Being Strong in Who I Am as an Artist

I am reading “Painting Brilliant Skies and Water in Pastel” by Liz Haywood-Sullivan. She describes the preliminary steps: cropping, multiple thumbnail sketches, blocking in shapes, figuring out values, and choosing colors, among other comments and tips.

I also researched online (again) articles on types of paper and board for pastel artists. Most prefer surfaces with textures to hold the pastel. I prefer a smooth surface. I do not like the sanded surfaces, either.

Making progress on "Path to the River."

My mind jumped into self-doubt mode. I don’t/can’t work like that! Is this how “real” artists work and if I admit how I work, will those “real” artists look down their noses at me? How can I call myself an artist when I don’t work like that? Maybe … if I was 30 years younger … I could go back to the very basics and start all over again.

Should I force myself to paint on surfaces I don’t like? Do I have to conform? And if I admit how I work, will other artists and art viewers not like me or not see me as a serious artist?

But wait! Haven’t I been working a long time developing my own style of painting? Haven’t I always been proud of myself for not following the norm and discovering my own way of doing things? What makes me think I’m wrong just because I don’t do it like most others? I’m not wrong. I just do it MY way.

My very-good friend, Nan McCarthy, is an amazing photorealist, and her style and technique is totally different than mine. About the only thing we have in common is that we both work with photographs and we like similar subjects. But, she follows all those preliminary steps and spends a lot of time planning her painting even before she picks up her paintbrush. Part of how she works, even after all these years, is to study other artists’ techniques to try better perfect her own style.

Our techniques may be opposite, yet we have the most amazing conversations on art and style. We support each other and have even done shows together.

As for changing how I do things? Part of my painting is about the journey. Each piece offers a unique, challenging adventure (even when doing similar scenes). Every time I think I’ve mastered an aspect, the next painting throws a curve ball. It’s a backwards treasure hunt. Instead of digging through rubble to find the treasure, I build layers to find the gold in the finished painting.

The Joy of Discovery While Knowing I’ve Always Known It

This morning while journaling and writing about the progress made on my paintings yesterday, I realized something important. In one photograph, deciduous and evergreen trees were kind of mixed. I realized the deciduous have a more rounded canopy and the evergreens have pointy tops.

The little girl part of me is dancing with the excitement of discovery. This is so exciting! Why didn’t I notice this before? 

The adult logical mind brushes it off sarcastically with, “Of course, I know that about trees!” And I do know that. After all, I’m a nature-lover and I’ve been painting landscapes for years. So, how do I explain this child-like joy of discovery feeling? 

Work in process; getting the trees right is taking time

Maybe the joy is because, for some reason, the tops of those trees jumped out at me from that photo, when normally in a scene like this, I wouldn’t pay that much attention. Maybe it’s because the universe decided I needed a little child-like joy after intense stress the past few days. Maybe it’s telling me that, in this picture, I need to highlight this area as a bit of focal point. Or maybe this is, literally, an instance where my brain just acknowledged seeing “the forest through the trees.” And maybe it’s my logical mind describing in words what my eyes are seeing.

I often “just” paint the trees, especially the trees that are kind of the background landscape. My mind kind of goes numb, and I just dab away. These areas are often the parts of the painting when I say the painting paints itself. 

And maybe I can just sit back and relish in the excitement of a little-girl feeling of discovery and be happy. 

Breakthrough in Thinking about my Art

My mind is churning around art this morning after another successful Weekly Wednesday Wine-fest (WWW). (Big drinkers we are, she has one glass of wine, and I, two). WWW is an opportunity for two friends and artists to get together to talk about art and life, and the most intriguing aspect of our friendship is that we are totally opposites in our techniques, styles, and processes. Yet we have the most amazing conversations and are very supportive of one other.

I had printed photos I’d taken the past two months from which I plan to do paintings and she brought over her work sketch book of how she works with photos in her painting process. We often talk of composition, values (which I still struggle to fully understand as an artist), colors, etc. We may be opposites in how we work, but what we love to paint is similar in the types of landscapes and such.

After all these years of doing art work, I still always question, always seek to learn and evolve. My journey with art isn’t just about technique and style. My entire soul gets involved. Emotions ramble (or is it rumble? Ha ha.) throughout the process. It’s like I become part of whatever I am working on and it becomes part of me so that I am thinking about it even when I’m not at the easel. It sometimes comes through when I’m meditating, or I’ll wake in the night with a slight memory of dreaming about it.

“I take photos and paint scenes, based on what I like; what catches my attention. If I’m intrigued by the view, I believe others will be, too.” – Sasha Wolfe. 

Work in process ... still lots to do

I paint scenes that intrigue me, often using multiple photographs of a landscape to capture various nuances and angles of the area. My mind is flooded with emotions which is a mish-mash of visual colors, textures, and words. It’s weird because I don’t get clear visions and sometimes there are no words to fully describe what I am feeling/seeing. (This is the first time I’ve been able to put this into words!) It’s only when I stand at the easel with brush or pastel in hand that I start seeing clearly … And at that point, there are times when it feels like something else takes over.

However, it’s not perfect, not constant. There’s always the ups and downs, ins and outs. The emotions ebb and flow. I’m excited by the work, then discouraged feeling I’ve done something wrong. I walk away, then go back. Eventually I reach the point where I have to stop. It has to be finished. The painting tells me it is done, even if I keep finding something to “fix.” I have to let go. It’s time to move on to another painting.

My Way is Finding MY Way

"Fog Receding" ready to go to the framer.

The Muse strikes and it’s hard not to fall into it. I so want to, but I have InterTown work, interviews to do, stories to write, and other ongoing projects along with household chores. These days I’m just feeling overwhelmed between everything I need to do and everything I want to do. I haven’t even updated my accounting in months!

But The Muse has me in her grasp. She comes barreling in for writing projects (poetry or articles), charcoal drawing, or pastel painting. Right now, I’m being driven to talk about my experiences in my work; to share thoughts as I live the life of an artist. 

I have questions in my quest to find my way, and one of my ways of figuring things out is by talking about them. Talking, writing, and getting a little feedback helps me figure out my way. It’s not about having someone tell me what to do or how to do it. Conversation helps me figure things out for myself. (And yes, I love talking art and hearing from others. I love their stories!)

I am certainly not a traditionalist nor do I see myself as radical. It’s all about finding my way in creating. That statement really became clear to me this week as I contemplated finding a class to take. My problem is finding the time and taking the time to actually go to a class. Heck, I even hate to stop working to eat; let alone taking time in preparing and cleaning up a meal.

Then there’s attitude or stubbornness within me in following someone else’s “rules.” That’s because I don’t want to do what everyone else is doing. I don’t want to do it like anyone else or follow any one school. And yet, I do appreciate tips and feedback. Yes, I definitely want to get better.

