2026 Word of the Year: Relief

I’ll be the first to admit, this new word of the year seems odd. Especially considering the times we are living in right now. Or rather the time we are enduring right now. 

It’s chaotic. 

It’s awful. 

It’s scary. 

It’s the exact opposite of relief. 

The opposite of the word relief is: distress, extreme anxiety, sorrow, or pain.

Yeah. I know I feel it. We all do. 

So why in the world did the universe send me the word: relief?

I do not know. All I know is it’s there blinking at me: Relief. Relief. Relief. 

Now it’s up to me to figure it out. My best guess, like maybe all of us, I want and need relief from all of this crazy. But it feels deeper, like a touchstone, a power or maybe a place to land.

Rest and relief. 

The last few years have been filled with doctor visits, antibiotics and pain. What was diagnosed as a bladder issue was, in fact, a colon issue. This required major surgery and, also, major recovery. I’m not good at resting, but I had to do it anyway. 

The challenge was to find ways to create as I recovered. I couldn’t throw on the wheel but I could draw and paint and crochet. So that’s what I did and it helped me heal and thrive. I took a free online drawing/painting session and had fun with crayons and watercolor and ink. When we were showing what we did at the end of class, one person said my painting felt to her like relief.

Real relief. 

On my way through recovery, I found my way back to where I started. Years ago, I made clay, metal and screening masks and showed them in galleries around town. I loved mask making and even taught classes for children and adults in schools and at a local art museum. 

One day in my studio, I realized while I couldn’t throw clay, I could roll it out into a slab. I made a small face and set it aside. More faces appeared and grew into flowers. 

It took me a while to figure it out but I finally got it. I was creating clay reliefs. My need to rest and recover had led me back to what I’ve always loved. Faces and Masks. 

And my new word of the year: Relief. 

My hope is that this year, in this country, we will all recover from this chaos. 

And that would be a real relief. 

Rise Above It All

What can you do or I do to lift up ourselves right now?

Rise above it all?

Stay strong and healthy and true?

Health and surgery and recovery are not easy. And they take time. The biggest recovery, I’m discovering is trauma/emotional recovery. I didn’t sign up for any of this, none of us do. It happens. It’s shocking to the core. At first, it takes all you’ve got to get up and deal with the pain.

But, I got up. Walked. Climbed the stairs. My body got stronger. Now, I can do yoga. Lift weights. Carry my 2 year old grandchild. I went back to ‘normal’ life. Or so I thought. But somewhere, in there, is a small scared voice. Will it happen again? Am I really fixed?

The answer: Yes, I am fixed. My body is ‘very healthy’ now according to my PCP. 

Another question: Why then, am I feeling anxious and sad?

Another answer: Because, I’m told, after physical healing comes emotional healing. 

It’s a process. Like life, it’s not always easy. What helps?

One word, one line, one thought at a time.

Art and writing have gotten me through many difficult times: surgery, family abuse and deaths, pandemic fears, job losses and now crazy politics. I journal often because getting my thoughts out on the page helps me release the bad and see the good in my life. 

You don’t have to be a professional writer, like I was at one time, you just have to be honest. Take a pen, some paper and let it all go. Sometimes I use a picture or word to get started. Or you can look out the window, see what catches your eye. Better yet, light a candle, get quiet and listen. Then write it down. No one has to see it or read it but you. You don’t have to keep it either.  

Time for me to show and tell.  

This weekend, I’ll be showing my Lily Vases at “Ceramics Showcase” in the Gallery. Making my Lily vases lifts me up. The feel of the cool clay. Rolling out shapes. Pressing fabric, old earrings, hardware bits into the clay takes focus.

I don’t know why I like making my Lily Vases so much. And I don’t have to know. All I have to do is feel the cool clay and let it help me rise above it all.  

A world where different textures meet

A place where all colors work together 

And individual pieces join

And rise and form a beautiful whole. 

Branching Out

 

All around me are signs of new life. The branches on my Camellia are filling with bright red flowers. There are new buds on my hydrangeas. And walking with my grandson, he pointed out daffodils, hyacinth and crocus blooms around the neighborhood. 

Inside, my Lily vases are filled with pussy willows and pink tulips. I love making my Lily vases but I also love seeing them bloom with all the different colors of the seasons from fall leaves to summer roses. 

Signs of Life. 

Since my major surgery, I’ve had a lot of difficult days. I expected the physical pain but what I didn’t expect was emotional pain. As my body healed, I got stronger and my mind cleared. But the emotions that bubbled to the surface were unexpected and upsetting. What I’ve come to find out, thanks to helpful friends who have gone through difficult surgeries, is that this is another phase of healing. 

As one new friend put it, “I just kept saying to myself, I’m alive. I didn’t die.”

