolley impaled me. It pierced my uterus, making me unable to bear children, and it nearly cost me my life. Worse, it caused irreparable damage to my spine so that I endured chronic pain and surgeries that were unsuccessful. I wore body braces, which kept my spine erect, but at that time doctors did not know how to repair me. Due to the chronic pain, which became my closest friend, I chain-smoked. I became an alcoholic and was addicted to pain medication.

If my medical troubles were not enough, there was no greater misfortune than my undying love for my ex-husband, Diego. Family and friends could not see the him that I saw; they saw only the shell, which was an obese, average-looking fellow with sad eyes under a tuft of curly black hair. He was a muralist, and for some reason he glimpsed my potential as an artist. He encouraged me to develop my skills in drawing and painting. Having a famous painter see something in me worth praising was all the fuel I needed. Had he not taken me under his wing and introduced me to his group of friends and colleagues, I would have been alone in my misery. But art gave me a method to express my innermost longings. Every person needs an outlet to communicate their inner world because when so much angst is contained within the body, without a healthy outlet of expression, it can turn into an illness. It manifests as cancer, arthritis, or some other chronic disease. I am not blaming all disease on repressed feelings, but I am saying that denial sometimes expresses itself as illness. 

Diego was both the worst and the best thing that happened to me. I felt loved unconditionally and seen by him. I also felt rejected and forgotten. How is it possible for the same person to inspire deep feelings, both positive and negative? As a result of our on-again, off-again relationship, we married and divorced twice. Subsequently, we concurred that maintaining a friendship was the most appropriate course of action, yet I never ceased to love him. That unreciprocated love ultimately manifested in substance abuse and even self-reproach. I blamed myself for driving him away, for he was by nature a little bird, while I was a cuckoo bird (that is a joke). I was a force of nature; I had to be to survive polio, the accident, surgeries, miscarriages, and heartbreak. One becomes strong by way of diversity.

Now that I have recounted my life as Frida, I want to tell you who I am today. The ironic thing is, though I am no longer in a body and now am only what you would call a spirit, I am still an irreligious person. Although I have changed my position on God. There is an afterlife; I am proof of that. And there is a spirit world. But I do not ascribe to any way of worship. I do not keep a traditional routine of worship, for my very existence, my being, is that Thing. How can I be a part of that Thing and not be worshipful? My being is contained in it, and I am made of it. A soul is like a cloud. Clouds are separate but part of the sky, like ocean waves are part of the ocean. In the hereafter, worship is not something you do or where you go, like a temple. It is localized. In every breath I exalt my Maker. For the soul is part of the creation, which is immaterial. It can exist in many different dimensions and planets. It is composed of light and energy; you are a lightwave but so slow in vibration as to appear in solid form. I am vibrating at a higher speed so you cannot perceive me, just as when the blades of a fan whirl so fast that you cannot see the blades anymore. We are both in motion, but at different speeds. What is important to know about the soul is that you are in it, but for now, you are also the body. When you die, you will leave the heavy, useless body behind like an old, ugly shell, and you will be born again. You will be weightless and made of light. You do not realize the burden of a body until you are free of it. You carry a boulder-like ball and chain during earthly life, and when relieved of it, Oh, what a relief!

You will have at least two new faculties after death. And don't be sad when you hear of your death; it's the best part of life. Slogging through the mortal cesspool is what saddens you, for death is a truly celebratory occasion. Your two new powers will be teleportation and telepathy. Imagine thinking it and immediately being wherever you want to go. Or having a wordless conversation. You will eliminate the inconveniences of a material body. Given these advantages, there is nowhere you cannot explore, and nobody will not talk to you! You will remember your life on earth and shudder or marvel at the trials you endured. Your loved ones on earth will lament and grieve your passing, while for you it is a wondrous miracle of freedom, especially for a person like me who suffered. 

It is said that God never gives you so much adversity that you cannot handle it. I do not know who said that, but they could not be more wrong. The truth is, some people have so much piled on them that they break under the weight of it. Those people needed to be broken. You may think, "That is not a very kind thing to say." But it is true. Earthly life is for getting rid of the ego, for humbling oneself, and for learning to make better choices. If someone has a strong sense of will, what is called the ego, it must be confronted, or else they will never submit. It is like breaking a wild horse. It will go on running forever, never being of use to anyone unless it is broken. And what is being broken? It is a willingness to submit to a higher authority. But you say, "Maybe the horse wants its freedom." What if it wants to go its own way? Then it is having a very good tim running here and there while some poor cowboy walks. There is an order in the universe. Depending upon your position within that divine order, you may need to be broken. I am not saying it is easy to be broken. That horse will fight the handler—kick, buck, and bite. But eventually, no matter how vigorously it resists, it will realize it too has a job to do. Its resistance will be transformed into acceptance, and it will become an asset instead of a liability. By the end of my life, I was broken. It is not an easy or a pretty process. It will seem unfair, even brutal. But I was a strong-willed horse. It took a lot of pressure, but by the end I was praying and had made my peace with God. I was not angry anymore; I was accepting. I accepted that Diego could not handle a wild horse like me. It did not make me bad, nor was he; we were mismatched, but I did not want to accept that fact. And I saw that so much of my suffering I myself had caused! Had I gracefully let go of him, I could have enjoyed more peace. 

If you are still in the process of being broken, it will not be pleasant. It will seem unwarranted and unjust. It will seem that God must hate you, for He has no sympathy. Truthfully, those who are loved are chastised. Otherwise, God is a bad parent to let you get away with the sins that have bound you. Good parents give you a slap on the head when you are acting the fool. Isn't this true? When life is rebuilding you, when it hurts very bad, it is intelligent to ask yourself, "Have I done anything to contribute to this problem?" Then you can learn from it. You see, your soul will migrate from one body to the next in its effort to evolve. The system of soul development is just as the Eastern religions tell it. You have many chances to grow. But now you are weathering this harsh life, suffering many troubling circumstances, so it is impossible to feel hopeful or happy about the path you are on. And God understands this. And who is God, anyway? That is the ultimate puzzle, and you will not solve it until after you pass from this life, when you will be reminded that God is all, in everyone and everything, and God is love. This is who God is and what God is, and most importantly, who and what you are. 

You may not feel loving. You will experience negative emotions that all humans endure. You will be happy for a day, and the next day that jubilation evaporates like it never happened. This is the way of emotions; they are passing fancies. If you wait it out, things always seem to improve. This is because, like the weather that changes from night into day, there is always a sunrise. Life is cyclical, as are emotions. The older you get, the greater your patience and tolerance become. This is because you have seen that life's miseries come and go. You gain perspective and long-suffering. When you are hard-pressed on every side, the lemon juice flows out, and you will act in less than loving ways. It does not mean you are not part of God, which is love. It means that in the moment you are under pressure. But ultimately, your soul will find its way back to love. That is a true and very lovely statement. In this life you will be the grouchiest, the meanest, and the toughest. But in the next life you will choose to be sweet, kind, and tender. You think in terms of one life to live but the cycle is much bigger than that. So, when you are having a bad day, year, or life, it is not the end of the story. It is only a chapter. If you could title your life, what would you title it? I would have titled mine: The Two Fridas, which is the name of one of my paintings. It illustrated that there were two of me. One was a conventional Mexican female, while her twin was the inner me who was in pain. There are two sides to everybody, remember that. 

