it is a new day. filled with new promise, new possibility, new adventure, new hope, new light. no matter what, the light comes. it cannot be snuffed out, for after every night there is day. it is sure.
we look to the horizon and, like the most exquisite of tall-stemmed flowers, we lean toward the sun. we grow. we rest.
we know, intrinsically, that even in circumstance where our own light is dampened, when it is dark, when we feel extinguished, exhausted, profoundly saddened, the tiny light that flickers from deep within, from others, from sunrise, can reignite our zeal, rejuvenate us, restore us, bring us bravely back to day.
happy new day. happy new year. happy new decade. happy new light.
conked out. it’s the end of the workday, the end of playtime, the end of the evening, the end of the month, the end of the year and they are conked out. so are we. with toys strewn about, they collapse on the floor, a wary eye on each other every so often, just making sure. but mostly, sleepy, eyes closed, soft sighs.
we feel the same way. conked out. it has been a year. tomorrow we’ll search for some sage to burn on the first day of the new year, smudging room by room, letting the snuffed flame’s gentle smoke chase out the negative and allow new light in.
conked out. it feels like a repeating theme…a basso ostinato…a foundation upon which we are all arriving at this last-day-of-the-year station. exhaustion seems to be the grounding venn diagram of all those we have spoken with. like lines of the composer john cage: dissonant polyphony, indeterminate chance-filled melodies, questioning, shapeless and yet heading in some vexing conclusive direction. 2019. confusing and atonal with a lack of rests, avant-garde, but in all the wrong ways.
as we approach the last minute of the last day of this year, we sneak a peek at the new year. new beginnings. we sigh. deeply. looking ahead.
i glance at a small sign i have on the wall. it is not without noticing the irony i read a quote from john cage, “begin anywhere.” a good place to go from conked out.
the things i know to be important. the things on my list to strive for. each day a new day to try.
may you be peace. may you be kindness. may you be an expression of gratitude. may you be fair. may you be a good listener. may you be curious. may you be inclusive. may you be communal. may you be always learning. may you be always giving. may you be dedicated to truth. may you be forgiving. may you forgive yourself. may you be affectionate. may you be generous. may you be loyal. may you be present in the moment you are living. may you be questioning of darkness. may you be protective of others less fortunate. may you stand up to inequality, inequity, violence of any sort. may you be complimentary. may you see the simplest of things. may you push back against ignorance and the desire to not see. may you choose health. may you resist wastefulness. may you trust your intuition. may you be calm. may you embrace entertaining thoughts different than your own. may you be able to discern the difference between aggressive and forward-moving. may you say thank you. may you abstain from comparison and competition. may you be honestly empathetic. may you stand in your shoes and give wide berth to vanity. may you be resilient. may you avoid yelling at others. may you try not to ignore others. may you be understanding. may you softly care for living creatures. may you be suspicious of agenda and may you speak into it. may you be clean and tidy in your space in the world. may you breathe easily. may you help those who need help. may you lift others up. may you teach good things to little ones. may you be with voice. may you be filled with spirit. may you be excited. may you leave things better than you found them. may you be creative. may you worry about the earth and those who follow you on it. may you be responsible. may you be progressive. may you be a bright light. may you love. may you be gentle. may you be a good human.
the upnorthgang gathered around the table. the glasses were lined up. multiples of alike wine glasses, aldi winking owl wine at the ready. we had a keyboard for tuning, sharpies in hand and were seriously dedicated to playing christmas songs on wine-filled glassware. jay had seen tuned wine glasses in a catalog, but at $245 a set, we thrifty upnorthgangers knew we could do better. plus, we all could play instruments – guitar, piano, clarinet, trumpet, cello, pipe organ, handbells, ukulele, violin… i mean, we are a talented group of people! hours later, we had composed a new christmas song, which shall remain un-named in this post, and had realized that our songlist would definitely remain short, for indeed we needed at least another octave of wine glasses and, having sipped the excess out of the glasses while tuning, we were out of wine. next up on the musical challenge list? charlie’s pickle jars!
so passing the jingle johns at lincoln park zoo it doesn’t seem so out-of-the-ordinary to hear music emanating from the, er, portapotties. The Boy groaned and begged me to not take a picture, but the wineglassperformingartist in me couldn’t resist.
why not take every opportunity to play some music, i say.
christmas eve. a good reason to sing your heart out. merry!
