At Seventeen
I was rummaging through my old portfolio case to find some things I wanted to add to a new sketchbook blog I am designing. Thanks to the creative muses on blogland I have fallen in love with pencils and sketchbooks again. For the past twenty five years I have dedicated my art to painting, illustrating and crafting. My sketchbooks and pencils are only used for planning new paintings. After seeing so many sketching artists on the Internet I have been inspired to begin again. I enjoy using my computer with graphics and now the world of blogging has opened up a new dimension in creativity and networking with other artists.
As I looked through some of my original work I thought about how at seventeen I had such insight without any fear. Somewhere along the line I left me, got married, got divorced, had a career in Manhattan, moved to Princeton, got married, had two daughters, moved to Hong Kong, then to Canada, back to Princeton and now arrived in New England. Somewhere along the line I got back to being the person I was at seventeen. Unfortunately, with alot more wrinkles but in my spirit I feel like seventeen. Inside I still have all those dreams about what I would like to do, but perhaps with a greater sense of confidence.
Some of the sketches look like they would be totally in style right now. Back then I wanted to be a Fashion illustrator and I have many fashion sketches that look like I just designed them for young Hollywood. The styles are so similar. Perhaps my sketches have waited for me, reminding me that at seventeen I had nothing but dreams, without fear I believed anything was possible. The years made me less brave for a while and now in my fifties I feel alive with the feeling that anything is possible again and I have lost the self-consciousness of my youth. This song was popular when I was seventeen, but somehow it fits me better now, I do slow down to embrace life.
I love being an artist and recording not only words in journals but sketches that seem to memorize moods, feelings and mark the chapters of my life. Perhaps that is why the creative muses who live in blogland have reunited me with my old love. Sketching as an art is so exciting. I really love being in my fifties, this chapter is quite remarkable...you have the gift of wisdom from your life experience, but feel the joy that you held when you were seventeen. This song by Simon and Garfunkel was one of my favorites when I was seventeen...but today I can really be what the lyrics of the song sing about and I'm still feel'n groovy after all these years!
"Slow down, you move too fast, you've got to make the morning last
Just kickin' down the cobble-stones, lookin' for fun and feelin' groovy
Feeling groovy
Hello lamp-post, what's cha knowing, I've come to watch your flowers growin'
Ain't cha got no rhymes for me, do-it-do-do, feelin' groovy
Feeling groovy
I've got no deeds to do, no promises to keep
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep
Let the morning time drop all its petals on me
Life I love you, all is groovy"
The song for this post is sung by Simon and Garfunkel The 59th Street Bridge Song
Restful Understanding
I stood at the sink and emptied the vase of old water for my Gladiolus. Bright yellow flowers at the middle of the stem and buds with promises to bloom were placed in the sink. I carefully removed the old dead blossoms from the bottom of the stems and gave each stalk a new cut. I filled up the vase with fresh water and arranged the freshly cleaned stems in the vase.
As I cleaned up the old flowers and stems and discarded them, I thought how similar old hurts are to those dead flowers. In order to feel joy in life, we need to be constantly forgiving and letting go of the thoughts of old hurts. Our wounds need to heal, but if we harbor any hurtful feelings, anger or angst towards others, our heart becomes hardened. That in itself keeps us from enjoying each day and certainly from being healthy in the moment.
If I had left the old flowers on each stem, perhaps the new buds would never bloom. The bouquet certainly would not have looked as healthy and vibrant as the flowers in the vase did at that moment. I cried as I saw the meaning in the exercise of arranging these lovely flowers. The Lord is doing that same thing in my life right now. Reminding me that I have not forgiven someone in my spirit, and in doing so the Lord was bringing to mind memories I would rather not remember. As each thought comes to mind and I ask God’s grace to forgive, I am given the peace that shows me why the circumstance happened and how that resentment eats away at my joy.
Sometimes life feels like that, old hurts keep me from going forward in a healthy way into a new chapter that awaits me. As soon as I walk through the memory of the pain, forgive and let go, the reward of a new door is opened for me. It is difficult to walk through the pain of some leftover hurt. I really dislike that part of healing.
I felt so much anger this week that I had allowed others to hurt me over the years and I had kept my peace. Now I see that I truly had not forgiven the offence. I merely had kept silent and buried the hurt in a spirit of resentment, which I buried deep within an unhealthy heart. If I still feel resentment after all this time, than I have not forgiven them at all. Perhaps in keeping quiet the person that hurt me thinks they are forgiven, but does not know that I have unforgiveness, but I do. I learned that telling someone how they hurt you doesn’t always fix anything. Telling the Lord always fixes not only the situation, but adds another dimension to my understanding and wisdom.