If you, like me, are an unfortunate soul, there is still a purpose for you and your story. It may seem impossible that any good ending can come of your disappointments, but try not to despair. There is plenty of time to turn things around. The problem is, it looks like you are running out of time and must solve all of your problems, while in truth you have an inexhaustable catch of lives. Do not be fooled by a sense of false urgency. Realize that most of your problems are with other people and cannot be resolved successfully as you would like. You cannot control how others respond. The pressure you feel to resolve "unfinished busines" is social or familal pressure resulting from guilt, regret, or resentments. You must accept that many relationships will not be repaired as you would like. So much is outside of your control. And yet, the most time and effort is spent trying to win. If you knew how much is out of your control you would worry so much less. You are laboring under a set of "rules" that are not even factual.

My parting thought is this: misfortune may not be the worst of your troubles, for at least it tells you that you are being corrected, transformed into an ever-stronger soul. The worst that can happen is to get everything your way all of the time. Then you would have an easy life full of wealth and health, but would not improve. You would learn nothing and waste your time. You would wish at the end that you had developed and grown and wonder what it was all about. That would be the worst case. I hope this has given you food for thought. Life is not good unless you are developing and growing. If you plant a seed and it never grows, was it successful? Because it did not attain its potential, it is a waste. Don't be that kind of plant.

With Love,

Frida

The Benefits of Practicing Kindness (Dedicated to Frida Kahlo) by Devi Nina Bingham

Let us say someone has been unkind to you. You do not know this person well; they are an acquaintance only. Your first impression of them has not been a good one. Over time you get to know them because they are a neighbor or coworker, and while they are not overly friendly, they are tollerable. But because of the first impression you will always think of them as an unkind person. This is the power of a first impression. Also, let us say the first time you meet a criminal, they are as sweet as a peach. They speak warmly as if you were a close personal friend. Later, someone tells you, "Didn't you know that person is a bank robber?" But because he was so kind and greeted you warmly, your response is, "I would have never thought that; he is such a nice fellow. "  You are shocked that the same person could have such a different side to him. And this is an illustration of the power of kindness. There is a saying: "Love covers a multitude of sins." When someone has been loving towards you, that person can be accused of a wrongdoing, but because their attitude has been sweet and loving, you will defend their character based upon the way they have treated you. By living in this world you have experienced that people can be two-faced. They will say one thing while doing another. Or they can be like a coin with two different sides. Yet, while you know this about people, you will believe the best about someone as long as they have been a good person to you. This also is human nature. You are starting to see how influential kindness is and also first impressions.

Being kind is easy as long as others are kind to you. But a bigger person is impartial and fair with those who have been unkind toward them. This is what Christ meant when he instructed, "If your enemy strikes you on the cheek, turn the other cheek" (Matt. 5:39). He was not suggesting that you be a doormat for someone's abuse. He was saying, "When someone does you wrong, rather than respond in kind, show kindness." Kindness is more an attitude of acceptance and cheerfulness, and in some situations you will not be able to muster a genuine feeling of kindness for somebody. In that case, be as honest and fair in your dealings as you can with them. This temperance is also a show of kindness. You do not have to feel kind to be kind. Kindness can be pleasant words, or it can be treating someone in a positive way. However, most people are disinclined to respond to unkindness with anything other than how they were treated. When someone is rude to you, your first instinct is to dish it right back. But Gandhi said, "An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind" (1982, Gandhi). It does not improve the situation to return poor treatment. It only exacerbates an argument. Proverbs 15:1 says that "A soft answer turns away wrath" (Bible). You know this to be true, because in many instances you could have been unkind in your reply but decided you would be the bigger person. And your soft reply calmed the storm. So why forgive one person's retort but not another's?

You may know that person well enough to know when they are having a bad day and they have talked out of turn. You forgive in those situations. And, if you love them, you extend grace because you care about them. Or if the person has a history of speaking roughly, you may say to yourself, "They speak like that to everybody," and you will not take it personally. However, in other situations you will be offended at the slightest thing because that person has not been nice to you, and you have had enough! I did not allow anyone to speak to me unkindly. If they did, I would bring it to their attention: "Why are you speaking to me this way?" If you ask them to explain themselves in a voice that is firm but mild, they may change their tone. Diplomacy is the ability to turn a difficult situation into a functional, or winning, one. With unkind retorts, the most effective strategy is a diplomatic approach. When someone responds unfavorably, they may dislike what is happening, but you won't know unless you ask. You could say, "It sounds like you may not agree. What do you want?" If you stop the unkind momentum from rolling away, you are using diplomacy, which can work wonders. The unhappy person is usually grateful to get off their chest what has been bothering them. Asking questions rather than making statements is the best way to manage a disgruntled person.

All of what I have explained are basic principles of good management and communication, though they are easily forgotten in the heat of the moment. These tips about kindness and politeness are especially useful between couples and family members, as "familiarity breeds contempt." In other words, the closer you are to someone, the less formal you will be. The less formal you are, the more likely that you will offend. You act in this manner because you trust that they love you and will forgive your foolishness. However, saying things better left unsaid is a recipe for hurt feelings, which can lead to arguments and separation. This is one area that I needed to change. I would store up many grievances until I exploded. Rather than calmly talk them over, I ignored the things that hurt me and became a ticking time bomb. When I went off everyone would exchange worried glances as if to say, "Why is she so upset at such a little thing?" But they did not know that there was a list of hurts that I smiled benignly through, and this one happened to be the wick. When a person blows up, it is usually not the one thing alone that they are reacting to but many things that have piled up. I should have learned to value my feelings, but I was afraid of scaring people away, so I swallowed my pain—literally. I drank to numb the pain. Remember, won't you, that people's anger is a cry for help? Anger is a response to hurt. And what is beneath the hurt is usually fear. I was afraid to give voice to my true feelings until the hurt turned into anger. Then they came bursting out. Once it turns to anger, a depressant like alcohol will submerge the feelings, but only for so long. When I painted, it helped sublimate these deep, dark feelings. Artists have the ability to channel their existential angst into their work, which is why my paintings were not lighthearted. Mine depicted the horrors I had been through.

And while artists will paint placid scenes, for many it is a way of creating beauty and peace, things they lacked in life. Think of Vincent Van Gogh, who painted water scenes and fields of flowers from an insane asylum. My existence was a struggle from the age of 6 when I contacted polio until my death at age 47. Some have to fight just to live. So, the next time someone is unkind to you, remember what I said. They might be struggling to survive. They may be hurting; they may be ready to explode. You cannot know what another person is going through because some of us will not tell you. Be a diplomat and ask them, "Is everything ok? What's going on?" and they may open up to you. Keep in mind that the first impression you make is what people remember long after. And remember that kindness is a powerful potion that will never be forgotten. 

With Love, 

Frida

Please, Control Yourself (Dedicated to Frida Kahlo) by Devi Nina Bingham

Self-control in all things is important, but especially in the area of sexuality. Few are comfortable openly discussing this private subject, but I have never been one to back down from a challenge. Men are especially cursed with strong sex drives, and due to the veracity of their urges, many give up trying to restrict themselves. This phenomenon is why every woman has been on the receiving end of unwanted advances, rapes, incest, and pedophiles. The majority of men will not cross the line for fear of the law. But what about both men and women who abandon their partners for affairs, whether they are actual or emotional? Isn't that a lack of self-control? You are free to leave a relationship anytime as long as it is a conscious choice. But to be led away by lust, as unthinking as a goat, is a lack of self-control. Doing anything in excess, like overeating, watching too much TV, or chainsmoking (my favorite), is all the same issue, just different manifestations. My guess is that each of you, in some area, should restrict yourselves more. Even worthy activities like working and exercising can be taken to extremes. 

