Don’t you just love those moments of clarity? It was cloudy and rainy this morning when I woke up. But there’s something about morning light that can make things so clear. For me, it often comes in waves, like it did today, but when I got it, I got it. The last week has been swirling with emotions. It’s Sunday, a new week, another new beginning, and the swirling has stopped. Or at least slowed down.
Here’s to sundays and new beginnings.
I had the most wonderful day with one of my best friends in the whole world. She heard my voice yesterday and arranged to meet me for shopping, dinner and a glass of wine. Mostly, I loved our time. It’s nice when someone gets it. and you don’t have to say a word. But then I went back to finish some more printing and returned home, late, again… to find a pretty exciting email. A beautiful night to dream.
It’s after midnight and the day is just now over. Endless printing and figuring and framing, getting ready for the exhibit on Saturday. A wonderful, good solid tired. And I’m already feeling the weight of tomorrow. But the lists are made, the orders placed, ready to hit the ground in second gear. Seems like the hustle and bustle of the holidays at the studio. And then the last image I ran tonight before turning out all the lights… brought me back to my natural pace… thankfully… tomorrow… is already good.
There are days, like today, when you fight to make things better, and you see them just get worse. Exponentially. And it wouldn’t take much to turn it around. A phone call. A smile. An email, saying, I’m sorry. On these days of diminishing returns, I’m so thankful for the people who step up, without even knowing, and restore my hope. I cherish these people. And the older I get, the more I see how priceless these people are. And how they each add something uniquely precious to my life. It doesn’t matter that we’re not perfect. Or that we don’t always get the timing right. These are the ones who are worth it. These are the ones we hold close on our best days. And our worst. And all the days in between.
Sometimes, I think the very best thing someone can give you is the truth. It takes courage. And there’s always a risk. Yesterday, I had someone give me such a gift. It was a business matter, but I’m one of those people that takes my business personally. So, after picking my jaw up off the floor, I settled in and listened. And allowed my thoughts to be guided in a whole new direction. And he left me with this one last thing to remember… Some will. Some won’t. So what. Move on.
And this one is the beginning of a particularly interesting week.
Yesterday, I watched my son’s football game. J, (my son) plays the line. It’s not a glorious position, but he loves the sport. He loves the fight. And yesterday he held his ground against a guy a foot taller, every single play. I was most proud of him late in the game, when the team was tired. He stayed focused. Dug in. Exploded upward. And pushed back.
My kids still teach me things every day. They help make me who I am. And they bring it all together for me and keep it in perspective. So, this week, I will remind myself to stay focused, dig in, explode upward, and push back. Every single play.
There is a freedom I’ve found in letting go. At first it was a little unpleasant to unclench my fists… they’d been holding on so tightly for so long. It felt strange. But my arms unfolded, my hands opened, and I realized how much easier it was to breathe. I’m not even sure what I was holding on to exactly. A few dreams. But I think they’d slipped away when I wasn’t looking. And with arms wide open, I’m free to embrace again. A little less tightly.
and just like a warm breeze, summer swept through and was gone. it was a beautiful day to end on, I suppose.
for more than a year now I have made the same wish. Every time I blew out a candle. every time I plucked a dandelion. I even tossed a penny or two. I’m not sure whether or not it ever came true. Or if it will. what I do know, is that with the new season, the time has come for new wishes.
Things are moving pretty quickly these days. By nature, I’m not a “quick” moving person so I have to step outside myself to keep up. This morning, in the midst of both my phones ringing, exchanging necessary emails, and trying to get myself to work, I had to just stop. Literally. I made a fresh cup of hot tea to soothe my aching throat, and sat far away from the computer and phones to enjoy it. I only was only there for a few minutes… and then back. Ready to go again.
This morning I woke up early with plans to watch the sun rise. But as it came on 6:30 and it was still dark, and rainy, I knew there would be no golden sky. I also knew that summer was quickly coming to an end. This past summer was full of being outside, fresh air, big skies, hot sticky days, nice long evenings on balconies, catching up with old friends, making new ones, lazing about, sleeping in, staying up late, getting up early– just to take afternoon naps, reading, planning, and just enjoying. It was difficult to say goodbye to it. More difficult than it’s been in a long time.
But today… I’m ready. I’m ready to take on a new season. The colors. The smells. The warm skies, and cold breezes. I’m ready for sweaters. And long walks that make my face tingle. I’m ready to close doors on the past and open new ones.
that, “… if the heart has devoted itself to love, there is not a single inch of emptiness.” It must’ve been a Mary Oliver poem since I’ve been reading her a lot lately. It’s a strong reminder. I check myself against it often. And if I am feeling empty, then I know something in my heart is off. I have had a couple of rough days, the kind that can easily result in what we used to call pity-parties… To avoid this, I spent the day with two of my favorite people, making ordinary things extraordinary. Needless to say, tonight there is not a single inch of emptiness.
this was taken on my birthday a couple years ago. as it approaches again soon, I have to look back over the past year. so many changes. a year of learning. I learned the meaning of endurance and perseverance. about hope and how important it is. I learned about what love is. and what it isn’t. about holding on and letting go. I had some rough days and nights. and some that were all about breathing. but those are things about me. I also discovered things about the people in my life. there are those who weathered the storms and those who didn’t. and I cherish the expereinces and appreciate each one of them. regardless. it’s all life. perhaps, the most important thing I learned, is that you can think, “shut up”, but you should be careful about saying it out loud.
and… a perfect cup of tea can make almost anything better.
…with a thousand ideas running around my head like a playground. About the show in September. About the one in November, for which I have now been inspired to go shoot new material. And about two new projects. I love when days start like this.
This is what a friend of mine told me once and I will never forget it. Beauty just is, she said. and it was that simple. No meanings. No explanations. No comparisons. it just is. I have a show coming up the end of Sept. (the 27th). I’m thinking that might be it’s title. ?
I start again. every day. sometimes several times a day. I love beginnings. so, here we are. at one.
Hydrangeas are my favorite flowering shrubs. (I know, not a terribly interesting sentence. But they’ve been part of a project I’ve been working on lately, so, it’s really not all that random. To me.) I love how they are beautiful in their very essence from beginning to end. The blossoms start as a fresh light green and my particular plants turn a bold rich pink. And then the really fascinating transition begins. As the color fades, the true character of the flower shines through. Each tiny little petal on each individual stem that makes up the rounded flower has specks and lines that you don’t see when they are fully saturated with color. And it doesn’t end there, as another week passes, the color continues to fade, leaving shades of taupe and ivory, still every bit as beautiful. Eventually, the petals start to disintegrate until there are only rims with small delicate lines connecting them, but that’s when you get to see the truest shapes of the blossoms. I don’t pretend to be a writer, so you’re just going to have to trust that they are far more glorious than I have described.