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. 

Clouds and Sun and a Village

In Oregon, it’s been a record breaking hot summer. But today, the clouds have moved in and I’m basking in the cool, dampness. I smell the possibility of rain. It’s a refreshing relief. 

Another relief, we finally have a contractor to fix our home. After living with mold and soggy floors, with no sink or dishwasher and removed cupboards and countertops, I’m breathing easier knowing there is an end in sight for this unsightly mess. 

Back to work. 

Working in clay is not just what I do but who I am. I’ve written before about the difficulty of working in clay in hot and dry weather.  And how I work around it anyway because I love what I do. This last month challenged me to find a way to work around a damaged house and wash dishes in the same sink I use for my studio clean up. 

I almost gave up but lucky for me, I had an outdoor show coming up. I needed to get my new work finished.

Getting out with a little help from friends. 

I’ve never done an outdoor show where I’ve had my own booth. I’ve done gallery shows. Group shows. And member shows where I had a set of group shelves. But I’ve never had to set up my own display tent, table, chairs and shelves. 

Luckily, I didn’t have to go it alone. I was invited to join a group of potters for a one day outdoor show. One potter is loaning me an 8x8’ tent booth. Another friend is loaning me a folding table. My daughter is giving me her camping chairs for the day. And my husband is helping me with set up, take down and tech support. 

I’m grateful for my village. 

I’ve always been independent and hard working. I was taught to go it alone and be strong. But what I’ve learned lately is working together works much better for everyone. 

Asking questions. Sharing information. Learning from others who have more experience. And being able to admit I need help, scary as that is, is teaching me more than I could ever learn on my own. 

I know the old saying, “It takes a village”, is wise. But I didn’t ever think I’d need one, or had one, but I’m sure glad I do. 

Time to Look Out the Window

 

A few things reappeared this last week, small things, really. So small, I guess that I didn’t even realize they had disappeared into this years covid mist. Let’s face it, life as we knew it vanished into days, weeks and months of the unknown. Life had to be arranged and rearranged around all these changes and, of course, it changed you and me and all of us. 

Is there an old me to reclaim? A new me to find? Or new mixed bag of me?

Time to find out. 

With all the pushing to produce, social media post, shop updates, virtual shows and shipping, I’ve gained a lot of new skills. I’m thankful for all the support of my art. I’m surprised I can, indeed, promote my own work. I’m glad I learned a new skill set. 

But I lost my old studio rhythm. Over the years, I’ve learned the hard way that clay cannot be rushed. Especially porcelain. I’ve learned to honor and work with it. While I threw and shaped it into bowls and cups, it shaped me, my days, my creative life and my studio schedule. 

Shifting into a new shape. Again. 

Covid definitely re-shaped my studio schedule and I spent many months longing for the old rhythm of my studio days. While I worked hard and got new shelves of new work done, it felt very different. Sometimes it was like driving during rush hour on the freeway, peddle to the metal and then, slamming on the brakes. 

Now post covid as things start to open, my studio feels more open, too. I find myself breathing in and sighing. I seem to be moving more slowly and softly as I feel my way back to my clay.

Sitting here now looking out the window, I realize I’m seeing things again. Things I forgot all about. Things I didn’t even realize I missed until now. 

I see a sweet face in the tree leaves. A bird shape in the clouds. The blue sky shaped around the white cloud edges forms a sleeping animal. Even closing my eyes to rest, I see the violet circle I used to meditate. It’s back.

Maybe that means I’m back too. And all I need to do is open up. Breathe. Let the questions float like the clouds outside the window. 

What wants to be seen? Created? Given shape?

Feeling the fear. Acting anyway.

There’s a lot to be fearful about these days. Traveling. Pandemics. Politics. Quarantines. Wacked out President. Even wackier Presidential primaries. Shortage of toilet paper, hand sanitizer and cleaning wipes. And lack of universal healthcare. 

Whew. How’s that for a list? But I’m sure I’ve left many things out. So what’s on your list? Feel free to write your own or in the comments. 

