65 Years of Joy

I turned 65 yesterday (September 9, 2025). What a surprise that was for me. And to be happy about it! I never thought either thing would happen. To begin with, when I first started having health problems, my doctors told me I might not live until I was 30. (I’ve now lived to see both of my kids enter their 40s.) But as my degenerative spinal cord condition progressed, and I developed bi-polar disorder, I thought if I did live this long I’d be mad about it.

To have to keep dealing with so many health issues and pain for this long used to seem unbearable. Especially after my left leg got too weak to balance with (my right leg had already lost most of it’s movement) and I had to start using a wheelchair full time – stopped being able to use my walker at all. It was so hard to adjust to the new limits and lack of access. I felt a terrible sense of confinement.

But one day, I began to see all the grace and beauty in my life. I felt like I’d received a reward for growing older. My expectations shifted, my acceptance of pain and limits became more than just an act; it’d somehow become a part of who I am (though I still feel misery and sadness – and sometimes I shout out a blazing “Fuck!” in the middle of the night when pain wakes me or keeps me from sleeping). But more often I feel a sense of calm at the same time. We’ve been through this before, I tell myself. We’ll get by. (I refer to myself as a collective – I contain multitudes).

There are hundreds of easy ways to end this story, this life, but I keep wanting to add a little more, another chapter.

What a remarkable thing love and friendship has been. When I’m around friends and family talking, enjoying music, or sharing a meal, all that’s broken within me is reduced to a very small compartment of my being. I open up my heart to those around me, I listen to their stories of pain and sorrow. We laugh and joke, get sad and indignant, then grab a thread of conversation that leads back to the light, or sit in the sadness for as long as we need.

Everything is chaotic and strange. We fall sometimes, more often as we age, but the safety net between friends never breaks, we are there for each other, so we always land softly, and find our way back to love and laughter. No matter how bleak things look, there will never be a shortage of that kind of health or wealth. It’s a great gift to have lived long enough, and through enough, to know that.

Embrace Imperfection by Joy Murray ,20×24″, mixed media on canvas, 2025

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Thanks for reading my blog. Feel free to share it, if you’d like.

This blog is brought to you by the generosity of people who support me on Patreon , buy my art, and who support me in so many different ways. 

If you’d like to make a one time donation, you can do so at paypal

Cards and prints of some of my art is available on Redbubble.  Also T-shirts and stickers and other odds and ends. When you click an image, in the lower right hand corner you’ll find a link to all the various products that these are printed on. If you have any trouble finding what you’re looking for, let me know. joyzmailbox@gmail.com 

You can subscribe to this blog by email in the link below this post.

If you find a typo, let me know, and I’ll send you a postcard.

Updates on Medicaid and SNAP

Cuts to the budget, cuts to our hearts and souls

Here’s links to somewhat clear explanations on the Bloated Budget bills effect on Medicaid and Medicare. And another one on SNAP. I am on Medicare Disability but because my income is a low social security payment, Medicaid provides help with my co-pays for neurological treatment and medical supplies, which are very costly. That help may be stopped. I still don’t know what’s going to happen with my SNAP which provides me with food benefits or food stamps, but given the present atmosphere, I expect cuts. It’s all very bewildering and scary.

Again, thanks to everyone who has protested this bill and makes having a degenerative disease easier to bear. I’m so grateful you want your tax money to go to help those of us who are sick and/or poor through no fault of our own. Thank you for wanting, like me, a country that is kind and just for everyone.

Medicaid:

https://www.propel.app/blog/medicaid-cuts-explained-big-beautiful-bill-updates/?fbclid=IwY2xjawLnb7tleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHkjYUrl4CadftQd8wDo-nfeSCoNb_L8i5cOR1TFxZsypyIUZ2lVLMdFRL50U_aem_2i2imR0lABEGUBXAe9xmGw

SNAP:

Not part of the plan by Joy Murray, acrylic on canvas, 5×7

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Thanks for reading my blog. Feel free to share it, if you’d like.

This blog is brought to you by the generosity of people who support me on Patreon , buy my art, and who support me in so many different ways. 

If you’d like to make a one time donation, you can do so at paypal

Cards and prints of some of my art is available on Redbubble.  Also T-shirts and stickers and other odds and ends. When you click an image, in the lower right hand corner you’ll find a link to all the various products that these are printed on. If you have any trouble finding what you’re looking for, let me know. joyzmailbox@gmail.com 

You can subscribe to this blog by email in the link below this post.

If you find a typo, let me know, and I’ll send you a postcard.

Pieces Missing

My daughter got me a small jigsaw puzzle (I don’t have room for a large one) and it was more absorbing and challenging than I thought it would be. It both quietened and challenged my mind, which was nice. I bought a few more, cheaper small puzzles with more pieces, but still only the size of postcard. It was a great way to procrastinate on other projects (although I’ve always loved puzzles.)

I did one and it was challenging; plus the pieces were hard to fit together, they weren’t cut very well, but I finished it. When I worked the second one, one of the edge pieces broke and the surrounding pieces wouldn’t hold it in place – it kept wandering away from the puzzle. One rainy day, when I finally got all the pieces together, two were missing. I looked everywhere in my apartment, in all the crevices of my wheelchair, but I couldn’t find them.