Funny but the anger that I was allowed to feel again, gave me the compassion that I needed to feel how that person feels who cannot get rid of the anger. God allowed me to walk around feeling angry for days now, even though I prayed for him to remove it. This exercise allowed me to feel compassion for those who don’t know how to ask for God’s grace, and have to spend their lifetime angry. I understand now that it is by God’s grace only that I usually am slow to anger and can easily forgive. I can see that by not forgiving someone hurting me, I receive that same greed, selfishness, anger or sin that they do not have God’s grace to repair. Forgiveness is an act, a choice, but sometimes we need a little help in knowing just what God’s Word teaches us. We just need a dose of what His perspective is on the circumstance.
“For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope” Jeremiah 29:11
The vase of Gladiolus in a bright blue vase seemed to smile. They comforted my soul as I trusted that the Lord was allowing this trial to heal me of old hurts. I read in my favorite devotional Hearing God, by Lory Basham Jones this morning. In it she writes what the Lord spoke to her during a healing:
“I will continue until I have healed all your wounds and restore everything the canker worms have eaten. For I know the thoughts I think toward you. My child, thoughts of peace and restful understanding.” (Read Psalm 107:7)
A funny thing about "restful understanding" you don't know why you finally understand something that was picking at your soul. It only comes by God's Grace, and it puts what was wrong right in your mind and spirit. It is the "restful understanding" that soothes my spirit. In understanding and accepting instead of trying to reason why, I find the path back to spiritual health.
The song for this post is Smith With Me
Motherhood Lessons in Loving and Letting Go
I stood watching my daughter Sarah go through security at the airport. I waited until I could no longer see her as she made her way to the boarding gate. When she finally disappeared from view, I telephoned her to tell her to have a safe trip and how proud I was of her. As I walked away I headed for a place where I could see her plane take off.
Motherhood is a never-ending lesson in letting go. Today was the first time Sarah flew alone, she was off to visit a college friend. I found a comfortable spot on the highest level of the airport and waited for her plane to taxi to the runway for take off. At the airport there are sounds of nature welcoming guests to our environment of parks and lakes. The nature sounds were mostly sounds of birds chirping. The sounds brought me back to another chapter. As I looked out the window I remembered Sarah at just four years old at the bird aviary in Hong Kong Park. Floods of memories came to mind of other chapters strong in lessons of letting go. I cried as the emotions welled up and got the better of me, as I got lost in dreaming about her as a little girl.
When Sarah was two months old we visited the Pediatrician for a “baby well visit” when she had her first in a series of child-hood vaccinations. As the doctor gave her the shot, I remember I cried instinctively. I went home and telephoned my mother and apologized to her for thinking that when she cried all those times I had thought that she was weak. I knew on that very day that my mother cried because she was in love. I had never experienced the invisible umbillical cord before but after that I experienced it’s bonding connection forever.
I thought about Sarah’s first day of nursery school. The day I waved goodbye as she got on the school bus to the Hong Kong International School in Hong Kong. The first sleep-over at a friend’s house, and her first school trip. Watching her take riding lessons all those years, praying that she wouldn't fall off the horse. So much letting go. I believe the biggest challenge for me was when we went to look at colleges. Watching her walk away like today. Happy for her independence, yet longing for the days when she was just four years old in Hong Kong Park admiring all the birds in the aviary.
I watched her plane taxi to the runway and then take off. It was an overcast day, and I watched as she climbed higher and higher until the clouds embraced the plane. Visions of Sarah in the playground on the swings and her plea to me, ”Mommy push me higher, I want to go higher.” I thought about me all those years ago apprehensive as she climbed the steps to go down the slide. Did I ever think that I would be strong enough to let go as she flew away all alone for the first time?
I thought about the many photographs of the back of Sarah as she left me, one step at a time. It seems that as she stepped forward into a new adventure, I stepped back to let her grow. I was learning too, all the while as she became a young woman I grew up as well. She didn’t see the tears today, or know that when I stand encouraging her to enter new adventures, that I secretly wish she wasn’t leaving. That when I say “you can do it, you’ll be fine,” I am really dying inside and hoping that she will be okay.
I love the painting I did of her in the gardens of Hong Kong while she looked for frogs with her little sister. In those days I sat and watched as they scampered about with each other and friends. With a paint brush in one hand and a journal in the other, I recorded as much as I could. Memorizing each moment of each day. Cherishing motherhood and knowing that these chapters are more important than anything that I have ever done.
I thought about Sarah learning to drive and the first time she left to get into her own car and drive away. The photograph of her looking out at the ocean when we went to look at colleges brings back thoughts of how difficult it was to say goodbye. When I was watching Sarah as she negotiated the complicated task of flying today, I knew that it was another important milestone. All that I could see was the back of her as she went through security and fussed with plastic bags of wet things, laptop computers set aside just so, and placing her carry-on luggage on the conveyor belt. All that I could see was her blonde ponytail, that looked just like the one that she wore climbing the steps to that slide back when. Just like so many times before I stood by her while she learned to do something by herself. I thought that today is noteworthy, words in a journal, memories that are milestones for her and for me.
