Recovery

 

This word describes so many things in my world right now. Maybe yours too? Unexpected things happen to us and around us over which we have limited or no control. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like to not be in control. It’s frustrating and scary. But it’s a place we all know well and if we can share it in our common space, maybe we can find ways to pull through it all together. 

Seasonal lessons.

I am in a season of recovery. I am home from the hospital successfully put back together. I’ve known for many months I needed help. I knew my body’s pain was a message and while I tried to get help, all I got were bandaids in the form of antibiotics. I went from winter to spring to summer and fall asking why I kept having UTI’s. I got no answers.

 

A few weeks ago, a CT scan showed an abscess from last year had never left my body and was leaking bacteria and causing all those UTI’s. The cure was abdominal surgery and reconstruction. I am now ‘fixed’. 

While the trees drop their leaves and prepare to rest through the winter, it is my time to rest as well. It’s hard for me to drop my routines. Pulling and pushing and rolling out clay. Doing yoga. Lifting weights. Picking up my grand baby. But, to recover my strength, I must rest. 

Color therapy. 

The leaves in the park are falling, layering the grass and walkways in layers of color. I love all the gorgeous red, yellow, orange and purple. And even though I don’t like brown, it adds a base for the other colors to shine. 

Like the trees outside, I let my fears and anger and shock and sadness drop like leaves from the past year. I see the layers of branches unseen before like organs in my body, the structures now strong.

As I walk through the park, I drink in the layers of color. I bend myself gently to pick up a few fallen leaves to take home. I play a little with watercolors and pens and yarn. And I read and rest and eat and nap. 

And just as the trees bud in spring, I feel the prickles of nerves searching to unite and flourish once again. 

Searching for answers

And finding none

Be brave 

Time will tell 

And all will be well. 

April Showers and Flowers

Looking out the window today, I see rain, hail, sun and the splat of snowflakes. Then the sky clears and blue appears overhead like a reminder that bad weather, like life troubles, are temporary. And eventually the sun does shine again. 

This week, I took pictures of new vases and sold a leaf plate on Etsy. I’m grateful that I get to work with clay and see my creations find their way into someone else’s home. 

Taking my best shot. 

In the beginning, I paid a professional photographer to take pictures of my work. He set up the lights, backdrop and decided on the camera angle. So taking pictures of my own work took work to figure it out. It’s still not my comfort zone. I always doubt myself and my ability to do it right. 

But what I’ve found through trial and error is, it’s more important to use natural light. I want to show the piece at every angle. And capture the true colors and textures of each piece. When someone looks at my pieces online, I want them to see the real piece. Not dramatic lighting or special effects. I want them to really see how a piece would look in their own home. 

Time to rise above. 

This week, another big challenge for me was to rise above my fears about how my life is changing. My husband and I have been forced into a new life chapter. Like the camera I was using, I needed to focus on what is real, good and true. I am here. I am healthy. I am working in clay that I love. 

I can fill my vases with bright spring flowers. And make silly clay animals. 

Life might throw us unexpected changes. 

Like rain, hail and snow, seasons come and go. 

All we can do is breathe 

And wait for the sky to change and the flowers to bloom again. 

“Make some art today. And feel better.”

 

I found that quote on Pinterest last week and I took it as my marching orders: get back in the studio. Now, don’t misunderstand, I love working in clay and I love my studio. 

But for the last 11 months, my energy has been sidetracked into the reconstruction of my home. Building or rebuilding a home takes creativity, of course. Color choices, counter and floor surface decisions and cabinet designs to name a few. But alongside the design ideas are many days, weeks and months of waiting for the supplies and contractors to get the work done.

During all this, I lost access to my studio, kiln and wheel. In fact, my wheel and kiln area are still blocked. But my studio, where I do slab building and underglazing is unpacked and open. 

New clay. Hurrah!

I love clay. I, especially love new, fresh clay. Last week, I went out and bought 50 pounds of new clay, blue underglaze and clear glaze. Wow, that felt good. But what felt the best was cutting off a big square of porcelain clay back in my studio. 

