Chain of Joy

I’m sitting here on the window seat looking out at a light blue sky with thin white clouds. I can hear the buzz of the weed eater in the backyard and hum of the washing machine. 

Just another day in my neck of the ‘woods’. 

How do I feel right now? 

I’m Ok. And maybe a little worried. 

Are my kids and grandkids ok?

Is my husband out with the weed eater ok?

Why is the dog scratching his eye?

What is that greedy guy in the big White House going to do next?

Taking a breath in and out. I sigh.

I’m doing what I can: protesting, boycotting and supporting my friends and neighbors. 

But it’s hard to let go of the baseline worry that hums away underneath everything right now. Hard to focus on joy when there are people suffering because of the greedy criminals in our capitol.

But we have to find joy. 

We have to look for beauty. 

We have to bring what we love into the world, right now. 

Maybe, especially right now.  

Because joy and beauty and love is how we stay strong. 

Sharing it with each other is the chain that keeps us together. 

Ok, I’m still worried. 

But, maybe, we can be worried together and let it ignite change.

And maybe, together we can find and share some beauty.

And some joy.   

What are you doing that brings joy and love and beauty into your life right now?

Let’s start our own chain of joy. 

 

 

Inching my way towards joy

 

Joy feels like a big word to me. I’m not sure, with everything that’s going on, what it means for me right now. So, I looked it up to see if a definition would help.

Joy defined by Merriam Webster:  to experience great pleasure or delight. The emotion evoked by well-being, success or good fortune. Or by the prospect of possessing what one desires. 

Hmm. Well, I can see some people in Washington might be feeling this right now. Taking our tax dollars to make themselves richer. Cutting critical programs that help people in need to cut their taxes and add to their greed. 

It’s not joy to me. It’s despicable. 

Help. 

After having major surgery, I spent months recovering. Doing little things became big things to do. I couldn’t throw clay on the wheel anymore. But I had to find something creative to do. Something to lift me out of the pain. Something to heal my spirit. 

I used to paint before I started working in clay. So, I went back to it. Paper and brushes and color was easier on my body and soothed my fears. I’d forgotten how much fun it was to spread water and paint on paper. It was just the therapy I needed. 

Discovery. 

I liked throwing on the wheel. And I spent many years focusing on function and technique to create pieces that would sell. It felt good to develop new skills. Making a good mug or teacup or bowl was a big accomplishment for me. Especially since I’d failed at it in high school. 

But I forgot something along the way. 

What I discovered using pens and brushes and paint and paper, again, was play. I’d forgotten that quality is essential to creating. It’s not just about making everything perfect, it’s about the making itself. 

Is this joy?

Still I have a problem with the word: joy. It brings back too many memories of church ceremonies, which were not joyful to me. And if I free it from those confines, it still feels too big, too much, too hard. 

But what if I just let myself go back to that little girl in the woods playing with sticks and mud? She didn’t know what the word joy meant, she just had fun. What would happen if I let her lead me back to joy?  

Inch by inch

A little watercolor one day

A little clay another day

Some color brushed on clay

It’s ok, it’s just play. 

But maybe, it’s new way to joy. 

Letting The Light In

 

It’s that time of year when the sun sets early and it gets dark. I admit, I don’t like it. It makes me crave my tea and cookies which I do like, of course. The turning of the earth and the winter season brings many feelings to the surface for all of us. 

This year has brought many challenges from lay offs to fighting for 6 months to get social security and medical benefits. It’s been a scary roller coaster ride but now, thankfully, the dust is settling and my anxiety is easing. 

Small comforts and joys. 

I worried about the Holiday season this year. Would we have to cut back on all the things we usually do? How would we manage gifts and stockings for all? One thing I have come to know is we are not alone this year. Many people are facing a different holiday season: inflation pushing up prices and salaries are down or gone. 

I wasn’t looking forward to decorating at all. But here’s what I found out: I can still feel comfort and joy. 

The wreath I made years ago, still looks joyful on the hall table. 

The Christmas books we’ve read to our children and now grandchildren are still fun to share. 

The stockings have grown to include new babies and spouses. 

And this year, we’re filling them with homemade treats and handmade decorations. 

Light and lightening up. 

