Something from Nothing

I’m just going to write today. I need a way out of the downward swirl. I want to feel good about something and stay away from all the bad out there. If I were my eight year old self again, I’d be sitting in the corner of my closet with a book. 

Reading saved me as a kid. It was an approved way to spend my time on a hot summer day. Sitting in the shade, on the neighbors porch, reading Nancy Drew. It still helps me, reading a ‘cozy’ mystery. You know the genre’, where the female character solves the mystery, maybe with the help of a few friends, the criminal gets caught and they all go out to celebrate. 

Oh, how I wish the world really worked that way all the time. Don’t you?

Now instead of escaping into my closet or the next door neighbors patio, I walk. I take my grandson to the park to play.  I lean on the trees in the woods nearby. I bake with my husband. I make things out of clay. And I crochet with no pattern. 

Right now, I’m in the ‘finishing’ phase in the studio. This is the part that makes my nerves all jangled. It’s not just that it’s the end of the making, which I love, but it’s the beginning of the booming inner critic’s voice. You know what I mean?

“Oh this will never sell.”

“What were you thinking?”

“Who is going to want a sunflower with a face?”

“It’s not a perfect flower, you know.”

“This is does not look even close to a real bird.”

Yeah. My inner critic is a nasty bitch. I really should fire her. 

Believe me, I’ve tried. 

But she just keeps coming back to work. 

And she gets even louder when I’m filling out forms to enter a show.  

That’s my next step. One I dread, too. Filling out the application form. Downloading the images. Hoping that my iPad will cooperate with the venue’s computer. Then, of course, is the wait. Acceptance or Rejection? It always feels like I’m putting myself into a revolving door over which I have no control. 

Sigh. Why do I put myself through all this, you might ask? Good Question. 

 I love seeing things in the sky, the trees, the flowers and letting my imagination flow.  

I love clay. I love painting. I love making something from nothing.  

I do it because I love what I see. 

And, I want others to see what I love. 

And I think we all need to see more love around us. 

 

Small Things

 

I’m going to start out by saying: I don’t know what to write about today. Nothing I say will eliminate the evil and greed. I admit, I don’t understand why some people use their power to hurt others, especially when they have more than they need to live their own lives. 

I see it. And I just shake my head in disbelief.  

I do my best to be kind and good and understanding. I don’t feel I’m here to compete with others. I feel I’m here to help. Understand. Love. And create. 

Creating helps. 

Whether it’s making new ceramic reliefs, dabbling in watercolors, writing or crocheting creating something with my hands and heart helps me. It keeps me moving forward in spite of a world that wants to hold me back. 

So, I create a blue bird and an orchid in clay. 

A watercolor on clay. 

A freeform crochet piece that may be a drawstring bag? I don’t know. I’m just using up leftover yarn. 

It really doesn’t matter what you or I create today. What matters is putting creative energy out there to balance the destructive energy. To surround the fear with color and light and softness and love. 

Yes, we have to create in spite of all that’s going on around us. To create is to dream of a better day, to see through a different lens and to love the beauty in the world around us.

The Power of Mud

 

There’s one thing that’s helping me stay sane right now. 

Mud. 

Yup, mud.

Some people call it clay. I buy mine from a local clay company. But the components of clay are found in nature.  According to Wikipedia, “It’s a natural product of the erosion of igneous rocks like granite and feldspar. It breaks down over millions of years into fine particles which collect in riverbeds, lake basins and coastal areas, where they are found as sedimentary deposits.”

So, yeah. It’s mud that’s been washed by rain and eroded by rocks. And it’s now in my studio in a nice, neat plastic bag. And I love opening the bag and slicing off a thick slab of it. Slapping it down, folding it over and kneading it into a ball or rolling it into a slab on my canvas covered board. 

Then the fun begins.

My hands get muddy. My mind climbs into the backseat. And my soul sighs. I can make so many things from one chunk of mud. 

A vase. 

A face. 

A bowl. 

A bird. 

A leaf platter.

These are finished pieces. Piece by piece, they’re rolled and stamped and shaped and painted and dried very slowly. But they all started out as a chunk of mud. So fun. 

Then the work of finishing. 

Today, I did a part of the process that’s my least favorite: glazing.  Why is it my least favorite? I think it’s because it’s all about chemicals and precision: waxing, mixing, testing for the right consistency, dipping, catching drips and wiping. Then there’s the clean up. Ugh. 

There’s also a lot of set up and clean up involved because my studio is inside my house. I have to cover the tables and floor, bring in buckets of water and towels and sponges. It’s work. 

Mud, madness, and sanity. 

Yes, it’s work. But it’s also play. Bringing out my childhood love of playing in the woods in the dirt. And right now, with all the dirt and scandal, the most powerful thing I can do for myself is play in the mud. 

Try it. It might help. And you might find playing in the dirt is more fun than reading about it. 

 

Moving with Love

 

I can’t believe it, February is here! I love looking for the hints of spring peeking out all around on my walks around the park. And it’s almost Valentine’s Day. I’ll admit, I love hearts and flowers and chocolate, so this is one of my favorite times of year.

But with all I’ve been through this year, it’s feeling a little different. I’m taking things a bit slower.  I’m rushing less and resting more. I’m enjoying both the comfort of my sunny nook and the calm of my studio. 