As I wedged it and rolled it, I wondered how I could go 4 months without putting my hands in clay. It really is wonderful. Soft. Squishy. Smooth. 

There was a moment of fear as I got out my tools and forms. I worried I’d screw it up. Forget some important detail. I’ve been away from clay for so long, I felt blocked and scared. But, as I put my hands on the clay, I began to relax and remember. I got out my favorite lace and rolled it over the surface. Then, carefully formed it into one of my favorite things to make: a lily vase. 

Before I knew it, I’d made 2 new lily vases. 

Restored and relieved. 

There is nothing better than making something out of mud. Standing next to my table rolling out clay. Cutting it. Forming it. Feeling its edges and softening them. Pushing charms and hardware into the soft, strong surface. 

After all the fear and sadness and chaos of the last year, I found my way back to myself. Making some art out of clay today, did indeed, make me feel better. 

Anger vanished. 

Fear floated away. 

All that was with me was, me.

And clay. Hurrah!

Merry Making Again

What do I love most, other than my husband and family, of course? I love making. There is just nothing like putting my mind and heart and hands to work creating something new. And I know, I’m very lucky to find and do work that allows me to use a wide range of skills. 

For the last few months, I’ve worked finishing work, glazing, firing, sanding and cleaning. I’ve worked hard rebuilding my online platforms, editing copy, taking pictures, adding hashtags. Then there was marketing on social media, which can be overwhelming to me. Even as I love seeing, reading and even creating posts for others, doing it for myself is hard work. 

Taking a studio retreat. 

This week, I went back to work in the studio. I opened a new bag of clay and rolled out huge slabs. I wedged and slapped and rolled some more. I cut out new shapes. Stamped new words and hearts and spirals and suns. 

I even made a tile for my grandson, Cieran. When he comes over this week, I’ll help him put his little handprints into the soft clay to make a belated Mother’s Day present for his mom. Like the one I did with his cousin, Meyer, for my son.

Grateful. I’m so grateful. 

All of my loved ones are vaccinated. All of us are well. All of us are stepping our way back out into this covid world. I’d say “post-covid” but we all know, covid is always going to be part of our world now.

I’ve worked very hard to be strong and fight it but it’s time for acceptance. To feel the tears and maybe even, the fears we’ve held back to be strong for others. I’ve felt it all flowing through me this week. I’ve noticed my shoulders lowering and my jaw loosening. 

And I’m so grateful for the love and support of my family, friends and my art customers, in person and virtual on Etsy or Ceramics Showcase. 

Making always makes me better. 

I’ll admit, I felt a little off my studio game at first. And I was surprised when I realized it’s been a few months since I’ve put my hands in new clay. So much of this year is a blur, isn’t it?

So I’ll ask a question: what can you make to make you feel better? 

Because it’s time for us all, to begin again. 

Hello, it’s me July.

Really? It’s July? I’m just shaking my head in confusion here because the last time I looked up or out it was March. Oh, right. Covid. How could I forget? How could anyone? I don’t want to start a rant about that, there’s enough of that on social media. 

I wish to focus on blue skies and sunshine and hope and love. I wish to picture my new bowls, teacups and teapots cheering someone’s day. I wish to see my new, little birds fly off and perch in the land of smiling people. 

Act Kind. 

My word of the year, act, found it’s way into my work. A series of new bowls bring messages I hope to act on more. It’s been way too easy to be fearful and angry and sad lately. While I understand the importance of all that is going on around me, I see my soul was reaching for the message. The meaning. The learning. 

All I could do was work. Put my hands in my clay. Trim my cups. Paint. And let the words and symbols appear. 

Act True. 

Act Bold.  

Spirals, hearts and wings. 

Spirals are ancient, cross-cultural symbols. The circle moving in and out and around represents the changes, unfolding in the journey of life. I’ve always been drawn to it, perhaps due to my Celtic heritage, it makes me feel both comforted and challenged. 