In sorting through all the thoughts currently running rampant through my brain, this burning desire to talk about what I’m experiencing is in the forefront. I posed the question to some of my artist friends: Should an artist talk about her experiences, the trials and errors, the successes? Should an artist show his vulnerability to the public?

Some believe an artist always has to put on the professional face to potential buyers, that buyers are only interested in what the painting looks like, and don’t want to hear any particulars about the process. Some artists fear any mention of a struggle to complete the painting makes it flawed in the buyer’s eyes. Other artists push to promote being a successful artist to the public by expounding on the shows they’ve done and the sales they’ve made. They believe talking about artistic struggles and real life is only a subject to discuss with other artists.

Do non-artists believe artists are naturally talented or that they’ve studied with “masters” for their entire life? Do they believe that painting flows easily and the artists never struggle? Are they afraid that hearing the artist talk about his life that it will affect how they view his work? Do they believe that artists are in another realm and is something they could never be? (Yes, I’ve often heard, “I could never do that!”) (Personally, I believe everyone can be an artist in one form or another.)

So, what is it like to be an artist? Do we assume it’s the same for everyone? I don’t think so. There may be lots of similarities and we may have similar experiences, but all the other aspects of our lives factor in, too. That gives a uniqueness to all of us. Time, space, money, family, and more all factor in. Do you work a fulltime job to support your art? And what are you (and I) willing to admit about your work?

My art evolves, as it does for all artists, no matter the genre or medium. Some may stick for years in one medium. They are still evolving because they are striving to be the best they can be in their style. Others expand into other realms of art trying different techniques and mediums. 

"Breaking Dawn" ready to go to the framer

I went from oils to acrylics to charcoal. I’d been doing charcoal landscape drawing for years and loved it, but it evolved. I began adding more and more “hints of color” with pastel, and when I moved to Hillsborough, it became all about the color. I switched almost entirely over to pastel. I love color, which made it odd that I enjoyed working in charcoal all those years.

The funny thing, if I am admitting to honesty, is that I never worked with pastel before adding the hints of color to the charcoal. I can’t even remember where I got the first pastels. I thought pastels, being soft like charcoal, would blend like charcoal. They don’t. Nor do they mix well like paint.

Oh, do I have a lot to learn! A good part of the lessoning is: It’s all about the journey. And the journey itself can be as exciting as the finished piece, which, for the most part, has been amazing. I heard an artist on TV last night (a recorded show) and, unfortunately, I can’t recall his name, but in talking about being an artist, he said, “You have to be willing to fail.” He also said something along the line of: Not every failure is something wrong. 

Yes, some need to be thrown out or painted over, but other pieces can be turned into a different work of art which can be beautiful. It’s about changing direction and letting the piece go where it needs to. It’s turning a moment of disappointment into a success by allowing something else to be created.

 I love this work! 

Write the Book for ME!

The flash of inspiration washed through me as I was finishing my morning journaling: Write the book for me!

Wow, this is definitely a wake-up call and the excitement is returning. If I write the book for me, and I don’t care about publishing, I can write exactly the book I want to write! I can write a book full of story, photographs, and history segments. I won’t have to follow someone else’s rules about genres or marketing. The important thing is to get the book written; then figure out where to take it.

I’ve been struggling with getting back to the book. Part of the reason is I’ve been very busy. Another reason is the feeling that no one cares, and I feel the writing I do isn’t just for me, it’s to share. If no one wants to read my writing, why am I bothering? I put a lot of heart and soul into what I do. To do it “just for me,” doesn’t seem enough. (I also have to keep reminding myself “I AM ENOUGH!”)

Why not? Don’t I deserve to tell my stories? Of course, I do. After all, that’s an important, deep-set belief; that we all need to tell and share our stories. Storytelling and sharing forms connection between us all. It shows us we are not alone in the world, that others also experience what we do and feel like we do. Something in your story may help me in dealing with an issue and something I say may help you on your way. It’s a give a take.

Yes, I have said this before, but I stone-walled with my book. Writing and publishing and what I had hoped to accomplish wasn’t happening. I can’t let my experience with the other book stop my creative drive on this and subsequent books. The publishing world has changed a lot. I, too, need to change; change preconceived beliefs and even wants. I cannot deny the creative drive. To do so would be killing a part of my soul. Writing is part who I am, an integral part.

“Write the book for me” has a funny twist because a couple of good friends have told me to do just that, but I had this grander goal in my mind, and haven’t I been studying and practicing manifesting my dreams? However, as happens time and time again, what works for some, doesn’t work for me, and as it turns out so often, I need to figure out how to do things under my terms, in my way, and when I’m ready.

So today, “Write the book for me” finally becomes me – or I become it. And I am darned determined to get it done among the myriad of other projects I have going on. Oh, I do love life! There’s never a dull moment. I am so excited!

Defending Yourself as an Artist – Part 1

(Forgive this long intro; for some reason, I felt the need to include this before I got to the meat and potatoes part.)

I have few memories of art as a child. I remember my mother loved to color with my brother and me. There is a vague recollection of nature coloring books where one page was a color-by-number and the next page was the same picture without numbers. My favorite possession was a box of 64 Crayola Crayons with a built-in sharpener.

My best friend, Gail, and I would make our own paper dolls and design the clothes for them. I remember tracing the form for the clothes to fit the doll and making the tabs to fold over for her to wear. My figures were always plain (in my eyes) and the clothes not very inspiring while Gail’s dolls were beautiful with fashionable clothes (in my eyes). She was two years older than I and played the big sister.

The next thing artsy I remember was a girl in elementary school not allowing me to color in her book because I refused to color the horses white. Sometimes the kids on the playground would make fun of me so bad the teacher would let me stay in for recess. I’d spend the time drawing pictures on the blackboard – usually things of nature such as birds, trees, and flowers. Horses and cats were my favorite animals. Fourth grade and I was drawing the inside of a human body from pictures in an encyclopedia. 

I was still an outcast in high school. I saw the other kids in art class as the better artists. (Looking back now I think it was mostly because I was a loner and I never wanted to do exactly what everyone else was doing – which was kind of the norm at the time.) I didn’t dare say anything. However, I remember one time standing up to the teacher because she only gave me a C on a project that I really liked. Plus, it hurt because I normally got As and Bs in everything. I remember going up to her desk to demand a better grade, but I don’t remember the outcome … I don’t even remember the piece. I only remember feeling humiliated by her tone. I never spoke up again or defended anything I did.

Maybe it was because I didn’t copy others that I was made to feel not good enough. I wish I could remember more. Most of my younger years are a black hole. 

Years passed. I took occasional classes when time and money allowed. The desire for creativity became a driving force, almost a life or death situation. I found a voice through various self-help types of courses and writing, and it was in studying “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron that I finally found the courage to proudly say, “I am an artist.” 

