Buddha
The first beneficiary of compassion is always oneself. When compassion, or warmheartedness, arises in us and our focus shifts away from our own narrow self-interest, it is as if we open an inner door. It reduces fear, boosts confidence and brings us inner strength. By reducing distrust, it opens us to others and brings us a sense of connection to others, and sense of purpose and meaning in life.
~Dali Lama
May all beings be peaceful and happy.
Every year I pick a word, a word to think about, a lens to look through, something that makes me dig a little deeper into what it is that has meaning for me. That information comes in bits and pieces, like grace notes, and enhances being here for me.
This year my word is “value.” Merriam says that it is a Middle English word associated with worth, and the past participle of Latin valere - to be of worth, to be strong. It has to do with the relative worth or importance of something, the relative duration of a musical note or the relative lightness or darkness of a color.
"If of thy mortalgoods thou are bereft,
and from thy slender store
Two loaves alone to thee are left,
Sell one, and with the dole
By Hyacinth's to fee the Soul."
~Sadi
So this year with be filtered by what what is of value, what relationship I have to that and how will that value show up in my life and art; intrinsically, metaphorically, and literally. I don't have all the words for it yet, but that is what this year will be about finding value and making it my own.
What is your word this year?
Grace notes are musical notations that represent several kinds of musical ornaments. They are smaller in size than a regular note and augment the piece. When I took piano lessons, oh so long ago, I just loved seeing them on a page. Wikipedia says that metaphorically grace notes indicate concerns which are of secondary importance to that which is a primary concern. For example, the table setting for a party would be the grace note to the menu or the guest list.
But the table setting can be beautiful and add to the experience of the meal.
Grace notes in life are, for me, those little things that you come across - mostly by surprise - that make you smile. They are not the big things like landing a new job or winning lotto but they add to your day in a "priceless" kind of way. Ineffable, personal, they touch a place beyond words. They lift us up, even if just for the moment and they carry us to a better place.
The catch is you have to be present to notice them. Here's an example... I was heading out the other day in a rush and there on the wooden shelf by the door on our deck was this circle of stones. I had put them there in a pile when the flower pot them were living in broke. I had intended to put them in the new one but hadn't gotten around to it. My husband arranged them in this nice little circle, a bit of a mini Stonehenge right on my deck. It's so like him to do a little thing like that, quietly, without announcement, for no reason other than to please himself, to make a bit of order out of chaos.
Finding the stones there made me smile. A bit of grace - an unearned favor from the universe and Phil. In pausing to enjoy them for a moment, I found a better rest of the day.
I think I will collect these grace notes and tuck them into my day where I can peer at them when I need to be reminded that there is always a bit of grace around if you look for it.
I have been thinking a lot about inspiration, creativity, originality, art, derivation, where the ideas comes from...and while I was musing on it over my first cup of tea this morning sunlight fell on this rhododendron blossom right outside my window.
Later when I went down to my studio to paint cloth and without thinking when I mixed some new paint it was on the pink-lavender side...
The second piece of yardage was calling for greens...
Hum... is it that simple? Was the rhododendron blossoming in the back of my mind?
I think this might become a quilt.
Now where will I get the inspiration for the design?
Back to the teapot and the window?
This story belongs to my friend Holly Hassett. It is a story about helping others, a parable about friendship.
After a particularly hard winter Holly and her husband, Rick, were clearing up the twigs and branches that had snapped off and fallen to the ground in their back yard. One of their birch trees had become so bent over in the last ice storm that its top almost touched the ground. Both of them are so fond of birch trees that Holly asked Rick if there was anything they could do to save the tree.
Rick had an idea. He said he would wrap a rope around the bent tree and tie it to the straight tree that was next to it and leave them together until the bent tree could remember being vertical. By the time the summer came, they could take the ropes off and although a little crooked the bent tree was now standing upright among the other birches.
Holly is a social worker and she tells this story to her staff who work with children at risk and people in recovery. This is what you do, she tells them. This is how you help. No one starts out dreaming of the day they can become an addict but sometime the storms of life bend you over. So your job is to be next to them until they can remember being vertical.
It strikes me that this is also a story about friendship. No one expects illness, financial difficulties or the basement to flood but “storms happen.” And when you are bent over by them it is your friends that will rope you to them with help and love and understanding until you can remember being vertical.
~Holly & Rick are straight birch tree to all who know them. The top picture is a photograph of two birch trees I pass regularly. It is part of a page for a round robin book passed between some incredible artist friends! You can see more of the book in the post below.
The bottom photo is a part of a "Little Love Quilt" I made for Holly & Rick.
Thank you all for being my straight birches!
I don’t think of myself as a procrastinator but I am. Not about the “work-work” I have to do—that I mostly jump into and get going. But blogging doesn't really have a dead line and sometimes I can put off blogging until the “great American blog entry” comes fully formed into my mind. Fragments float through only to be abandoned as not profound enough, not complete enough, not inspiring enough—all pieces of the life I try to live with grace. I patiently wait perfection...
My granddaughter Hannah doesn’t have these problems. We were spending a family Sunday together before they left for NC and Hannah decided that she was going to make a cape.
A piece of rust colored material with embroidery on it was produced. Hannah put it around her shoulders and tapped her arm with the opposite hand. “This long,” she said, “cut it here."
I thought for a moment about the drape of the fabric, darts, hems, and fabric grain…I even had a momentary longing for a simplicity cape pattern, girl's size 8.
Puzzled by my hesitation, she encouraged me again by tapping her arm again. “Cut it here,” she said.
I’ve sewn wedding gowns and the perfection of those wedding gowns and all their fittings were right there between Hannah and me.
Hannah looked me in the eye and pressed her lips together. I cut it.
Hannah placed the sewing tin on the hassock and took out a needle and thread and five buttons. While a was thinking about French seams and button hole stitches Hannah lined up the buttons on the edge of the fabric and sewed them on.
Then she folded the other side of the cape over the buttons and felt for the buttons. She then cut holes for the buttons with a scissor big enough to cut carpet. She pushed the buttons through and slipped the whole thing over her head. Then she twirled.
Perfection! How could I have ever doubted it?!
