I’m Giving Thanks, Anyway.

 

Normally, I would be writing a piece about thankfulness and gratitude right now. But this year, we all know, there’s a lot of bad stuff happening around us. And I can’t be grateful or thankful for any of it. 

Yet, my deep in my heart, I do feel grateful. Thankful. And hopeful. Go ahead and turn the page or call me crazy, but here it is anyway. 

I am grateful and thankful for:

 

No pain this Thanksgiving. 

Being able to bake sourdough rolls for Tday. 

Making cranberry sauce. 

Walking through my local park with energy to spare. 

Lifting weights again. (Ok they’re only 2lbs, but it’s a start)

Healthy husband, kids, grandkids and doggy. 

Creating in clay, paint, and yarn. (Although not at the same time, but it’s a thought?)

The couple who gave me their kiln and wheel so I could throw and fire clay. 

People who support my creativity with sales and encouraging comments. 

Meeting and sharing the creative journey with other artists and writers. 

Writing here on Blogger and Substack. 

There, I said it. Or rather wrote it anyway.  

Sometimes I just have to do the weird thing. 

Somebody has to, right?

Here’s hoping this day brings you some thankful and grateful things. 

I’d love to hear yours in the comments. 

What’s Next?

 

Finishing things in the studio and around the house feels good, yet my mind races ahead to what’s next. The ongoing quest or question drives creation and maybe, drives me a little crazy? 

I wanted, and maybe needed, to do a relief sculpture of oak leaves. The face, like the others I’ve made, is a mystical goddess. With her eyes opening outward, a tribal like eyebrow and smiling lips, she feels to me like wisdom and love. 

So far I’ve made her the center of a sunflower, poppies, ginkgo leaves and now oak leaves. Am I celebrating the seasons as I would imagine she does? I don’t know. And that’s ok. 

That’s how art works for me, if I let myself listen without listening.  Be moved instead of moving. See without using my eyes, instead using my hands and heart. Act from my gut, my core, my intuition. 

The magic of making. 

I love to make things, so I’m always making things. That’s the good part. The ideas. The excitement of the beginning. The intense focus and joy of rolling and cutting and putting pieces in place one by one. I am always oblivious to the mess in the moment and while I delight in the idea, the process always takes much more time than I envision. 

That’s ok. Step by step the pieces come together. My only race is with my hands, the weather and time. Clay is a medium which needs cooler weather and humidity all within a certain window of time. Once it starts to dry out, the working window closes. Sometimes completely. Yes, there are ways to keep it moist and pick up where I left off but sometimes, life gets in the way.

Symbols of power. 

As a nation, we are fighting for our rights, our safety and our lives. So art seems a frivolous action. And yet, somewhere inside me feels it is a lifeline, our lifeline. Grounding to the earth, to the soul, to each other. It makes a connection that can’t be bought or paid or taken away. 

It is our common ground. It is a language beyond words. It is our souls reaching out for each other. Whispering in the night: “We are still here. We are all right. We are together.”

Oak trees and their leaves are symbols of strength, endurance, stability and longevity. Because they are big, powerful trees with a long life span, they also represent fertility and wisdom. Along with their acorns, they represent power, authority and victory. 

Perhaps I needed some Oak tree power this week, maybe you do too.