Goodbye Shine

Every year, I pick a word of the year. Why do I do it? To help me step from the old year into the new. And words are important to me. For many years, I made my living using words. Even now, working in clay, many of my pieces have words on them, in them, around them. 

I’ve always loved to read. As a child the library was a place of wonder and delight. Books were my safe space. A place to go and learn and imagine a life different than my own. Now, I look to words for guidance, inspiration, and comfort. 

Shine?

Last year’s word was Shine. I look back at it and wonder. Really? Shine? At the time, my water damaged kitchen was in pieces: the sink was plastic, the kind you see at outdoor festival bathrooms, the floor was dug up like an archeological dig of the past, countertops and cupboards were missing. 

I know, I was being hopeful and optimistic and determined. I was going to ‘shine on’ anyway. I was not going to let it all get me down. I was going to fight to get what was needed to make my home whole again. I tried. Some days it worked, some not.

Shine through anyway. 

As always, art saved me. Throwing and rolling clay in my studio lightened my spirit. Even spending months in a hotel without my studio space, I painted with old watercolors. I crocheted baskets, hats and a small throw. 

Ok, I also watched a lot of HGTV. I saw old termite infested houses rebuilt. Viewed some amazing redesigned kitchens and bathrooms with gleaming tile, countertops and floors. I looked at all of this while my own home was getting torn apart. It took months but, finally all the messy pieces became whole again. Now, my countertops, sink and floors ‘shine’, too. 

Goodbye 2022.

It’s been a year. If I’m really honest, I’m relieved to say goodbye to 2022. It was challenging on so many levels. But then, so have the last three years! With all that’s happened, I really don’t know what to expect. I tried to ‘shine on’ in spite of it all. But like many, I’m burned out and tired of the worry and the stress.  

But maybe,

Just maybe, 

I’ll find a new word to give me, and maybe you, a little light to follow into this next year.  

2021 Word of the Year

 

What a week. I listened in shock at the chaos, damage and injury happening in our nation’s capitol. After 911 and 2020, I thought I’d seen the worst. I was so wrong. 

Living through such a crazy, scary, turbulent year, I feel so many feelings. Sad. Mad. Confused. Afraid. Alone. Frustrated. Isolated and silenced behind a mask. Watching and waiting for it to all be over, only to see more difficulty and damage all around me. 

New Year. New Word.

Many things seem to have broken this year. I had several pieces broken while on display outside my studio. Some were minor. But some were major damage and so overwhelmed me, I had to put them on a shelf, on their sides, where they lay ‘dead’ for many weeks. I didn’t know if I’d be able to repair them and sell them. Or if they’d always be scarred and damaged. 

I was feeling the same, so I looked to find a way, a word to help me move step by step into a new year. I know I can’t fix a pandemic, the violence and destruction in my city’s downtown or our nation’s capitol. I didn’t even think I could fix my own damaged art pieces. 

I searched for the opposite of all the words that described this year: damaged, broken, sad, isolated. From those came one word: Heal. 

Working to heal. 

So this week, I walked in my studio and faced my broken birds and leaf. I let myself breathe out  my anger and fear. Then I gently took down one piece, looked at the damage and got out some tools. 

One by one, I looked and touched and sighed. I assessed the damage. I sanded and cleaned gently. I glued what I could and waited. When there was nothing left to glue, I gently sanded some more. I mixed paint to match each chipped and broken bird and dabbed and wiped and waited some more. If the color held, I glazed and waited overnight. 

In the light, after days of work, I saw no cracks. Beaks had slightly new angles. Wings chipped were now smooth. One leaf stem was gone and would never be the same, but my work had formed a piece that was whole in a new way.  

Broken and reformed. 

When I look around this last year at all that’s broken and all that we’ve endured, I see that we have also adapted. Of course we are changed by everything that’s happened to us and around us. So many things we could have never imagined fell apart. 

The definition of the word Heal(verb): to make free from injury; to make sound or whole; to make well again; to cause (an undesirable condition) to be overcome; to patch up or correct; to restore to original purity or integrity. 

In the words of William Powell, “The troubles...have not been forgotten, but they had been healed.”

So this year, I will work to mend, recover, rally, overcome and reform.  

And find ways to help us all come back together to heal our hearts and our souls. 

Goodbye Act. Hello ?

 

Every year, I pick a word of the year. I look at it as a light, a guide, a mantra, maybe even a marching order. The word for 2020 was ‘act’. Yeah. 

A year ago, there was no pandemic. No stay-at-home orders. No masks. No social distancing. No one knew what COVID was. No one was afraid, out of work, hospitalized or dying. Children were playing in playgrounds, going to school and running around with their friends. Shops and restaurants and galleries were open. People were working and shopping and looking forward. 

Acting on my word. 

Even with everything closed down, I worked. I threw and trimmed and painted and glazed. I was determined to keep creating. And I knew that creating, for me, was the best way to stay healthy. When I work with my hands, my mind relaxes. Throwing works my muscles and helps me stay strong. 

When everything else seemed to stop, my best act was to keep going in my studio. I made teacups for the first time. Trimming those delicate little feet took a lot of concentration that stopped my spinning thoughts. 

Act started to appear in my bowls giving me new thoughts. 

Act Brave.

Act Kind.

Act True. 

Acting in my own behalf. 