i distinctly remember designing this. for over a year i spent tons of time designing products: pillows, tote bags, cellphone covers, prints, beach towels, cutting boards, mugs, travel cups, coasters, cards, shower curtains, side tables, leggings. i would study david’s paintings and extract morsels and execute the process – with great joy – of the choosing of the product lines i wished to represent and the designing of those. it was our intention to sell these pieces. i would have absolutely loved to fill a brick and mortar store with these pillows and mugs and journals and tote bags, but the sheer outlay for merchandise and stock and the overhead for a physical store made that impossible. but online – at an online storefront called society6.com, which would manufacture the pieces as they were ordered – it was possible. it was a good premise. so we opened five storefronts online (listed below in case you want to stop by with a cup of coffee) to represent each day of our studio melange postings.
only it didn’t really work.
hundreds, literally hundreds, of designs and thousands of products later, we decided it was time to stop putting the hours of effort into these designs. we had some sales and it is truly a delight to see someone carrying a tote bag i designed or a laptop cover or to hear from someone who is enjoying their purchase. the sales trickle in still, $4 here, $2.10 there. the mark-up, as you would expect, lists mightily to the side of the host company, but we dreamed of great volume – so many pillows that earning a few dollars for each-one-of-many would be a big help to our working budget.
only it didn’t really work.
every now and then i visit these sites and am astounded at how actually cool the products are. the designs aren’t so bad either, if i do say so myself. (tee-hee) there are some really beautiful pieces out there, like this PEACE. EARTH. PEACE ON EARTH. morsel. simple and profound. timely. if you click here, you can see it as a pillow. if you scroll way down on that linked page, you can see all the other products that we designed and made available with this image. it was within the painting INSTRUMENT OF PEACE that i found this morsel.
even though it didn’t really work, i suppose it worked. because i can’t begin to tell you how much i learned. maybe that’s the point. maybe that’s always the point.
for more morsels of david’s paintings, click here:
some things just stop me in my tracks. strolling through school days antiques mall i turned the corner and screeched to a halt. familiarity swirled around me as i stared at this painting – a paint-by-number. my breathing slowed. the scene, the hues…all made me feel like i was embraced. by my sweet momma. i texted a picture to my sister, to check in, to see what she said. she texted back that it, indeed, felt familiar and we tried to remember what happened to this painting of my mom’s. every time i look at this photo on my phone i feel ‘home’. even right now.
this wasn’t the first time this happened. back a couple years ago ON mother’s day we were tooling around an antiques store in woodstock, illinois. we had taken a ‘sunday drive’ (i am turning into my parents!) and looked for antiques stores to visit. as i turned the corner from one booth to the next it was there, staring at me. the paint-by-number-jesus that my mom had painted. i photographed it and called everyone that day. this painting was hung somewhere in our growing-up house that we can’t all agree on. but we know it was there. i turned the painting over looking for my mom’s signature on the back, but didn’t find it. i studied the frame, one that was identical to a frame that my sweet poppo had made on a paint-by-number-nude (yes, it’s ok to laugh aloud here) my mom had painted and hung in their bathroom (which i know i have written about before). i pondered how it might have gotten to woodstock, if indeed this painting and truly-identical-wooden-frame might have been my mom’s paint-by-number-jesus. it wasn’t likely. our growing-up-house was on long island and then my parents moved to florida so illinois was a bit off the mark (unless she had given the painting to my brother a million years ago and he “generously” donated it, which would make me laugh aloud.) we left and went home and a few days later drove all the way back, just to study it a little more, to touch it again. i thought holding it in my hands might tell me if i should buy it and bring it home and, well, i had no idea what to do with it then. i mean, what does one do with a paint-by-number-jesus? i didn’t buy it. i left paint-by-number-jesus in woodstock and i gratefully welcomed my mom’s embrace from afar.
so the other day, in the midst of the stresses of life, we took a stroll in one of our favorite antiques stores, chatting and reminiscing and laughing about all the stuff we used to have growing up and all the stuff that we still have in our cabinets that are now considered antiques.
we tried not to talk about the things that were nagging us, the things we are worried about, the things that seem insurmountable.
frank made sure to bring us the dvd. our favorite of the hallmark christmas movies, a season for miracles was scheduled for tv viewing at a time we were not available. and he knows. frank knows how much we love this movie during this season. we, i have to admit, spend just a little bit of time watching hallmark christmas movies, despite their obvious indulgence to happy-endings-aficionados. a season for miracles is such a story, but there are these lovely lines spoken by patty duke toward the end, that inevitable-anticipated-yet-yearned-for end. she wisely advises one of the stars of the movie, giving him something to consider, “i forgive you. there’s a lot of power in those three words. they can change the world.”
