Tag Archives: writing

Artsy-fartsy I am not

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birchtrees

I have never been able to comfortably embrace my artistic side; plain and simply I have none.

My mother was a brilliant artist in the true sense of the word. She could dance, sing (although she more often than not forgot the words which was always the joke between the family), played the piano (self taught), and kicked butt playing tennis against any single or doubles team that dare take her on… but her piece de résistance would easily be her painting. Pastels, charcoal, and rice paper, nothing caused a bump in her ability to capture the moment. Some day I will post her painting to share with the world and have her legacy live on forever but right now this is about me….

I am the last in the line of boys, and being the only other female in the family, her immense talent is a lot to aspire to. There should be some mom-daughter connection no?

Early on I learned I did not have the talent, nor did I have the patience. I have all of my father’s analytical genes (and also am my own worst critic). The highly organized (put it back where you found it and how you found it so you can find it again next time), the strict control of time (we don’t have time to stop we have a schedule to keep) and the deductive reasoning (if its not the air filter, the sparks or the timing, it is probably a gunky gas filter)… all very useful and practical in the world so I am not knocking it.

So why is it I still strive to be artsy-fartsy like my mom? I have taken to using a Groupon for ‘fun’ artistic afternoons with my daughter and do something different (none of this bowling or mini golf crap). The use of quotation in the word -fun- is there because I typically stress out more trying to complete the task rather than enjoy it’s process. Don’t get me wrong, it does not take away from the time spent with my daughter. We still laugh and crack jokes even if we are the only ones laughing, but the pressure to make it perfect, to get what I see in my head out through my hands, is close to impossible and extremely-extremely frustrating (did I mention it is extreme?!)

So the birch trees you see are another attempt at my striving to bond with my mother.  After all, don’t we secretly wish that our children will take something special from us and pass it along to future generations? Maybe that is it; I disappointed her in that sense and am still striving to keep a piece of her alive while failing miserably. (Hmm Fraud where are you now?)

I am sure it will not be the last time but sooner or later I will get the hint; I am just not artsy-fartsy.

MMM smell that earth

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I remember distinctly while growing up, my mother making sure I had enough fresh air, no matter what the weather. She also taught me to appreciate nature around me.

In the autumn, the leaves that had fallen to the ground always smelled warm and smoky; even before being thrown into a brush fire pit.

The winter brought sledding outside down whatever small hill would lend itself to us. Traveling down the hill at what felt like the speed of light and the thrill of hitting a bump, tossed into the air, and the laughter of being covered from head to toe in the glistening white powder.  Sometimes you would inadvertently hit a tree no matter how hard you tried to steer away from it (and if you were on a small plastic saucer you didn’t have a prayer to not something), and then BAM, thrown off the sled into a bush (if you were lucky) or onto hardened snow, ouchies.  No one wants cold boogers frozen to your face, so the tears would have to just wait.  All in all, the cold fresh air made us feel alive and the scars are always a conversation piece.

In the summer when the sun shone through the windows, it is a no brainer…who wants to stay indoors on a beautiful sunny day? We have such a short summer season as it is so get out there and enjoy it. (Plus it is always better than doing house choirs like dusting!) The blue sky, cotton ball clouds, and leaves so green they hummed with life, blew in every gentle breeze. Even on rainy summer days, I could be found outside, cartoon character umbrella above me, in the gutter of the street, trying to build a dam or floating a few pieces of grass in a race, and then looking skyward for the rainbow.

But the spring, well now, this is a very special season at my home. The new arrived robins who would sing songs of their travels and birth of their young yet to come would resonate throughout the morning. The hundreds of flowers my father painstakingly spent all winter to cultivate the previous year, from cellar and then to small, but adequate, flower hut would begin to rise through the earth frozen in time by the longer winter past.

It is this freshly opened soil that, when soaked with the springs rains, smelled the most beautiful earthly smell you could ever imagine.

From the Daily Post question: home, soil, rain

I alone

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I alone love you

I alone tempt you

I alone love you

Fear is not the end of this

From the moment I heard Ed Kowalczyk sing these intense lyrics, I was just blown away. My interpretation is that fear is not the end of this (life implied) but fear can most definitely paralyze you and as many cultures and religions will tell you, death is only the beginning.

Although money is required for existence, love truly is the power behind all that we are. It guides us to support others, to have the strength to move forward when it seems all is lost, it is found in hope, and trust, and would have us throw ourselves in front of a train if it meant saving the ones that we love most from getting hurt. Hmm I guess I have to add that love is also blinding, both in a good and bad way.

“The greatest teachers will not hesitate to leave you there by yourself chained to fate” = what better way to make ourselves stronger than by the strength in love and in ourselves. Who makes it happen? You make it happen. If you decide to give up, the situation hasn’t changed, it is still there taunting you, poking you with a stick until you get back up and knock it on its butt. So you can’t give up, you just can’t….

This song ebbs and flows in a very powerful way and bring me through a series of emotions; love, a smidge of sadness, longing, but in the end, I always seem to feel more powerful and resilient and more courageous for hearing it.

Weekly Writing Challenge: Music – – As a writer I have many inspiration cues.  A smell, a color, a photo from the past can all be a good launching place to write from.  But today I want you to think about music as your guide.  Let it flow and take you somewhere else today as you dance with your fingertips and write from your soul.

Hurry up already

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She was very anxious, to the point of losing sleep.

Why hadn’t she received the phone call? Was it something she said? Did the meeting not go well?

She answered all the questions in detail and with a smile that even shown in her eyes. She was confident but not conceited and more than qualified for the position. There did not seem to be any holes in the conversation; everything flowed well and as she glanced around the room, noticed a smirk here and there from her light hearted jokes.

But the call! Where was the call to change her life? To catapult her to the next level in her career? To somewhat secure her future and retirement (because nothing is 100%)!

The anxiety was starting to seep into her daily life and affect others. The short snappy answers, the quick to be defensive for no reason…. When will the phone ring with the offer! How much more of this can she possibly take?!! ARGH!!….. ring ring…. And all was right in the world……

 

Easy Fix

Write a post about any topic you wish, but make sure it ends with “And all was right in the world.”

What is all this honking about!!

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geese
It has been said that geese honk while in their formation to encourage the lead goose, for it is that one goose that bears the brunt of the work. What work – just flying is work in itself! The point goose is breaking the air surface and thereby spreading the air current outward. Each goose after the point goose has a lesser degree of air surface to break and makes it a bit easier for them to maintain flight. When the lead goose gets tired he falls to the back of the formation and another goose steps up (or flies up at the case may be). That’s what all the honking is about – working as a team, cheering each other on, sharing the work for the better of the group.

There is so much to learn from such a simple gesture. It goes beyond teamwork and beyond encouragement and it is all natural. They ‘get it’. There is nothing selfish or mean spirited in their quest to get from point A to point B. They don’t secretly wish for one of their feathered mates to fall from the sky so they can get a good laugh from it. They are just honestly praising the hard work and perseverance they are experiencing. What a great concept!

For me, listening to the geese is so self-indulgent I almost feel badly; they bring such a smile to my face while they are working so hard to stay aloft. HONK HONK