This phrase kept appearing in my journaling. I was a bit surprised because I always thought I did a good job of taking care of myself. But looking deeper, I realized, I did a much better job of acting on behalf of others like my husband, my children and even, my dog than I did on myself. 

Many, many times in my life, I’ve kept my mouth shut. Put up with abuse. Waited and waited to be asked, recognized, heard and seen. I kept my ideas, opinions and feelings to myself. I realized that many, many times, I did not act when I could or should have. 

Act helped me this year. Even with the pandemic fears, I acted. I worked. I created. I showed my ceramics. Instead of always depending on some organization or somewhere else, I learned to sell my art myself. I put my art on Etsy. I did social media promotions. 

I did act. In spite of all the closures and cancellations and quarantines, I acted. I acted brave by promoting my own art. I acted kind by going out safely with mask, sanitizer and social distancing. I acted with love by taking care of myself, my husband, my children and grandchildren. I acted true by voting with my mind and heart. 

What will be the word for 2021?

After this year, I have no idea what 2021 will bring. I don’t know what word could possibly help us move beyond this year into a better one. 

And the only act I want to take right now, on this New Year’s Eve, is say goodbye 2020! 

Cleaning and Dreaming

The first week of January was spent cleaning and clearing. Away went the Christmas tree, decorations and dust. Lots of dust. 

While not a very exciting or entertaining activity, it’s an important step into the new year. Dusting and cleaning all the surfaces in my home, helps me de-clutter my mind and body too. As I wipe each fingerprint, I remember Christmases past and present. I think on how much everyone has grown from my babies to new parents. And how much my life has changed as well. 

With the memories comes new insights as I see the past informing the future. I see the past, even the painful parts, as necessary stepping stones to this new year. 

10 years of growth. 

It’s important to see and know and grow from the past. And as I clear the surfaces of my home, I see the changes of the last decade all around me. 

Two children living at home moved through college graduations, master’s degrees and doctorates. They decorated and set up their own places. They had their own children. 

My husband moved into a new job he loves and so did I. From difficulty, success emerged for both us. We are healthy and happy and grateful people, parents and grandparents. Very grateful. 

Wishes and Dreams for the new year. 

I see that 10 years ago, my New Year’s wish was to take clay classes. I wanted to learn to throw my own cups, bowls and vases. I wanted to use my kiln and wheel in my own studio and, hopefully, produce some new work to use and sell. 

I took those classes, made that work and sold it too. I’ve been in open studio tours, shows and galleries. Some surprisingly good experiences and some not. But that’s what life is really, a series of experiences that help you savor all the flavors sweet, spicy and sour. 

As I redecorate and refresh for the New Year with white pillows, candles and art, I wish and hope and dream. 

May this year bring new opportunities for growth in life and work and family. 

May this year bring new ideas, creative projects and opportunities. 

May this year’s word, ‘act’, help me to reach beyond my past into a better future.  

Bumping into the New Year.

I'd love to say my New Year is going smoothly. I'm contentedly working in the studio, churning out innovative, new work full of energy and enthusiasm. Sorry. I'm really bad at lying. 

Bumpity. Bumpity. Bump. 

I feel a little like Pooh bear going down the stairs with Christopher Robin. I'm seeing the world from a little sideways view, or perhaps upside down, and each step is definitely bumpy. I had a cold for a few weeks followed by the flu, so my aches and pains were real. And many days, I feel like Pooh, a little 11'o clockish.

I wish I had Christopher Robin around to bring me a balloon to grab onto and sail away into the bright, blue sky. I could wonder at the puffy, white clouds. Chat about honey pots and bees. And find myself a cozy spot to sit in the sun and pass the tea and honey, please.  

Pooh or Rabbit? 

I'm probably more like Rabbit than Pooh, actually. I'm usually bustling about, planning, making lists, throwing, trimming, painting and doing. Pooh is the essence of non-doing. That wonderful Zen idea of doing without pushing sounds so wonderful. I've always thought that was a great way to live life. Be mindful. Be in the moment. Be Pooh. 

When I'm sick, I can't help but not do. I'm in the moment because my body totally runs the show. When I'm hungry, I eat whatever it wants. If that's Nutella on toast for dinner or chicken soup for breakfast, that's what I eat. If it says rest, I rest. If it says, stare out the window, I stare. 

Not doing gets boring but maybe that's a good thing.

Rabbit, the go-getter of the group, never stops doing. But he also never, ever seems to be done. His tasks, lists, chores go on and on and on. It's exhausting and he's always frazzled and crabby. 

Pooh on the other hand, sits a lot eating honey under a tree. But when he does need more honey, he gets up and finds it. He doesn't plan or make a list or pack a bag or organize everyone around him. He looks up and down and around right where he is sitting. He figures it out, finds the honey then sits down and enjoys it.

I can see that sitting and staring outside on a window seat or under a tree can be a very good thing. 

No, I didn't get anything done in the studio in the last 4 weeks. But nothing bad happened. I sat and stared at the clouds, found some funny faces staring back at me from the tree branches outside my window and saw a rainbow pop up out of the dark, rainy sky.     

My work sat patiently, like Pooh under the honey tree, and waited for me. 

Even if the beginning of the year was a bit bumpy, I think I like being a little less like Rabbit and a lot more like Pooh. 

(Illustrations by Ernest H. Shepard)