Why did I chainsmoke and overindulge in alcohol and drugs? Wasn't I content enough being a successful painter during my lifetime? Lack of self-control is not a simple problem. People let themselves go for many reasons. If you are willing to damage your health with addictions, as I was, perhaps it is time to work through why you feel that it is acceptable to hurt yourself. For my part, I experienced an increasing doom about my body's broken condition, and a dark depression descended upon me like stormy rain clouds. Anxiety over having become a burden attacked me like birds pecking away at my mental well-being. In the end I only wished for the misery to end.

Let us examine what self-control is and is not. Self-control is the ability to say no to an urge or drive. Sex is a strong drive, which is why men get into so much relational or legal trouble. A lack of self-control can manifest as an addiction, which is a pattern. A man who has a pattern of acting out his fantasies and urges may prey upon children, and this is the most damaging addiction of them all. It spoils that child's innocence and their ability to trust in men. The pedophile has been sucked into a circular pattern of violating the child's rights, and only prosecution will stop him. Before it destroys your health, relationships, or innocent lives, you must make a sobering inventory. Anytime you cannot control your behavior with a "no" is where you must begin. 

As I mentioned, reasons for poor self-control can be numerous. You may be unhappy in an area of your life, dissatisfied enough to let your guard down and to slide into trouble. That slide seems not to be a conscious choice; you simply ignore the inner voice warning you. You look the other way, and it almost feels unconscious. You betray a child's trusting nature, or you take advantage of the vulnerability of a woman alone, or you ignore the smoker's cough that has developed as I did that was trying to warn you. Or, you push your promises to your partner aside. You disregard the caution of the conscience, and you step over the line. It is not a slippery slope at all—it is a definite bad choice. 

So here is what to do about it: if you are tired of being led instead of being in control, it is possible to rid yourself of bad habits, or worse, criminal urges. What you must do to rescue yourself depends upon how serious the habit has become. If it is a regular, repeating pattern or if it has become criminal, you must treat it as serious and seek professional attention. Do not fool yourself into thinking you can single-handedly save yourself from yourself. That is like a drowning man giving himself a hand; it is not going to work. If it is an addiction, which is what a daily pattern is, it has already progressed beyond your ability to self-regulate. Your impulse control has been damaged or compromised so that nothing you try will pull you out of it. You cannot treat yourself. Even doctors do not perform surgery upon themselves. This is the work of physicians and counselors, which you are not. Accept that if you are addicted, self-sabotage has become a way of life. Getting help does not mean you are not strong. It means you are strong enough to get help. It takes more fortitude to get the help than to go on denying that you need it.

There are those who, with the support of self-help books and discussion groups, can put an end to self-sabotaging behaviors. Try these as a first line of defense. But if the pattern is stubborn and continues, a stronger approach is needed. Those who successfully beat their addictions do so because they are no longer hiding it. You must come out of the closet. You must be willing to out yourself because bad habits will shrink in the light. Therefore, give some thought as to who you should tell this secret to. It may not be someone close to you, as it may upset them. Usually the best people to tell are a counselor or a friend who will not betray your confidence. Listen to what they suggest. Give them your permission to ask you about it in the future, and talk to them more than once about it. This step is so important. Let someone in and you won't feel so alone. But do not continue to play a pretending game by saying, "What I am doing isn't hurting anyone; it's not that bad." When you are hurting yourself or someone else, if you are willing to gamble your relationship, perhaps it is time to work through why you feel it is acceptable. You can learn to manage your pain and stress, be it physical or psychological, in more productive ways. What you do not want to do is to allow pain to destroy you the way it nearly destroyed me. I was a strong soul; nobody ever called me weak. But even the strongest among us needs a helping hand. 

With Love,

Frida 

The Cage of Patriarchy by Devi Nina Bingham

Can you live completely faithfully, representative of the real you? Not the cleaned-up version that is easy to digest, smooth like pablum that will not ruffle any feathers or alarm the simple-minded who want to be entertained, but will you live as the rough-edged you that hides beneath your skin? Can you escape your self-imposed cage and unapologetically shout, "This is me, and if you don't approve, I don't give a damn because I have spent a whole lifetime freeing myself of what you think, and I am not going back in the cage"? For you are living in a cage of your own making. Perhaps society has encouraged you to stay comfortable in your cage, especially women. Especially people of color, especially the immigrants. Society has not asked them to stay in their place; it has commanded them to. The only free ones are the masters—the rich European men. They are free to roam, to speak with Southern tongues and to lie about the past, and free to abuse those in cages because they put them there. Curiously, while they enjoy advantages which they claim is God's gift to them, the favored sons, they are not guiltless and therefore not unashamed. For they live a lie that must be defended. They cannot lay down at night with a clear conscience. They are guilty and ashamed, for the advantages, if not stolen by them, were taken by their fathers and uncles so that what they own is second-hand booty: ill-gotten gain. But they won't admit it, for they are afraid of the cage.

The cage you have been assigned is only as strong as your belief in the supremacy of the patriarchy. You were sold a philosophy that declared, "Might makes right! Big is better. White is better; male is better. Brawn is superior to brains. Fabricated and manufactured is better than natural. Violence shall rule. Compassion is weakness. Listening is nonsense. Take what you want by any means necessary. The younger, the better. The stronger, the better. Be grateful for what you have been given and do not question". These are the chants of the patriarchy. But once you have worked your way out of the cage due to education, be it formal or informal, you can see it more clearly. A lie is only something made up and not somewhere you can live. So you become psychologically homeless, refusing what once was solid and confining but at east it was a home, a place to rest your head. Freed from the four walls of the patriarchy, you stand alone. Alone feels expansive and full of possibilities compared to the cage, but it is still not a home. It occurs to you that it is up to you to fashion a home, one that is just your size and shape, a burrow for books and tea and learning. Nobody is telling you where to go, or what to do, or what to think. It is at the same time exhilarating and anxiety-producing. Free of the cage, you can breathe again. The air is distinctly fresher, the sky vast, and you are keenly alive. Only now can you think your wildest thoughts and be your unrestrained self. So, I am urging you to free yourself squarely and say, "Don't you dare create for yourself a cage ever again." 

And while you will make a home, you will come to accept that there is no home; save yourself. Nobody will admit this. Your mother certainly will not, for she wants her children to always return to her. The fathers have no home without a woman to direct them, and without a maturnal, guiding presence, men can get themselves into a peck of trouble. But what if the family is a cage of its own? Then it no longer is a home, for home is a belonging. Family is inclusion, unequivocally. And if you no longer belong in a cage, you may not belong to a family anymore. The truth is that there is only one home, and it is within you. Home is not a country of origin or even "your people." You may be part of a group without feeling that you belong to the group. Family is knowing that you are accepted for who you are, but too many people feel ill-at-ease being themselves. It is important to become comfortable with whatever you are. You may be tall or short, fat or thin, young or old, but however you look and whatever defines you must make you proud. To take pride in yourself completely, you do not have to like everything. You may dislike certain aspects and wish you could change many of your features and personality quirks. This is normal. But bigger than superficial dislikes, you must have the feeling of "I have something of value to offer. I am valuable." The feeling of intrinsic worth means that you will always be acceptable, and being acceptable, you need not find meaning in anyone outside of yourself. This level of profound self-acceptance is as close to enlightenment as most people will ever get. You will stop searching for a home once you come home to yourself. These are not platitudes, but deep truths that most people never arrive at. There is nothing fancy or mysterious about taking destiny firmly in hand and letting it lead you. I believe our souls know where to take us. Churchgoers let their souls lead them to church, but during the week they turn down the soul's volume to low. This is what we call a hypocrite. Do as I say, not as I do. Politics and religion are bursting with contrived saints. A real saint follows the soul 24-7. And you call that miraculous because to follow one's destiny is rare indeed. To be out of the cage, to be at home completely within yourself, and to follow destiny is to live an extraordinary life. 

