Searching for the light in the moment

Today, the sun is shining over my shoulder. I’m warm underneath my homemade crochet infinity scarf. I’m sipping fresh, hot coffee. 

Right here, right now, I’m ok.

It’s been a crazy, tough, scary three years, hasn’t it? And I’m here to admit, this new year has been much of the same. New covid variant. New mask protocols. New isolation guidelines. Things are changing on a daily basis. Shopping is still difficult with supply chain issues. Vaccinations were supposed to make everything good again, but even with boosters on top of shots, we’re still being told that’s not enough. 

I don’t know about you, but I’ve had more than enough. So why? Oh why did I pick my word of the year to be: shine?

Clay therapy. 

I did get a new supply of my favorite clay, English Grolleg porcelain. And this week, I finally got to sit down at my wheel, next to my space heater and throw. What a relief it is. And how easily I forget that no matter how small or large a piece I throw, I come away calmer, happier and, yes, more centered. 

I’ve written many times about how the process of throwing is very zen for me. It requires my precise attention, yet at the same time, the ability to let go and flow. I turn on my Bluetooth speaker, space heater, put out the bed for my ‘Lab’ assistant and throw. 

The biggest step: set no goals. No expectations. No pushing. No production quotas. All I did was measure out chunks of clay for a couple of pieces. In what seemed like no time at all, I had 2 new bowls. 

I felt calm. And refreshed. Even though I was covered in mud. 

Firing up the kiln.

This week, I fired my first kiln load of the year, too. It was just a bisque load but with clay you never know what might happen. Some of the pieces still had their natural leaves attached which needed to burn off safely. And the clay I’d used was older and drier which makes it more vulnerable to cracking during firing. 

Luckily all went well. Leaves burned off nicely and no cracking. I’m looking forward to painting new colors on the leaves and glazing the big

Did I shine this week?

Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve had family with omicron. Supply stresses. Still no sink or floor in my kitchen. Professional dilemmas and doubts. Do I do a large indoor show? Will it get shut down? Will it be safe? Will people come? Is it worth the risk?

I sigh and breath in:

The feel of new clay in my hands and new pieces from the kiln. 

My ‘Lab’ Assistant snoring peacefully. 

Today’s sun on my head. 

Maybe this year’s word, shine, means searching for the light, however small, in each moment. 

So right now, I’m going to take in that softness, color, sweetness and light. 

 

 

2022 Word of the Year: Shine

 

This year’s word popped into my head in December. Maybe it was all the bright, colorful holiday lights. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe, just maybe, it was both a hope and a prayer for this new year to be lighter, brighter, healthier and happier. 

Then came omicron. Yet another mutation of the virus taking us into a third year of fear, masks and rising cases. I questioned my word of the year choice, of course. Did it seem too optimistic now? Too cute? Too cheesy? Totally wrong in the face of another year of covid?

As I questioned and searched, nothing else felt right. Maybe, just maybe the word that seemed totally wrong was exactly the right word after all. 

Darkness to light. 

Our holiday celebrations come during the shortest day of the year. The solstice brings our longest, darkest night and our shortest day. But it also signals the turn from the dark, day by day, to the shortest night and longest day of the year in June. 

The sunshine brings not just light but life. Perhaps because of these difficult years, we need more than ever to focus on light. Trying to find a way to shine more light into lives and the lives of those we love. 

Shine.

Looking up shine in the thesaurus, I found many words to inspire and enlighten my heart, mind and soul. Even during this difficult time, I can work to make things brighter around me.

Lead with my heart. Smile even when I’m wearing a mask, hope they see it in my eyes. 

Light new candles. And guide my monkey mind from worries and fear to calmness and hope. 

See and feel how working with brilliant colors in my clay lightens my soul. 

Instant Karma. 

My husband found a song that inspired him, “Instant Karma” written by John Lennon and Yoko Ono. Yes, the song has a dark side like our last few years. But it asks us to see we’re all in this together. And we’re not here to live in pain and fear and isolation.