Hearts, of course, represent love but also ‘the heart’. Mine. Yours. And the ‘heart’ of the matter. I see it as a perfect symbol right now. I see how leading from the heart and getting to the heart of what matters are key in unfolding outward and reaching beyond our situation. 

My first bird didn’t have wings. Yet, now they all do. Heart-shaped and word-stamped wings. Hmm. More messages. 

Fly. 

This seems an odd message right now, don’t you think? Getting out and about is full of new rules, social distancing and face masks. Going on a trip, especially in a plane, is even more risky. Although some places are opening up, hours are limited and sales are slow. 

I worried. I wondered perched in my safe studio. Should I try to sell online? If so, how? I decided to re-open my Etsy shop last week. I took my own photos featuring my functional tea and whiskey cups only. Just 5 pieces. But it’s a start. 

A friend heard about my teacups and asked if I was going to make a teapot. I’ve never made one because I don’t like throwing lids. Then I saw ‘my kind of teapot’. And now I’ve made 2 teapots, I call ‘Me’ and ‘Mini-me’. 

Yes, months have flown by. And I must admit, my wings have felt very heavy in June. My usual speed slowed and it didn’t feel like I was going anywhere at all. 

But now I see, I did fly to some new and wonderful places all without leaving the nest. 

Goodbye Believe

Every year, I look for a word to guide me through the coming 12 months. Last year, the word of the year that appeared to me was ‘believe’. I saw it as a hopeful, helpful mantra to move me forward from a nationally chaotic year to a new faith in our democratic system. 

This year, it’s been hard to keep believing when faced with such unbelievable events around the country. More school shootings. Domestic terrorism on the rise. Leaders who turn not just a blind eye to these events but to justice and the very core of our nations constitution. 

Hope and understanding. 

Since the 2016, I can see my words have revolved around the events in our nation’s capitol. Starting with election fraud, illegal use of campaign funds, and an attack by Russia on our election system. 

So in 2017, my word was hope. I hoped for justice, reason and integrity. I didn’t get it. In 2018, I tried understanding. I tried to find a way to understand the downward spiral in the hope of shining some light into the darkening trail of events.  Again, it only got worse. 

It’s time for something more. 

Again, I don’t want to sink into the abyss of doom. Yes, I feel all the anger, fear, frustration and embarrassment these last 3-4 years have brought to our national doorstep. 

I refuse to sit and hope. I refuse to try to understand. I can no longer believe in those people with the robes, gavels, votes and power. Yes, they swore on a bible that they would uphold the constitution. Yes, they promised to help the people who voted for them. Yes, they have a legal duty to follow the letter of the law. 

But I refuse to give up on US. 

I refuse to give up on you. Or me. 

No matter what happens, I am going to move forward anyway. I am going to make my art. Love my family. Help my neighbors. And bring as much good into the world around me as I can. 

What will my word of the new decade be? I believe it needs to be stronger than the last few years because I feel I need to be stronger. I hope we will all understand that now more than ever we need to pull together, to move forward, to make ourselves, our towns and our nation stronger than ever before.

Drawing a Blank

I really don’t know what to write about this week. I don’t feel anything profound bubbling up to the surface. Maybe because I’ve already written about one of the most miraculous events in life: birth.

I am so grateful to have 2 healthy, grown children and now 2 healthy, happy grandchildren. I don’t ever take that for granted. I know very well the hills and valleys of childbirth, baby and childhood, adolescence and adulthood. It’s a challenge for each of us, every day. 

Some days are joyous. Some days are not. And some days, maybe most, just fade from sunrise to sunset. Unnoticed. 

I want to notice. 

I want to make sure that somehow, everyday gets my attention. I want to be sure to see the sun, trees and birds. I want to feel the morning air, a kiss or my puppy’s cold nose. I want to hear the water flow in the fountain, sigh of relaxation or even the cry of a hungry baby. And sometimes, even when I need to hear the sound of silence, I want to notice that too.  