But it was the move to Bradford in 2006, when I took up charcoal landscape drawing that allowed me to devote time to actually be an artist. A friend convinced me to apply to be juried into a local art group and I was accepted in both charcoal landscape drawing and photography. 

It wasn’t just being accepted in a group, but being accepted by other artists. Here there were a variety of different mediums used. Here the artists were not copying each other or doing the same thing, and I loved it. It’s very inspiring to visit other studios and shows. And another thing I discovered was that these artists loved to talk about their work.

I found a common denominator in many stories: Artists have often needed to defend themselves and their art. 

So many aspects come into play and artists are often sensitive, emotional people. There’s that driving force within us that makes us artists, but too many times we face criticism and put downs. Our work is pooh-poohed as a hobby and not considered real work. We’re told to get “real jobs.” Then if we are doing something outside of the norm, that puts even more of a strain on our sensitivities. 

The greater community doesn’t understand art as a driving passion. They don’t see the hours or the emotional ups and downs while creating. We finish our piece only to have critics find fault or we hear time and again how beautiful our work is, but no one makes a purchase.

I know the passion I put into my drawings or even with my photography. I am excited with the finished products and the joy at creating feels like it is oozing out of every pore. That excitement makes me not just show my work, but I want to talk about it; I want others to love it and want to buy it.

So what happens when you’re on an emotional high with a finished piece of art and you don’t get the responses that you would like?

Stay tuned. Nan McCarthy and I have been having wonderful conversations about art. I want to explore this subject further and would welcome any comments and feedback. 

What do you do for art? Are you a traditional artist or do you enjoy exploring and finding your own way?

When have you felt the need to defend your work? 

After reading my story, how has your own story of being an artist gone? Call me or email me.

Attempting to Maintain My Cool

Today it hit me that this coming Thursday is my next dentist’s appointment and I have all I can do to keep from freaking out and calling to cancel. This appointment is the first of four in the series of cleaning. We decided to break it up into the four quadrants because it is so difficult for me.

He says I have a little bone loss in left front and the tooth to the side and the deep cleaning is necessary to prevent any more bone loss and save the rest of my teeth. I can’t even begin to describe how I feel about this. My teeth are so sensitive! I’d almost rather have a toe amputated than have anyone put sharp pointy objects in my mouth.

All my training in various techniques fall by the wayside when it comes to the dentist. I am attempting to talk about it more to, hopefully, exorcise these deep rooted (pun intended) issues so I can get on with it.

But I will get through this!

Saving Myself from the Mental Chaos

Yesterday my energy felt up and so were my spirits. I didn’t get everything done that I could have, but I am satisfied with the day. 

Today I’m dragging. I had a hard time with my morning exercise routine and it didn’t dawn on me until I turned on the computer to check my messages that I realized all the negative messaging regarding President Trump is affecting me and my spirits. This has gone beyond negative and has turned into down-right nastiness.

It isn’t about whether I personally believe in what he is doing or not, and it’s certainly easy to get upset up when reading all the horrible things he’s doing. (But is it only one side of the story, one small piece? I don’t know because I have researched the entire story, so I can’t judge.)  The issue is what all this negativity is doing to America, what it’s doing to people! It’s almost like it’s turning into a witch hunt – that same mentality of the old witch hunts back in the middle ages and later – only it’s directed at one person and what he is doing or what people are afraid he’s going to do. And it doesn’t matter what he says or does at this point, people are so filled with hatred at this guy that they will not accept any good coming from him.

There has always been controversy. There have always been disagreements with policies and beliefs, but never have I seen it so ugly. I find that this hatred and fear only creates greater hatred and fear, and as much as I try to not listen to or read any of the news, it seeps in. And it’s sapping my energy and I don’t like it.

So, what can I do about it to take care of me? And I have to take care of me because the minute I let up, I fall into depression, begin to hate life, the world, and what mankind is turning into. I don’t want to give in to that. I am determined to be positive and love life. I am determined to have faith in human beings! Here are some of the things I am doing to not get caught in the trap:

I can avoid Facebook (and I do as much as possible), but Facebook is my connection to friends and family, and I like to know how people are doing (personally, not their politics). I enjoy the connections when a positive word of support can help each another and where we can celebrate our joys and accomplishments. I love that I can post a question and get answers and suggestions. But, as of today, I am hiding all Facebook messages that are political.

I also avoid commercials and the shouting-at-you hype of how this product is going to save your life, be the best thing for you, and blah, blah, blah. All this constant chatter is just brainwashing you; telling you what is best for you when the bottom line is they just want your money. They don’t even have to tell the truth!

Another thing I do to keep my mental well-being positive is to have affirmation cards all over the place so almost everywhere I look there is some kind of a positive message to read. “Pump up the enthusiasm to be creative,” “Focus on the present joy of creativity,” “I am filled with Spirit and Light,” “Joy and love surround me,” “Center and Ground – Breathe in … Breathe … out,” “Love and Success,” “I am good enough,” and so many more. 

I also try to spend time outside paying attention to the beauty around me. Sometimes it’s in little things seen on the ground; how the ice melts around a leaf, flower stalks sticking out of the snow, how the ice changes in the brook, and, of course, I love the little birds.

I watch clouds, notice little intricacies about trees, rocks, how the land around me curves or is sharp. I talk to the neighbors’ cats and dogs (and the neighbors when I see them). 

And I focus on the love of my work be it editing, a writing project, photography, or a charcoal-pastel drawing. I take time to play Spider Solitaire and play and pat my soft, fluff-ball Pele. If I don’t get everything done on my to-do list for the day, then I am OK with that. I am good enough.

Did You Take the Blue Pill or the Red?

My mind has been on the state of affairs in the U.S. I am distressed over the hatred and violence. I’m trying to understand; trying to see other points of view. Right now, I feel shame for America if this is what we’re dissolving into. Our enemies must be laughing their butts off!

This morning I heard a story about a woman on an airplane who went off her rocker because the guy sitting next to her voted for Trump. When the plane landed, authorities had to take her away. (I heard this, but I don’t know how true it is.) I avoid the media because they are so into getting people hyped up over the littlest of things and it’s hard to know the real truth. Unfortunately, people “buy” into every little story and get upset.

I understand fear. I understand that people may be afraid for the future. But is this mentality of violence the answer? Did the American system work? If so, then be American and give the new president a chance. If you think it didn’t work, does that mean the system needs to change and how can that happen? If you don’t think the elections system is fair, what can you do to help bring about changes?

Will this hatred and violence make people listen? No, it only makes more people afraid. Will the nasty demonstrations and people acting out of their minds make changes? No, it will only make the rioters look like idiots (sorry, no offense, but my personal opinion) and will end up taking away more freedoms with the enacting more laws to “control” the masses.

The riots, demonstrations, and violence only promote more of the same. Where has logic and common sense gone? Where has democracy gone? Human decency? What is our wonderful country turning into?