yesterday i sang these lyrics, “all these pieces broken and scattered, in mercy gathered, mended and whole. empty handed but not forsaken. i’ve been set free, i’ve been set free.” (broken vessels – j. houston, j. myrin)
in true cliche, i would, indeed, say we are all broken by pieces we need to forgive, things for which we need forgiveness. we carry these burdens like heavy luggage, dragging them day by day, place to place. nary a moment goes by without our minds summoning up a reason to be dismayed or disgusted with someone, disappointed in ourselves. we are not free.
is it pollyanna-ish to believe that the world would be changed if forgiveness were paramount? is it an irrational, unreachable panacea for all the divisiveness and turmoil? is there just too much purity – too much hallmark – in those words, in that kind of peace-seeking?
if you could, who would share the third seat in a room with you and forgiveness? with whom would you seek forgiveness from? who would you forgive?
is it better to be mended and empty-handed than holding-on-tightly-burdened with sharp, broken pieces that pierce your heart? where is your free?
i stopped and went back. i had to take this picture. reminders are everywhere and right now, although, truly, as always, i knew i wanted to capture as many as possible.
it feels as if we are surrounded by whirling hypocrisy. those people who proclaim one thing and treat people in an extraordinarily different way. i’ve been stunned into i-don’t-even-know-what-to-say-silence more than once lately. people who demand respect but don’t give it, people who are unnecessarily controlling, people who go behind your back, people who list toward cruelty, people who declare appreciation but tear down, people who hide behind glossy words. what is going on? narcissism seems to be alive and well as we suffer the effects of those-who-believe-they-are-on-pedestals, pedestals that seem to exist on every step of the ladder. it’s shocking and more than a little disconcerting. we each have first-hand in-our-own-life experience. what a disappointment. we are humans capable of so much more.
and so, the reminders are incredibly welcome. the heart leaves or rocks, the sun’s rays glowing through clouds in the sky, the presence of a cardinal or two blue jays crossing our path in the woods. a text message or call out of the blue, beautiful generous raw-matte-finish words spoken to you. all reminders. a kindness extended by a stranger, an eye-contact smile. the big initiatives, the little gestures. not picking up the tug-of-war rope. reaching out to offer the olive branch. life-giving. practicing. we are truly capable of so much. we need be reminded.
but the real question is – do WE improve with age?
yes, lush red wine, dark chocolate, bold roast black coffee – all have risen on my list of chosens. i remember the days of sugar and cream in coffee. i remember the creamy milk chocolate days. and i remember the 1980s and 1990s days of ‘white zin’, the go-to wine of that age and time, a staple of the culture. but those days are past and we have moved on to rich red blends or old vine zins, 85% dark chocolate with no milkfats, and the boldest of the bold coffees with no sweetener or added dairy/non-dairy product. all improved (in my opinion) with my age.
me…on the other hand…i’m not so sure.
i read a brief article which proposed that your thoughts are less important than your feelings. it reminded the reader that, in light of everyone’s hard-to-speak-of mortality, there is no time more important, nothing more important than feeling the present moment.
how often do we get caught up in the swirling mind games of reviewing all the past? thoughts. how often do we find ourselves double-clutching on the future because of something that has happened ‘before’? thoughts. how often do we hesitate as we ponder-ponder-ponder until it’s too late? thoughts. how often are those thoughts – skewed – which have accumulated all through these supposed improving-with-age years – ruling our moments, nonetheless ruining our moments, the ones right-now? stick to the topic/don’t go backwards in time and drudge up old stuff/stay in the “i-feel” not the “you-did”…any counseling master’s program notes referencing ‘conversation’ (read: heated conversation) with a significant other. feelings. do we actually improve with age? do we learn?
i’m guessing the wine cork has it right. the moments you are sipping wine are quieter moments sitting by the fire. or moments of laughter with friends. or moments with a good meal. the older we get, it seems the more value we place on those things. we drink-in the heart of these most important times, with or without wine. feeling.
we gain perspective. maybe like that glass of wine in the evening. a little every day.
it’s a mystery. grace. it falls on us like morning dew, each and every day. we rise, buoyant or troubled, joyous or grieving, in clarity or murky, in the light or in the dark.
and it is a new day. beauty surrounds us. even breathing. there’s nothing we must do to receive it. we are granted grace…unconditionally. its simple and steadfast generosity – its rain – our gift.
we step into next, knowing we have yet another chance.