I suppose the next milestone of letting go will be when I watch her walk across the stage to get her college diploma, and when she leaves to live in her own place. The day she walks down the aisle when she marries will be another memory milestone. Motherhood, the most joyous adventure of my life. Lessons of loving, and lessons of letting go. Someday Sarah will telephone me from the Pediatrician’s office and say “Oh mommy now I understand you weren’t being weak all those times I saw you cry, you were just in love."
The music for this post is My Daughter
Dancing with Creativity
Can’t you just see Fred and Ginger dancing on that huge dance floor? Ginger in that long flowing gown that showed glimpses of her gorgeous dancing shoes when Fred would lift her in a twirl. Oh is there anything as wonderful as one of those old Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movies? Last night to take my mind off things I watched this wonderful old movie. I was taken back into a time when I watched these two dance
It made me want to rent every movie I could find with those wonderful souls. It made me think about how we dance with our surroundings when we create. Whether we are like Fred and his dance, or painting, sketching, designing, crafting, singing, playing music, sewing, photographing or writing, we are in fact memorizing the magic around us. Perhaps as creatives we can go deep within to a place where creation begins. Jean Cocteau says "Art is not a pastime, but a priesthood." It is our purpose in this world to create, isn't that grand?
I have a little journal where I have written words from artists for inspiration. Walking In This World by Julia Cameron made me understand that we are wired differently. She writes "As artists, we are more like inventors than we are like those who mass produce the inventions." Perhaps I will never dance like Ginger, although I have met some Fred's in my life who escorted me around the dance floor making me look like I knew what I was doing. However, I love to create and I find the dance with my surroundings just as magical.
I have found a world of other creators on bloggerland and on flickr. These kindred spirits who write wonderful blogs, take wonderful photographs, and create their magical places remind me that we do not dance alone. Even though we need so much time alone to accomplish what we do, we can feel reassured that just like Ginger and Fred dancing up that glorious staircase that seemed to be in every movie...we too dance with the creative muse that leads us on our adventure.
The song to this post is Puttin On The Ritz sung by Mr. Fred Astaire.
SWAN "MEET CUTE"
My latest favorite saying "Meet Cute", heard in my latest favorite romantic comedy called The Holiday.
IT NEVER RAINS BUT IT POURS
“It never rains, but it pours”....This week has been one of those weeks. The bank deducted $1500.00 from my account instead of $15.00. Checks are bouncing, charges are being issued and the bank associate keeps telling me that it takes time to fix. My daughter’s school issued a letter saying that she will not receive credit for her second semester because she is over the seven allowed absences for the semester. Doctor’s notes which had been submitted each time she had been sick, I suppose have been eaten by the dog...do High Schools have dogs? My husband and I have to have so much dental work done that we could have two new cars in the driveway equalling the cost. Today I found out that in addition to the two extractions, six root canals, and gum scraping, I will need to have gum surgery. Yikes...
Sooooooooooo, it may sound crazy but when things are going wrong I go and find beauty. I gave myself a few minutes in the car to take a deep breath, assess the financial implications of what I was just told in there. I shed a few tears to relieve the wind being knocked out of me. I soothed the red eyes with a few eye drops, took a sip from my old coffee, and decided to add some fun to an otherwise bleak day.
I know this may sound a bit trite, but when I get bad news of any kind I either create something, paint something, or find beauty to photograph. Basically I just try to change my mind. Beautiful images, places and thoughts change my mind. As I left the dentist office which is in the nicest part of Boston, I drove down Beacon Street. As I approached the rotary I couldn’t help but notice how that part of Boston resembled Central Park in New York. Beautiful buildings, exquisite shops, fancy hotels with colorful but refined awnings galore. In the center of all this glory is the Boston Public Gardens. I have never been there before, so I thought if I find a parking spot I will go. Low and behold I spotted a car pulling out of a spot. I parked, paid the meter and grabbed my camera.
One step into the park gate and my thoughts drifted from upset and dread to awe. There were the swan boats sailing amongst real swans, ducks and against a backdrop of huge weeping willow trees, green, green grass and park activities. Mothers were walking babies in strollers, people were picnicking on blankets, couples snuggled on benches, kids ran and chased the squirrels. Business men and women in suits enjoyed a take away lunch on benches. Ice cream trucks were parked at the entrances, and the gardeners were tending to the beautiful landscape. An artist stood with his easel and paints capturing the beauty. I was taken with the lovely duck boats sailing on the small lake giving tourists rides. The real swans were beautiful against this magnificent backdrop. One mother swan sat perched on her nest, as the father sat nearby. I leaned over the lake to capture two swans facing each other in a perfect heart. I was so excited, that I blurted out “Oh, a photographers’ dream shot”, meanwhile several real photographs nearby just glanced at me as if I might be one of those eccentric old ladies that sleep in the park. I didn’t care I was surrounded by flickr fantasy land. I couldn’t wait to blog this lovely adventure.
