Passion

I tie myself in knots because I think I should be passionate about something productive. It's an attitude handed down by my engineer father and probably one I have handed down to my kids.

The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language gives "boundless enthusiasm" as one of the definitions of Passion.

I was thinking, as I was driving, that maybe I have lost a sense of passion, at least the kind that translates into doing something. The kind I remember having in college when we protested about everything -- the Viet Nam war, women's rights, relevancy in classes. We were a passionate generation, everything mattered. Maybe it was being 19, maybe it was the times. Maybe it was having the enormous freedom to go to college and not work full time. Whatever it was, my youth was not wasted on the young! And somehow those passions seemed productive. We were "doing" something -- ending a war, allowing women to keep their own names, reading Malcolm X and Eldridge Cleaver!

But these days I don't seem to have a passion for running a business or making art -- both things I say I would like to do. Those are productive things. But they are not the things that get me going each morning.

My boundless enthusiasm is the same as it was when I was eight years old. Reading and stories! I love stories, whether a novel, non-fiction work, or movie; any thing that sparks my interest and allows me to put myself into a place or learn about interesting characters. I really love to read. And finish a couple books each week. When my daughter was in kindergarten, the teacher asked her what I did. She replied, "My mom reads books." The teacher, who knew me, said, "Oh, is she a librarian?" My daughter answered yes, which I am. But the truth is, "My mom reads books," is probably the truest thing she could have said about me.

I don't read for a living (tho I did love that Robert Redford's character in Three Days of the Condor actually did get paid by a spy agency to read). I don't have a library job, by choice. So some days, like today, I feel just a bit stuck that the thing I do well, and a lot isn't a job or career and takes up a lot of time I think I should be doing something else.

I wish I had a good conclusion to this post. But that's all I've got. I just wanted to write it out.

Waiting

It is such a relief I can write this blog again. I have also started to write in my journal again. I kept waiting to feel like writing or blogging. I kept waiting for the perfect time or idea or something. I would compose posts while driving, but get home and not post. I have no idea what allowed the storm to pass, but I'm awfully glad it did.

About six years ago I went through a very tough time in my life. It was filled with despair and loss and I truly felt I would never get over it. During that time I wrote in my journal daily, sometimes hourly. It was a necessity to keep from completely falling apart, but also a record of dark times. And at one time I couldn't bear the thought that that much misery was floating around in words in a journal . . . so I ripped it all up. There were a few pages I am sorry I got rid of. They were not despairing, but thoughtful insights -- even the beginning of a short story I thought I might write about the whole miserable experience. Destroying that journal and tossing it out was a good thing and I have even come to peace about the few pages I used to pine for. I didn't want that much hurt to reside anywhere.

But after the destruction, I was not able to use a journal for a long time. I would write, desultorily, but never with any help coming from it. Writing has always been cathartic for me. It allows me to see what is really going on. Sort of like writing out involved dreams and then going, "ah ha! I know what has been bugging me!" Losing that medium was tough. I felt adrift.

I have known for the past couple months that I am in a state of waiting. Have you ever read the amazing poems of Lawrence Ferlinghetti? I discovered him in college and fell in love with I am Waiting and the oft repeated phrases " I am waiting. . ." and ". . . a rebirth of wonder," which have always spoken to me at the very center of my being! Over the years it hasn't bothered me to wait, for I know that the rebirth of wonder will appear. Of course, wonder fades and waiting starts up again, but knowing that never discourages me. Even at my lowest, even when I think I just will never be a trusting person ever again, there at the back of my being are Ferlinghetti's lines

I am awaiting
perpetually and forever
a renaissance of wonder

I don't know if I've found what I was waiting for. I do know I have come to a place that is more centered. I can write again in a way that is healing and makes me smile. I've almost gotten to the place of seeing how to maintain both the pretty pink blog, which is all smiles, and this much more honest one.

Right now all I'm waiting for is Spring!

Beauty In The Simple Things

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be an artist.

Bob Dylan's lyrics She's got everything she needs/She's an artist/She don't look back were the words I wanted to live my life by. I still get a secret smile on my face when I hear the song or think the lyrics.

I have a friend who is an artist and she has always intimidated me. I love her work. I think I am what is called in art circles, a major collector of her work. We probably own 20 pieces.

But my work tends to be a little too much on the craft side for her. I know she has great expectations for me that I haven't fulfilled. Charles Schultz said it best, "There is no greater burden that great potential."

Today as I was starting a project, I opened my inspiration book and discovered the page headed

WHO ARE YOU?
AND WHAT IS IT YOU ARE TRYING TO SAY?

I have struggled for years with what I was trying to say. My artist friend is big on having something to say with one's art. And until today I didn't consciously know my answer.

Today I realized I do have something to say. And what I want to say with my art is that Life is Beautiful. Beauty is all around. Beauty is in the simple things.

I don't want to address larger political issues when I am creating. I don't want to right the wrongs of the world. Those are important things and I care about them, but when I am creating I just want to make beautiful things that make people smile or catch their breath and feel good.

OK, I'm at the end of what I want to say. How do I conclude in some grand way? Maybe there isn't a grand conclusion. Maybe it's just enough to know I do have something to say and get on with making art!

The Wisemen's Gifts

"you'll get a live mouse for Christmas and like it. so there."
I was writing a comment on the above blog and as it turned into an essay, I decided to write it here instead.

My family was insane at Christmas.

I always ended up crying (emotional overload I think) and getting yelled at for it.

So, when our own were born we swore to tone it down. Since I knew I had the makings of Xmas Insanity in me, I made a rule -- we would give 3 gifts only to each kid. I figured if it was good enough for the baby Jesus, it was good enough for my kids.

