ties that endure

i am so grateful for my family.
after you lose both parents, you can splinter apart like planets cut lose from gravity, spinning off in opposite directions. in the gap between losing, you may, if you're lucky, learn there really is no misunderstanding too deep to reach across.

going all the way

so my brilliant friend jennifer had an idea: an e-course on creativity!
we can take it together, she said. it's only for a month. please please please take it with me. come on, please. it will be FUN!
jen does nice work -- like the way she makes it sound like i'm doing HER a favor.
sly jen! i don't know if she heard me nattering about holistic creativity or if she's just got good timing. or if it even matters. what does is that she was right.
of course day 1 was fun: gathering up all the new stuff we'd need (notebooks, markers, paint -- at, even better, a 50 percent off sale) and diving right in, drunk on the very idea.
but the roots of the day crept into my dreams, waking a mess of dormant ideas that were still sparking by the time i sat down at the desk after breakfast.
day 2's assignments sent me so adrift on the river of time i had to race out for a 1 o'clock appointment with wet hair and a handful of crackers for lunch.
when i got back, i dove right back in until my stomach took charge and ordered me out to the kitchen to fix dinner.
i'm going to take the whole party of synapses to sleep for today.
can't wait to see what tomorrow's like.

building beauty

it's been months since i've picked up pliers to bend wire, sorted through the boxes of beads and findings to put together just the right elements into earrings or bracelet or necklace. i know it's time to go back when pictures of what might work together start showing up in my mind. maybe i'm stuck at a traffic light, or in line at the post office; maybe i'm out for a walk, marveling at the patch of moss that didn't freeze or the color of the sky when the sun begins to make its descent. one idea pops in -- what about the tea-colored pearl with a smoky amethyst square? or would a narrow blip of turquoise be better? -- and i turn the idea over until another appears. each leads to two or three more until they're more than i can keep straight and the pressure to try them out for real crests. then i clear the desk of papers and books and cat hair (a losing battle, but it helps to start clean) and play. it can take minutes or hours or a day to hit peak flow, when my hands can't keep up with the ideas and i'm forced to start three things at once just to see which one needs to be made next. i never mind how long it takes to get there: the ride is always worth the wait.

epiphany deja vu

Happy 12th day of Christmas, Little Christmas, feast of Epiphany.
The word always makes me think of James Joyce, who called it the "revelation of the whatness of a thing," the moment when "the soul of the commonest object ... seems to us radiant."
Lately, some of my brightest a-ha moments have reminded me of Yogi Berra.
Just when the flash of insight burns brightest, a tickle around the edges seems to feel strangely familiar, until I realize -- say, wait just a minute! -- that it's one I've had before.
An epiphany deja vu.
At first I worried it was a sign of dwindling memory, a hint of the creep of Old Age. Now I think it's just the circular nature of big lessons. You can't always Get It from a straight-line POW! Sometimes wisdom eddies around you, maybe in smaller and smaller circles, until you really Get It. Or, at least until the next one flickers around the bend.

turning of the tides

i know it's all a construct, but i love the demarcations of the new: day, season, and most especially YEAR. it's comforting to know there's always another chance to do a better job at whatever you turn your attention to. here's to a fresh view in every direction, and the charm of beginner's luck for each of them.