Making is my form of zen. 

Whether I’m baking, crocheting or working with clay, I’m in my happy place. In the last few weeks, I’ve been underglazing and bisque firing. First, I add a layer of color and some details to my pieces and bisque fire them. Then, I add washes to each piece so the details stand out and fire them again.

There’s something so soothing about laying the black wash on each piece. Then after they dry, wiping it away to reveal the intricate details. Today, I loaded the kiln for the second firing to set the underglazes. 

Moving on gently. 

One thing I’m learning this year is patience. It’s never been my strong suit, I’ll admit. I’ve always walked fast and pushed myself to do more and more. But now I know, I need to listen to my body more and not my head. Instead of moving to a busy bee voice, I need to move with gentleness and care and love.   

Watching the black underglaze flow

Seeking and filling every little vein of the leaf

Revealing nature’s hidden designs

Slows me and shows me the depth of life

In this month of love, perhaps, it’s time to show some to myself. 

Take a breath

 

Where are you today? What are you thinking or feeling or looking at? 

Are you tired or rested? Is your mind blissfully wandering or skittering here and there?

I used to meditate. Ok, not very well, but I did it anyway. It helped slow down my mental gymnastics but it didn’t stop them. I thought that meant I’d failed and after a while I gave it up and moved on. I find yoga helps me more because focusing on the physical movement redirects my monkey mind. It gives it something ‘to do’. 

I’ve written many blogs about my war with ‘doing’ vs ‘being’. I know I’m not alone and that is a comfort. But I think what I really need to do is end the war. 

Waving my white flag. 

More than a year of covid is getting on all our nerves. Add scared parents and grandparents seeing their sweet little ones head off to school without vaccinations. It’s enough. No, it’s more than enough. Right?

We all need a break right now. And I don’t mean a vacation, which for some is helpful, but for me that would only add more to my mental and emotional stew. What I really need, and maybe you do too, is a rest. Waving a white flag in the face of fear. 

Surrender

Looking out at today’s beautiful, blue sky I picture a cozy, quiet hammock underneath a huge oak tree where I can lay back my head, look through the gently swaying leaves. Still green against a blue sky, I watch the leaf patterns change as the air moves. 

I breathe in the sweetness. 

I hear a caw.  

I feel supported. 

Safe. 

Although there is still so much swirling in the heads and minds of the world. Mine and yours. 

Right now, I am here. 

Doing the best I can. Maybe doing the only thing I can right now.  

Taking a breath.  

Perfectly Overwhelmed

 

I don’t  see blue sky outside my window. I see orange fog. Smoke. And gray particulates falling through the air. Just when I was getting used to wearing a face mask, cleansing everything with sanitizer and accepting a pandemic, my part of the world started burning. 

I am scared. I worry about all the people I know in danger and their children and animals and homes. I thank the brave firefighters and responders and want them to all come home, safe. And there is nothing I can really do to help stop any of this. What can any of us really do?

All I see on social media is pictures of the smoke, orange sky, flames outside everyone’s windows. I keep reacting to each and every one the same: shocked emoji. And I’ve taken my own pictures as well, but it just seems hard to post them. 

Sharing. 

Here’s a post I did see on social media this week and I found it very helpful.

 

This is from Lisa O’ Baire:

Dear West Coast friends, if you’re feeling anxious or unsettled by our orange, smoky skies, please remember that your animal body is responding *perfectly*. 

Your nervous system is so smart. 

You’re biologically wired to feel afraid.

Your body is prepping for threat that is not yet here.

What can you do to feel more settled in this moment?

1) Self-Touch

2) Self-Talk

3) Reach Out for Connection

4) Remember Impermanence

✨Self-Touch✨

Massage your body, even if it’s *just* squeezing your own arms. Take a shower with cool water. Ask a loved one to lay on top of you or use a weighted blanket. Sitting up with your feet on the floor, ask a friend to slowly press down on the top of your feet (it works!). Take a moment to smell something lovely. Connecting to our senses is one of the quickest ways to get “unstuck” when overwhelmed.

✨Self-Talk✨

Speak aloud what you most need to hear. Pretend you’re a loving parent and speak to your younger self: “Thank you, body, for reminding me that this is a scary moment. I am safe right now. I am resilient and prepared to act, if necessary. Until then, I am completely safe — even if it doesn’t feel like it.”

✨Reach Out for Connection✨

I appreciate every picture of an orange sky on FB right now. I see it as a bid for connection. You are not alone. Write to a family member or friend who lives in another area. Ask them to send you a photo of a beautiful blue sky. Call someone who delights you! Friends are our lifelines and can help us co-regulate. It’s likely your call will make their day too. 

✨Remember Impermanence✨

Our sweet brains need help remembering there is a different (better) future ahead. In times of strife, the body’s job is to keep us alive at all costs. Chemicals flood the body to “help”, but you may find yourself frozen — or desperate to flee or fight. 

Remind yourself that this WILL end. 

This WILL shift. 

Blue skies WILL come again. 

And finally, please remember that none of this anxiety mismatch is your fault. Nervous system regulation and resiliency was not taught in school.  Self-regulation and somatic awareness are the most important skills you can gift yourselves and your children. You’re worth it. 

Thank you, Lisa for helping me understand that feeling overwhelmed right now is perfectly all right.