It is easy to be self-deceived. It is simple to lie to oneself. You do it often, sometimes all day long. Living in denial of the truth is so much less friction than being in opposition to the lies you are told. Going along with, not rocking the boat, staying where you are, not making a fuss, and maintaining the status quo require little effort. It also can cheat you out of the growth you so desperately need. You need to grow so that you do not keep repeating the same mistakes. If you repeat your blunders, you get locked into a never-ending spin cycle. Mistakes cause suffering and are the result of ignorance. Nobody wants to suffer, but when confronted with your ignorance, you deny your mistakes. It is easy to imagine that aliens would think humans an imbecilic race, for they are self-defeating. At some point, you will tire of going in circles and sabotaging yourself. That is when you start telling the truth to yourself, and suddenly your life will change.

I do not belong in a cage, and neither do you. Nobody deserves to be manipulated and controlled. But until you snap out of your stupor, the powers are more than satisfied with allowing you such a tiny piece of the pie. It is up to each person to realize that they deserve more and to start asking for it. And please realize there is no ruling class or upper echelon. There are only humans in different phases of intellectual, emotional, and spiritual development, and these are variables you control. If you have not advanced intellectually since high school, please remember that universities are still open. If your emotional intelligence is low, there are ways to improve, including counseling and communication training. If you have not given much thought to your spiritual journey and the only time you think of it is when you attend church, realize that you are first and foremost a spiritual being having a human experience. Spiritual development is not optional. It is vital. You should be the most advanced version of yourself, but to grow, you must intend to grow. It does not happen by accident.

If you are a white, European man, I cannot assume that you are one of the entitled, entitled. What I mean is, there are entitled white men who are aware of the advantages they have enjoyed all their lives, and then there are entitled, entitled white men who assume superiority because that is the doctrine they were taught. But every white European man is entitled, and by that I mean you have been given every advantage that can be awarded by society, whether you approve or not. "Entitled" means that you expect the best opportunities. You cannot be offered the best jobs, the best educations, family money, and the respect due a prince and not come to expect it. I can only say with certainty that you will never know what it feels like to be a second-class citizen, because white men make the rules. They set up the class system and maintain it. The game is rigged so they win. And when they are losing control, they lose control, and their support system sees what it looks like when a person who has always won is dealt a bad hand. Men who are abusers have to win, or else.

To the men who admit that the system is rigged in their favor, you have taken a step in the right direction. A bigger step would be to use your position, influence, and power to level the playing field. Equality can be a scary proposition for men, as they are accustomed to having a leg up. Without the helping hand of systemic racism they are just another human being. The power dynamic shifts when there is no advantage awarded. To the entitled, entitled man, this can feel like weakness or less control. Really, it is humility, which is strength under control. Use whatever influence you have to usher in equal treatment and you will have done something worthy.

There are two cages you must face: one created by the patriarchy that keeps a hierarchical system functioning and that supports their agenda. The second is a cage of your own making that maintains your facade of social acceptability. By that, I mean you embody what it means to be a member of polite society, whether it fits you or not. You have the ability to leave both cages behind, but most people will stay comfortable in both for their whole existance. They may step out of line when there are change-points, including after a divorce or the death of a loved one, because these can be psychologically jarring, flipping you into a different experience of life. But to leave the well-worn cage is not comforting but unsettling, and disorienting. Most people cannot tollerate the guard rails being taken away; they will run back to the perceived safety of the familiar. And convention-loving people keep the system which supresses them in place. There is a saying: "Better to know the familar monster than the monster you do not know." They may agree that they are playing by society's unfair rules, but what is lurking in the darkness of the unknown? It is fear of the unknown which is the sticking point.

Are there areas of your life where you are playing by someone else's rules? If so, does it feel restrictive? Are you completely satisfied with these areas of your life (your spiritual self, ect), or dissatisfied? Please see, there is only one person who can free you from a self-imposed cage. You are the jailor, not the other. Nobody else holds the keys to your unlocking. This is both welcome news, and bad news. You do not get to point the finger any longer. To make a change is to take 100% responsibility for your destiny. And if you unlock yourself, what you make of your life, whether a dream come true or a mess, belongs to you. The good news is that once you are free of convention, the "should-haves," and the guilt, you get a fresh start! You will be born again, given another chance to write the book of your life. And in the new version you will be able to spot a cage coming a mile away. 

With Love,

Frida

Unleash Your Potential: Unlocking Subconscious Power (Dedicated to Frida Kahlo) by Devi Nina Bingham

When I painted, I had very little anxiety over how it would turn out because I knew that how the painting looked when I started was not the way it would look at the end. I would make revision after revision until little of the original remained. I might decide that more color was needed and turn a brown coconut into a striped watermelon. I might decide that a monkey best represented the subliminal message I was sending and sketch several until one stood out from the rest. Then he would become my focal point. All along I experimented with colors, with light and shadow, animals, plants, and other figures. While I was working, nothing was set in stone and nothing was unchangeable. At any point the painting could morph away from my original conception and assume a different direction completely. The advantage of working in this intuitive way was an adaptability that less experienced painters lacked. I allowed the brushes to lead me. Like a dancer I followed as gracefully as I knew how without stepping on my own feet. I understood that it was I who both led and followed the conscious mind of Frida. 

If you are not an artist, you may have a more difficult time realizing this concept. But many are the times when your unconscious has functioned on your behalf. Have you ever driven your car and began daydreaming, losing track of the road before you, and traveled quite a distance as you were entertained elsewhere? Who do you think was your autopilot? None other than your subconscious mind. It is just that artists become accustomed to tuning into the subtle cues of the unconscious. They have learned that it is more imaginative and clever and almost always is conveying a message. It is the task of the artists to hush and hold their own ideas to make room for the brilliant gestalts of the higher mind. I always was aware that it was not wholly me, but the I AM that expressed itself through me. Christ referred to this power on the cross when he said, "Not my will, but Thine be done." The "thine" was that piece of God that lived within. And the message to each of us seems to be: If you get out of the way and let your higher mind do the driving (or the painting or the list of things you have planned to do), your autopilot will assume command. 

In practical terms, what does this mean? Shouldn't you always be in the driver's seat of your life? Up until today you may not have given the unconscious mind any serious consideration. You knew you had one, because occasionally it seemed that there was another part of you functioning apart from your awareness of it. But it seemed mysterious and unknowable, so you did not question. What if, instead of leading 100% of the time, you switched on the autopilot? While accessing the subconscious is not as black and white as I am making it out to be, it is a choice. Christ had a definite choice: go his own way or follow God's lead. Getting out of your own way will produce surprising results. The conscious mind assumes it knows the best way. However, it is not the only way at your disposal. Aren't two choices always better than one?

