The Only Constant is.....

There is a rime of frost on the deck railing. The ground is painted with it. The rising sun has begun to clear a path through the trees and it illuminates the bark of its neighbors deeper into the woods than before.

It is November and winter is close by. Our first snow was in October and it created an ethereal world of unique color. Change is in the air, at least for nature.

Thinking back over the past too-many months, we have adjusted to many changes of our own. Summers, for instance, have always had days filled with laughter and camaraderie, food grilled and shared, close conversations murmured late into the night in front of flickering bonfires. Trips to the beach, travel to foreign lands, hugging and touching and connections made without a care in the world. Our winters, with layers of snow insulating us, kept us mostly indoors as we shared tables groaning with food and cozy visits where we removed our snowy boots in the hall and reached for warming cups of tea after a generous hug. We read, make puzzles, cook sustaining meals, and think.

There has always been a natural balance to our seasons and it is missing this year. Many of us have been too much in our heads for most all of this year. Although it began optimistically, the days and freedoms quickly narrowed to one place and a reluctant sameness ruled. We did what we needed to in order to keep others safe from the virus. In the process, we discovered what we were missing most in our lives. Some things were revelations, others a deep pain to the heart. We have been separated from those who need us most, each of us having to shoulder burdens of grief and distress virtually alone. As the numbers rise, I feel weary of our careful restrictions, but plod on for the good of my family and friends.

I told myself that I am okay with more solitude, okay with phone calls and listening to the joys of others expressed through a handheld device instead of in person. But while I was okay with it for a while, I no longer feel that way. I am missing so much that it hurts.

A big part of this is that my brother’s 62^nd birthday was this week. He died in July. We watched his Ohio funeral on You Tube. As I went through my stash of birthday cards last week, I pulled out Jim’s, smiling at the message. He will like it. I went back through the stack twice more, looking for Jon’s. I always buy my brothers' cards at the same time.

Then I remembered. Tears have been gathering ever since.

I miss hugging something awful.  When the nurse cradled my arm against her hip as she took my blood pressure a few weeks ago, I drank in the feeling of contact. Someone laughed in another room and it felt remarkable. Sue and I, safe for each other right now, worked on a puzzle together for the first time since last winter. It felt marvelous. I am keen on noticing these small pleasures. I drink them in as I would a spectacular sunset. Solitude, something I treasure, a state where I am my most creative, I now find burdensome. I need to find a way out of all this waiting.

I do not mind the thick blanket of leaves on the ground this year as they signal another passage of time that might allow us to reach some semblance of normal soon. I scuff through them on my way to the studio, releasing their crisp autumnal fragrance. I dig out the cozy afghans, draping one over my legs as I settle into the corner of the couch to read. I cook – even better than before – winging it and writing details down when the flavors prompt us to scrape the juices off the plate with a heel of bread. I have forsaken TV in favor of soothing nature films and vlogs on You Tube. They calm my anxiety over what I cannot control and reduced the plethora of negative commentaries filtering into my brain during this contentious month. I bake bread, learn new things. I clean my home and purge out the unused and no longer necessary. I meditate, stilling my fractured mind. I accept what I cannot change (sometimes not particularly gracefully) and pay attention to the blessings that will console me when times are difficult.

It is still too early to put the birdfeeders out. Bears are roaming, foraging for their last few meals before hibernating. Once they do, winter will bring the pleasure of birds nearer to my windows. The cooling air brings with it cozy nights and snow-blown days. Whiteness offers a refreshing vista. The slate is clean for a while. I can draw what I want on it. 

I do not want this winter to have the sameness of the previous nine months, or even the sameness of last winter. With the snowfall, I will clear my own slate in order to welcome new experiences, new thankfulness.

The View from Inside the Mind

When one wonders about the minds of visionaries and you land on the incredible art created by Van Gogh’s supposedly disturbed mind, one can only be reminded that no two people see the world in the same way. Some only take in the surface and others see more deeply.

Van Gogh's Starry Night

Time-lapse photography while stargazing in Atacama Desert, Chile

Adhemar Duro Getty Images

Through the Looking Glass

Montmartre Reflection

Ah, a new year arrives. It is a crisp, cold day and the sun shines down on the shiny coat of thick ice on the lake. A massive storm is brewing to the west, churning and drifting our way. Tomorrow, the scene may be very different but inside, warmth will fill the rooms and there is always tea to heat the body from the inside out.

