Shadows and Light

As I look out my windows at the amazing display of fall color, I’m mesmerized today by shadows and light. Right now, the bright sunlight paints a bush brilliant golden yellow on one side and the shadows add deep greens on the other. A bright red maple shines in the sun while the shadow leaves turn from burgundy to deep purple. 

I marvel at the views. And I wonder, what would the world look like with just light and no shadow? Or just shadow and no light?

Life without contrast.

There are many days of gray in the Pacific Northwest. Rain and clouds. Overcast skies. And I love those days as much as today’s sunshine. There’s a softness to the clouds. The leaves on the trees seem to blend on the edges, and yet, still stand beautifully against the sky. 

Looking at the trees in the rain, I see beauty in the softness. Mystery in the shadows. 

Living with too much contrast.  

Thinking back on this last year all I see is contrast. Masks vs no masks. Pro-vaccine and anti-vaxxers. Stay at home, then go back to work. Far right and far left. Lies and truth. 

In the midst of confusion and fear, it seems many want to fight while others flee or hide. While I understand, many times I wish for less contrast, more softness and silence and patience. Perhaps what I need is just what I see out the window today. 

Light alongside shadow. 

Looking out again, the sun has moved and I can’t get a good picture of the contrast outside my window. The bright yellow is now a muted goldenrod and the cadmium red leaves are now a deep burgundy. 

Perhaps, it’s time to stop trying so hard. Time to stop pushing for one way vs another. Let go of right vs wrong. And let the light move like the sun from bright to softness.

Accept that life is about both light and shadow. 

Both are needed.

There’s no need to fight. Or flee.

Just see.   

A lesson in listening

Lots of words swirl around us all right now: scary headlines, angry quotes, rude social media comments and insults. It’s hitting all of us from all sides and while some of these words definitely need to be said, my question is are they being heard? Are the right people listening? 

I read a wonderful piece by Martha Beck on listening. And how the overwhelming amount of information right now can drive you to turn off, listen less when what’s needed is to listen more. Her idea of listening is something more than just using your ears. 

4 Levels of Listening. 

Martha Beck breaks down the seemingly simple act of listening into 4 levels that involve your whole

Level One is ear listening. You hear something, perhaps scary, and you leap into survival mode.  Conflicts jump to the surface instead of cooperation and compassion. 

Level Two is body listening. The scary words cause a reaction in your body. Noticing it, breathing into it, you can help your body stay calm. This helps you notice the truth of the situation and understand your feelings and the feelings of others. 

body. 

Level Three is heart listening. Once the body relaxes, discernment happens and you can use your heart to lean in or out of the situation. According to Beck, “check to see whether your heart wants to move forward or to back off. When you’re being lied to, you may feel an inexplicable desire to move away, even to literally run. When someone is telling the truth, even though the words may be hard to hear, you’ll feel a softening and opening in your chest, a desire to hear and understand more.”

Level Four is soul listening. Beck describes this type of listening as, “a  bolt of love flows through me and toward everyone around me. It’s two aspects of one consciousness connecting, hearing our shared experience in separate bodies.” And with this type of listening a connection is made. Even if you don’t agree with the words or person, soul listening allows you to see their confusion or pain. You don’t have to change your mind in the midst of fear or prejudice, you can listen with less fear, more awareness and compassion. 

In Martha’s words, “When I listen with my ears, body, and heart, my soul is available to hear the wise voices of millions who refuse to give in to fear and bitterness. Their aim is to create a world that is safe, just and happy for all of us.”

Now these are words, I need to not just hear but listen to and act on. 

With my whole body, heart and soul. 

New Directions. New Paths.

The creative life sends you down many long and winding and very twisty paths. Some paths are life long. Some paths end. Suddenly. 

Creating for me, is a life long path that began in my childhood with simple play. I loved twigs and leaves and mud with these I made tiny houses with leaf roofs and rock roads. The sound of the crickets, birds and neighborhood creek were music to me. Riding my bike through the woods was my favorite path and it still is. 

I started writing even before I could write by scribbling on any piece of paper I found. I loved holding the pencil, pen or crayon in my hand. Just the movement of it across the page was a delight. I didn’t know then that writing was any kind of occupation. It never occurred to me, I could make money at it, or ever win awards for it. I still doodle in my journals and write on this blog. 

I know many feel that the long road gets shorter with age, but I don’t. 

Yes, as life evolves, some paths end. Jobs end. Galleries and shows close. Groups change. Friends fade. Children grow up. My mud villages became grass and the woods I roamed are now suburban streets and homes. 

As I’ve grown and lived and aged, I’ve evolved, too.

Back in my mud making days, I could never have imagined throwing a cup, bowl or vase from clay. Although I saw faces in the clouds overhead, I could never have imagined making a mask from copper or window screening. Watching the sun set, I never knew, one day, I’d paint one.

I don’t scribble on walls, anymore. I type words on my IPad, post on my blog and edit a group newsletter and yes, sometimes I still write ad copy. 

Where I see loss, I  also see new directions. I see new paths.

Writing and mud are still part of my path. But the years and life create layers of experience that enrich and expand everyday. So I’m trying to remember, when tears come and something ends that I have been given a chance to create a new path to explore. 

And so, now like I did then, I walk through the woods, lean against the trees and listen to the birds. But now, their wisdom guides, calms and revives me to move onward.  

Moving.

There's been a lot of moving happening in and around my life lately.  My daughter has moved from eastern Washington to southern California.  My son has moved from the city to the suburbs.  Although, I'm physically in the same place on the map, my past and present along with my mind and heart has moved all over the place.  All this illustrates clearly that moving is more that physical or spatial, it's emotional and creative, too.

Moving over mountains.

We all know it doesn't matter whether you're making a move across town or country, it's a lot of physical hard work.  Packing and unpacking.  Lifting and hauling.  This time there was a piano and an organ to move along with the usual beds, dressers, desks, chairs, couch and big screen tv.  Add California or Oregon sunshine and temperatures in the 90's and it's a real work out.  

We all made it and I have to say, it made me realize how important my daily walks and yoga classes are to my overall strength and endurance.  I'd been taking that for granted,  but I'm not anymore! I love my walks and yoga and I love how it makes me feel: strong and healthy.  

A moving experience.

Moving brings up many feelings for me.  It's sad to leave the old, exciting to greet the new and frustrating, tiring, inspiring and, ultimately, a relief.  I've designed homes and lived in rentals along the way and each time, I find a certain satisfaction in creating a new living space in a new place that fits my life and my family.

It's always been hard for me when my 'kids' moved away.  It didn't matter if it was 5 minutes, 20 minutes or 4 hours away, it felt like they were on another planet. I missed hearing them rustle around in the morning.  I missed seeing them come home at night.  I wondered and worried.  I felt a deep space kind of loss. Now they are their own planets spinning in their own orbits with their own share of storms coming their way.  All I can do is listen and help out a little and hope there are no black holes in their path.

New moves.

In my creative life, I've moved around a lot, too. As unpacked my own boxes and cleaned out my closets, one thing became really clear to me: I am and always have been creative.  I was born that way. From writer to artist, words to paint to metal to clay, my media has definitely changed over the years. Removing  the dust from my closets revealed an amazing amount of work I've done over the years that I'd completely forgotten.  

What I'm beginning to see is that some of my new creative moves aren't really that new at all.  They're just different lines or colors or textures layered onto my evolving creative life.  And that, I think is what moving and living is really all about.