The question is, how to get the chattery mind, the obvious mind, to step aside? One's ego must be willing to follow. One must trust, mustn't that be true? If we are lost and you tell me that you will lead us out, I must throw in my lot with you. My plan must step aside, which means my ego must show humility. Humility is the willingness to be led and to listen. Men are not as naturally adept at humility as women. Their egos bark louder than a woman's, and this is evolutionary. Someone in the group of ancestors had to take the lead, so evolution chose the biggest and strongest, as they could defend the group that came behind them. It isn't that they want to lead; their brains do it for them. However, once men learn how to harness the power of the subconscious, they can cooperate beautifully with it. The secret is in making it work for you. When you are out of creative ideas, when you have a problem with no apparent solution, you are blocked. You may have writer's block, or like Thomas Edison, you may be looking for a scientific solution. He learned to put his subconscious to work for him by napping in the middle of his workday. When he was stumped, he would lie down on the cot in his workshop. Many times the answer or next step came to him just before or right after sleep. This is because he was willfully handing over the wheel. The act of napping was a signal to his unconscious mind to take over. The key to success is not in what signal you use, but in laying down your worry about it. Refuse to think about the problem; shift gears. Get it completely out of your awareness. But let the unconscious know that you are out of answers and awaiting its lead. This permission is key. This thought must be clear and convincing. Tell yourself, "If I continue to fret, I am not trusting." To trust is to listen and follow. Do not deal with it again until you have realized a breakthrough in your thinking. Would you be sent all alone into life without guidance? That is like sending a rocket to the moon without an operating system. You were born with the ability to switch your conscious mind off and your unconscious mind on. When you do this, the unconscious system takes over. Sleep is a natural way for the body to power down so your circuits get refreshed. This is why sleep prompted Edison's solutions. He was flipping his anxious mind off long enough for it to be reset.

This advantage of tapping into the unconscious is especially urgent for artists of all kinds, or anyone needing greater access to creative imagination. Imagination is all and everything to the artist who uses it as a blueprint. There are those who paint only what they see, a landscape or a nude, and there is nothing at all wrong with realism. But in the wacky world of surrealism, imagination must take over and run wild. When you do not have a model before you, when you do not have a writing outline or a drawing, when as an inventor you do not have a prototype, what you do have is your vivid imagination. Writer's block is simply a lack of imagination.

Now that I have made a convincing argument for partnering with the unconscious, you must practice. In couples' dancing there are two positions: the lead and the follower. You might think if you have never danced before that following someone's lead would be a simple matter. They take you by the hand and spin you around the dancefloor. However, serious dancers know that following is every bit as difficult as leading because the follower copies every step the leader makes, only she does it backward! When he steps forward, she steps back. As in dancing, it takes practice to be a good follower. Mostly, with the unconscious, or shall we call it the imagination, the ego simply has to get its feet out of the way and follow. Once the ego is checked, fresh ideas can be introduced. It is resistance to new ideas and a rigidity that robs the world of greater imagination. You may think, "I don't have an ego—someone else has one, but not me. I am the epitome of grace under pressure." However, should we ask your partner, family, and friends if you can be stubborn, and would they nod sheepishly? Every human has a will. I am not asking you to not know what you want. Having your own will is healthy, and if you had asked those who knew me if I could be stubborn, they would have all laughed! Have a strong will! You must in order to survive. I am asking you to practice humility, listening, and following so that your higher mind may come to your rescue.

You will know when the unconscious is unlocked to you, for your imagination will return. You will receive pictures and instructions, and the intuitive ones will have extra sensory perception, including receiving messages from the spirit world. During most of my lifetime I failed to practice the faith of my family. But as my body went into decline, I was confined to the bed. I was alone a great deal. The isolation was difficult for me. I longed to do the simplest things for myself: walk around my garden, take care of my animals, and paint while sitting in a chair. However, I learned a deep and spiritual humility that I could not learn as "Frida the great artist." The only way to learn humility is to be humbled, and illness will cut you down faster than anything. In my last years I was cut to the quick. Every day I contemplated my miserable fate: polio and a leg disfigurement, the bus accident that pierced my uterus and rendered me barren, the unsuccessful back surgeries that put me in a body cast, and finally, the greatest indignity of becoming a helpless invalid. Strangely, none of these physical trials amounted to anything when compared to the indignities my heart suffered. And by "heart" I mean that my love was thrown away. There is no greater pain than a broken heart, nothing as wretched. If I had not unlocked my imagination, if I had not learned how to follow, I would have been empty-handed. Art became my oxygen. It gave me a purpose when all hope had flown, and I want the same for you. When everyone is gone and it is finally you in the silence and stillness, can you find your spark, and will it kindle a fire within that you can warm yourself by?

With Love,

Frida

Flaws: The Hidden Blessings in Your Life (Dedicated to Frida Kahlo) by Devi Nina Bingham

Outward signs can be misleading. A man can wear robes and perform the sign of the cross, yet still be completely wicked. Appearance has nothing to do with purity of mind. Politicians will steal from the country while boasting about their superiority. Anyone, political or religious, who proclaims their moral or intellectual fitness is boasting, which always is a cover-up. You can be certain of it. Only the deeply insecure sing their praises. Truly righteous people are humble and readily admit their flaws, for they are not living in dread of being found out.

But flaws are inherently woven into the fabric of earthly life. Your flaws are what keep you grounded and connected. Without them, you would be a faultless divinity, not belonging to this world. You would have to worship yourself! And this is what the narcissist does: he values his own opinion above everyone else's. And while most detest the narcissist, a number of boot-lickers will follow them around, waiting for the breadcrumbs to drop so they can eat them up. They ingratiate themselves to the inner circle out of fear of being ostracized. When you see these sniveling opportunists, you cannot help but be sickened by their obvious lack of self-confidence and inauthenticity. They are chameleons, adapting to whatever color is most in fashion. These types only reflect and never originate. Be neither the elevated buffoon nor the court jester. 

Most people are neither kind of fool but fall somewhere in the middle. They struggle with persistent personality flaws common to all and errors in judgment such as lying, lust, and greed. These are the three common sins everyone wrestles with. By "greed" I do not only mean an appetite for money. I also mean gluttony, which are addictions to food, alcohol, or drugs, or any lust for more that drives you. Lust and greed are made of the same appetite for more. Lying is deception, which includes stealing. Why am I discussing such base impulses? Because you have them. They have shadowed you since birth. Some have managed to evade them. But every one of you fights these powerful urges: to lie, to steal, to amass more money than you need, to drink or to take drugs in excess, to eat too much, and to lust for what your eyes see or your mind conjures. These are temptations that are part and parcel of life. They tempt you when you are lacking. You may be lacking the love and affection you feel you deserve, so your mind says, "Take it!" You may be poor and thus tempted to take what is not yours. You may suffer with a hard life and find alcohol, drugs, or food can, for a time, quench the thirst for happiness. These are base impulses that tempt you occasionally, or on a regular basis. You may indulge them frequently and regularly or ignore them completely. Either way, they make themselves known to you. How you handle them determines your moral or spiritual maturity. For distinguishing right from wrong is the definition of spirituality. A spiritual person refuses the wrong and pursues the right. Morality is the measuring stick.

What if you fail consistently to measure up? What if you are caught in the grip of addiction? What if you enjoy deceiving others? What if money is the only measure of a man in your eyes? What if your lust runs wild and unchecked? Then I would say you are here to learn. Are you a bad, horrible thing when you give in to base longings? Then every one of you is bad and horrible, for as I have said, humans struggle all their lives with such impulses. And while you will improve and grow as age ascends, even the aged find themselves shaking their heads at their own weaknesses and stupidity after all these years. You will never completely outgrow your humanity, weaknesses, and personality issues. They will dog you your whole existence.

How should you feel about your weaknesses and the frailty of others? Realize the truth, and admit it to yourself: you are hardly better and not much worse than most people. You are not higher or lower than others. You are a human in the lengthy process of learning to embrace your faults. Simultaneously, you are the king of beasts, the most intelligent of all creatures, and the top of the food chain. Thus, you have a great advantage and responsibility. For the blessings given you, you are tasked with learning to do better. If you leave this life worse for having been here, then you contributed little. Conversely, if you helped others, then you have taken the advantages given you and used them properly. 

