today is The Girl’s birthday. kirsten turns 28 today and i can hardly believe it. where does the time go? i am wishing i could spend time with her today (well, like every day)… make her dinner or a decadent gluten-free cake, have a glass of wine with her. what i would really love to do is take a walk with her. in her world. like most moms, sharing space and time with my children is precious; taking a walk outside, breathing in air and talking together is something yearn-worthy.
the best part about visiting The Girl and The Boy is that then – and really only then – i can picture their lives…the place they live, their home, where they buy their groceries, the roads they travel, what they see when they look out their windows, the way the air feels, the angle of the sun, their favorite places to hang out or places that have been in stories they have told me or pictures they have sent. it’s all vital for me.
The Girl lives in stunning surroundings. her mountains are massive and grand and the terrain is white with snow or green green with leaves of aspens and needles of pines. she walks in beauty. she sees it. she recognizes it.
today my wish for her is to find that every day of her life. no matter where she is or what her surroundings. she doesn’t just walk in beauty. she is beauty.
several people lately have asked us what we meant by “products”…the “products” we were designing to go along with our blog post images. many of you may have noticed these product bars on our blogs each day. we understand that not everyone has seen these or understood our intent. we have been seeking the easiest way to present these products as options and so we listen to each suggestion we get.
there is sure a lot of fodder in our studios: paintings, music, cartoons, graphic images, photographs, writings…a melange of our work. it’s fun (and necessary) for us to turn all of this into a line of things that are purchase-able: wall art, tote bags, mugs, leggings, throw pillows, home accessories. i love the design work and have learned so much in the process!
we thank each of you who have taken a look at the sites where these are available (we have five storefronts on society6.com.) we have been told and have seen firsthand that our designed products that society6.com ship are of good quality and they stand behind them if you are not pleased. if you have any questions, please let us know. we appreciate you so much.
this week’s product line links are right below. the link brings you to one of the products in that line on society6.com. if you scroll down the page a little, it will say “also available as” so you can see the image in its varying iterations.
The Boy is sometimes very wise. there is this moment from years ago i carry with me, a moment in the kitchen. i was particularly upset and had been for some time. it was a time of darkness for me. my son looked at me and said (words to the effect), “mom. you are going round and round in a circle. every time you get close to the top you get pulled back down into the circle. you need to be a ray.”
as a math person, the circle and ray analogies are good ones. i can visualize these. the circle, the cycle. and a ray makes sense. starting at one point and going ever-outward. never returning to the very initial point again.
as a sun person, the ray is also good. it brings beautiful images of streaming sun through the clouds, of warmth and light. a ray always brings light; it gives light. it is light.
good words, my beautiful son. yes, indeed. be a ray. shine.
we sit for hours, plotting, scheduling, designing products, writing, working out technology quirks (or not.) somewhere in the middle of 8-10 hours, we will look at each other, glazed. “coffee!” we chorus. we move into the kitchen, maybe outside if it is warm and if that spot on the deck where we lean against the house is sunny. (it’s only april – it could still snow, so the outdoor furniture is not yet in place.) just a little moving around helps and then we are back working.
but at the end of the day – that’s a different story. we are tired, but we have to move. we have to walk. anywhere. around the hood, along the lake, out in the county in the woods. it’s amazing how much more energy i have after hiking a few miles. moving begets moving.
i’m thinking that’s true in many ways. learning begets learning. opening our minds begets, yes, more opening of our minds. faith begets faith. working out begets more working out. it’s the starting that makes it all happen. don’t wait. move.
jen and brad have been taking dance lessons for months. their daughter is getting married in a couple of weeks and they want to celebrate-dance under the warm savannah night sky at her reception. they have been dedicated to this; their lessons are top priority in their social calendar. from what we can see, their commitment has morphed from we-need-to-be-able-to-dance-well-together to we-love-this-together. what a gift to see them in their kitchen demonstrating the cool steps they have learned. they are getting polished and are more and more comfortable with various dances (especially “the push-pull,” jen explains.) mostly, they look like they are really having fun. truth be told, we don’t know of anything they have committed to that they haven’t thrown their whole hearts into; they are a picture of enthusiasm. they are a joy in our life.
on the other hand, we will look like bumbling-dancers under this same georgia sky. but that’s not the point. it is rare that you will be the center of attention when you are dancing – only a few times you are a bride and groom or the parents of or in a do-they-give-booby-prizes? dance competition. but we love to dance together. before our wedding, under linda’s (an absolute lover of all dance) tutelage, we learned an irish waltz that will remain one of the stunning moments of our reception in the old southport beachhouse. what happy dance took place that afternoon and night.
i remember many a day or night blissfully dancing with one of my babies in my arms. i even remember dancing around the living room solo or holding babycat. sometimes that was out of delight; sometimes it was in the search for joie de vivre, a yearning for cheer.
we have danced in the front yard, on the deck, in the kitchen in the middle of the night, in church and in airports. it matters not where you dance. as long as you dance. there is wisdom in dancing.
leonard pitts jr. wrote an opinion column, a gorgeous essay on the moon that we read the other morning. only it wasn’t really about the moon. he references a short film (which we watched) by filmmakers wylie overstreet and alex gorosh called “a new view of the moon” where the two men “wandered around los angeles with a telescope…asking a cross section of passersby in a cross section of places…to put their eyes to the viewfinder and gaze upon what they’ve looked at a million times yet never seen.” the two men found that people responded in the same way, awestruck, profoundly moved by the vision. the short doesn’t feature the moon; it features the reactions of people as they gaze into the telescope. leonard calls it “a hymn to our common humanity.” a reminder that in all our differences we are the same…”we spend too much time looking down and across.” we are, yes, tiny in the vastness – something i felt myself in writing about david’s painting FROM A DISTANCE that we chose for thursday’s melange. “so each other is all we have. but then, it should be all we need,” leonard writes.
when i drew this simple graphic, i wanted to portray a uncomplicated thought. an image unadorned with fancy-ness, but, hopefully, clear…or, at the very least, thought-provoking. “your” earth with arrows upward, “your” earth with arrows that circle around, “our” earth with arrows that circle around, “earth” with arrows that circle around.
it is all a circle. what we do counts. how we help counts. how we help our earth. how we help each other.