These past five days have been restorative. I have picked up my clutter, rearranged my sitting room so I can fit in my paints and supplies for the winter. Curtains, a project long overdue and neglected, have been sewn for the guest room sliding door – lush thick folds of fabric to keep the chill outside where it belongs.

Mending has been done, Marlena de Blasi’s new book, Antonia and Her Daughters, a gift from a friend, is slowly savored so as not to rush through the pages and reach the end before I am ready for it. I am traveling soon so I brought the rolling suitcase down to ready it for the trip. I will leave the Christmas tree up until Saturday – a few more days of enjoyment before memorable ornaments are once again stored away.

Their brief appearance makes them special. Released from their slumber, they evoke memories of holidays filled with laughter and good food, traditions long enjoyed. These accumulated treasures represent a lifetime of Decembers. Like old friends, they are a small part of the solace of the season. The rest is spiritual comfort and reflection.

Now I am ready to embrace my passions and grow. There are only a few pledges I will make to set the character of my new year. Now, more than ever, action requires the parameters of a plan.

I surrender to the notion that I will always be a person with myriad interests. I intend to fully give each its moment of attention without gazing lustfully at the ones not chosen.
 
Embrace the path – I will take one step at a time on paths which intrigue me and trust that they will not lead me astray. This will keep me upright in more ways than one.
 
Cherish relationships – in the moment and always.

Like the eagle, I will ride the wind with grace and strength, and return to a nurturing nest of inspiration and respite.

I will continue to balance activity with quiet contemplation and appreciate the growth from both. Simplicity will hone my focus.

Let's see how that goes....

Creative Evolution

(C) Gina Sekelsky

I have reached a point in my life when I know who I am and what is important to me. I am not saying the trip was a smooth one but I have tried many things and have grown as a person and an artist from each experience. I relish the thought of expanding my exposure for all my days to come.

I read articles and postings where people are trying to find themselves or direct others onto a path. The premise is that you can't do everything so you better find your focus and be happy with just that. The world is your oyster but, wait - you can't have the whole plate.

To be creative is a blessing to be explored without restrictions. You don't have to put a name to it.  I am an artist or I am a welder or I am a story-spinner. I don't feel it is important to distill an abundance of creative interests into a narrow channel. Spending time attempting to do this denies the expansiveness of what makes you YOU. It is frustrating and limits your exposure to creativity's bounty. Just as our minds expand and can hold the words to countless songs, our creativity mellows and morfs but can remain complete because each foray into wonder expands our focus in ways that strengthen our talent. The more we 'see' the more we grow.

Time spent worrying about who you are and what defines you keeps you away from discovering that very thing. Deny nothing, avoid nothing and fine-tune your music by drawing from all the creative interests and awesome sights you have (and will) experience. Appreciate your mind for its plethora of interests. You will find you have been yourself all along.

I have been writing...just not here

As a female of the species, I excel at multitasking. Well, I did in my earlier life. Now I single-task in a multiple fashion. Moving from one thing to another, my mind plans the next foray with aplomb except for the occasional brain fade when I get to the next room and forget why I went there.

Single mindedness comes with age - at least I assume it does. It has for me. I savor more, do things completely so I don't have to come back to them and I ignore an overburdened closet simply by closing the door. Hey, it is important to pick your battles.

Art and writing are more important to me than dust. Lately, though, construction has planted plenty of the stuff on every surface of the house so I am back to multitasking. I write a bit and swipe a cloth over the desk. I sweep out the studio in prep for the summer, taking paints from their winter storage out to their regular home, while simultaneously swiping a counter top with a cloth as I pass by. I clean plaster dust and wood splinters from the inside of the washing machine (I mean, really guys?) and then do the wash.

The new bathroom is coming along nicely. I will be happy when we can stop going down two flights of stairs to use the other bathroom. It will be a twofold luxury when it is done in a few weeks.

I've kept up with my journal, adding watercolors to the pages when a light touch is needed and pictures of trips and construction progress to illustrate the dialog of my days. I spent four nights at an inn in Gloucester a few weeks ago, painting at a beach I found in Manchester-by-the-Sea on the first day. The air was cool - mid to high 50's - but the sun made it feel warmer. I sketched the scene, adding notes to my drawing so I'd remember the color of the water and the sweep of the clouds. The next day I set up my easel, digging the legs into the soft sand and, stretching a bungee cord over the tray, anchoring it with two big milk bottles filled with water. I accepted its quirky tilt - uneven ground being what it is.