We are here to shine.  

Like the moon and the stars and the sun. 

This year, more than ever, let’s all help each other find ways to shine on and on and on

Instant Karma's gonna get you

Gonna knock you off your feet

Better recognize your brothers

Ev'ryone you meet

Why in the world are we here

Surely not to live in pain and fear

Why on earth are you there

When you're ev'rywhere

Come and get your share

Well we all shine on

Like the moon and the stars and the sun

Yeah we all shine on

Come on and on and on on on

 

Last year, I was hopeful. Through all the fear and pain and division and difficulty of 2020, I found hope in my word for that year: heal.

Here at the very end of this year, I see more wounds all around me. I saw the need for healing from covid, from divisive politics, from quarantine and fear. I wished healing that would bring us together. Solve long unsolved problems. Find places to come together for the good of everyone. 

Did we heal?

I don’t know. I did see some steps forward. More and more people did get vaccinated and boosted. Children went from virtual to in person learning. Soccer games filled the neighborhood fields. Playgrounds again played the sounds of laughter.

Ok, the laughter was behind masks. Because there were scary variants in the air. And some still denied the problems, avoided the solutions all to avoid their own fear.  

Life lived anyway. 

In spite of the masks, I kept throwing. In spite of a flooded kitchen, I kept on making vases, teacups, bowls and plates. In spite of galleries closing and cancelled shows, opportunities literally ‘popped up’. 

Thanks to other wonderful artist friends, I got chances to get out there with my work in a whole new way. I learned to set up a tent, table and my art outside on the grass on a sunny day in August. Another time, I set up outside a pub in the rain on a cold day in December. Both times, I met new people, got great feedback on my work, learned new skills and sold my work. 

Healing, like mending, takes time. 

Fixing or mending a break whether it’s bone or cloth is a process. It only happens stitch by stitch. Day by day. Week by week. Month by month. Even though I had hopes a year would be long enough, I was wrong. 

Healing takes its own time. And I know some wounds, even in one lifetime, don’t heal. 

And looking back, I see some progress.

How about you? Looking back this year, what small steps did you see?

Happy Covid Christmas! Again.

 

I love the holiday season. Watching the twinkling lights. Bringing out all the handmade ornaments. Finding fun things for the people I love. 

There’s a lot to love. Except maybe covid. I spent all last year in fight or flight zone: masking up, hand sanitizing, vaccinating and boosting. Just when I thought it was safe to come out of my covid cave, here comes omicron. 

Family members are testing and, thank goodness, coming up negative. Ok, this is one time when a negative is a very positive thing, right? But I’m still worried and masking and distancing and wondering what can I do to feel better?

Baking a better holiday. 

I love baking. Sadly, my mother was not a baker. She tried but she just didn’t get it, maybe she didn’t want to, and really, that’s ok. I was lucky to have two very good grandmother bakers who passed down not just their recipes but their love of baking and their techniques. I learned even more in my college foods labs where the science of food was revealed to me. 

I loved foods lab, like chemistry, it involved knowing your elements and understanding procedures. Mix that with a grandmother who visited especially to teach me her celtic recipes and a New York Gram who loved to make authentic cheesecakes and Chocolate Kringles.

Shortbread from my Scottish Grandmother. 

It wouldn’t be a holiday in our house without Grandmother Gallacher’s shortbread. I’d share the recipe, but she made me swear I would NEVER allow anyone except blood family to have her recipe. Ok, she was a little scary and I still obey her to this day. I have passed down the recipe ONLY to my daughter. 

But…(you knew there would be a but, right?)…I have changed her recipe using my foods lab knowledge. Sorry Grandmother but, you really can double the recipe and not affect the quality. I do, as she stipulated, always use REAL, high quality butter. I always cream the butter and sugar to her specifications. Sorry Grandmother, I do use a mixer. Adding the flour is the real test of a good batch and that secret is safe with me. 

