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. 

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!

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.   

Solstice: The light returns

Today, on my side of the world, it’s the slow tilting of the globe from shorter to longer days. Everyday from now on brings more daylight and less darkness. Many cultures around the world celebrate the solstice so it’s no coincidence that Christmas also falls around this time. 

I’m always interested in how different cultures celebrated the winter solstice around the world before the arrival of Christianity. Since my ethnic background is Celtic, I did a quick internet search for some specifics of their traditional celebrations.

Druids, Celtic shamans, cut mistletoe, a symbol of life from the sacred oak trees, to give as blessings. The Yule log was also a Druid custom to light the darkest 12 days in winter, banish evil spirits and bring luck for the new year. Bright colored objects would be hung on pine trees to symbolize the sun, moon and stars as well as the souls of friends and relatives who had died.

As I found many of our current holiday decorations, traditions, foods and celebrations began with our ‘pagan’ ancestors. It just shows how important it is to our bodies, minds and souls to connect with the world that holds us and the universe that surrounds us. 

Let the light in. 

How hard life was then. Yet even with all our technology, innovations and inventions, we still struggle with darkness. Night falls. Seasons change. Life is a cycle of birth, growth and death. 

Our ancestors around the globe were wise. They survived and thrived by honoring the importance of light from the sun and the soul. 

How do we find a way through it all? By letting light in. Even if it’s just a pinprick of sun, a candle flame, a twinkle of a light through a window. 

Most important is finding the light inside our souls. 

Solstice. 

Soul. 

It’s synchronistic. 

We receive light from our planet.  We contain light. And we can give light. 

May the Solstice bring even more light to your soul. 

Turning Darkness into Light.

In the northwest, this is the time of year we ‘fall back’ by turning our clocks back one hour. It’s an old law that was meant to give farmers more time to work in the fields harvesting crops. It made sense then, it makes no sense now. And yet, we are still stuck in lock step, turning our clocks back the first Sunday in November. 

No one seems to like ‘springing forward’ or ‘falling back’. We all complain about lack of sleep and it upsets our body’s own natural rhythms. There’s evidence of more accidents and health issues around each time change. Which is why I’m glad the west coast has voted to stop these time changes. 

Why do we try to control time?

Because we are just one species on one planet in a vast universe. We’re afraid. One of the most elemental fears is darkness. As children, we all wake up in the night afraid of the dark. We fear monsters in the darkness under the bed or shadows in the corners. 

And we all know many reasons to fear the dark. There are dangerous animals outside. Violent people on the streets. More accidents happen in the night. So it makes sense to want to create more light when the days grow shorter and the nights last longer. 

Light is essential to our body, mind and soul.

We need light to survive. Sunshine gives our body what we need to make Vitamin D. Seasonal light changes affect our need for food and our moods. More light, well, just helps us feel lighter, too. 

That’s why we turn on the lights all around us 24/7. We want to feel safe. Protected. Healthy. With all these lights, and screens and daylight savings time, could we be missing something?

Maybe we need to honor the need for darkness too. 

Just like the earth needs the change in seasons, so do we. After the blooms are gone and fruit is picked, the trees need to rest. Leaves fall to the ground and create fertilizer for the next years  growth. 

Darkness cools and soothes and cradles new seeds and sleeping babies. Perhaps seasonal light changes not just trees but our very nature, too. 

We can slow down. Tuck into bed early. Rest by the fire. 

Let ourselves look up at the darkness as a place to imagine and dream. 

Bringing possibility out of nothing. 

Finding new ideas in the blank canvas of night. 

Creating Thanks.

I don't know about you, but this last year has been filled with unthankful events. All it takes is a quick look at the daily news to get filled with anger, disappointment, embarrassment and fear. My mind reels with the ignorance and greed exhibited in government that causes such suffering for children and adults in my own neighborhood and the world. 

That's why I decided I had to do something about it. 