As the fan turns slowly above me on this very hot, late summer day, I want to remember the feeling of the air on my skin. I want to notice so I can tuck it away for those cold days when I’m shivering in the wind. 

Silence and noise. 

Last week was filled with beeps and bustle and excitement of a birth, the hospital, flying and driving and finding our way home. It was happily noisy and crowded and a little crazy. 

Now it’s been an opposite week. Unfilled space. Walks under the big fir trees at the park. Cold dinners in the heat. Catching up with all the things I’d left behind. Periods of silence stretched out like a cool blanket for me to rest under. 

And yet, as I rest and catch up, I worry I’m wasting my valuable allotment of life time. But I know in my heart that’s not true. I have packing and deliveries and work in the studio waiting for me. I have grandbaby sitting and doggy playtimes and errands to run.    

Life is so full of stark contrasts. It’s wonderful and crazy and loud and quiet and hard and soft. So maybe, this week, it’s time to celebrate the blank spaces in life.  

Giving Birth

Watching my dear daughter go through the stages of birthing a new human into the world is a wonderful, difficult, scary, exciting, joyful experience. But it is called labor for a reason. It is also a huge, overwhelming task that encompasses the entire body, mind, heart and soul. 

I’ve been there. Twice. 

One question my daughter asked me as I wiped her brow and held her hand was, why would I ever think of having two children? Or more accurately, after 24 hours of labor contractions and no sleep, why oh why would anyone ever consider having another baby after this?

I could have laughed it off and said, ‘Oh, I was just crazy.’ Or skirted the issue with, ‘Really it wasn’t all that bad’. Or lied with the tried and tired phrase, ‘Oh, once you see that beautiful baby, you’ll forget all the pain’. But that’s not me, I don’t lie to my children. 

What did I say?

The simple answer is I knew I wanted two children, 3 years apart. And I thought my second birth process would be completely different than my first. That I’d do it better. That it would be easier. That because I’d been through it once, my experience would help. In most of the above, I was completely wrong. 

But I did it anyway. Again why?

  

Again, simple answer is I wanted to be a mom. Because I wanted to love, teach, watch, and help make babies grow into strong, creative, amazing adult people. 

And I wanted to do it better than my own childhood experience. I realize now that my desire to be a pre-school/kindergarten teacher and all my classes in education, development, nutrition and psychology were my way to learn better ways to parent. 

But there are so many more equally true answers. 

Life is precious. Each and every one, especially the ones you are privileged to bring into this crazy and chaotic world. 

Life is an amazing mystery. From conception to birth, the process the human body goes through to merge two microscopic elements into ears, eyes, skin, body, bones, blood, veins, muscle and mind into a unique, original, individual person is nature’s biggest and most thrilling secret construction project. 

Life is a miracle. Learning to see and feel and hear and touch. To kiss and walk and read and run and eat and sleep and make love is miraculous. Every day, each of us gets to breathe in new air, awaken our body, listen to our mind, hear new ideas and create with what we have in our lives on that day. 

Some days it might be just putting one foot in front of their other. Swinging on a swing. Planting a flower. Throwing clay. Singing. Reporting the news. Teaching. Walking the dog. 

And yes, life is also messy. There are many chills and spills and heart wrenching moments. But I think you’ll all agree it’s a roller coaster that, once we get on, most of us never want to get off.

Surprise Moments.

I walk to the park everyday and I love it. Moving at a brisk pace, breathing in the fresh air around me, I feel energized and powerful. I want to say that I mindfully pace myself taking in the life teaming in and around me but I'd be lying to you and myself. 

The truth is: I really want to be calm and centered. I want peace and quiet in my mind and soul. I do yoga. I try to meditate. But most of the time, my mind just won't shut the F.... Up.  

Here I go but where am I?

While my feet and legs propel me around the beautiful lake, my mind races backwards, forwards and, sometimes, sideways. I shrug against the rain and while I see the leaves at my feet, my attention is in my head. I'm listing my to do's, planning dinner(while it's only hours after breakfast), worrying about my kids, grandkid, husband, dog and home. Will my art sell at the show I just signed up for and will I like what I'm now creating when it gets done? And then, there is the ever creeping holidays just around the corner.  