Again, I’m trying to understand. Some of the nastiness going on is so out of control that it doesn’t make sense at all. The individuals participating – is this who they really are? I bet most of them are really nice people, but to see them with all that anger and hatred – makes me wonder where it’s coming from. Did they take the blue pill or the red pill? 

Part of it feels like a big act. Yes, I heard a rumor that people are being paid to demonstrate and cause riots. I don’t know how true it is, but seeing how people are acting, makes me wonder if there is truth to the rumor. There’s a falsity to it and yet, when people amp up the anger and fear, it continues to escalate and others catch the “anger” bug. I find it hard to believe that people could act so horrible! Is that the kind of person to admire? If you’re one of those hate mongers, is that how you want to be seen?

It’s also the mob mentality and how if one person starts getting upset and “getting on a bandwagon,” others join in. Sometimes they can’t help it. It’s part of the connectedness of being human.

Then, as I mentioned earlier, part of it is the media and what they feed the public. We have to ask what the real truth is. The media feeds us a lot of hype to sell their stories. Sensationalism sells and if they can get the public worked up then it’s good for sales. And, unfortunately, too many people buy into the hype (look what happens when a bad storm is predicted). 

I am also thinking about demonstrations of the ‘60s and ‘70s. I don’t remember it quite this bad. Yes, there were some horrible incidences, but this doesn’t feel the same. Back then, it felt like people were fighting for something -- something great. This just feels like someone is behind the scenes stirring the pot, pulling strings like on a top then letting it spin out of control.

Those who are protesting, does this mean they don’t believe the government works? Do they think it’s impossible to work through their state and county reps and senators? What are they really looking for?

All I’m asking is that people think about what they are doing. There’s nothing wrong with holding onto a belief if it’s to the good and will help others. There’s nothing wrong with standing up for your right. Just don’t buy into a lot of hype and sensationalism if it really isn’t necessary. Violence and destruction is not the answer.

I don’t know where all this is going, but I’m trying to have hope in the future of America. I am an American and I want to be proud to be American! It doesn’t matter if some of my blood is from Irish, Canadian, English, Native American, or whatever descent. I AM AN AMERICAN! I want to be proud of my country! 

Learning to Work in Shorter Intervals

I have been extremely busy and it’s exciting (exciting has been my favorite word of late). My other projects are keeping me away from more free-style writing which is why I haven’t been blogging. It’s all good.

What turned out to be important for this month is the fine-tuning of work schedules; becoming aware of how I need to work. More and more I am learning that it helps to work in shorter time frames. This prevents me from getting frustrated with the project or getting to a point where I want to destroy it and start over. Yes, this means it takes longer to get the project finished, but it allows me to be kinder to myself about the processes, and I find I am happier with what I am doing. Plus, as I often work on multiple projects at time, this allows me to do something on many of them.

Here are some examples of how I work:

When The Muse comes, it isn’t for very long. If I try to force any more, I get frustrated and upset with myself. However, if I walk away for a bit, do something else, then come back, I am more inspired and feel new energy.

The writing muse usually strikes (yes, often it is like a strike) first thing in the morning. She doesn’t stay long and this writing is very inspirational (not so much in a spiritual way, but a life/emotions/lessons way). Words and feeling gush through me and out of me, then suddenly stop. I might get fifteen minutes to an hour.

I get out of the chair to do some physical movement and chores around the house before sitting back down to respond to emails and Facebook messages. Again, no more than an hour and I’m up again moving. This time might find me on the air walker and as I’m doing a workout, I’m studying the drawings on the easels.

Fifteen minutes to half an hour is next spent handling charcoal and pastel. I can’t work very long at one time on a drawing. I have to stand back and walk away – sometimes until my next break from the computer and sometimes a day or a couple days will go by before I feel the urge again.

And so my day goes, in short intervals. I keep a log of what I do so at the end of the day, I can look at my list and see how much I got done. And I feel good about it!

It was hard getting used to this. I wanted to jump into a project and get it done. I’d get frustrated and beat myself up when things didn’t go as planned. I’d get depressed that I wasn’t good enough to call myself a writer, photographer, artist because I’d get angry when the work wasn’t going the way I wanted.

This new attitude has brought renewed energy and joy into all that I’m doing. No, it’s not always perfect, but when I run into a stumbling block, instead of letting the frustration pile up, I just walk away and work on something else. I have been so happy and thankful!

The other day, when I was talking about my new work ethic, someone told me studies have been done where they’ve found people do get more work done and are happier when working in shorter intervals. 

I’m onto something, for sure. Of course it isn’t always possible depending on types of jobs. For instance, when I’m working on weekly deadlines for the newspaper, I can’t be so free with my time. 

2016 – A Year of Growing Positiveness

I entered 2016 with lots of hope after the rollercoaster emotional ride of 2015. The selling of one home and the buying and moving into a new, smaller home left me drained and I wanted 2016 to be the exciting new chapters of a new book in my life.

Renovations in the new house continued with a custom-designed and built kitchen and a choice of unusual colors. I felt a driving need to surround myself with color. However, the work on the house continued to drain most of my energy even when I wasn’t doing the physical work. I didn’t have anything left to put much effort into writing, photography, or drawing. I felt the floundering of 2015 was ongoing. Where was I going in my art career?

But there was also a part of me that understood I had to patient because sometimes “… hope would be hope for the wrong thing.” I felt a change coming. I knew the inspirations and drives would return. 

The photography got a spark when, beginning February 1, a couple of us started a photo-a-day challenge for 100 days. I was unsure if I would keep up with it, but we were having so much fun, we kept going and are still doing it. Making time to take photographs led me into looking at things differently. It also makes me pay attention to the interesting beauty that’s all around me.

Spring came and I caught the gardening spark. Melissa, at Agway, said that plants they have early are OK to plant early, so I filled the back of my car with pansies, violas, English daisies, and Johnny jump-ups. I filled flower boxes and lined the back porch railing. Then as the weather warmed, I cleaned out the front gardens. I wasn’t sure of all the plants there, but I wanted more and subsequent trips to Agway had me filling those gardens and making more garden areas. 

The garage was the next big project and that led to creating more gardens as I strived to “Sasha-fy” my house. I bought lilies from The Lily Lady in Sutton and created a lily garden. The drought almost put an end to the outside garden projects, but a “water angel” offered to fill my rain barrels. She also gave me more lilies and I extended the lily garden. With her help, I continued to water the plants throughout the summer. 

In the meantime, I was reading books by Brene Brown and one by Doreen Virtue. Brown writes a lot about the same issues I like to talk about (and she’s done years of research). I wanted to “change how I think by changing what I think about.” I am highly bothered by commercialism and mistruths, false advertising, and all the depressing news we are bombarded with on a daily basis. Even though I don’t listen to the news or read about it, it still seeps in. And with the ugliest presidential campaigning ever, I had to do something for my own sanity. 

