There is nothing simple about being an artist, whether it be writer or sculptor, or in my case turning into a writer (again) and still passionate about sculpting. I awoke at 3 am writing blogs in my head – separating out this one from the one over at myspace – how they are different, how, where they are the same not to repeat. That went on for a while but it was much too early to even take notes, so I didn’t. And finally got back to sleep around 5. Husband (whose name is Shawn but who is professionally Gus at DC’s 9:30 Club) woke me at 8 – unusual because he is a mole, a word we created many years ago for those folks who work all night (and sometimes all day) and never see the sun. He,however, isn’t completely a mole because he gets tan riding his motorcycle to work. He had to leave early and thus my morning quiet/routine was totally disrupted and I am running into sculpting time with computer time. Even as my head demands getting all this down in cyberspace, my hands resist, take me outside to deadhead daffodils, closer to earth and clay than this keyboard.
I want to add on to yesterday’s posting on Women Friends…the part about how we hit the doldrums . I found something I thought pertinent reading Naomi Shihab Nye‘s chapbook Words Under the Words. In her poem, Old Iron, she says: somedays the words pass us,/cars loaded with vacationers./We are not going where they are going./Soon as they top the hill/we’ll be on the lost road again,/shouting once, then listening,/kicking a stone toward/anything like a tree…..I’m looking for cedar stumps,/a black calf in a blue field,/anything to report…" Apparently all/every one of us goes through these blue days of quiet when nothing speaks to us (or maybe so much is speaking to us that no one thing can be separated out and the din is as noisy as silence). I share so that we all know that we aren’t alone, even though that often means not a whit when we’re in the midst of it. The antidote: get out with your women friends. Move. Whisper to the energy: come back, I have chocolate (even if you don’t). Energy is curious. Give it a fat yellow crayon on the brown paper of a grocery bag, or just one tiny lump of clay that doesn’t have to BE anything – just come feel it for a minute or ten. Watch what happens.
Molly Gordon‘s Authentic Promotion ezine came in yesterday. I credit Molly with my winding up here typing. I believe that she was my first ever ezine which lead to many others which lead to myspace (actually Husband led to myspace – he said I’d like it), which lead getting a website (two, the first one having gone obsolete with the absence of the webmaster) to here.
Anyway, this came in yesterday from Molly, Volume 8, No. 5, April 14, 2006 and also fit pretty well with some of the discussion I’ve been having around art as well as the title of this blog: Weaving it All Together, so I’m sharing a piece of it with you and urging you not only to go get the whole thing, but also to subscribe as Molly’s take on life is "right on" (for those of us of a certain age)(I’m older than her).
"Just as there is sense and nonsense in the world of essential oil, there is sense and nonsense in the realm of the Spirit. In the case of the oils, I recognize that there is a learning curve. In the realm of Spirit, I’ve tended to be less tolerant of learning, quick to sort what can’t be seen into tightly drawn categories. That’s hocus pocus; that’s God. It has seemed important to know which side of the line I was on.
"… The distinction between what I can reliably and consistently witness or produce out of diligent practice and the haphazard, seemingly random, results of magical thinking, might be at least in part due to a learning curve I had failed to perceive. What if, at least in certain respects, the difference between sense and nonsense is practice?
"I’m in a learning curve now, and that means I am gloriously lost (except when I feel terribly confused). I find myself at the ripe young age of 52 enchanted by the world around me and wondering why on earth I would resist or reject or doubt any of the incredible goodness that is available all around me. I am studying all the ways in which Life supports life, from the marvels of breath, gravity, and wind to the magic (there, I said it) of light, emotion, and community. (Uh oh. The C word.) And then there are the times when I simply wonder if I’ve lost my mind, not to mention the times for doing laundry, answering email, petting the cat." U.S. Library of Congress ISSN: 1530-311X Unless otherwise attributed, all material is written and edited by Molly Gordon, MCC. Copyright (c) Shaboom Inc.(r) 2006. All rights reserved. Visit our extensive archives at www.mollygordon.com/ and http:www.authenticpromotion.com.
"What if the difference between sense and nonsense is practice?" – That’s one I’m taking to the bank!
Ok. It’s almost noon on Saturday. I must run get enough baking potatoes to have the traditional smashed potatoes for holiday dinner with enough left over for several days of potato pancakes. Daughter would be most unhappy if this tradition (which, for her, is defined: I like this, we will henceforth do this forever) were not followed. And I have promised hands they get clay today. Even pulled out some pictures for inspiration. I set the tile on my new chair yesterday and can grout and paint today. And I have a great stool from IKEA (which I have only just discovered) to be turned into a tiled plant stand. And floor tiles to finish for the new cottage floor. I was worried I wouldn’t get done in time but it seems there is a dirth of electricians who will honor their word in my area, so I have plenty of time. And the final wall tiles for the heron piece which has been an outdoor piece on the front of the cottage but will now be the indoor wall and thus must be finished.
Happy Oestre to all – and may you all get eggs from the bunny.
1 Comment
Hi Tammy,
I clicked from your profile and landed on this post rather than on the current one, probably due to me accidentally flipping a pen off of my desk onto my keyboard. Regardless of how or why I'm here, this post is like you've looked inside of me. To read that an artist whom I deeply respect in the visual and written areas, is down-to-earth and as reflective/questioning/wondering/wandering/stream of consciousness with threads of thought I can easily follow and relate to/philosophical/bound by love and responsiblity/proud of new ventures…and yet so earthy (as in dig your hands into that clay, not vulgar), is incredibly reassuring to me, who still feels like a newbie at times.
You are successful and talented. Many people would not admit to feeling confused or uncertain. It takes a secure woman/person to do so.
Here you were writing about the very thoughts that I've been grappling with on and off at times in my life. I can see you were ready for Finding Water, too, or at least certain aspects of it. Thank you for showing your vulnerable side. I needed this today. Thank you very much.