Step back for a moment and survey your life. You will probably see that you experienced both challenges and blessings. Life is not all challenging, nor is it a bowl of cherries. They are mixed together. It is a jumble of pleasure and pain. One day may be so horrible that it seems life hates you, while the next day brings unexpected joy. You never know what to expect; that is the truth. For the good that found you, I am asking you to inspect yourself, not with a critical eye, but with an eye of compassion. Realize that you are still learning; whatever age and stage you are in, there is always something to be learned. What does life seem to be teaching you, and will you learn it? Are you able to see your faults realistically, not worse nor better, but see that you are simply a part of the human family who struggles with base impulses and yet, still has something to give on this blessed day that you are still alive?

With love,

Frida

Men First by Devi Nina Bingham

They, the male masters

and we, serving the meal

avoiding talk, avoiding disaster

and the betrayal that we feel.

We, the silent women folk

aren't allowed to say

our love has gone up in lusty smoke

while faithful marriage they portray.

And all the husbands beat the wives

who don't keep their secrets private

to look you'd never guess the strife

of living with Southern gentleman tyrants.

While they indulge their wicked ways

she can't vote or own the land

They'd hang a wife who didn't obey

like the Indians who took a stand.

They have the guns; they have the power

if you were born a male

But there's nothing awaiting the foreigner 

but graveyard flowers or settin' in jail.

Being a man was hard as hell,

but being a woman was twice as bad.

Being a slave meant being for sale,

even if you were just a lad.

This is the world they'd "make great" again

the golden age of "men first."

If you're not white you cannot attend,

and if you're a woman, you're cursed.

Don't return to yesteryear

filled with sin and sorrow.

The future cannot make you fear

and the past is trouble borrowed.

The Day You Were Born by Devi Nina Bingham

On this, the day you were born

I will not glimpse you, nor hear your sweet voice

Evermore the willow will mourn

on this, the day you were born.

And some fair face will sing you a song

and some old, old friend will clap with great glee

and I shall go sit beneath the shade

of a willow that weeps, yet stands tall and strong.

But only I shall think of thee

when in youth our initials we made

on this fair day, 

the day you were born. 

Night's Absolution by Devi Nina Bingham

After kissing you, I awaken

like a mirage you evaporated

though I held you fast.

These dreams are always nearer

and more urgent than you would allow,

stolen perfection.

Tightly clenched fist balled up

a treasure chest of secrets

silent and safe.

I speak aloud in the cold, dark room

where you are missing,

hot tears ruining my joy.

Clearly and loudly I yell:

I have always loved you!

I do, I do, I do. 

I try to halt the cascade

but my tongue is confessing 

at your shrine.

The night's absolution

is the unrepentant love

I gave to you. 

She is Always with Me by Devi Nina Bingham

She is always with me

as the clouds are with the sky

as the rain is with the clouds

as the water is with the rain

but we are not the same.

For she followed a star

which shone for her alone.

Thus, I carry her memory.

Though time will burn it up,

now it flames forever.

Like a flicker of the first time

I beheld her face,

her wonderful face.

She is always with me.

No regard for how I feel,

or where I go,

or how old I become,

she is my silent witness.

It is paradoxical

loving this eternal way

while never reaching her.

Given but a sliver of time

and how shamefully I wasted it

on me alone.

Cursed ego, cursed temper-

cursed, cursed, cursed!

Yet, blessed by her simple presence

too light to be kept

by a clod like me.

If only I had known the door would slam.

Standing silently, my hands upon it, willing it to open,

a steel door, a trap door, leading where?

The unknowns are piercing daggers 

wrenching my fate from hers.

A violent act of merciless destiny.

Still, when the clouds loom

we are lighter than a feather.

When the rain pelts

we are dancing between dewdrops.

When the water soaks

we are sharing our umbrella.

In my eyes

on my head

like one skin

she is always with me. 

Mother Kali by Devi Nina Bingham

Voo-doo

who-do

You-do

deserve it!

Say the magic words

to cast an ancient spell

feather of a mockingbird

and a rusty metal nail.

Some say she's a nerd,

some say she's from hell.

It depends on what you've heard-

others say that she's in jail.

The Hindus of old

worshiped Mother Kali

the Goddess of fright

can even make you feel jolly.

She wears her enemy's skulls

of the foolhearted's folly

with her tongue she will bite,

pins and needles stab the dolly. 

Mother Kali, Mother Kali,

wielding her sword 

defiantly naked 

as cups of blood pour.

Run as fast as your legs can flee

yet to me, your devoted child

you are my consolation,

my protector run wild. 

Voo-doo

who-do

You-do

deserve it!

I Belong to Me by Devi Nina Bingham

I belong to me, for you never claimed me

though I waited in fallen shadows deep,

waited like the aimless moon which time carves up and keeps,

like a harvested, hallowed-out pumpkin heap.

And you, never waiting, nor pausing, nor sighing;

never looking, nor seeing, nor laughing, nor crying

could not find two cents worth of tailored cloth

to give a care and cover my fears of darkness and loss,

though bitten were we by the hungry, vain moth.

And fortune (or God) smiles upon this unfortunate heap

of chaotic flesh and dances when we

hope for love while drowning in the unforgiving sea

it escapes us that, I belong to me.

Fears of being swallowed by love's great noose

that stopped your wild roving and weighted your feet

while I dreamt you'd be my rebel on the loose

who could meet my desire as the years did creep.

Suddenly, I belong to me, and for the first time

the blind Winters of belonging now brightly shine

in the shrinking house I had built to last

still leaking from the ramshackle past.

Dutifully kneeling, then standing on my own

fly until you rest on a statue made of stone

like one lonely gull upon a restless sea,

silently calling, I belong to me.

The Ghost of Has Been by Devi Nina Bingham

For these days made of nought but the past

I weep and mourn for what? A dream of love?

Long dead, yet wickedly alive, a spell was cast.

From the grave arises a turtledove.

A fortress of hope built by my hands, alas!

Yet urgently calls as if sent from above

A castle built of air that holds me fast

Deliver me from what could have been but never was.

As life's fond dew embraces the gentle morn

May this day, I pray, be free of worldly woe.

And happiness return to me, and not forlorn

May I think of you never and suffer no more.

The memories I keep and treasure will sing

of perfect union and golden moments divine.

But may the sadness of yesterday take wing

and leave for us blessings of kindness behind.

I weep no more for you, sweet ghost of has-been.

Haunt me no longer so that I may call you friend.

 

Are Artists to Be Envied or Pitied in Today’s World? by Devi Nina Bingham, MH

The life of an artist is often a complex tapestry woven with passion, struggle, and creativity. Should we envy their ability to express the inexpressible, or pity the challenges they face in a world that often misunderstands them?

I don't know whether I should be envied or pitied. As a writer who makes her living by the clever use of words, allow me to describe for you the life of an artist. On the plus side, I can confidently assert that I enjoy freedoms that other working stiffs do not. There is no alarm to get up by, but that is because I work 10-14 hour days and obtain 4-6 hours of sleep maximum, so I wake at unreliable times. I do not have a boss (big plus), and I make my own deadlines. I work everyday, but leisurely, and I can work in my pajamas if that is what will inspire me. To people slaving in a corporate mill, this arrangement may sound like heaven, and it is—until payday! You see, my books compete with 1.12 BILLION others online. Let me put that number in perspective. In the marketplace, every widget faces competition. There may be a dozen knock-offs for sale, but odds are that your widget will at least show in the searches. Already I am sure you can see the dilemma that authors face: selling your book in a crowd of 1.12 billion other books. 