I began to redo the affirmation cards I made years ago using colored index card (still all about color). I post these around the house to provide constant positive messaging. I read some of them daily, often changing them around, and still occasionally making new ones. This has made a huge change in my demeanor.

Late summer had a new farmer’s porch built on the front of the house and the end of August into September had me driving to Wichita, Kansas, for my oldest grandson’s wedding. That turned into quite the 16-day adventure! The funny thing is I whined and complained throughout the whole trip, but once I got home, I realized how amazing it really was and how brave I was. I would do it again in a heartbeat! That realization and the commitment to experience more positiveness in life is transferring to the current book and I’m reliving the adventure as I write the story and edit the photos. 

I was inspired to get a Fitbit to motivate me into exercise. I am not so good at motivating myself and this is getting me up out of the chair and moving. I also joined Coach.me in which I developed a list of daily goals. I am actually doing more every day. I’m back to meditating, doing Tai Chi, I added leg lifts to my exercise routine, and because I have the online check-off list, I push myself to accomplish everything. I also cut back my caffeine intake to one mug a day (I like coffee too much to totally give it up). 

I wanted to share my new found positivity and desire to live a whole-hearted life and I came up with the idea to do these short “Dear Divine Presence” letters which I post daily on Facebook. One, this is my attempt to post positive messages in the face of all the negativity that bombards us on a daily level. Two, this is my way of giving back for all the wonderful things and messages I receive.

So, 2016 had a renewal in photography, writing, and mental well-being, but what about drawing? The desire to draw never went away for the two years I put the charcoal aside. I thought about it all the time, but never found the ambition to go to the easel. I had a number of unfinished drawings taped to various easel boards.

Blam! October slammed me new inspiration. I don’t even know where it came from (maybe from the Divine Presence prayers or just being more open to The Muse or…). I found myself at the drawing board and not only was I back to drawing, but my style has taken on a new persona, and once more, it’s all about color. The charcoal with just a hint of color pastel has turned into background layers of charcoal and lots of bright pastel color. 

Suddenly, after not doing any drawing since … well, I finished one I’d started in 2014 in January 2016, I did two drawings in a couple of weeks and a third by Christmas. The funny thing is, the four scenes are spring, summer, autumn, and winter, in that order. I hadn’t planned that. Now I can’t wait to see what 2017 has in store!

In closing, I would like to add that one of the most positive experiences of this year is the community support I’ve received. I was so hesitant to move to Hillsborough, but the people in this community have been so nice. People have graciously assisted me in whatever help I’ve needed. I am so grateful. 

Plus my very good friend lives across the brook and we get together once a week for Weekly Wednesday Winefest where we might work on a project (she’s been instrumental in helping me downsize and organize) or we just sit with our glass of wine and enjoy the most amazing conversations. 

It seems in today’s society there is less and less community. People don’t have time any more. We are human beings and humans need connection to others. We can’t save the world, but we can do our part to help each other. This is my goal for the coming year. 

Daring Greatly

I recently finished a third book by Brene Brown. This one was called “Daring Greatly.” Brown got the inspiration for the title from part a speech made by Theodore Roosevelt in 1910:

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done better.

“The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face I marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming; 

“but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly…” 

Brown’s years of research and teachings give hope and understanding to our lives as human beings. Her books have come into my life at a time when I’ve been doing a lot of my own soul-searching and self-study. I am often amazed how she’ll make a point exactly along the lines of my own thinking. I feel her words have helped validate who I am and that I can BE proud of who I am (just like years ago when Julia Cameron of “The Artists’ Way” fame gave me permission to be an artist) – not that I really needed anyone’s permission, but it opened the door. 

One of Brown’s biggest teachings is that by talking we find we are not alone. This is a practice that I’ve been working on for a long time. As human beings, we are connected, and we need that connectedness to maintain humanity. I agree with Brown that in sharing our stories, we can help inspire each another. We share ideas and life stories and find connection. I’ve often felt alone in my feelings or a situation, but the moment I mention it, I find others, too, have similar experiences. This is how we belong and belonging is one of the most primordial desires in us.

Anyway, I highly recommend Brown’s books. Look her up on the web and you can even watch TED Talk videos of her. Or, go to amazon.com and purchase her books. You won’t be sorry. She’s done work with women and men in all professions and she’s been a great help to our veterans struggling to return to civilian life.

I didn’t put the title of my writing in quotations because my point here just isn’t about Brown’s book, but in the act of daring greatly. Going back over Roosevelt’s speech, I feel I’ve been in the arena. My face is “marred by dust and sweat and blood.” I’ve stumbled and erred and come up short time and time again. There’s something comforting in knowing that when I fail, I, at least “fail while daring greatly.” 

I finished the reading and felt compelled to make a list of how I dare greatly. This is what I’ve come up with:

I dare greatly when:

• I go on trips alone
• I am the first to speak to others
• I delve into my own feelings to better understand myself
• I say with passion, “This is who I am!”
• I go against the norm (in the past I’ve always felt like there was something wrong with me because I never wanted to do what everyone else was doing, wearing, watching, reading, etc.)
• I choose to be different and like myself for it
• I talk about myself, admit my fears
• I say I don’t know … when I don’t know
• I admit there are things I can’t do anymore 
• I have to ask for help
• I choose to be the authentic me
• I leave the house and have to interact with others (believe it or not, that’s always been a struggle)
• I put my work – writing, photography, drawings – out there for others to see
• I admit my struggles and vulnerability

Think about how you dare greatly. What would be on your list?

How Are You?

This question continues my quest to pay closer attention to those with whom I encounter. I’m not saying this is the same in every situation, but it does seem to be more common than not. I intend to change my attitude and expectations around it. When I ask, I really want to know.

“How are you?” is one greeting that has become so automatic that no one really pays attention to what is being said. And heaven forbid we try to answer with anything but “Good” or “Fine.” Many people will say, “How are you,” but we can tell they don’t really care. It’s just a greeting, something to say. People are too busy with their own selves to fully listen to a response and if we try to say something more, their eyes will glaze over and they’ll start inching away. (This is not the truth in every case, but most). 

Think about it. Think about the tone in the voice asking, “How are you?” Is it meaningful or does it just blurt out as an automatic greeting? And what are our own responses like? Does “Fine” roll off our tongues without us even thinking of a different reply? (I have a friend who says F.I.N.E. means f-ed up, insecure, neurotic, and emotional.) 

When you say, “How are you,” would you be ready to listen to the truth? I suppose it depends on the person and the situation. There are circumstances, like in stores or workplaces, where we couldn’t go into details. That said, there things we can do to let the other person know we care; that we care for them as another human being. 