I didn't eliminate Christmas insanity completely, but it hasn't been a yearly event!

Of course there was the year I raced around San Diego seaching for a playhouse for the kids on Christmas eve. I have no idea what made it so important, but there I was 30 miles from home buying a lovely yellow and orange Sesame Street themed plastic playhouse with built in slide, doors & windows that opened and a built in telephone.

We built it in their bedroom that night! I'm pretty sure they stayed asleep. The look of surprise the next morning was priceless. They were still playing in in when they entered middle school 10 years later!

My kids have sent their lists this year. My son, ever mindful of the cost of his sister's college education, even said we only had to get him one thing this year. But since my kids have been as precious to me as the baby the holiday is named for I'm sticking with 3.

Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh anyone?

Sitting on My Duff

It was been a tough couple months.

I went out to an "wonderful" art weekend/glitterfest and didn't have a wonderful time. I was so excited about it and told lots of people - my friends, of course and folks like the tellers at my bank, my hairdresser, waitresses at my fav restaurant -- who all remember and have asked me. I hate having to say it was a disappointment. I hate that it was a disappointment. I put so much energy into it. The travel, getting things ready to sell, making things for a couple of swaps. And after all that it was such a let-down.

I meant to make things, sell things, be a dynamo when I returned and I find I am spending way too much time playing computer games and watching dvd's. It's like the disappointment has just sapped all my energy and I don't wanna do anything!

And the craziest thing is that the classes were fantastic. They were really world class. I learned so much stuff in them and made such wonderful things. And the teachers and special guest speakers were wonderful. They are women I have admired for years. Half of the books in my studio are written or published by them. I connected with the teachers, at least I felt they thought I was interesting. If I would get out of my self-pitying state, I might discover the connection was not short lived. Or I might not, of course.

But the whole problem with this weekend is I expected to feel a part of the group. It was billed as a place where one can find instant connection. Where people "get" you and the bonding is strong and lasting. No one got me. I felt no instant (or otherwise) bonding with women who I have read their blogs and they mine. I felt an outsider, not part of the group. No one came up to me and said, "Hi." Everyone was quite stand-offish and even the people I met at meals didn't make any effort to hang out with me.

On the way home I realized how tired of feeling lonely and isolated I am. I have real friends, but most of them do not get any of my art interests or style. I even called my best friend and asked her if there is something wrong with me that I didn't make any friends. She, of course, was no help at all! As she said, "how can I tell you why you didn't make any friends, I love you, I can't see why you wouldn't make friends."

Writing this all out is actually awfully helpful. I realize as I write that the issue really wasn't one of making friends. I really do have some wonderful friends, even if most of them live far away and I miss having them around to go out to lunch with. But the issue is feeling part of a group. Ever since moving to the East Coast 10 years ago, I have not felt part of any group. Back in CA I was part of a bunch of groups -- Girl Scouts, PTA, soccer moms, creative women who were also moms (yes, I do see the theme there). Here I haven't found any groups to be a part of. My kids are grown so PTA & Girl Scouts & AYSO just aren't my thing anymore. I really thought a group of artists and bloggers would be perfect. I thought because I read their blogs and they read mine that we were part of a group. Meeting them proved that was sadly not true. *sigh* Perhaps its telling that the teachers and speakers, who welcomed talking with me, are more my age. Most of the participants are probably 15+ years younger. And the ones my age were there with their daughters!

I'd actually love to return to this event next year. The classes really were amazing! Even with high expectations for those I don't think they would disappoint! But would I be able to enjoy it if I felt just as on the fringes as this year? I don't know. Would I go thinking it would be different cuz it was my second year and then be disappointed all over again? I am glad I went for the experience. It would be nice to say I'm glad I went for the experience and it was fantastic!

Thinking, but not Writing.

I have not spent the whole month talking to computer techs in India.
In fact, our modem/router are working just great.

I probably even have had things to say.

But I have been super busy. Or at least I have a very long to-do list which is focused on an art weekend/vintage goods, handmade fair I am going to as a student and one night as a seller. It has taken all my thoughts and I haven't taken the time to think of clever things to write here.

The trip, a road trip, will probably inspire me, as driving, and standing in the shower, are the best places I know to have a really good think.

I should probably get one of those small hand held tape recorders so I can drive safely and still remember the brilliant thoughts. I wonder if they make them in a waterproof version?

Talking to Mombai

Our wireless router died on Saturday. It didn't even have the courtesy to make that s-s-spitz-z-z sound like when a lightbulb fizzes out!

We got a new router.

Then we needed to get it to work with our modem and computers.

So today I spent the day speaking with tech support people in India. If I can understand them, I love speaking to tech folks in India. It kind of reminds me of connections I feel with India. My daughter spent time in Dharmsala, in the foothills of the Himalayas, where the Dalai Lama lives. My college advisor spent her undergrad college year abroad in India. I rather like Bollywood films. I could probably go on listing things I like about India, but I'll just get on with the story.

The first young man was charming and unflappable. A good thing, as half the questions he asked triggered tears. When mechanical things or electronic things don't work I go a bit crazy. This young man laughed a lot, was patient. We were stopped when he asked me my Verizon login and password. I hadn't a clue. He was actually apologetic that he couldn't get the set up complete. He was a lot of fun! Point A.

Next I called Verizon hoping they could tell me my login and password. That young woman was less patient of me, but I sounded less teary, so it probably all evened itself out. And she could give me my login and help me establish a new password. Point B.

Then back to Linksys to finish setting up the new wireless router. It was done quickly, easily and without a single tear or panic attack. This young man invited me to come to India. I was welcome anytime, but Dec has better weather.

Viola! I am on the internet, it is working wirelessly. I'm wrung out. I'm hoping tomorrow is a less fraught day!