we sat on schoolhouse beach, in the middle of the (figurative) storm around us, and made shadow puppets. giggling, we fell back on the rocks, the healing beginning.
when i think back over the last decade or so, i am struck by how many things my menopausal brain can’t remember. even though today, in a little shop, abba’s song Fernando came on and i sang along to every word, the last time i heard this song maybe 4 or 5 years ago….maybe, but i can’t recollect.
the things i remember over the years are the things that stood out. moments of despair, of loss. moments of confusion, of great pain as i sorted them out. times of many tears. times my stomach and the sides of my face hurt from laughing so hard. times of hard work. even more importantly, times of play. ralph waldo emerson said, “it is a happy talent to know how to play.”
even in the midst of everything else, we must remember to play. for that will carry us far. further than grief will. further than withstanding searing pain. further than the sobs that make you lay on the kitchen floor. further than hard work.
for in play comes laughter. and in laughter, the release of great love. love is everlasting. it is patient and kind. it does not envy or boast. it is not proud. it does not dishonor others nor is it self-seeking. it is not easily angered and keeps no record of wrongs. love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. it protects, trusts, hopes, perseveres. love never fails.(I Corinthians 13)
so. play. and love. together, those -in the rest of life- will endure anything.
at night, if the weather is clear, with the backdrop of waves lapping at the shore, we look up and see the milky way in the night sky. it makes us feel tiny. tiny in a vast world.
we string happy lights about our home, inside and out. they are the simplest of holiday light strands, eensy white lights on green or white cords and we use them year-round. one white light alone barely lights a space, but together, a constellation of tiny bulbs, the illumination is magical. one alone. all together. it makes a big difference.
we are working in a place that is divided. the division is deeply rooted and exacerbated by stubborn attitudes and time. we must “string the stars together” to bring hope; we must “sing light in common song” to move forward. community must prevail over a schism of proportion. no place can truly be beautiful without stringing together. we have our work cut out for us.
fair isle books is one of the sweetest spots on this island. a breath of fresh air with warm ambience and overtones of the joy of learning, this little shop is owned by deb, whose heart is gigantic. outside her shop is this plaque, a snippet of a poem ‘constellation’ by wisconsin poet laureate bruce dethlefsen, a presenter at the washington island literary festival in 2013.
how fortuitous that this poet should capture in a mere 33 words the work that is to be done. we are not alone, each of us on this tiny-planet-in-the-vastness. though seemingly individually strong, we are indeed actually weak. we must link arms, act in community, string together, work collaboratively.
division doesn’t create more for each on the sides of the chasm. it creates less.
collectively, we can create boundlessly. our constellation -together- creates hope.
on this very day, at this very time, i do not feel at home. and i believe i take home with me, so this is truly a statement of much discontent.
what is home to you?
how important is it to you to be surrounded by people who, with consciousness of others, support you? how important is it to you to be amongst those who are kind, who are magnanimous, who are respectful to all, who are collaborative? how important is to you to be around people who lead with goodness, who work together, who do not embrace divisiveness?
how important is the place? does an idyllic location exempt bitter disputes and argumentative people? does it matter if the sun rises and sets in dramatic color if the timbre of the place is ugly, combative, rift-producing, breach-exacerbating? what flowers override belligerence, competition and antagonistic voices? what soaring birds and graceful wildlife eclipse closed minds and turning a blind eye to others’ pain?
important questions, i believe. eye-opening questions.
home is indeed subjective for each of us. our hearts lead us.
i don’t purport to understand every painting of my visionary husband. if i ask him what a painting is about, he posits a question back to me, “what does it mean to you?” in normal conversation, this kind of question-question response is not troubling, but in husband-wife conversation it is slightly irksome, one of those times where you gently roll your eyes at your partner and sort of hope that coffee grounds find their way into the bottom of their first cup of coffee the next morning. ok, so maybe not, but it is from a little bit of laziness that i sometimes want him to just TELL me. instead, groaning, i take a tiny step back away from the painting and let emotion take over.