I’m thinking about how I can make “How are you” sound like I really care. And I do care and I’m curious about others. I want to know what they think, what’s going on in their lives. I don’t want my question or my responses sound automatic or sound the same every time. I want to be able to respond with feeling, empathy, and understanding.

I also want to change my response of “Fine” or “Good” to be more meaningful to the moment. If I am in one of my not-so-good places I want to be courageous enough to say so. However, I want to follow it up with something like, “But I will be better!” or “I will get through this.” 

The bottom line is I want to be there with the person I’m encountering even if it’s for a couple of seconds. I want to look at them and have a kind word, a smile, a nod. I want my tone of voice and body language show I care. Kindness and courtesy are contagious. I want to bring this back and counteract the current norm that seems determined to instill fear in us telling us to avoid talking to strangers. Yes, we still need to be careful, but we don’t have to let caution take away our humanity and kindness.

More on Acknowledging Others

Again I am on a subject that can go off in many directions. There are ifs, ands, and buts. There’s cause and effect. After all, nothing is truly just black and white. But I believe this is an important subject to discuss as I consider my attitude towards others. (And I can be as guilty as the next guy for not always being nice to others.) I am trying to understand within myself as I strive to be a better person, and I hope by talking about these subjects, it might help all of us be more aware of our actions.

One of my visions of good customer service is an old Texaco (I think) sign with a smiling service attendant waving his hand in greeting. Remember when someone would come fill your gas tank and wash your windows?  I picture helpful store clerks; people who remember their customers’ names and sometimes what they previously bought. And customers would know the clerks’ names and ask about their families.

I occasionally see that still, at Aubuchon, Edmunds, and Agway. Last year I had thanked the tellers at the bank for being friendly. They greet me by name and ask how the home renovations are going. Kate said the corporate office is trying to get them to be less friendly with their customers. How sad is that!

I asked Bob and Jane at breakfast how they have seen change in store clerks’ service since the 1950s and ‘60s. Bob said those good customer service traits were inherent in most people, taught at an early age at home and in schools. 

I remember my first jobs where I was instructed on what to wear to put on a better appearance for customers, and how to greet and interact with them. Back then we’d get in trouble if we didn’t follow protocol. We had to greet customers with a smile and act eager to help them. And in my always wanting to do a good job, I followed those dictates.

This led to more discussion on what kids are being taught today about life after school. What careers are they pursuing and is the goal for higher education herding too many into careers for which the job market is limited or the personality or ability of the students are not right for those goals? Is so much emphasis placed on marketing strategies for big business or high-tech careers, and, those include the professions of doctor, lawyer, teacher, and nurse, that other much-needed, lower-paying jobs are seen as less-than?

What about people in trades like electricians, plumbers, builders, construction workers, etc.? I know some schools have programs like building trades, but is any real emphasis placed on this or are these programs just geared for kids “not smart enough” to go to a real college? Are kids who are smart enough or can afford it who go to universities looked at with more respect than those who go to a trade school or who don’t go on to higher education?

Yet, how could a community run without the trades? Where would we be without store clerks and post office, police, fire, and highway department personnel? What about town clerks and even the tax collector? Does the amount of salary a person earns determine how they should be treated?

That’s an astounding no for most people, and yet, how do we look at people who make lower salaries? Is what we say how we act? After all, we’ve had it drilled into us for years how important it is for higher education and how those with degrees and such are so much better off.

What about those people out there working two or three jobs to make ends meet? And if we are seeing these people as less-than, how does that make them feel? We go into a store and get what we need in a hurry to get out and go on with our life. Do we ever LOOK at the person at the cash register or the one bagging? Do we ever compliment a bank teller on how nice she looks today? Do we personally thank a policeman or fireman for the jobs they do?

I could go on and on and go off on little side tangents, but what I’m trying to do is to bring more awareness to individuals, to PEOPLE, a person; not the company, department, or corporation, not the “team” --- (I hate that term unless it’s a sports team). Yes, team-work is important to make any business a success, but it’s still about the individuals.

We may not be able to change the “corporate” atmospheres, especially when many headquarters aren’t even in this state, let alone area. CEOs seldom know their employees. What we can do, is work on a community level to let those people in our restaurants, stores, offices, town departments, etc. know it’s not their salaries that matter to us; we appreciate them for the service they provide to the community. 

Anyway, I am determined to change how I’m treating people. I want to treat each person as an individual. I want to know them so that the next time I’m in the store or wherever, I’ll remember (probably not their name, ha ha, as I’m at that age where I forget names). I want them to know that I appreciate the help they give me.

I will do my best, but it’s also a two-way street. I know for the most part, that if I’m friendly to others, they will be friendly to me. That’s not a guarantee. There are some people who … well, they are who they are. As I person trying to live an authentic, whole-hearted life, I do care about people and I’m interested in knowing why people are the way they are. I often wish I could sit down with each one to find out why they aren’t happy. But that’s another story for another day.

Acknowledgment and Being Seen

I’ve been working hard at being friendlier and more outgoing to people. These days I often take the initiative to be the one to speak first. I chat at the cashiers and baggers at stores and other customers in lines. I say lots of thank you and please. I’m trying to come out of my shyness and offer kindness and friendliness to others. Most of the time, people are friendly right back.

I’m not perfect. I can easily be turned off by a negative comment or even if I feel someone looks at me with judgment. I get peeved when cashiers and baggers carry on a conversation with each other and ignore the customers. I can be in a bit of a bad mood or in a hurry and forget the importance of being friendly. I can be so wrapped up in my own stuff that my world becomes narrow. I understand that others have their own stories and issues in life, too. 

I’m working on this for myself and to help others.  I know how I feel when someone gives me a smile or offers a kind word. I am happy when others take the time to talk to me. Yes, when someone is working, I can’t carry on a full conversation, but the few seconds it takes to exchange a little camaraderie can mean a lot to someone.

The other day I was in a store where the cashier, a guy probably a good two feet taller than I, just stared over my head or off to the side. He didn’t smile. He had to call someone over to handle a problem with my gift card and, after the transaction was complete (with him never once looking at me), he never even offered a bag for my items until I started to pick them up, then he grunted, “Wanna bag?” I snapped back, “Not now and thank you for being friendly and smiling.”

I think I was in shock because usually the people there are so friendly and helpful. A woman helped me find what I needed and made suggestions. She asked what I did for art work and acted as if she knew me. That’s the kind of service that is enjoyable and makes you want to go back to that store.

But I ended up walking out of the store feeling angry at the cashier. He made me feel invisible, like I didn’t matter. I was grumbling to myself about why people get jobs working with people when they are not people-friendly and why management hires these kinds of people to work with their customers. Yes, I realize he was probably very unhappy about something in his life.

And I realize I had an attitude about the situation, too. I didn’t try to be friendly to him – course it’s hard to be friendly to a stone-face staring over your head. Still, I didn’t try. It’s hard, too, when other people are in line waiting. I think of things I could have said in hindsight.

