Cathartic the change
Seasonal markings greet
Ides of March, budding
Spring blossoms rise ‘neath
The snow crowned earth
Organic rebirth, renewal
I’m an avid viewer of the CBS Sunday Morning Show & thanks to DVR, I rarely miss a show. I was especially delighted to see the 1/27/19 segment about Jessica Frank, the “keeper of the suns.” For 20 years, Jessica has been collecting and “handpicking every shining example of sun artwork to appear on the program – about 9000 and counting!” I absolutely loved this segment & the story is fascinating!
I immediately called my mother, told her about the show & asked her to send me a photo of the ceramic sun I had made when I was a little girl. She has had it hanging in her kitchen for years. So, in addition to a little background story about my art and the inspiration behind it, I eagerly submitted my sun to CBS Sunday Morning. Maybe one day it’ll make its television debut!
~ It was summertime in Cape Girardeau, Missouri. I believe I was in the second or third grade at the time, so I suppose the year was 1973 or 1974. My parents were in the midst of divorce, so my mother made sure my brother & I had a variety of activities to keep us busy… including art classes. At the time, I didn’t realize just how powerful those art classes were & how they would end up affecting my life today! I’m forever grateful for my art teacher, Rusty Garner. Everything about her was pure magic (at least in my eyes)! Her studio was a large barn-like structure, detached from the back of her house. I remember the musty smell of clay, paints & other art supplies – This aroma permeated the entire studio, our clothes & I loved it all! I couldn’t wait to enter Rusty’s world! She made sure there would always be something new in store for us to create & explore.
Sadly, my summers with Rusty came to a close in 1976 when my family moved to Texas. To this day, all my pottery & artwork lives with family, so I get to see it all the time. In my childhood works, I also see Rusty & realize I never had a chance to thank her for all she had taught me. I never had a chance to tell her just how much of an impact she had made on me all those years ago – An impact still palpable to this day.
Rusty had a “larger than life” personality – she exuded joy, passion & purpose. She was an enigmatic light in my life which continues to shine as bright as the sun!
“Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans.” ~ John Lennon
I hadn’t gleaned the thought of writing anything tonight, nor had I any desire to do so. However, as I took notice of the many other writers sharing social media posts & commentary about their own frustrations & various roadblocks, I decided to reflect on this a bit & decided to write about why I write… or why I don’t write. Without any particular topic in mind, my words tonight are meant as a cathartic reminder for myself & hopefully for others who might be reading.
Life happens. Sometimes things happen beyond our control, but sometimes we simply need to take a breath, freeing ourselves from unsatisfying, exhausting attempts to be the perfect version of ourselves as a writer in order to please our readers. However, once we lose sight of ourselves & own pleasure, our written words can reflect this & the reader will notice as well. Here’s one of my favorite quotes I find quite fitting for this post & for writers in general.
“I write for myself & strangers. The strangers, dear readers are an afterthought “ ~ Gertrude Stein
Life happens. With every ebb & flow, take these moments (or years), attend to the needs at hand. Some writers are able to dive back into their work without skipping a beat. Others must take time to reflect, regroup or reinvent themselves & their work.
Life happens. Sometimes we need to escape from such mental rigidity, finding the contentment to write about “nothing,” yet more often than not, something always comes from nothing. I think I’ll try to make more time to let myself go – to write freely, without the self inflicted cognitive overload caused from laborious hours nitpicking my verbiage, format & flow.
I suppose I’ll consider this post a prologue, a precursor intended to spawn future posts, musings & observations about writers & writing. Stay tuned.
Whispered words taste soulful
Sweetened sounds, murmurs &
Blessings fermented, forgiven as Peace sheds light upon darkened
Days, drawn to this confession
Tower, seeking solice & comfort.
Inside the echoing chamber
Young faces adorned in robes
Fill the chantry with sweet
Innocence & hymns a cappella
Angelic voices, these children
Remind those in congregation
There is good in our world.
Somehow, somewhere a rogue
flower thrives in extraordinary circumstances.
A Winter daisy once caught my eye as it bloomed pink, solo in a snow covered field.
Look out for those daisies in the snow… sometimes the beauty lies in the unexpected.
Photo shared by #DimpleVerse
I have no words. On this particular evening, words don’t seems to matter. Sometimes we need the silence to better understand what we cannot control. My mind is content to leave this post just as it is with closing comments already expressed here, amongst the clouds in this image.