the title of this painting THREE GRACES suggests (from research) the goddesses of things such as “charm, beauty and creativity”. a wealth of goodnesses, a wealth of possibility. an appreciation of every little gesture, every honey bee, the creation by others of a world of wonder and challenge.
in our world today, we first cover our disbelieving eyes with hands of despair. we look to the heavens for guidance. we ground ourselves, one hand firmly planted for balance, the other on our foreheads, thinking, thinking. we seek to find answers, ways for charm and beauty and creativity to thrive. and the elusiveness of peace.
saturday august 17 was national honey bee day. a day that recognizes how critical this species is, it also celebrates those people who ensure that honey bees are protected, managed, healthy. it is crucial to ensure the longterm survival of honey bees; among other things, pollinating plants is clearly paramount to our environment. clearly, each day should be national honey bee day.
in a scary report about honey bees in brazil, half a billion bees died in the first few months in southern states of the country, with traces of a pesticide also listed as a human carcinogen. a country with fertile soil, the choice to increase the use of pesticides will take its toll on the food chain and, already AND ultimately, the health of the country’s people.
what about our country? what are the true checks and balances on the responsible use of our land and resources, the overwhelming use of insecticides, the purity or impurity of our food, our health? into what greed-chasm have those in environmental decision-making positions fallen? what really matters?
when is it the time to regard the decisions of conscience-depleted environmental naysayers as imminently deadly? when is it time to listen to those who advocate for the continued responsible honoring and health of our land and resources? when is it time to regard environmental issues as issues that will save lives?
it seems like that would be yesterday, yesterday, yesterday.
the first time that i walked into the bathroom and saw my toothbrush pre-toothpasted for me i was surprised and floored. no one (except my sweet momma) had ever pre-toothpasted my toothbrush for me before. a small gesture, but i was deeply touched by this kindness. i was off-island without d a few days last week and three times (!) i pre-toothpasted his home toothbrush as well as mine, without thinking. small gestures become kind habits.
it’s the little things that count. not the grandiose presents or sweeping plans. it is the kiss on the back of your head, the carrying of your bags, the holding of your hand, the packed lunch, the note on the piano, the bacon on sunday, the coffee while your head is still on your pillow, the opening of a door for you, listening through the umpteenth repetition, the patiently-waiting while you scurry about finishing just-one-more-thing, the tetris-packing of the car, the prepping of dinner ingredients, the hug when you didn’t even know you needed one, the quiet support and noisier praise, the questions you don’t want to answer, the reminder of the breath you need to take…
and the toothpaste pre-pasted on your toothbrush. small gestures. kind habits. love.
from essays in the art of living (wilferd a. peterson, 1961) “no [one] stands alone. through all the centuries of recorded time, [people] have set into motion influences that affect your life today…you are the heir of the ages. [people] reaching for the stars have created for you a world of wonder and challenge…more enduring than skyscrapers, bridges, cathedrals and other material symbols of achievement are the invisible monuments of wisdom, inspiration and example erected in the hearts and minds of [all persons]…a leader glorifies the team spirit.”
it is a mighty mountain to climb without support. it is a mighty chasm to fall into without hands reaching out to form a solidarity, a community. the struggle to retain absolute and autocratic control is the antithesis of the solution, for no one person knows all, no one person can see all, no one person can create all. control will undermine, sabotage, poison the well-spring of possibility. control is not that of wonder. control is not enduring wisdom or inspiration. control is most definitely not example.
“a leader glorifies the team spirit.” “cohesion-the action of forming a united whole.”
moving into the future requires a choice. division and discord? unity and harmony?
when we were first talking, we discovered we were both artists. he – a painter. me – well, you already know that part. we were far apart in distance so we did not see each other or the work of the other in person. he didn’t come to any of my concerts. i didn’t go to his gallery openings. but….there is this thing called the internet.
it was with much curiosity that i sat down to view his paintings. i wondered about his style, his choice of color, the movement in his paintings, the emotion. our budding friendship would not be dependent upon whether or not i liked them, or even understood them. but i must say – in all honesty – that it was incredibly convenient to find that i LOVE his paintings. i love his style, his choice of color, the movement in his paintings, the emotion.