“don’t let that stop you,” she’d say. “remember the little engine,” he’d say. i grew up with parents who encouraged me to not doubt myself or what i could do. i hope that i made them (and are still making them – even on a different plane of existence) proud.
i watch my own children, The Girl and The Boy, and think they have figured this obstacles-thing out.
The Girl texted me photographs. she was in silverton, a vast expanse of ridiculously rugged mountains. she had (i’m glad i knew about this AFTERwards) snowboarded down these giants. she, literally, dropped off cliffs and boarded down the fresh powder, exhilarated and stoked. her girlfriend said, “we can do it” and they did. omg. amazing stuff! i am filled with awe. and more than a little jealous, in an i-wish-i-could-do-that kind of way. just the sheer chutzpah of it all is at the very heart of don’t-let-that-stop-you-little-engine-ness.
life is interesting. always. and obstacles are always there. they make life more interesting. yup. get stoked. rise to the challenges.
“don’t let that stop you,” she’d say. “remember the little engine,” he’d say. i grew up with parents who encouraged me to not doubt myself or what i could do. i hope that i made them (and are still making them – even on a different plane of existence) proud.
i watch my own children, The Girl and The Boy, and think they have figured this obstacles-thing out.
The Girl texted me photographs. she was in silverton, a vast expanse of ridiculously rugged mountains.
she had (i’m glad i knew about this AFTERwards) snowboarded down these giants. she, literally, dropped off cliffs and boarded down the fresh powder, exhilarated and stoked. her girlfriend said, “we can do it” and they did. omg. amazing stuff! i am filled with awe. and more than a little jealous, in an i-wish-i-could-do-that kind of way. just the sheer chutzpah of it all is at the very heart of don’t-let-that-stop-you-little-engine-ness.
mountain mugs!
life is interesting. always. and obstacles are always there. they make life more interesting. yup. get stoked. rise to the challenges.
two people get credit for this “just shrug”: 20 (aka john) and justine. it was in the “old days” when i was at the graphic design studio what felt like all the time when i learned this mantra.
20 designed the first ten or so of my album jackets (and traycards, if you want to get specific.) i would spend time with him and justine (the person who made things happen at the office) idea-brainstorming or watching layout. i can’t tell you how many times deadlines would rapidly approach or the print shop would goof on a run or the computer would glitch or…. i would inwardly be freaking out (and maybe outwardly), but 20 and just would be even and relaxed (at least on the outside.) one or the other would look at me and say, “just shrug.” after about a zillion times, it stuck.
shrugging off the stuff that stresses us out is not a science. it’s most definitely an art form – approached and accomplished differently by each person who attempts it. everyone chooses different crayons out of the box, everyone paints with different size brushes, everyone chooses a different key on the piano, everyone sings a different song, everyone relaxes a different way, everyone re-centers differently. but people are able -and if they weren’t, we would all be a paralyzed-with-stress community of people- to slough it off, to let it roll off their shoulders, to move on, to shrug.
i once heard an interview with a woman who was about 95. she was happy, happy, happy and spoke of her life. the interviewer asked her, “to what do you attribute your happiness, your ease in the world?” she answered, “i don’t take anything personally.”
the hymn “it is well with my soul” makes me think of the hymn “be still, my soul” which makes me think of mama dear, my grandmother (my sweet momma’s momma.) (are you still keeping up?) these two strong women, so alike and yet so different – were both anchors in my world, quietly (and sometimes not-so-quietly) shaping my ability to walk in this world and have faith. my sweet momma, for my growing-up years, went to church most every sunday. she and my poppo got dressed up and we would go to christ lutheran church on burr road in east northport. i got to hang with my best friend sue and we went to youth group and sleepaway camp (cool as it was, those days i was never a really big fan of sleepaway camp) and, together, we memorized the books of the bible in order (i still have no idea what the purpose of this was.) i can’t remember mama dear going to church as much; she went on some weekends, on holidays with us or to special events. mama dear had bright red hair, taught me how to sew and adored going to las vegas to play the slot machines. she was obstinate and somewhat opinionated and one of the loves of my early life.
during the time i went to suffolk county community college, mama dear’s house was within reach and i would go there for lunch or tea. we’d eat rye-bread-toasted-with-melted-butter and i’d tell her everything that was going on in my life. she’d listen and, every now and again, she’d say a few words of wisdom. i could tell her anything. she let my soul breathe.
i’d come home from school during junior high and high school and my sweet momma and i would sit on the couch and have tea and chips ahoy chocolate chip cookies, my way-back-then favorite store-bought cookies. we’d talk about my day, the challenges that face girls in high school, cute boys who might have said a word or two, the kids smoking on the bus. she would listen and, every now and again, she’d say a few words of wisdom. i could tell her anything. she let my soul breathe. matter of fact, she let my soul breathe the whole time i had the privilege of having her physically in my life. she still does.
we need that. a place for our souls to breathe. people with whom we can let our souls breathe. a faith in this universe that opens us and simultaneously holds us gently and anchors us. then – we can say: it is well with my soul.
reverse threading 