Wandering, waiting and wondering.

Through the woods, I go. I lean against my two favorite trees. I look out over the water. I count the baby geese. I stare at the sky. My feet move and my mind wanders. 

During these last three months, my wandering helped me, soothed me and befriended me. I even have my best friend wandering with me. And we are not alone in these woods. There are so many joggers and bikers and hikers and dog walkers that sometimes it feels like rush hour. 

But the best sounds we hear are the giggles and shouts and running feet. Children not allowed in school or the park playground have found a new place to play. I remember my summers in the woods near my childhood home and smile with delight. One playground is closed but they have discovered another much bigger and more creative one. And it’s a joyous sound. 

Waiting. 

As a self-employed artist, I still work in my studio and at my wheel five days a week. I wedge and roll and paint and glaze. This was a ‘glazing’ week. It’s not my favorite part of the process but it’s necessary.

After sanding, wiping and waxing, each piece needs to sit overnight before glazing begins. The next morning, I need to rearrange my entire studio. I clear table tops, put tools away and take out others, lay newspapers on shelves, towels on the floor and open the windows. 

I stir and dip and wipe and repeat. Then I wait. After a day or two, I load the kiln and start the firing process. Then I wait some more. Hopefully, when I open the kiln everything inside will be bright and shiny and ready to use. 

Wondering. 

All this wandering and waiting has me wondering. When will this all end? When it does what will life look like? Will people stop looking at each with such fear? Will I hear people laugh out loud, reach out to lend a hand and a hug? Will my grandchildren think that it’s normal to wear a surgical mask everywhere?

But most important, once we are all back to our lives and going through the motions of living in a world of endless routines, will we remember how to wander? Will we forget how long we had to wait? And will those children forget the joy and the magic of their own playground in the  woods? 

Healthy Acts

My word of the year, act is shedding light on many areas in my life and the world around me. I usually expect my yearly word to be an inspiration or thought or idea to give me a nudge of encouragement every day. This year, it’s been acting a bit different. 

Act is less head and more body. Less thought and more do. It’s showing me many of the things I do everyday for my own health. I’m not talking about dieting. I think there’s too much talk about that, usually negative. Instead I want to act for my body, mind, and soul in as many healthy ways as I can. 

Yoga.  

When my kids were babies, I needed something I could do for me, in my own home, in whatever small amount of free minutes I might have from day to day. One early morning I turned on PBS and there was a woman doing some kind of exercise by herself on the floor. She spoke quietly as she bent and turned and twisted. 

I was instantly intrigued. I’d never seen anything like it. But it looked so easy, so I decided to try a few of the moves. Thankfully I was wearing leggings and a t shirt, my uniform of the time, which made it a little easier. What I found out quickly is what looked easy and felt good was quite a work out. 

I was hooked. I did that short routine as often as I could, it was my little lifesaver. I still do a series of moves every morning before I walk and I’ve taken classes once a week for almost 15 years. 

Walking the dog. 

I’ve always loved the woods. There’s just something about walking that soothes and calms me. So almost everyday, sometimes twice, I’m out there walking to the park, around the lake and through the woods. 

I used to push strollers and trikes along the paths, but now I get to take my newest darling dog, Darby. We walk along greeting our favorite 2 and 4 legged friends. He sniffs while I watch the geese nesting and look for otters, eagles and blue herons. He’s even patient while I lean against my favorite cedar tree, maybe because he knows he’ll get a treat if he’s good(which he always is). 

Good. Feeling good. I was always taught that good people had to suffer to be good. But I know now, that is totally wrong. Doing things not just because they’re good for me but because they feel good for me is good. 

It’s the healthy way to act. 

“Loosen your grip.”

That’s the message I got this week while leaning on my favorite cedar tree in the woods. As I stood there breathing deeply in and out, I realized I was curling my toes in my shoes. And there was absolutely no reason or need to be gripping the inside of my shoes. As always, Mother Cedar’s words were right on.

I uncurled my toes. Took a few more big deep breaths letting my jaw loosen, my eyes relax and my shoulders lower as I felt the warm energy of the earth flow through me. 

It’s been a tense and busy several months. I didn’t realize I was still carrying it all around. 

New Sculptures: Goddess of the Heart(top left), Goddess of the Trees(bottom left), Bluebird’s House

A show opening. 

My first featured show in years opened last Friday. It was a lovely evening surrounded by family, friends, gallery guests and supportive fellow artists. My talk to the group about my art went well and there were lots of interesting questions about the process of bringing these pieces to life. 

Labor of Art Show 2009, Mixed Media Story boxes

I’ve had a quite a few show openings in my 20 years as a working artist. And I want to point out my term - working artist - because this has been my focus, my job, my life. It is not a ‘hobby’. It is work. It is work I love, yes. Yet it was not easy and it took several decades of study, classes, assignments, practice, hours in the studio to get where I am today. 

And I’m not done. I’m still learning with every piece I throw or sculpt or build. There’s success with shows and sales as well as failures. No matter what, I keep seeing and making and putting it out there with love. Even this week, as I painted and loaded up the kiln I tried to remember to flow rather than push. 

“Prologue” 2019 

A mortality reminder. 

I am a melanoma survivor. When I was pregnant with my son, a mole on my leg that I’d had all my life was diagnosed as melanoma. I was terrified but luckily it was caught very early. It was removed with good margins with local anesthesia so as not to hurt the baby. I was 6 months pregnant at the time. 

I went in yearly for an overall skin check for a decade but as time went on and nothing went wrong, I let it go. I made appointments every 3 years instead. It was always fine. 

But three days before my gallery show, I had my first biopsy in 30 years. A suspicious area had appeared. I left with a few stitches and a lot of fear. Luckily for me, a few days later the call came to tell me it was not cancer this time. I was safe.

Into the woods. 

It was time. For me, one of the best ways to feed my soul and refresh my spirit is to head into the woods. I’m blessed there is a beautiful park near my home with a lake, big cedar grove and stands of birch. There are herons, geese, fish, ducks, otters and beavers.

That’s where I’ve been this week too. Wandering, leaning and hearing the wisdom that life is precious every day. That whether you succeed or fail or live or die, isn’t a matter of holding on but loosening up and letting it flow. 

A Walk in the Wild Woods.

I wasn't working in the studio this week.  I was enjoying the life that lives outside it.  Now, there's a workaholic side of me that is very uncomfortable with taking time off.  The judge in my head bangs the gavel of shame and guilt sentencing me to do more time and work harder to make up for it.

I know the truth.  Playing inspires creativity. 

So, I took a walk on the Wildwood trail.  This beautiful 30 mile trail through Forest Park in the middle of Portland, Oregon, is home to 112 birds and 62 mammals.  The canopy is massive with trees reaching upwards like natural skyscrapers.  The only mammals I met had two feet and wore shorts and walking shoes.  But on a sunny day, the trail was shaded and cool and such a relief from the hot summer weather.

I only hiked a small portion of the trail.  I heard birds echoing above me.  I saw giant branches sway in the breeze.  I tilted my head upwards to see the sun beam in and around the fir boughs.  I stopped and admired the magic of birth as an old dead tree stump supported the 2-3 newly sprouting fir trees. 

Clearing the trail, cleared my mind.

Gone were the judges and critics and gossips.  My mind was blissfully rested and refreshed and empty of all the dramas of life.  I'd like to proudly claim that great new ideas were sprouted and new projects will begin.  But, I can't lie.

I walked and walked and walked in the wild woods. That's all.  And for now, that's more than enough.