The lights on the tree give me the boost I need in the darkening afternoon.  Sitting in the nook next to my best friend and husband, I breathe in the light of our love. While some things have changed drastically for us, our relationship has not. 

In fact, right now as I write this blog, he is writing his podcast. We are both healthy and active and creative on our own and together. 

Yes, we have to lighten up our gift giving this year. 

But the light we share is still there.

For each other, for our children, grandchildren and friends. 

What I have to do everyday is remember:

To let it in. 

Making My Own Joy

 

I read an email last week from author, Martha Beck about how to find joy that lasts. I thought, ok, I’m game. How do I do that?

There are many things in my life that bring me joy. Walking along the beach. Gazing at beautiful sunsets and cerulean skies. Movies, concerts, plays and parades. These are all wonderful, good, exciting events. Yes. Do they happen everyday? No. And that’s ok. 

Martha’s point: “Don’t get me wrong. Excitement is a great and necessary thing; without it, life wouldn’t be complete. But happiness-real happiness-is something entirely different, at once calmer and more rewarding. And cultivating it is one of the most important steps we can take toward creating fulfilling lives.”

What can we do to get there? Martha’s two word answer: “make something”. 

I am a ‘life-long’ maker. But not a ‘life-long’ seller. 

Since childhood, I’ve loved making things. Doll cloths. Mud towns. Drawings with a matchstick dipped in ink. Watercolor, acrylic, oil and pastel paintings. Crochet art and garments. Now I make teacups, bowls, sculptures, masks and more in clay. 

But in the last few weeks, I stopped making and started looking at all the things I’ve made. Not everything I make sells. My marketing brain kicked in and started evaluating my ‘products’ sorting them into sold and not. Obviously, my inner marketer saw that I should make more of this and less of that. 

It didn’t take me long to figure out, product production is not my way to happiness. 

The key to making my own joy. 

When I’m creating, I’m calm. I’m totally in the moment. With clay in my hands, I move with what intuitively feels right. Making my leaves feels like a soothing dance between hand and clay. 

Even if I’m trying out new ideas and struggling a little bit, I’m still making my own joy. 

According to Martha Beck, “To get a dopamine "hit," make something that pushes you to the furthest edge of your ability, where you're not only focused but learning and perfecting skills. Creative work causes us to secrete dopamine, a hormone that can make us feel absorbed and fulfilled without feeling erratic. Research indicates that we're most creative when we're happy and relaxed, and conversely, that we can steer our brains into this state by undertaking a creative task.”

So this week, I took her advice. 

I made some new clay figures.  

I made more clay leaf plates and platters. 

But what I really made was joy. 

Small joys

 

This year I’ve decided to jump into fall. I don’t always love this time of year, but right now I need something to bring me joy. My kitchen is still in pieces. There is still no timeline or schedule as to when the reconstruction will begin. 

Since I haven’t been able to work in clay and I’ve run out of closets to clean, I took out my clippers and went to work outside. I trimmed the lavender and rosemary. I shaped up the Nandina and Hydrangeas. I made herbal sachets for the drawers and closets filled with rosemary, lavender, cedar and lemon oils. Now every time I open my closet, I smell summer all over again.

Fall flowers. 

I love chrysanthemums. But my very favorite are hydrangeas from my own backyard. The colors are so gorgeous. Burgundy. Purple. Deep Turquoise. I had so much fun arranging them around the house in big lily vases and small ruffle vases. Mixing in sculptures and porcelain leaves and witches is a joyful way for me play with nature and art. 

 

Pumpkins!

It wouldn’t be fall for me without pumpkins. This year, we found a treasure trove of white pumpkins growing in our garden. My simple joy: grouping them around the house. 

Another joyous event: a trip to our local farm and pumpkin patch with my daughter, son-in-law and grandchild. The farm had a small scale train to ride and fresh caramel corn!

Splurge. 

I don’t have a kitchen right now, so I splurged on decorating my front porch. The inside of the house might not look very good right now but the outside can. I couldn’t resist hanging a new wreath, putting out our white pumpkins along with a black metal one on the front porch. 

And I found a way to use more white pumpkins, with a white pumpkin candle and a wonderful handmade crow from fiber artist, Teri Grant. 

I can’t reconstruct my kitchen myself and it makes me sad. But my husband pointed out, right now we have to make our own happiness. So everyday I’m trying, one small joy at a time.