Why am I writing down all my fears, you might wonder. Isn’t there enough of that on every news feed, internet site and email out there? Yeah. Definitely. I see it every time I turn on my computer and it does make me want to close it down. Shut off the TV. Turn off my phone. 

But what I’ve learned the hard way is burying my head in an internet desert does not keep me from feeling the fear. It’s there anyway and sometimes, pushing it away just makes it push back at me harder. 

So what can I do? 

Ah, yes. Let’s do something. Anything, right? Busy work can and does keep a worried mind at bay. Weeding. Laundry. Cleaning. I did all that and but my mind buzzes along anyway. Nope, my usual escape coping mechanisms are not working. 

But what if I don’t need them. What if I just take a look around and let myself really see. What if I dare to let myself look at what is out there?

Outside my window, the sky is blue. The clouds are still white. And the fresh spring air is waving the tree limbs around. My dog, Darby is napping on his bed. There are daffodils and hyacinth, plum and forsythia blooming. 

Finding the flowers in the dirt. 

Our world is not perfect. Life is a cycle of up and down, good and bad, fear and safety. Facing these facts, I can act. I refuse to wallow or hide in fear. I search instead for signs of life.

Buds on a tree that looked dead. 

Viruses we have survived. Babies who have thrived. 

Air so polluted it was once gray is now clear. 

A blob of mud that becomes a vase filled with flowers.

When I feel fear, I need to act anyway and I can to see that through the dirt grows new life.    

Sage Advice from another Sagitarrian

It’s not just a month for holidays but birthdays as well. For most of my life I shared my birthday with my Dad. This was special and difficult in many ways. He got to pick the dinner, usually pork. I got to pick the dessert, usually chocolate cake. He wasn’t a fan of cake and I wasn’t a fan of pork. But we shared our special Sagittarius bond. 

Now that he’s passed, birthdays carry memories both happy and sad. I guess that’s why I always look backwards and forwards, past to future. Growing up also means growing older which as we know on our side of the globe is not seen as a good thing. 

I’ve written about aging and ageist thinking before. But I wanted to share what showed up this week. 

Birthday advice from a superstar.

“My greatest asset is that I am constantly changing," says Sagittarian actress and activist Jane Fonda. 

I’m not one to take advice from actresses, even a superstar like Jane. But I think she’s totally right. The best thing I feel I can do and have done in my life is change. Now I’m not saying I welcomed, liked or expected it at the time. In fact, I remember many times I was dragged into change kicking and screaming. 

But looking back, I can see changing, rearranging myself and my life is the essence of true creativity. I actually can’t even imagine life without change. 

“One part of wisdom is knowing what you don’t need anymore and letting it go.”

So true, Jane. Letting go is a life long task and it’s not an easy one. But you can’t move forward without letting go. School graduations, weddings, births, deaths, job changes, moving all require us to let go of the known in order to move into the unknown, until it becomes the known, of course. 

I don’t always love the process, but I can look back and see it was worth it. 

“It is never too late to master your weakness.” 

Ah. Yes. So wise is yoda, Jane. And this is an even harder challenge, isn’t it? For me, it’s always easier to admit my weaknesses than it is to move onto mastering them. 

This for me is a very important advice. The emphasis on mastering not wallowing. 

“If you allow yourself, you can become stronger in the very places that you've been broken."

Jane, I really agree. Literally. I broke my wrist over 10 years ago and I was devastated. It was a painful recovery physically, emotionally and creatively. 

But here I am throwing clay, with the hand that was broken. When I need to open a tough jar lid, it’s my ‘recovered’ hand that does the job. My other hand is now not as strong as the one that was once broken. 

“The challenge is not to be perfect. It’s to be whole.”

Jane nails it again. And nails my biggest weakness: expecting perfection not just in myself but in the world around me. Of course this means I am constantly disappointed and not just with people in Washington. 

I’m not sure what it means to be whole. But I do want to let go of perfection. I want to accept myself. I want to see and respect the world around me. I want to welcome change and brokenness and weakness that lives alongside strength, change and love.