I have always said that writing is not a career choice. Writing chooses you, for it is suicidal insanity to pick a literary vocation in which you labor for years in solitude, without pay, while agonizing over your writing and feeling inadequate, worrying how you will market it, only to finally publish it with little fanfare, throwing your masterpiece into what feels like a black hole. Even if you have composed the most extraordinary story ever told, how will you distinguish your creation amidst billions of others? Will you hire a marketing professional, or would you prefer to handle that time-consuming task yourself? If you're both an author and a marketer (as most are), when will you have time to write your next book?? For without new products, the royalties dry up. So, while you may have daydreamed about living the life of a carefree creative, the hard truth is that you had better get used to living on a budget. You may be thinking, "Don't best-selling authors live high on the hog, rolling in fat royalty checks that last for years to come?" If your book makes it to Amazon's top 100 list, you have done a near-miraculous, head-turning thing. Because the odds of that are much greater than being struck by lightning (1 in 1,222,000 people), winning an Olympic gold medal (1 in 662,000 ), or being killed in a plane crash (1 in 11 million). I ask again: should you envy, or pity a writer? Envy me that I get to do what I love, but pity me because 1.12 billion other idiots are doing the same.

Life is full of trade-offs. Sometimes you cannot have the best of both worlds. In order to make a living as an artist, you may have to eat ramen instead of steak for dinner. Conversely, to enjoy the finer things in life (like groceries), you may have to endure a regular work schedule, and a boss. Each person must ask themselves what their priorities are. I do not mind living on a shoestring; I have gotten used to it. As long as I can live next to the sea and continue to grow as a writer, I will do just about anything. But I am not going to sugar-coat this for you: in order to write, you must think deeply. And in order to think profoundly, you will have to be alone. A lot. Ok, most of the time. And for most people, that kind of isolation is like a jail sentence. However, for us nerdy and introverted artisans, it's not a problem, but a privilege. This is because introverts would prefer to live in a shack by the sea, or a mountain cabin, or on the prairie with their chickens than deal with people. Introverts isolate because the quiet they crave is the most important commodity, and they cannot do without it. For them, silence equals peace, and stillness is tranquility, not boredom. This is because introverts recharge their batteries by being alone, whereas extroverts recharge their batteries by being with others. Therefore, introverts naturally turn towards the arts as easily as a flower turns towards the light of the sun. However, it is not wholly accurate to claim that all artists are introverts. No, indeed. I think of Salvador Dalí, the Spanish Surrealist whose avant-garde personality and handlebar mustache were as ostentatious and outrageous as his art. He was outgoing, vivacious, and a city-dweller. However, most artists can be fiercely withdrawn, depressed, or aloof. They do not mean to be; blame their artistic temperament, and their loved ones find it off-putting. For example, those who know me can usually tell when I have had enough socializing, which is halfway through the party. I get a far-away, dazed look when a kind-hearted acquaintance will rescue me by inquiring, "How is your book coming along?" which jerks me back to reality. It is an awkward question for a writer. I cannot blurt out the truth: TERRIBLE, because while it feels like it is going terribly (which is why I am at the party at all), it will eventually be a success, so I smile benignly and say, "Great!" Artists live in their heads, and there is so much going on up there that I just keep it simple. 

I watched a dark comedy once titled "Welcome to Me." It's about a mentally ill and delusional narcissist who wins the lottery and uses her windfall to broadcast a talk show that she stars in. Her show gains a cult following because of its outlandishly weird host who becomes so obsessed with getting everything her way that she psychologically spins out of control and crashes. Have you ever noticed that lottery winners seldom have happy endings? "Welcome to Me" is the perfect title of the writer's existence. We are compelled to express ourselves to a world we don't know, and never will. We are so in need of an audience, or at least another person to understand us, that we write for strangers! If I could not write, if I were marooned on a desert island with no paper or computer, I would still find a way. I would scratch messages into the bark of a tree, or write in the sand, but I guarantee you, I'd keep writing. That is because in childhood I discovered that writing was as second nature to me as breathing, and without it I am only half alive. But writing is more than art; it is an act of rebellion. It is rebellious because nobody tells you what to think. No politician, no teacher, and no partner can control what makes it into your next book. And writing is a form of intrapersonal communication—meaning that artists communicate best by analyzing what is going on in their private worlds. Intrapersonal communicators are 100% "Welcome to Me." And while it can get lonely, the alternative is to become an extrovert, and that thought scares the hell out of me. Jumping from one social activity to the next, attending nonstop gatherings, and talking incessantly on the phone—these are nightmare scenarios for the true homebody who longs to end the night early in her fuzzy pajamas while cradling a cup of herbal tea and reading (or better yet, curled up writing in her journal). The alternative to being the way I am is being someone else, and I am not prepared to make those kinds of changes at this late date.

Philosophers and artists are cut from similar cloth; they are like cousins. Both are full of existential ponderings, but they arrive at their conclusions by different means. The philosopher examines philosophic theories and tears them apart, much as a car mechanic rebuilds an engine, one system at a time. Likewise, a fictional novelist presents life from different angles, employing characters and the storyline, while the non-fictional writer analyzes their subject matter with a particular goal in mind. The philosopher may appear in public to defend their position, while the author gives a public reading. Philosophers become writers out of necessity. If an artist does not spend time contemplating existence, their representation of life will be shallow, confined to painting landscapes and fruit bowls. Not that there is anything wrong with these. But if the artist never goes any deeper than what the eye can see, if they are unable to interpret their subjects or to give birth to what their inner eye can see, then they are a painter, a sculptor, or a dancer, and not an artist. An artist interprets, gives meaning, and births chaos. They give the spark of life, which is why the Mona Lisa is the most widely recognized painting in the world. Da Vinci gave his subject that enigmatic smile, that spark of life—which is why he is remembered as an artist of the highest caliber and not merely a portrait painter. There is a philosopher in every artist and an artist in every philosopher. 

To be a writer is not merely innate talent and artistic temperament; they also have a bohemian lifestyle, and a philosopher's curiosity. Another quality seldom discussed in writers' academic programs and writers' groups is the artist's penchant for self-sabotage. They will especially sabotage their relationships, and research has proven this. Why is this, and what can be done about it? First, let us further define what makes an artist:

1. Innate Talent—Artists are driven from within to practice their craft. They perform without being compelled to. They do it without direction, and without pay. They create for creation's sake. While this is self-efficacy at its finest, their free time is often monopolized by their art. An artist's partner finds themselves fighting for time and attention and may feel they are being breadcrumbed. Like the football widow, they may find themselves on the outside looking in.

2. Artistic Temperament—This is not just a cute label for wacky artists. Research by Kay Jamison, PhD, among others have shown that artists, and particularly writers, suffer more depression, mania, bipolar disorder, and suicidal ideation than other vocations. Science has attributed actual measurable qualities to artists, and these are a part of what makes them highly creative and intuitive. It can also make them challenging to be in relationship with. A creative person is wired differently. For one thing, artists possess a sensitivity to emotions, have heightened insight, and a keen sense of self-awareness that others don't possess. These extra qualities kindle their artistic flame. On the flipside, they can be the source of frustration when two different temperments live together. 

3. Bohemian Lifestyle-Because artists make sacrifices to pursue thier art, finances can be impossibly tight. Partners may be asked to contribute more financially. Having ramen for dinner might not be some people's idea of a life worth living. If living simply and frugally bothers you, you might not be a good fit. They don't say, "starving artists" for nothing!