I almost missed it. 

This week, Mother Nature decided to shock me into the moment whether my mind liked it or not. 

As I walked up to one of the bridges over our neighborhood, man-made lake, something white caught my eye. On the shore of the creek was a bright, white egret. I was taken aback, for sure, but Mother Nature wasn't done with me. 

Right there, 4 feet away in a tree, was a huge, blue heron. I've seen many herons at the lake over the years, but this one was so close and so big and so still.

Hello.  

I got busy clicking pics on my phone, of course. Trying different angles. Moving slightly to get a better shot. Zooming in and out and in and out. Just as I pocketed my phone, turned to cross the bridge and get up to walking speed, something else caught the corner of my eye. Mother Nature had another surprise, knowing that an egret and a heron might not be enough to really make her point. 

An eagle swooped above my head and flew across the bridge.

I stopped. My eyes moved and my mind, finally, was surprised into silence. 

I'm grateful to the egret and the heron for showing me stillness. But the eagle soaring above helped me see that surprising moments fly by swiftly all the time and if I don't stop and look, I'll miss the wonder of truly living my life. 

Creating and Changing.

Our world is constantly changing and so am I.  Even so, I don't always like change even when it winds up to be a very good thing. Whether change happens in a day, like wham, or over many years, it's still scary. 

I rarely see change coming or if I do, I hide under the covers of what I know to be normal. I act as if everything, and especially that thing I fear, is business as usual. When my first baby was born, I kept telling myself for nine months that this was easy, nothing would really change and I'd just pop that baby out and go right back to work. Right? Wrong. 

Like the monster under the bed, change is a giant, scary unknown.

All our life we change: babyhood to childhood to teenager to adulthood to parenthood and beyond. Some changes seem easier than others, or are they? Maybe I've just decided to remember it that way. 

When I look back on most changes, whether I wanted the change or not, it seems like a natural progression. Moving through grades in school looks easy to me now but at the time, I'm sure it wasn't. Getting my first job in radio had a few bumps looking back, but I know it was terrifying then. Breaking my wrist was a change nobody wants, but again, looking back I see how it made me more aware and focused and, yes, stronger. 

Growing stronger. 

At this time of my life, when everyone all around me is talking about aging and wrinkles and aching bones, I cringe. I want to run and hide from the fact that I am older. It's scary to even consider the possibility of my time running out.

But the fact is, death and birth are givens on this planet at this time. Sometimes death happens near birth and sometimes, with any luck, death happens many decades later. The fact is, I don't know and you don't know when it will happen. That's the real monster under everyone's bed, all the time.

I could refuse to see change, ah, denial is a wonderful tool. I could cling to my soft, comfy beliefs or bitch away in fear. But what if I see change as a chance to grow stronger. I can take what I've learned from the changes I've already gone through and use it to live better, smarter, stronger, kinder and, yes, happier. 

Breaking free to wonder.

When I took art classes in college, it was just an elective, I didn't allow myself to see it as something I really wanted to do. After my first child was born, I bought myself a sketch pad and pencils just to 'doodle'. My first studio was a drafting table in the corner of my bedroom with watercolors and now I have a studio all my own, a pottery wheel and kiln. Sometimes, change happens so slowly over time, I don't see all the creating I've done in my life. 

I've seen and done and liked and disliked many things in my life so far. I've worked for good even in groups of people who were bad. I've soldiered on in spite of the greed, hate and dishonesty around me, doing a good job, hoping I could change the situations and people around me. I've struggled to accept there are things I can't change. 

But what if I allow my knowledge of the world around me to change my choices? What if I change my views on change? What if I choose to change? What if I make choices based on love and fun and wonder and freedom?  

I wonder, at embracing living a longer life as a chance to create more life in my own life.  

I wonder what kinds of change I'd create.