this painting, ICONIC, was the first large painting in his YOGA SERIES. full of grace and the expression of inner peace, ICONIC is stunningly big (54″ x 54″), a statement piece that i have no doubt will soon grace the wall of the owner who hasn’t found it yet.
anyone who has purchased an actual painting – not a print or facsimile of some sort – knows that it is a relationship that develops, that the owner and the painting find each other, that it is not merely a purchase. it is the bringing home of a piece of someone else’s heart. the hanging-on-the-wall of someone else’s heart. or, in the case of music, as i well know, the listening to of someone else’s heart.
i distinctly remember my sweet momma talking about FERDINAND THE BULL. she would refer to him from time to time, a twang on the third syllable slipping into her new york accent. i am wracking my memory for her other wise words about him. my guess is that, despite not remembering her exact words, her message isn’t lost on me.
FERDINAND is a book published in 1936, the story of a gentle bull who loved to smell flowers (aka “flowuhs”). he spent his time sitting under a tree, daydreaming, sniffing flowers. upon finding himself in the madrid bullfighting ring, he sits calmly in the middle, refusing to take the bait. the grace of a mashup of “i want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.” (oriah mountain dreamer) and “when push comes to shove, don’t.” (unknown) we have much to learn.
FERDINAND was performed by the Washington Island Music Fest this past week and was among my favorite moments of this two week music festival at TPAC. it was sweet on many levels, read aloud, depicted on violin, slides of the original illustrations on screen.
and my momma, in my mind’s eye, reminding me to be like FERDINAND. a bull, by definition fully expected to want to fight, presumed to fight, just like all the other bulls – and yet, brave enough to be different, to sniff the flowers, to turn away from participating in dissension or violence, to be at peace being true to oneself.
on march 19 of this year i wrote about our prayer flags. the ones at our home, i cherish their presence as they flutter in our backyard breezes. the prayer flags in this post are at our littlehouse on island. they stretch between a tree and a covered wooden rocking loveseat that plants itself firmly gazing at the lake. my sweet girl got me these as a gift, from the same little shop in ridgway, colorado that our home-prayer-flags come from.
the lake breeze is stronger than the breezes in our backyard; sometimes the flags are horizontal in its fury. the threads are loosening, loosening; the prayers are flying, flying. these little prayer flags are already more quickly tattered than the ones we have at our home. prayers for peace, compassion, strength and wisdom are perhaps more zealous these days, perhaps more often, perhaps more imploring.
at the end of this season we will gently take our prayer flags down and wrap them in soft cloth or tissue. we will thank them and put them in our special box to bring home with us. perhaps they will then hang with the flags-in-the-backyard. or perhaps, after a time of flying and more reassurance than i can explain, they will rest. we will see.
“we pass under them every time we leave the house and every time we return. our prayer flags fly between the house and the garage…a welcome sight either way. although better given to you as a gift, we purchased our flags in a little shop in ridgway, colorado and i consider it a gift that we were able to spend time in that tiny mountain town in the san juan mountains. these flags represent that place to us, that time, and so much more.
each color is symbolic of an element…white is air and wind, blue is sky and space, green symbolizes water, red is fire and yellow is earth. flying these in a specific order produces a balance of health and harmony. flying these promotes peace, compassion, strength and wisdom; the wind blows the prayers into the universe. i cannot think of more visual evidence of constant prayer. it matters not to me what religious practice is associated with them. the prayers are so much bigger than that. everything is bigger than that.
every time we watch any depiction of an everest story, there are multitudes of these buddhist prayer flags. they grace base camp and the summit and each camp between, the prayers issued by those people seeking to reach the highest place on earth.
we can’t claim trying to reach the highest physical place on earth. but we can claim seeking peace, compassion, strength and wisdom, a balance of health and harmony. for me, for us, those things are the highest place on earth.” (march 19, 2019)
click here to browse or purchase ISLAND PRAYER FLAGS as wall art
click here to browse or purchase ISLAND PRAYER FLAGS – THE FIVE ELEMENTS as wall art
reverse threading 