Let’s pull the weeds and flower.

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything. I usually write almost everyday in my journal or notes. But lately, all I’ve been doing is sitting and scrolling and staring at the unbelievable insanity out there. 

When it got to be too much, I started cleaning. I’ve dusted and vacuumed and washed from top to bottom. Window blinds, ceiling fans, inside cupboards and closets, chairs and couches. I washed throws and blankets and pillows and curtains. Then I looked outside and started pulling weeds. Tall weeds. Small weeds. Itsy bitsy weeds that I would normally ignore because I hate weeding. Out with it all. 

The dirt and weeds had to go. So the flowers could grow. 

Hmm. Perhaps there’s a metaphor here? 

With all those evil, stupid bullies in Washington, it feels like time has slipped backwards. I thought as a woman who fought for my rights once, I was done. 

Nope. Obviously, there’s more to do. 

What are we learning here? That bullies win? That greed wins? That stupid wins?

I know it looks like that but I think there’s more to it. Perhaps, we’re using the wrong tools. We’re using the understanding, logical, problem solving, let’s get along tools. When we need to use the heavy duty, no you don’t tools to clean it all out. 

Anyone else doing what these bullies have done, would be arrested and in jail by now. Where are our judges? Our Congress? Our Senate? Our Generals? 

I wonder. 

Where is the nation that I know and love? The people who help people? The elected ones who promoted education, health, safety and jobs for all? Equality for everyone. No one left behind. Everyone allowed to flower and grow. 

I don’t understand the anger of the right, thinking they’re right. Or the Greed Gang who want it all for themselves. Because when no one is left out, even them, everyone moves forward together. Maybe I’m naive but it seems to me to be a pretty simple way to go. You go your way, I’ll go mine. Choice is still there for everyone.

That’s the word: choice. 

What do you need?

What do you want?

If you don’t like something, fine. That’s your choice. 

But you don’t get the right to choose for me.  

Let’s all make our own choices, 

And learn to pull the weeds, so we can flower and grow together. 

 

Lessons Learned

 I’ve done a lot of different kinds of art over the years. Painting in watercolor, acrylics, oil and pastel. Fiber art including beaded embroidery, quilting and crochet. Clay sculpture. Copper repousse. Mixed media boxes that included clay, copper repousse and a story I wrote. 

In the last 10 years, I’ve been making functional clay cups, bowls, plates and vases. But sculpture snuck in, too. 

I’m either very versatile or I have a very short attention span. I’m not sure. One thing I do know: I like to try new things. Oh, I may argue with myself or someone else about that because learning does take time and can be very frustrating. Somehow, I do it anyway. 

Maybe the truth is simple: I like to learn. 

I failed at clay in high school so when someone tried to give me a wheel, I said no. They insisted and loaded up a truck with a wheel and a kiln. It was such an amazing gift, I could not turn down  that kind of generosity. Even as it scared me. But, maybe, it was a sign?

At the time, my husband was between jobs and we had college age children at home. My focus was on survival and making money. At the time, I was teaching after school art classes across town. I was never sure how many would sign up but that fall, exactly enough children signed up to pay for one term of clay classes at my local recreation center. So I took the fall class. My husband got a new job and I was able to continue taking the clay classes in handbuilding and throwing. Yes, I finally learned to throw. 

But the biggest lesson I learned, was that I was left handed. As a child, I’d been told to say I was ambidextrous but now I know that was old school speak for left handed. The truth is, I can use both hands but not for all things. Somethings my right hand likes and somethings my left hand likes. I’m still learning their preferences. 

See there’s always more to learn.

The question for me right now? What to learn next? Right now, I’m learning to crochet Christmas Stockings from a pattern. I’ve been doing crochet for years, but I never used patterns much, I usually make up my own. But these are not just for me but for a local women and children center, so I want them to be right. Right? 

I’m also trying to learn how to combine sculptural clay elements on a base with a watercolor technique using underglazes. Will it work? I don’t know. Will I be able to show or sell them? I don’t know. 