I walked with my camera, capturing each snippet of beauty around me. After taking a few photographs, I realized that my camera battery was running low. Now this was just not acceptable to me, so I looked around to which shop beyond the gates might sell batteries. I spotted a very fancy Hotel and thought that their gift shop would probably sell batteries. I went, they did, and even though the cost of the batteries was the cost of a first born child, I bought them anyway. At least I was able to get some more change for the parking meter. As I exited one of the doors I noticed an awning and sign to the New England Watercolor Society. Oh my, let the magic begin, I just had to go in and have a look see, and when I left I was totally inspired.
Entering the gate facing the Hotel I couldn’t help but notice this wonderful ice cream truck. It was quite hot and I ordered a root beer float with vanilla ice cream. I found a bench in the shade and sat with my float, my camera and lots to see. When I got up I headed for the weeping willows backdrop to photograph the swan boats.
I love to have a soundtrack to my script, and fittingly as I walked beneath the foot bridge I heard a familiar sound. I climbed the small staircase only to be greeted by two young men. One played the mandolin and the other the guitar. The songs were a jazzy beebop kind of genre that would have been selected by Woody Allen for one of his romantic comedies I am sure. The typical guitar case was opened for collection and there were stacks of cd’s that they had created for a mere $3.00. I was thrilled not only was God soothing my soul with all this eye candy, but supplying me with a soundtrack for my script. I bought one and stood at the peak of the bridge admiring all the beauty as I was serenaded by these two young men. My movie was having a happy ending after all.
As I left the park totally refreshed and distracted from my bad news, I noticed directly across the street from where I was parked was the spot where the hit television series called “Cheers” was filmed. They had the sign and flag boasting the word ‘CHEERS’. I recognized that famous staircase...the one that Sam Malone and Woody watched from the window of the bar so that they could see the comings and goings of customers. Back in the 80’s my beau and I would wait anxiously to learn what Diane and Sam were up to in the upcoming episode. I watched for a minute and thought about how the drama of that show has been long forgotten. Just like the drama of my life today, some day it will be long forgotten.
I guess the secret in life to facing those days often described...“it never rains but it pours” is that this too shall pass. Why not change your mind and think and dwell on the good stuff. So, instead of going home from the dentist and getting into bed and pulling the blanket over my head. I took in the opportunity that was set before me. The beautiful day totally soothed my soul and introduced me to some magic that I might have missed. Even though my mascara was a little smudged from an earlier set of tears reacting to a week full of angst...the smile on my face made up for it. I drove home listening to my jazzy beebop soundtrack to keep my mind steady, dwelling on the beautiful sights and sounds I had memorized for my trip home. I thought I might share this story, so that this bit of adversity is not wasted...just in case you have one of those days that Judy Garland sings about. “It never rains but it pours.”
The song for this post is It never rains but it pours sung by none other than Judy Garland
Surrender
Last night as I was about to go to sleep, I had a heavy heart. This morning when I awoke a gentle whisper reminded me that I must surrender things that trouble me, because I cannot control other’s decisions. I cannot stand in front of the people I love and keep them safe from traveling down a wrong path. I was reminded that the Lord came to set us free, it is written in
Matthew 11:29-30 “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me. For I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your souls for my yoke is easy and my burden is light”.
I started thinking that I must live as if I did not have a care in the world...my cares need to be lifted up in surrender. I was reminded of a prayer about surrender. This prayer has been translated into many different words. The recovery programs use this prayer to help people who are dependent on substance abuse to surrender to a higher being. My favorite translation though was written in the 1700’s by a theologian named FRIEDRICH CHRISTOPH OETINGER (1702-1782)
“God grant me the detachment to accept those things I cannot alter; the courage to alter those things I can alter; and the wisdom to distinguish the one from the other”
I like this one because in our time we believe that we have the ability to change, but alter means something more meaningful to me. The words “the things I cannot alter” suggests to me to accept something that I cannot make a change to.”
I believe the wisdom in this prayer speaks to me of detaching myself enough from circumstance that I can walk through life in Joy. As long as I know what I can or cannot alter, I will accept my lot in life and go on to alter only me. Surrender is a wonderful thing, it is the way God intended us to live.
I read in the book of Psalms
“Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you; He will never let the righteous fall”.
Psalm 55:22