Life is uneven. The axis tilts this way and that and I find my footing either by digging in and firmly planting my thoughts or flowing with it. Both work to different degrees. It would be plenty boring if there was a sameness to every day. I know people with lives like that. I guess they must like it that way because they continue to do it year in and year out.

I prefer edges that shift and change like the waves on the shore. When I was in Gloucester, the beach was different each morning. The clear, rocky beach of that first afternoon became riddled with seaweed on the second day. The sea pulled some of it out with the next tide so the arrangement was different - undulating strips of seaweed hiding sea glass treasures in with the pebbles underneath their mounds. I accepted the changes with a sense of excitement and discovery looking forward to rounding the corner to find out what I would see.

When things are serene, I find untold pleasure in my own discoveries. A good book, rhythmic stitches woven into the shawl I am working on and the plunge and pull of silk thread through a needlepoint canvas. Good conversation with friends culminating in laughter and hugs. I am grounded by my pleasures. They help me meet my challenges with a bit more grace.

Putting Off and Picking Up

Have you ever put something off for a really long time? Silly question - of course you have. Me, too.

My Christmas cards were mailed just before Christmas after an absence of two years. For good reasons, mind you, not that I need a reason or have to feel bad about it.  But I kinda do. They were addressed in 2010, the year my mother-in-law died. I always write a Christmas letter but didn't have the heart to and one day dragged into another until it was New Year's Day and I put the envelopes away with the cards. Last year, my husband almost died - cards were shelved again.

My year of simplifying has had a side benefit in that I am getting back on the ball and doing some of the things I have put off. Occasionally, I table them for good - not necessary to my well-being anymore. Like keeping a budget book.  If I don't know where the money is going by now, I never will.

With the long New Year's weekend home from work, I have been doing a few things. The one which is bringing me the most satisfaction is finally making the lined drapes for the bedroom. The fabric was bought  ummm..ahhh a few years ago. Really more than that but I won't tell if you don't. My measurement notes will probably turn up when I am done. I know what they look like, just can't put my finger on them.

My work surface is a little low and the fabric panels for the sliding door are huge, but seams are being sewn and pressed and I am just about to attach the lining. My back isn't particularly happy about the bending and pinning so frequent breaks break up the action. Nice. Breaks are always nice - especially on days off.

It is New Year's Eve. Snow blankets the ground and makes the inside feel that much more cozy. On this day, ten years ago, we signed the papers to purchase our house. We have been here ten years now and are celebrating our milestone tenth anniversary in Massachusetts together. We will stay at home, perhaps play Scrabble and eat pizza from our favorite shop, enjoying each-others company just as we did then. We will light a sky lantern filled with our wishes for our loved ones and set it aloft over the lake. As it fills with heat and expands with our hopes and wishes, we will let it rise to the heavens with our prayers.

Happy New Year's Eve!

Early Resolutions

from A Cup of Jo

After burning the candle at both ends for the past week or so, the last package is wrapped, cookies are made (and some devoured) and I spent a wonderful Sunday morning dozing on the couch with my husband while listening to Christmas music.

My grief has mellowed into a reverent thankfulness. Priorities have shifted, commitments have been renewed. I have touched base with friends and family I have not talked with in quite awhile and checked in with those who need comfort or a little attention. A new baby has been born in our family this past week and her beautiful countenance warms my heart. We gladly welcome a new generation in the Swanson/Starybrat family.

It is usually New Year's Day which prompts resolutions and promises to better ourselves in one way or another. This year, my desire arrived early for tragically obvious reasons.  I have felt agitated and words have been darting around inside my head in a mad attempt to make sense of the world's violence and my part in it.

I do not have to condone it by sitting in front of the tube watching blood and gore, degradation and pain. I have been moving away from this type of entertainment for several years and have never watched horror movies or abusive stories so favored on Lifetime but my husband still watches a few shows which, although milder in content, still disturb me. Bones, Castle and NCIS, where the good guy wins and humor softens the human aspect of the shows, still have victims, still
offer entertainment through violence. I do not need it in my life, it does nothing to enhance it. I have been putting off more pleasurable creativity in order to keep him company but I have really had enough. I will explore other ways to spend time with him. If there are still things to pass along to younger souls at this late stage, I want them to be positive things, uplifting things.

I want what my dog offers me - uncomplicated affection. Relationships that expand my heart and broaden my horizons. If hurt, pain or sadness strikes, I want to be there to support and console.

Bob and Mario

I crave simplicity in mind as well as home. I am making good headway on both scores.We have set four years from August 2012 as goal for deciding our plan for what comes next in the scheme of things - retirement date, where we will live, downsizing - all the big questions facing those in their later years.