But not knowing is what learning is all about. And maybe that’s the most important lesson of all.

Rise Above It All

What can you do or I do to lift up ourselves right now?

Rise above it all?

Stay strong and healthy and true?

Health and surgery and recovery are not easy. And they take time. The biggest recovery, I’m discovering is trauma/emotional recovery. I didn’t sign up for any of this, none of us do. It happens. It’s shocking to the core. At first, it takes all you’ve got to get up and deal with the pain.

But, I got up. Walked. Climbed the stairs. My body got stronger. Now, I can do yoga. Lift weights. Carry my 2 year old grandchild. I went back to ‘normal’ life. Or so I thought. But somewhere, in there, is a small scared voice. Will it happen again? Am I really fixed?

The answer: Yes, I am fixed. My body is ‘very healthy’ now according to my PCP. 

Another question: Why then, am I feeling anxious and sad?

Another answer: Because, I’m told, after physical healing comes emotional healing. 

It’s a process. Like life, it’s not always easy. What helps?

One word, one line, one thought at a time.

Art and writing have gotten me through many difficult times: surgery, family abuse and deaths, pandemic fears, job losses and now crazy politics. I journal often because getting my thoughts out on the page helps me release the bad and see the good in my life. 

You don’t have to be a professional writer, like I was at one time, you just have to be honest. Take a pen, some paper and let it all go. Sometimes I use a picture or word to get started. Or you can look out the window, see what catches your eye. Better yet, light a candle, get quiet and listen. Then write it down. No one has to see it or read it but you. You don’t have to keep it either.  

Time for me to show and tell.  

This weekend, I’ll be showing my Lily Vases at “Ceramics Showcase” in the Gallery. Making my Lily vases lifts me up. The feel of the cool clay. Rolling out shapes. Pressing fabric, old earrings, hardware bits into the clay takes focus.

I don’t know why I like making my Lily Vases so much. And I don’t have to know. All I have to do is feel the cool clay and let it help me rise above it all.  

A world where different textures meet

A place where all colors work together 

And individual pieces join

And rise and form a beautiful whole. 

Creating Strength and Clarity

 

The bad TV show continues to spew out episodes daily in our country. It’s hard to watch the episodes spin out angry threats and misinformation. I watch and listen and  support the courts and truthful reporting. I have to say upfront, my husband has been a broadcast news reporter for decades and I trust his information.

Trusted sources give me more than information, they give me strength and clarity. I make it a goal to stay out of the chaotic news feeding frenzy. If you want that too, I recommend reading, Turner’s Take here on Substack. https://miketurner921.substack.com/p/hands-off?r=2j4566

Clay and crochet and clarity. 

As an artist, my work gives me a lot of time alone. As I roll and knead and push and pull the clay, my head clears. I let the clay lead me where it wants to go. This week, each piece formed into a bird. One small. One larger. 

I didn’t draw it or design it or force it. The clay moved with my hands and fingers into the shape of a small little bird and a crow. They’re  not finished yet and that’s ok. Wings and details will be added as they dry a bit. But I guess I’m not surprised a crow flew into my studio this week. I do love crows. We have many who nest in our great big fir tree. They fly to the back porch cover to take loud splashing baths. I smile with delight every time.   

Everyday, I crochet. All during my illness and now during this crazy time, I find the rhythm of hook and yarn is like meditation that calms my body and soothes my mind. Lately, I’m making Christmas stockings at the request of a local shelter for women and children. I’ve never made crochet stockings before, so it’s a new creative challenge for me. 

(Ok, I don’t do patterns, I usually wing it. But I’m trying out patterns and using some stash and new yarn.) The one on the bottom left is in progress. 

Creating strength. 

Especially now, with the weak posturing loudly, I look for quiet strength. Senators and judges who use their strength and the law against the lawless. People raising their voices and writing words to protest. 

Here’s what I found out after I formed my birds this week. Birds symbolize freedom, something we are all fighting for right now. And crows are symbols of transformation, wisdom, strength, intelligence and the ability to see beyond the ordinary. 

I don’t know about you, but I need that right now. 