Cherry cake. 

Another bow to Grandmother Gallacher, this is an amazing cake. It’s really a traditional tea cake that would have been a staple at tea time, which Grandmother observed with serious attention. I was taught the proper way to warm the pot and steep the tea. And I do love tea. 

I also love this cake. Done right, it is moist, light, dense and rich. 

Yes, I have a few secrets here that I have developed myself over the years. Let’s just say, it’s worth the effort. She used candied cherries. I hate candied cherries. So I have developed, based on my foods lab training, a way to use real dried cherries that I modify, to give this cake a lovely natural cherry flavor and texture while preserving the traditional, luscious buttery tea cake. 

So set the kettle to boil. 

Warm the pot and get out your favorite tea.  

Then sit down. Sip tea. Take a bite of cherry cake. Enjoy the holiday anyway!

Happy December to You

 

As I sit here on the window seat watching the winter sun set, I wonder. What will tomorrow bring? Sun? Rain? Warmth? Cold? Does it even matter?

Watching the clouds softly moving in a light blue gray sky, I sigh. Even though it’s the end of another day, it doesn’t feel that way to me. I see layers of clouds and light sky and deeper blue clouds and distant trees pointing upward. There are streetlights turning on. A stop light blinking red and green through the trees. And strings of colored lights on a rooftop a few streets over. 

There’s a lot of light to see as the sun sets. 

Life hasn’t been easy for many of us these past few years. I thought this year, it would be easier, brighter, safer. Didn’t you?

Red light. Green light. 

As the stoplight changes through the trees, I remember that childhood game. I loved playing it. 

Do you remember? Red light. Green light. 

When it was a green light, I ran around joyously. Laughing. Just feeling the breeze, the ground and freedom. When someone shouted, ‘Red light’, I stopped still. Feeling my feet on the ground. Holding my breath. Waiting. Wondering. Still. Eagerly waiting for the change, the chance to go. 

This last year has been a very long game of red light/green light for me.

Birthdays and funerals. 

This is my birthday month. It was also my Dad’s birthday month. In fact, the dates were just days apart.  That meant for most of my life, my birthday was a dual celebration. I’ll admit, as a kid, this was hard. No special party for me. No special cake for me. It was, most of the time, what my dad wanted. I just tagged along. 

My dad is gone now. I miss him always but especially this month on our shared birthday week. I do get to ‘do my own thing’ but I miss being able to share it with him, too. Ok, I don’t miss the pork roast but we did agree on chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. 

Let’s all make a wish. 

We are all still dealing with covid. Vaccinations. Masks on and off and on again. Waiting for everyone to get their vaccines. So we can all go out into the day and on with our lives. 

Since it’s my birthday month, I’d like to invite you to help me celebrate. 

Picture a cake or maybe just a slice with a candle on top. 

Wherever you are, light a candle. 

Look at it and let its shine brighten and lighten your heart just a little. 

Make a wish for yourself, your children, your family, your cat or dog or fish. 

Then, blow it out. 

Happy December to you!

In spite of it all - Thankful

With Thanksgiving day almost here, it seems right to write about thankfulness. But for me, this year, it’s more than honoring a holiday. 

It’s about surviving a scary, covid year. It’s about seeing my children, once again, moving out and onward toward a better life. It’s about getting through every day with half a kitchen since July. It’s about finding new ways to create, cope and even cook a Thanksgiving dinner. 

Thankful for the park, walks and playtime. 

Almost everyday, my husband, darling Darby, my daughter and grandson walk to and through our neighborhood park. It’s a beautiful, bountiful place. Filled with trees, a lake, deer, beavers, otters, ducks, geese and herons. 

It’s filled with slides and swings and climbing things. But there’s one place my grandson loves best: bridges. He waves to them as we pass over and under them. He gets out and walks them from one end to the other and back again. And again. And again. 