In the meantime, I plan to lighten my load, put my priorities in the right place for me and go with the flow. Life will happen, there will be tough things to face but there will also be countless joys to savor.

The Christmas music plays quietly in the background, the ornamented tree warms the room and there is a spritz or two in the cookie tin which will go perfectly with my tea. Time to move on....

Do You Hear What I Hear?



Life is Short via happythings.com

 Lately, there have been many opportunities to grasp an important concept and grow with it.  Most of these come from chance words in conversations.  Observations about someone's actions either applauded or reviled hit a chord and stop me in my tracks.  I rarely hear the rest of the sentence as I try to grasp the concept of why these particular words are so important to me and what I am meant to learn from them. 

For important they are and I know I am supposed to pay attention.

There have been many such moments in the past few months, some I have taken the time to contemplate while others are circling above me and my hands are outstretched to catch them but they elude me for the time being.  I suspect I have enough to think on and they can wait for another day.  I want to stop my busyness, though, and find a quiet place so I can give these observations their due.  I know it will make me a better person.

When someone is talking about a friend or spouse or acquaintance - or even a stranger - and a facet of that person's personality is revealed, it can be like an ah-ha moment of recognition.  It begs for acknowledgement.  There, but for the grace of God, go I.  Or ew, I do that, too.  These are big deals if we are paying attention.  Anything which makes us squirm or gives us pause to assess our own actions helps us grow. 

Other comments feel like some kind of preparation.  After almost losing Bob in December, I am ultra-sensitive to what my friends are going through as they battle cancer, illness and job loss.  Alan's death last Friday due to pancreatic cancer was an eye-opener as was Nancy's husband's death in January.  We are all ill-prepared for this finality and the rebuilding that must go on afterwards.  While I think I want to be super organized and prepared, what I really want is to make the most of each day and dust be damned.

One would have thought that by this time, all the growing would be completed and I would have graduated, maybe not with honors, but with a well-deserved diploma.  But the voices still sing their siren song and I still evolve along with the refrain.

Fireside Nostalgia

When you have a leisurely day close to the end of the year, thoughts can turn to other Christmases, other years, uplifting things and touch on the realities, too.  December has always been a month of reflection for me.  Quiet moments here and there to reassess, remember and regroup.  It is unlike any other month of the year.

I woke up early this morning, my eyes open in the predawn darkness.  I lay there listening to my husband's smooth breathing, relishing the sound as it washed over me in harmony with the dog's dreamy sighs.  The past few weeks have been filled with anxiety and concern.  While he is now doing fine, I am well aware that anything can happen in any of our lives at any time.  I am thankful that now wasn't his time.

I finally wiggled my feet into my slippers and quietly stole downstairs, turning up the heat and flipping on the Christmas tree lights.  Deep into a good book, I made a cup of tea and read until it became light outside.  There is fog on the lake - warmer out than is customary for the last day of the year.  Kids are usually ice-skating by Christmas.  Not this year.  The skim coat of ice thickens and dissolves with the unseasonably fluctuating temperatures.

I toasted the last of the panettone, liberally spreading butter on its fragrant surface. Taking it and another cup of hot tea, I tucked my book under my arm and headed down to the family room to lay a fire and light some candles.  I planned to enjoy a day of decadence, stirring only to load the washer and dryer and run a dustcloth on a few surfaces if the mood struck.  It did, but didn't ruin the ambiance the slightest bit.

When Bob woke up and came down with his coffee later, the fire was crackling and blues was softly playing in the background.  We reminisced about holidays past, family and friends and how much our connection to them means to us.  We have talked with many of them over the past week, catching up on lives which are traveling in all different directions. 

I have plans for next year.  I plan to be gentler on myself, going with the flow and approaching new challenges with gusto.  The challenges I speak of have wings.  I want to paint en plein air, soaking in the smells and sounds of the scenery that will be sketched on my canvases.  I will enjoy the company of family and friends regularly, if not in person then by phone.  I will continue to simplify as it has brought me great pleasure this year and I certainly have a considerable ways to go with it.  I will keep my sketchbook by my side and strive to draw every day, experimenting with color when the mood strikes.  I will dig in the dirt, spread mulch and plant flowers to my heart's content. I will continue to write as it is my compulsion and pleasure.  I will savor life and all it brings to my table.

I hope all whom I love and all whom I have yet to meet have a gentle year filled with hope, love and inspiration.

Happy New Year's Eve!