It was annoying and frustrating. My first impulse was to email the manufacturer and demand my money back. I felt very self-righteous and aggrieved. But before I wrote my indignant email, I looked out the window and realized there’d been a break in the rain.

We’ve had a lot of rainy, stormy weather lately, so I decided to go for a walk around the block first. The air was slightly hot and smelled of rain and grass. Every once in a while, I’d pass some fragrant flowering bush or plant. It didn’t take long to shed all my frustrations and enjoy urban nature.

When I got back home, by my desk, I saw one of the pieces of the puzzle on the floor. It must have fallen into my wheelchair and then fallen out in another part of the apartment. I picked it up and rushed back to put the piece in its place. But I looked at the 197 and a half pieces all in place. That took a lot of work. It was pretty — 2 flamingos in an idyllic stream surrounded by greenery and flowers. My eye was drawn to what was in place, instead of what was missing.

It’s very, very aggravating to not get a project finished, and especially to not get it finished through no fault of my own. But why did I let it ruin the whole challenge and the whole game of putting the puzzle together? Is it because I wanted to brag about it?

Is any puzzle in life ever completely figured out? Is anything perfect? Even the completed puzzles I’d done were jagged with jigsaw lines. Once I finished one and admired it (and let my ego enjoy how clever I’d been), I very much enjoyed scrunching it all up again, pulling apart all those pieces, returning them to the box, ready to pass the puzzle on to someone else.

I didn’t put the found piece in its place. I left it next to the puzzle, along with the broken edge piece. I’d put together all the other pieces, and that puzzle was complete, even with pieces missing. I looked at it every day for a while. It reminded me of myself. All the jagged little pieces that are missing in my memory, in my body, in my heart. But I am whole, living being.

I think the experience gave me an insight into my art block. I always, always find a flaw, find a missing piece that makes my art, writing, and life seem imperfect Oh, how I crave perfection and uniqueness and beauty in my art. As we all do. But nothing I make, any of us make, comes out in the perfect form we first imagine it’s going to be.

So I scrunched up all the pieces of my frustrating puzzle and turned it into imperfect art.

Puzzled by Joy Murray, 8×10acrylic and mixed media, 2025

And that in turn gave me permission to move forward with creativity and beauty when so many pieces of civility, kindness, and love are missing in our country. There’s so much uncertainty in healthcare and in our collective support of each other. But I need to focus on those who are moving forward with bravery and love and creativity to fight the erosion of values we see around us. This country’s puzzle may never be put together into a unified picture, but a lot of the parts are working, are beautiful. I’m puzzled on exactly what to do, but I’ll keep trying, in my own crazy way, to support those who work to make America just and kind again.

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Thanks for reading my blog. Feel free to share it, if you’d like.

This blog is brought to you by the generosity of people who support me on Patreon , buy my art, and who support me in so many different ways. 

If you’d like to make a one time donation, you can do so at paypal

Cards and prints of some of my art is available on Redbubble.  Also T-shirts and stickers and other odds and ends. When you click an image, in the lower right hand corner you’ll find a link to all the various products that these are printed on. If you have any trouble finding what you’re looking for, let me know. joyzmailbox@gmail.com 

You can subscribe to this blog by email in the link below this post.

If you find a typo, let me know, and I’ll send you a postcard.

Accessibility and Art

Here’s a link to a film about a cross-disability collective that’s quite uplifting. Often we, as a nation, and I guess as a world, think accessibility is impossible and too expensive. So it’s delightful for me to see things like this film where we can see accessibility in action. I like that it’s a little slower — not the rush, rush everyone seems to be addicted to but is mostly an illusion. I also like the statement that stairs are accessibility for people who have legs. We just need to expand how we define accessibility. By making things as accessible as possible, we assure able-bodied people don’t age out of access to the places and the events that we get to enjoy when our bodies are younger. The film’s about 20 minutes long. I hope you enjoy it.

Also, Opulent Mobility is open for submission for the 2025 exhibition. They’ll be accepting submissions til August 31.

From A. Laura Brody: “We once again challenge you to imagine a world where disability, mobility, and access are not merely functional, but opulent. Submit your art for OM 2025 at
https://www.opulentmobility.com/submit-artwork.html
Deadline August 31
And take good care of your hearts in these troubling times.”

The Kiss by Joy Murray, part of Opulent Mobility in 2024

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Thanks for reading my blog. Feel free to share it, if you’d like.

This blog is brought to you by the generosity of people who support me on Patreon , buy my art, and who support me in so many different ways. 

If you’d like to make a one time donation, you can do so at paypal

Cards and prints of some of my art is available on Redbubble.  Also T-shirts and stickers and other odds and ends. When you click an image, in the lower right hand corner you’ll find a link to all the various products that these are printed on. If you have any trouble finding what you’re looking for, let me know. joyzmailbox@gmail.com 

You can subscribe to this blog by email in the link below this post.

If you find a typo, let me know, and I’ll send you a postcard.