When I think about it, life is filled with bridges. At every age and stage, there are many things we have to cross to get from one place in our lives to another. Bridges that need building and sometimes, rebuilding. 

Thankful for a plastic sink and dishwasher. 

Since July, I’ve had no sink, disposal, dishwasher or floor in my kitchen. I’ve washed dishes by hand in the laundry room sink. I’ve made coffee next to clean underwear. And put down a patchwork of rugs to make it safer to walk across multi levels of floor.

A few weeks ago, my contractor came in and installed a temporary sink, hooked up my dishwasher and my refrigerator’s ice maker. Three simple things I am simply very thankful to be able to use again. 

Thankfully and finally this week, the insurance adjusters approved our contractors estimates for reconstruction. The damage done in July 2021 will all be fixed now sometime in April 2022. 

Thankful for clay, throwing, pop ups and studio visitors. 

Because of the flood and the mitigation, I wasn’t able to use my wheel. Without clay in my hands to steady me, I’ve had some very dark and difficult days, weeks and months. 

But now, thanks to moving help, my wheel is plugged back in. It took a few sessions to get everything balanced with foot props and the wheel levels. And a few sessions to feel the mud lightening my heart, my spirit and my imagination. After just a week or two, I’m surprised to see shelves of work waiting to be painted, glazed and finished. 

The biggest encouragement of all is seeing the work I love to do, be loved by others. Given as gifts. Taken home where cups are sipped, bowls used, vases filled with flowers. I’m always thankful for my studio visitors, social media likes and pop up customers. 

Thankful. 

In spite of all the damage, I’m Thankful it will all be fixed. 

In spite of all the fear and losses, I’m Thankful for all the love and support. 

In spite of all the rainy days, I’m Thankful for herons, otters, and of course, bridges.   

 

Grateful

Three years ago, I got the call I’d been waiting, hoping and wishing would come. Guide Dogs for the Blind had a career changer dog for me! And I couldn’t wait to meet him. 

It was love at first sight.

At 18 months old, Darby was charming and beautiful. His slightly lower ear, which GDB pointed out to me, made him even more adorable. He had his issues as all the career changers do. But nothing, I knew, that we couldn’t handle together. 

A mix of Scooby-Doo and Tigger too. 

Even at four years old, Darby is bouncy and trouncey and full of fun. He loves to chase balls but his favorite is to jump up to catch them. He walks through the park with bounce in his step, greeting dogs he knows with a playful bark. 

Greeting new friends or family at the door is one of his biggest thrills and challenges. He has a lovely, deep bark which always makes me smile (and feel very protected). Ok, he tends to rush new arrivals with an eagerness that can be overwhelming. But we have worked out a system to help him greet friends with a little less physical enthusiasm. (Hint: beef jerky treats work wonders)

Studio master. 

Whether I’m throwing on the wheel in the garage or slab building in the studio, Darby is there. He watches from his bed as I set up my work. Then once he’s confident I’m in the zone, he takes a nap. But he never zones out. 

Any movement toward the studio or side door and he’s instantly alert. He follows me outside while I clean up and I throw the ball for him. When I’m ready to head inside, he’s right there. And clay clean up happens with him at my feet. 

Watching dog. 

When I wake up, ok even before I wake up, Darby is awake. Laying on his big, round bed he watches and waits patiently for me to sit up. Once I do, he jumps up on the edge of the bed for morning kisses and hugs. After he gets love from me, he heads around the bed to say good morning to my husband. 

When one of the family is out, Darby always knows when they’re on the way home. And he sits and watches for the door to open. He’s learned to wait for us to go to him to say hello. And when I go upstairs or downstairs, so does he.  

Darby follows me everywhere. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

I’m so grateful to his Guide Dog Puppy Raiser, Guide Dogs for the Blind (and all they do) and their wonderful Career Changer program. 

But most of all, I’m grateful for my Darling Darby.