Maybe that’s why I found two more birds I’d done weeks ago and forgotten. 

I need to feel strong and free and see above the headlines. 

Finding Some Calm in the Storm

 

I don’t want to give in to the vortex of evil swirling around in this country. I’m aware and outraged. It is traumatic. I  understand everyone has their own ways to deal with it and while some are shouting and violent, I have to look for peaceful paths. 

I’ve had a year of physical issues that led to surgery and months of recovery. I’m learning to lean into what is best for my body, heart and mind. Walking in the park has helped me through sickness, surgery and life changes. And it’s helping me now to deal with the mess in the big White House. 

Stay rooted.  

That’s the message from my tree in the woods. As a child, my place of safety and calm was the woods nearby our suburban neighborhood. I sat leaning up against the tree for hours feeling at home and safe under its branches. I still visit ‘my trees’ in our nearby park, leaning in and listening to their wisdom. 

When I come home, I write those words down as a way to guide my day. Sometimes the words are a call to action. Other times, they are words of support and encouragement to keep me going. Right now, I think it’s important for you and me to find ways to stay rooted in truth and integrity. 

Mud.

Even as a child, I knew the power of mud. I’d sit in our yard and dig up the brown earth and hold it in my hands. If I had some water, I’d mix up mud soup. Other times, I’d dig deeper into the dirt where it was cool and firm, squish it between my hands and make mounds of elf houses. 

So it shouldn’t be a surprise that I still play with mud. It wasn’t my first career choice which was a writer in advertising. But my love of art and working with my hands lead me, once again, to mud. Working with clay, learning to throw objects and shape sculptures is my happy place. It just goes to show you, child’s play shows us our way in life. 

Right now, I need something to calm me during this stormy time. Maybe you do too. What did  you do that was ‘child’s play’? What was your happy place? Where did you feel safe?

Maybe it’s time to lean against a tree and ask. 

And find your own calm in the storm. 

  

Branching Out

 

All around me are signs of new life. The branches on my Camellia are filling with bright red flowers. There are new buds on my hydrangeas. And walking with my grandson, he pointed out daffodils, hyacinth and crocus blooms around the neighborhood. 

Inside, my Lily vases are filled with pussy willows and pink tulips. I love making my Lily vases but I also love seeing them bloom with all the different colors of the seasons from fall leaves to summer roses. 

Signs of Life. 

Since my major surgery, I’ve had a lot of difficult days. I expected the physical pain but what I didn’t expect was emotional pain. As my body healed, I got stronger and my mind cleared. But the emotions that bubbled to the surface were unexpected and upsetting. What I’ve come to find out, thanks to helpful friends who have gone through difficult surgeries, is that this is another phase of healing. 

As one new friend put it, “I just kept saying to myself, I’m alive. I didn’t die.”

So now, when the trauma hits me, I tell myself, “I’m alive.” And I look around me for other signs of life. Little leaves on my rose bushes and buds on the hydrangeas and daffodils. 

My clay is growing too. 

In the last few weeks, new growth is happening in my studio. Sparked by an idea I saw on Substack about growth patterns, I got out my clay. The words, branching out kept coming back to me. As I wedged and slapped and rolled the clay, I just let my hands lead me to form a circle. 

I pressed my favorite textures in and around it. Rolled out some coils and added them to the circle. Some fit and some didn’t but I know that’s ok, it’s all part of the process. The first one didn’t turn out exactly how I thought it would. But, again, that’s ok. 

The second one, I thought I had more of a plan based on a picture I saw. But again, my fingers lead the way and another circle appeared with what looked to me like flowers and limbs but then morphed into something like a Celtic knot motif. 

Another day, I looked around me studio and saw a watercolor painting of flowers I did whenI couldn’t do clay because I was recovering from surgery. I wondered. What would it look like in clay? Could I even do it? And why would I? Well, again, my hands got busy and something new did emerge from the clay. 

I guess my hands knew what my head didn’t, yet. 

I’m not dead. 

I’m alive. 

And like everything else around me, I’m branching out.