4. Philosophical Mindset-Like philosophers, artists will pick apart ideas and argue a point just for the fun of it. If you are the type that enjoys playing devil's advocate, or does not mind listening or is amused as your night out turns into a debate, then loving these wild minds will certainly keep you entertained! If you are the partner of an artist, at best you are in for an unforgettable adventure, and at worst you will question your sanity for choosing such a free thinker and a talented, if not troubled soul. Being a creative myself, my advice is to seriously consider what you want and need out of a relationship. What are your priorities? Ask yoursef: can you offer the support that this special person is going to need? If the answer is enthusiastically, YES! then move ahead with confidence. But if you are realizing that being with an artist will ask more of you than you can give, there is no shame in choosing something different for yourself. Not everyone is built to travel the artist's road with them.

I began by asking if you envied or pitied me. By now, you have looked more closely at some of the ups and downs of the life of an artist. I imagine the insight you have gained has been thought-provoking. You may be feeling less envy, and more "proceed with caution" about choosing "the road less traveled." And you may be feeling less pity and more admiration for the sacrifices that creatives are willing to make. The artistic lifestyle is not for the faint of heart. It is a choice that can weigh like a heavy burden at times. But when your project is complete-whether it is a book or a piece of art, you have birthed something. You have fashioned a book to hold in your hands, or a painting to hang on the wall. You have single-handedly brought a tangible product into the world which did not exist before, pulled from your imagination. How cool is that? Through inner vision, pain-staking efforts, and tender care, you produced a one-of-a-kind, never-before-seen relic that will live long after you are gone, emblazoned with your signiture. In that moment of exaltation and validation, no one will pity you. They will only see the miracle before them and declare it a thing of beauty. Perhaps they will even envy the artist you have become. 

Visit Devi Nina's Amazon Page: www.amazon.com/author/ninabingham

If I Could Do Life Again by Devi Nina Bingham

If I could do life again

wouldn't I be born anew

and take you as my faithful friend,

gentle as the morning dew?

 

That lingers as dawns soft light

and rinses away our sorrow

or rising as the moon of white,

staving off tomorrow.  

 

If I could do life again

I would do it with you

But this time never to offend

for I have learned what not to do.

 

It is our fears, our jealousy and rage

that drive a stake into the heart

making of love a gilded cage

while we call in vain, sweetheart.

 

For no soul is all my own  

an upturned hand, a silent cry

when my heart has turned to stone

still, nothing is mine, save the sky.

 

Had I known that freedom is fine

before I had asked you to stay

would we have romantically entwined

for capture made you run away.

 

If I could do life again

I would hold you with an empty hand

devoid of traps as age ascends

like an hourglass of restless sand.

 

No way to capture who you are

as some were made to roam

a blind maiden yearning for a star

and a prince looking for a home.

 

Your soul was never my own. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Value of an All-or-Nothing Personality by Devi Nina Bingham

Some souls seem destined to give voice to the silent mysteries that swirl around us. You know them as prophets, writers, musicians, and artists. Their gifts arrive in a rush of rare insight and creativity, reserved for those who wander off the beaten path. What they offer blazes with passion and soothes with compassion. When their work is touched by love, you can sense a higher source at play. By love, I mean the kind that glows with beauty, lifts your spirit, and stirs your heart, even if only for a moment, when you encounter their words or music. It feels as if the Divine has quietly woven its magic into the mind of the creator, and you stop in your tracks to marvel at their gift. There are many artists whose talent deserves admiration, but not all possess that elusive spark that seizes the heart and quietly changes the world, one soul at a time.

In their lives, you will observe the following attributes, and without them, their gift to the world wouldn't be the inspiration it is. They first adopt an "all-or-nothing" mentality. When it comes to matters of the heart they either love fully or not at all. They have learned that stillness is vital to creation, so they would prefer to suffer in solitude if their love is not reciprocated. They give their work their all and don't hold anything back. They will work nonstop and without compensation since their motivation is obvious: they are driven by a prophetic message and cannot stop working until the message is delivered. 

Secondly, they may have a chaotic personal life. They could be easily distracted, disorganized, moody, anxious or depressed, and prone to flights of fancy. Thia has been called the "artistic temperment," and there is scientific research to prove that the artist's brain functions differently. Many writers are diagnosed with Clinical Depression, or Bipolar Disorder. Practical issues quickly bore them, for they prefer philosophical discussions about existential issues. Their art touches on the most profound issues facing both society and interpersonal relationships. Professionally, they may struggle to pay their bills since they are more driven to hone their artistic skills by practice than to earn money. Inner harmony is more important to them than how they appear to others, and they may live apart from people or in oddly decorated rooms as a result of their social maladaptation. These artists cannot and will not give up their art, because doing so deprives them of tranquility. Their interpersonal relationships are typically transitional or inadequate since cognitive dissonance will not be endured for long. They fit the stereotype of the starving artist who is distant or lonely. Despite their calm demeanor and friendliness, they devote every spare moment to artistic endeavors. Although it can be challenging to get to know them personally, their art will allow you to get to know them entirely. Their art conveys the whole story concealed behind their mischievous smile because of the unparalleled intimacy of their subject matter. In truth, the only way to know these folks is via their art. The reason for this is that they conserve the most energy for it.

They believe life is not guaranteed because they frequently face mental or physical difficulties that have shown them how fleeting life is, or they have experienced catastrophic events. They know they only have one chance to contribute something valuable to humanity; therefore, they're resolved not to waste it on pointless things. If becoming an artist means giving up a "normal" existence, which includes marriage, kids, and a steady job, they will. This social illegitimacy may drive their family to view them as failures, which is the opposite of what is true for their message is worth any treasure ever discovered. This is because they prioritize the concerns of the world over their own. These enigmatic prophets are the royal jewels of God. It is impossible to gauge their value because, despite their loneliness and potential for misunderstanding, they are tuned into their mission and will do whatever it takes, even if it means losing everything. Yet those without a creative or spiritual eye may label them as indolent or worse.

Finally, these all-or-nothing prophets were not created to suit the mold of civilization. They arrived to dismantle all the molds. Their souls will always and eternally break free from the confines of normalcy. It is pointless to try to control mavericks because they never behave how others would expect them to. They were intended to be free, and the products of these odd and erratic artists reveal their beauty. They might be labeled strange or careless by others, but once they see the brilliance they have been concealing, the critics fall silent. The viewer doesn't understand how they produce so fluidly and flawlessly, and all of a sudden they can appreciate the artist's oddity because you are aware that their work stands out as exceptional and deserving of praise. And even though audiences enjoy the artwork, the artists' sacrifices are what matter most for they are everything or nothing.

If you are willing to learn it, there is a lesson here. Their remarkable talent—or even the results of that talent—is not what is most admirable. Their dedication is something you should take note of. Instead of letting their gift be wasted, they would choose to live in a hut and subsist on bread and water. Even though no one else on the planet is aware of it, they somehow understand how crucial it is that they contribute in a way that only they can. These exceptional craftspeople have dedicated their lives to perfecting their techniques and aesthetics, to the point where it would be a sin to not employ their unique artistic voice. You can learn from their selflessness since they will put up with personal hardships for however long it takes. Simply stated, their art is who they are. It consumes them because they devote so much time and energy to it. And I ask you this: have you ever sacrificed so much for the good of others? Joy is always what you get back when you make an all-or-nothing commitment to a cause or even to another person. Because nothing is more crucial than giving it your all.