Now I can't personally slap a certain person's hand and take away his Twitter account, even though we'd all be better for it. But I can stop my mind from going down the sinkhole with him. And so can you. 

Right now as I write this, I'm staring out at a sky full of clouds. It's been dark and rainy but now, the clouds are moving, slowly revealing slivers of light, bright blue. It helps me remember that beneath all the muck and darkness, light exists. 

And we are all light. We are all filled with electrons, which are light bearing molecules. So even on our darkest days, when we feel all is black and lost, there is light right there inside me and you. I'm not the best at getting in touch with this, I admit. It's sometimes takes hard work to find that light but knowing it's there, helps. 

And so does slinging mud. 

Yup. There is nothing better for my soul on dark days than putting my hands in mud. I forget this over and over, so please, don't see me as enlightened. I'm just desperately in search of a way to feel better. 

My way is to create with clay. No matter how mad, sad or fearful I feel, putting my hands in clay clears out my soul. I can't explain it. And that's a good thing, because explanations are based on thinking which is using my mind and that's not a place where thankfulness resides. While I may start out in my head, my body takes over. My hands take the lead, feeling the texture of the clay, coming together to center it, pulling it up and out. Then, voila, there's a bowl in front of me instead of a lump of mud. 

Creating thanks may take a completely different form for you. It could be words or numbers or paint or flowers or flour or keys on a keyboard. It doesn't really matter where it comes from as long as you allow it to lighten up your life. 

As I've been busy on my keyboard, the sky has changed again. Like life. The blue is gone, the clouds are darkening as the day ends, but in the 'in between' there is a sliver, a space that is rosy and soft and still light. 

So right now, I'm thankful to nature for creating that small piece of light and hope outside my window.   

A Very Curious Year

The word of the year for 2016 has been curiosity. I love that word. To me, it has the aroma of a delicious dish baking in the oven, the sound of a light flute playing, the taste of a cilantro leaf, the pale shimmer of a crescent moon rising.  It's expectation and wonder and the unknown all rolled into one.

This year has been a very curious in many ways.

Artistically, my work evolved in a way I hadn't planned or expected. For the past 6 years, my focus has been on throwing functional work: vases, mugs and bowls. This year, my functional  work is evolved into a 50/50 split between throwing and hand building.  

Where before everything was smooth and carefully thrown; new work now combines textures, colors and patterns in one piece. Edges ruffle. Colors blend like wet into wet watercolor paintings.  Marks are more free form and spontaneous. My hand building pieces are heavily textured with playful color combos, cut out lids or flower shapes and I'm using a staining process to get layers of color. 

Curiously, my work and life is more playful.

Domestically, the family has grown to include a new daughter and granddaughter. After many years of living with adult children, I now have a large toy basket in my great room, a crib, high chair, baby gate and shelves filled with rocket crackers, pb&j bars, fruit snacks, juices and sippy cups. The lower cupboards are re-organized with non breakable, toddler safe items and outlets are plugged. I read board books, play with wooden puzzles and dance to Raffi songs on Pandora.  

Outside my studio, events of the last year are an ongoing curiosity.

I could never have imagined what has happened here in the U.S.  I am shocked and embarrassed and upset. As I watch decades of social progress retreat into playground bullying on the world stage, I can't help but be curious about how this happened in this country. As I work to figure it out for myself, I try to remain open and hopeful that in the end, this will bring us all back together again. 

The question isn't what will happen this year but how will I handle what happens? It's too easy to shut down and close it all out. Curiosity, this year's word, lead me to watch world events with wide eyes and a questioning heart.

A new word of the year?   

Finding my new word of the year is always a personal process but perhaps, this new year, it will be a way to connect inward and outward. As I work to deal with the wild swing of last year's change, I need to dial in my focus of world events, to be local before global, to be see through the eyes of my own truth and my own heart. 

As I look for the light through the dark, I make a wish.  For all of us to find the light on New Year's Eve and bring it with us into the New Year.