Last night I was reading “Greatly Daring” by Brene Brown. Brown said in many of her interviews, people who are in service-related jobs often feel invisible, taken for granted. They often feel they are treated as a thing, not a human-being. 

How ironic this comes up after I had that incident in the store. It’s funny because Annette and I have been talking about giving and receiving. She always makes cookies during the Christmas season and will take some to the post office workers, fire and police department personnel, and others who perform a service for the public.

The lesson here is to remember that we are all human beings and human beings need connectedness – connection to other people. Yet we get so wrapped up in our own issues, we forget how important it is to acknowledge everyone around us. A simple smile or a nod is sometimes enough. A kind word will often elicit kindness in return. Something so simple can make someone’s day.

End of the Art Hiatus, Part 1

I lost my passion for drawing. Even my photography floundered. My heart wasn’t in it. I’d think about it; see scenes I’d like to photograph or draw, but I couldn’t seem to get my act together. My website needed updating. How could I make changes when I didn’t know where I was as an artist? My writing, too, suffered. I didn’t have definition for myself-as-artist. Do I give up and try to focus on one thing?

I can’t remember when it started. After my mum passed? Did it stop all at once or did it just wane away?

The drawing went first. The multiple drawing boards and easels with half-finished drawings sat untouched. I lost my passion for photography. All the things I used to love to photograph: old dilapidated buildings, trains, rusted things, flowers, critters, birds … I didn’t care anymore. I lost heart in my art, in myself as an artist.

While I could never give up writing, I struggled with what kind of writer I am. Just as with being an artist and not in one medium, my writing, too, covers multiple genres. I can never fit into one category (and society loves boxes no matter how “open” people try to be). 

I am not a one-medium artist! I AM writing. I AM photography. I AM drawing. (I know, most people think I’m crazy.) 

2015 became the year of selling one house and finding and buying a smaller one. It happened fast in one aspect, but it took so much energy to pack, to get rid of excess, to take care of everything that goes into the whole process. I had no room in myself for art. 

Once the physical move was completed, there were all the renovations. I had planned on revamping my art career in 2016, but the renovations went on and not only drained the bank account, they drained my energy. I did accept a challenge of doing a photo a day with a couple of others, and, of course, I journal every day. 

Then came the trip to a wedding in Wichita to which I drove all by myself; very stressful, very emotional. It wasn’t until I returned that something new began awakening in me. I made time to start reading again and, like many years ago, what saved me was reading about creativity.

I first began getting new insights into my writing with the after-the-fact lessons regarding the trip. The photo-a-day project was certainly instilling a new passion for taking pictures, especially as there was the opportunity to share the photos. I realized how important it was for me to share my work. And, I sold a couple of photos; one that had been printed in the newspaper and one that was posted on Facebook.

I’d been thinking about getting back to drawing for a long time. I started by making light sketches of my kitty, Pele. I filled pages in a small drawing book – most not very good. I decided to get back to the easel, but those drawings I’d started a couple years ago and never finished, drawings taped to the boards and other places, were not “talking” to me. I didn’t feel them anymore. 

I took down the one on the stand-up easel and taped on a blank paper. I went through photographs and chose one I’d considered awhile back and already had printed. Suddenly it wasn’t just about charcoal, and just as with this house, it’s all about color. I need color! I had been putting “hints of color” with pastel in my other charcoal drawings, but these new drawings were going to be more colorful with brighter shades.

Outside of adding those hints of color to the other drawings, I’d never really worked with pastels. I assumed, because they were kind of chalky like charcoal, they’d behave like charcoal with smudging and erasing. I assumed wrong. 

Pastels are very different. They don’t blend like charcoal, and oil pastels are different from soft pastels and do not erase at all and don’t smudge/blend well. Once a line is down with the oil pastel, it’s there! Colored charcoal pencils do not show up on pastels.

I struggled with this first-back drawing as I learned to work the charcoal and pastels together. The brighter colors, though, are exciting. Pastels are more similar to painting, in a way, than drawing. I layer, I erase for light, add more layers sometimes with color sometimes with charcoal. The drawing came together.

Then I had a revelation: My style of drawing is along the style of impressionism – and I’m not a fan of impressionism. How can I like what I’m drawing if I don’t like the style? (which I wrote about in the last blog)

An Artists Revelation

Liking My Drawings When my Technique Isn’t the Style of Art I Like

or

A Revelation in Who I Am As an Artist

This morning as I was journaling about my drawing (the one finished and the new one started) I had a revelation: My drawings are similar to me! My technique is loose, using charcoal and pastel, with lines that are not well-defined. I create an illusion of detail.

I have blurred lines myself. I am not elegant or fine-detailed. I don’t have sharp angles. I am more spread out. I do not focus solely on one project at a time and, at any moment, get distracted into doing something else. I never fit into one category. I am soft and squishy; rub me the wrong way and I smudge. 

And yet, there are moments when I can be well-defined. I do hold strong beliefs on particular subjects and, at times, I can be quite stubborn. For the most part, though, it is easier for me to fade to the background than stand up against stronger-willed personas.

What does all this mean? Nothing, really, it’s just amusing to me and it’s helping me to understand who I am as an artist.

The bigger revelation is the style in which I draw (more of impressionism) is not a style of painting I particularly care for. Yes, I like it from a distance, but up close, I see flaws and blurriness (and I don’t like blurry). The art that is pleasing to me is more of the realistic style with clearly defined lines and true-to-life color. 

I’ve never understood Impressionism; the blurred image paintings or photographs. Impressionism is basically capturing images without detail using bold colors while portraying changing light with shadows often boldly painted under bright blue sky.

So, how is it my style of drawing is using technique that is not pleasing to my eye?  And why am I only realizing this now after working in charcoal for years? Maybe I was even fooling myself with the “illusion of detail. 

Part of it, too, could be my own fear of inadequacy because I never had proper art training. It’s not that I couldn’t learn, but at this age, I wouldn’t want to take the time learning techniques and practicing. And sometimes I don’t think I “see” like other people.

At least I now have more understanding why I struggle with my drawings. Somehow I have learned to be more of an impressionist without realizing I was doing so. And now that I have this new awakening, am I OK with it?

Yes! I have to be. It’s who I am. It’s who I am because ever since getting into charcoal drawing, there’s been a part of me that, once I get the initial background layer in place, I kind of let the drawing draw itself. I’m just the tool, at that point, and the photograph is only a guideline. I am not trying to recreate the exact image. Something else takes over my arms (I work both right and left handed). Sometimes I don’t even know why I do what I’m doing to that drawing, but I go with the feeling, and it’s only for a few moments at a time. 

Because then, the logical part of my brain kicks in and I start questioning what I’ve put on the paper. I have to overcome the self-critic talk and continue. The drawing knows what it wants to do.