So now, when the trauma hits me, I tell myself, “I’m alive.” And I look around me for other signs of life. Little leaves on my rose bushes and buds on the hydrangeas and daffodils. 

My clay is growing too. 

In the last few weeks, new growth is happening in my studio. Sparked by an idea I saw on Substack about growth patterns, I got out my clay. The words, branching out kept coming back to me. As I wedged and slapped and rolled the clay, I just let my hands lead me to form a circle. 

I pressed my favorite textures in and around it. Rolled out some coils and added them to the circle. Some fit and some didn’t but I know that’s ok, it’s all part of the process. The first one didn’t turn out exactly how I thought it would. But, again, that’s ok. 

The second one, I thought I had more of a plan based on a picture I saw. But again, my fingers lead the way and another circle appeared with what looked to me like flowers and limbs but then morphed into something like a Celtic knot motif. 

Another day, I looked around me studio and saw a watercolor painting of flowers I did whenI couldn’t do clay because I was recovering from surgery. I wondered. What would it look like in clay? Could I even do it? And why would I? Well, again, my hands got busy and something new did emerge from the clay. 

I guess my hands knew what my head didn’t, yet. 

I’m not dead. 

I’m alive. 

And like everything else around me, I’m branching out. 

Finding Light in the Dark

 

Yesterday was a hard day for me, for many of us. I refused to watch or engage in the travesty and dishonesty embodied in Washington. I worked hard for many years personally and professionally to bring rights to all people regardless of their gender. Those of you who also worked hard, I know you understand. 

I had to do what I needed to thrive through it all: comfort and creativity.  

Comfort. 

I love to bake. It’s not just cooking but a creative act, because I do love experimenting with recipes. It’s also calming and comforting. Mixing the sugar and butter and spices in just the right proportions keeps my mind focused in the moment. And my hands moving helps my body settle.

Pumpkin bread hit the spot. It’s cold outside and the smells of cinnamon and nutmeg are warming and uplifting. It reminds me of my Gram’s home where I always felt safe and loved. She passed on the baking bug to me and I am forever grateful. 

Creativity.

In the last year, my studio has not been a hive of activity as usual. Recovery from major surgery has kept my studio out of my reach for months. While I healed, I found a few creative things I could do, crochet and watercolors to keep my spirits up and my body moving. 

So yesterday, I played with watercolors. Brushing the water onto the paper and watching the flow of colors is always fun. And leaving the studio to let it dry, then adding more color, kept me moving in a good way all day. 

At night, I sat watching a favorite TV show while crocheting another hat and ear warmer headband. I’ve made dozens of hats, scarves, ear warmers and blankets for my whole family. 

And I think they’ve got enough so why make more? It helps to keep my hands moving and my mind occupied with the calming motion of crochet.  

I know I can’t change the situation in Washington in the next four years. So I’m trying to do what I can to help myself and my family. What are you doing to help yourself feel better? And btw, anyone need a hat?

2025 Word of the Year: Thrive.

 

It’s taken me a while to find my way to this year’s word. It wasn’t easy but then last year and this year have not been easy. Even as I wanted to move, like last year’s word, I was stopped at almost every turn. Stopped by pain and confusion and fear and, finally, major surgery. I’m very grateful, I finally got the help I needed.

Am I angry it took so long to get help? Yes. Our healthcare system here is sick and broken and needs major surgery too. And, so this new year, I hope for a healthier healthcare system for all of us. 

It’s time for me to thrive. 

Recovering from major surgery is not easy. It takes a lot of patience, which is not my strong suit. My instructions were: no lifting, no pushing, no pulling, no yoga. I could walk. Slowly. One day at a time, I walked a little further. Finally, I got to the park and around the lake and back home with my husband and sweet Darby by my side. 

The more I listened to my body and gave it what it craved: good food, tea, rest and walks. The more it rewarded me with more energy and less pain. There’s a lesson for me here. Maybe for you, too?

Thriving instead of Striving. 

It’s in our culture, these deep seated beliefs. Work harder. Go faster. More is better. But what if it isn’t? What if, less is really more? What if, slowing down get us where we need to go? What if working softly with intention brings more life to our lives?

Maybe to really thrive, instead of listening to my head or my culture, I need to listen to my gut. Slow down. See the heron on the branch.  Listen to the rain hitting the roof. Snuggle by the fire reading a book. Paint watercolors with my granddaughter. Cuddle with my grand baby and watch a silly movie. Play with paint and clay and crochet. 

 What if, relaxing into our days moment by moment, rather than striving, is the way to truly Thrive. 

If you want to know more about the healthcare situation, here’s a link https://open.substack.com/pub/miketurner921/p/health-care-is-broken?r=2j4566&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true