It’s funny, but now that I can say I am in/near some kind of stylistic category, I feel better about what I’m doing. Now I can be OK when I get that “Done!” message, I can walk away and not keep trying to tweak it. (The tweaking never seems to make it better). I am not into fine detail. My drawings will always be slightly blurred. Maybe I have to stop seeing it as blurred.

Did Edouard Manet, Edgar Degas, or Claude Monet see at their paintings as blurred? Do other artists who paint in this style or photographers who purposely blur their images? It’s all about art; the art that is inside us. It is who we are as artists and that driving force that compels us to stand before the easels or get out the camera.

Today I am eager to get to the easel and see how I view the current drawing with this new insight.

Pump Up the Enthusiasm

Those words came up in my reading the other day regarding marketing art work and I decided this is what I need to do about my art work. Marketing is difficult for me. I have to decide how I can “pump up the enthusiasm” without being obnoxious.

Most ads these days are obnoxious to me! It’s a catch-22, as I’ve mentioned before. I have product, but I am so against the hard sell. I absolutely hate these commercials where it sounds like they are yelling at you to buy their products, so much so, I will avoid those products unless absolutely necessary; like Bob of Bob’s Furniture, for instance. 

Last night I was watching “$10,000 Pyramid” on TV which has Michael Strahan as host. All his loud enthusiasm in trying to excite the audience is such a turn-off. It sounds so fake and is totally unnecessary. If people like game shows, they will watch. They don’t need all that falseness. 

Then there are those commercials where two people are “having a conversation” about a product. Again, it’s like they are yelling at each other about how wonderful that product is. Someone suggested I watch a video of a product yesterday and the two “conversationalists” were so loud and fake-sounding, I couldn’t watch the whole thing. 

This is all psychological marketing strategies. Marketing experts have studied human behavior and know how the brain works. They’ve learned how to get their messaging out to people; how to convince people to buy. And they’ve targeted our children (just think about kids’ Christmas wish lists). 

It’s all about pumping up the consumers, getting them excited about the product, and trying to convince people that this product is a must-have. Stop and think about what the marketers are doing. The loud, excited voices of the “actors” are a tool to make you buy something. That loud excitedness gets people enthusiastic and excited, and it excites those around them. It’s all kind of brainwashing the consumer.

We are all being played by the media and marketing strategies!!!! Think about it. Think about the commercials you are listening to, that your children are listening to. Even when you aren’t consciously listening, even if those words are just background noise, your brain is hearing it! Your brain is taking in – YOU-MUST-BUY-THIS-PRODUCT – which  makes you want to run right out and buy the latest and greatest whether you really need it or not.

This all said, how do I sell my products? I am excited about what I do. When I finish a project, whether it’s a book, a poem, an article, a drawing, or a nicely edited photograph, I am excited inside. Wow, I did it! I accomplished something and I want to show the world. I want everyone to see – and hope my books and pictures will find a new home. 

My heart and soul goes into my work. This is a piece of me, something I’ve slaved over, thought hard about, and I’ve done the best I could. These are not cookie-cutter products. Many, like the drawings, are one-of-a-kind. These aren’t things you (and everyone else) can run to Walmart, or the likes, to buy. The love of what I do goes into everything I make. You can’t buy that in a big box store.

Pumping up the enthusiasm? I’m still thinking how to accomplish that without feeling like I’m being pushy. And, if I’m afraid I’ll be that way, does that mean I will be? 

Making New Christmas Memories

So after the past few days of tears and grieving for Christmases past, I am ready to make new memories. Talking about that grief lifted a huge weight from my shoulders. I am surprised how good I feel this morning. (I know, I have the month of December to go, but I feel I made a great break through. It still won’t be easy. I can do it and, do it well!)

The neighbors across the street put up more lighted decorations yesterday and their place looks great. I want lights, too, especially now that I have a cute farmer’s porch to make pretty. Colored lights bring me joy. I loved my summer solar lights – brought inside for the winter as they are not receiving enough sunlight. Now it’s time for holiday lights.

I threw out many big boxes of Christmas decorations when I moved; all the old lights, ornaments, and garland of the past 20 years along with a four-foot tree. (I had a lot of stuff!) I kept only a couple of small items and a fake wreath. I don’t regret getting rid of the old. It’s one thing to have nice memories, but I don’t need a constant reminder of what was. It’s time for changes.

Now I have to buy new decorations – not a lot. Maybe I’ll even get a small tree for inside. I ordered a few things online and I’m eagerly awaiting their arrival. Small steps, as right at this moment, I am still planning on spending Christmas day alone. Still, I can surround myself with beauty. That I can do.

Being around others on Christmas day will take a lot of courage and I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet. The last thing I’d want to do is to have a meltdown in front of grandchildren. I don’t feel comfortable around excited, happy people on this day. But I’m getting better.

I really am making new Christmas memories.

Grieving for Christmases Past

I’ve been an emotional wreck these past three days. For three days, I’ve spent the mornings dissolved in tears; my heart ripped open bleeding more tears into my soul, and my head pounding from the stress. 

I’ve struggled with the holidays since my mother’s passing in 2011, but this year it sneaked up on me. I thought I was OK. This is my second holiday season in a house that does not have memories of her (except for her picture which I keep close by where she can watch me working). I have a lot going on and I keep happily busy.

Thanksgiving morning it hit me as I wondered if my sons would call to wish me a happy day. I’m usually the one to call them first, but on holidays, I would like them to call me. My oldest messaged to wish me a happy day and somehow that set me to thinking about past holidays and how, since my mother passed away, I choose to isolate.

Today it dawned on me that my vision of Christmas morning is of our house in Kensington with the tree in front of the picture window and sparkly garland tacked around the main living spaces. Presents (we always went overboard at Christmas) would extend from under the tree, to in front of the TV and fireplace, into corners of the living room. I picture my dad standing tall in his green, black, and white plaid flannel shirt, my brother and his wife, and the aunts and uncles. Mum and I would be in the kitchen getting dinner ready; the aromas of roasting turkey and various vegetables and more wafting through the house. And my sons would show up with wives and grandkids. 

Christmas was basically the same year after year – it was Christmas. It had been that way since I was young and Don and I were the only kids. But changes came as changes do. The older people started leaving one by one. My mum and I tried to carry on, but others wanted their own Christmas celebrations at their own homes on Christmas day. Yes, we were invited, but mum was stubborn and would not leave the house and I guess I’ve picked up that same trait.

So, five years after my mother’s passing, I realize I’m not just grieving losing her (and having her pass on Christmas Day!), I’m grieving for all our Christmases past ... because they can never be the same. I have total respect for other family members making their own choices. I certainly make my choices and stand by them. 

There’s no going back. New Christmas memories need to be made and while I may still choose to be alone Christmas day, today I have a better understanding of the grief encompassing me around the holidays. I’m getting better.