January

I loved the imagery that follows in this poem and wanted to share it on this last day of January. Already, one month is gone, never to come again. I have to be more mindful of  my calories, my money, my words, my energy, my thoughts, and my days and how I chose to spend them. I have been wreckless with all of the above at times; I have yet another day, another gift, to begin again.

I just put this here because I love this picture of Lennon and I do think of how suddenly and without warning his music stopped.

"January is the quietest month in the garden.  ...  But just because it looks quiet doesn't mean that nothing
is happening.  The soil, open to the sky, absorbs the pure rainfall while microorganisms convert tilled-under
fodder into usable nutrients for the next crop of plants.  The feasting earthworms tunnel along, aerating
the soil and preparing it to welcome the seeds and bare roots to come."
-  Rosalie Muller Wright, Editor of Sunset Magazine, 1/99

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why

I had some sort of "dreamshot" early this morning that woke me up and has stayed with me most of the day. I  put value in dreams - I think it is my subconscious mind filling me in on something; it is actually spiritual for me.Anyway, only I was in this dream fragment. I was in a nearby town, a real one, Lafayette, and I stood in between two landscapes, one was a beautiful woodland where 100 + year old trees thrived and small animals lived and the other was concrete strip malls and national chains where people bought useless stuff. I looked at one and then the other and wondered why.

 “In wilderness is the preservation of the world.”

 Thoreau

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now

It is early as I sit and think; what do I do with this day? It has been given to me and it is the only one like it, so what? Do I just "get through it" or do I make it a "day to remember"? I think I will begin with a visualization of my gifts, my tools, and I will build the day from that platform. I have words in my head I want to discombobulate, I will do that, I have a sweet and light conversation I must have with someone, I hope to have a healthy supper on the stove by evening, and I know I will come into contact with several people I can be kind to - not a bad start, not a shabby plan. Thursday, January 27, 2010 by Pam Shensky

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Life, so they say, is but a game and we let it slip away.
Love, like the Autumn sun, should be dyin' but it's only just begun.
Like the twilight in the road up ahead, they don't see just where we're goin'.
And all the secrets in the Universe, whisper in our ears
And all the years will come and go, take us up, always up.
We may never pass this way again.

instructions

walk towards the sunshine and the shadows will fall behind you.

We all know this, but I know I need a reminder now and then. I need to stop occasionally and gather all of my gifts and lay them out on the table in front of me and count them. As I count them, I need to understand how lucid and fragile they all are and how I should cherish them with each minute I possess them, for just as they have been given to me, they can be taken from me. I need not look far to see my blessings nor do I need to look hard to see how I might share them.

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treats

one of the secrets to a happy life is continuous small treats

iris murdoch

here's my list:

• i woke up
• "good morning mom" elizabeth
• my favorite coffee cup
• 25 lbs of potatoes to plant
• dark chocolate
•  organic apples
• fresh lemon with my tea
• end of school bell on friday
• holding ringo, our cat
• feeding my chickens
• making a fire
• writing this entry

questions

we do not know the full value of our moments until they have undergone the test of memory. george duhamel

I rely on my memories to make my past a special place and to , later, make this time better. This time is a bit challenging, decisions to make, jobs to do, directions to take, never knowing if I am choosing the door with the tiger behind it. I will go through January with an effort to be optimistic and enjoy the sights and the reveal of this barren season, all the while leaving behind moments that will become memories.

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moods

It seems my mood is following the rhythm of the season, dark with welcome rays of sunshine. I don't know that I could leave the South, I am too accustomed to the milder weather and its positive effect upon my mood.There exist a paradox, for while I love the silence, the stillness, and the reveal of winter, I fear the direction of my mood when the sun hides behind the clouds for too long.My comforting memories become puddles of tears and my reflection becomes a deeper voyage within, too deep.I expect the sun to be out tomorrow and perhaps I will spend an hour or so cleaning up in my garden, preparing for spring.

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A Lamp

I walk by this little room every day of my life, hardly ever entering, but always noticing this little lamp. I replaced the old lightbulb  with an "efficient" bulb and now it burns always, lighting the dark staircase late at night when my twins come home or when I go up early in the morning before dawn, to wake Elizabeth for school. The little light is always there helping us to find our way, never faltering, always shining. This was my mother's lamp; it sat in her living room behind the sofa. It helped her to read the paper, to sew on a button, to look at picture books with Elizabeth. Now, it helps me to remember.

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Opinion : Stillness of winter brings me closer to my memories (New Iberia, LA)

just thought I'd post my newspaper column.

Opinion : Stillness of winter brings me closer to my memories (New Iberia, LA)

Starting Over

It is late and the week end was too full, but I wanted to begin again with this addiction, this therapy, this creative release I have acquired. I have missed coming here to my little space I share with whomever. I have missed bundling up my thoughts and putting them into words that may (or not) cause a stir within someone and certainly causes me to ponder and to think of things in a deeper way. Anyway, I will write more later. Excuse the mess that is the blog. I am having to learn how this site works and I am afraid I am not too articulate in technology. I have copied all of my old post and archived them just to have, for me to have, because they are the bread crumbs of my life for nearly 3 years.

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sketches of my day May 2008 - Nov 2010

Books you might enjoy 

  

The Blue Zones

This was a great book. It left me a bit sad, however, to see how far away from Nature we are going. Instead of embracing our natural resources, we are destroying them at rapid rates. Our Western culture has even reached it's greedy hands in ancient villages. The author is Dan Buetter and has done a great job coll
ecting this valuable information on how to live a longer, healthier life.

How to Stop Worrying and Start Living

 I am listening to this book. Dale Carnegie’s message is timeless. My husband has always been a fan of his and now my son, William, has discovered Carnegie and William James on the dusty shelves of his university's shelves. I have seen the books from this library; they are books that served another generation, but have, still, an important and reoccurring message.
While I love the hardcopy approach to reading, I find the audio works well for me. I don’t care to run errands and drive around town, so being able to listen to Dale’s timeless message is motivation to get in the car.

  

   

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

The sub title to this book is A Year of Food Life; this title works better for me. I really enjoyed the journey Barbara Kingsolver shared with the reader; the concept is somewhat romantic, but certainly refreshing. If, after reading this book, you only turn over a 4x8 patch of backyard soil and scatter some carrot seeds, you have gained something positive from the book.

My two favorite rooms in my house are my kitchen and the little “left over” room off of the kitchen, which I have claimed for my studio. These two rooms pulsate for me. Something is most always cooking and something is most always sitting on my easel. Because of this preference, this book worked for me. The significance of the kitchen in family life and whole food is a point well made by Barbara Kingsolver.

     

 Gift From the Sea

 Gift from the Sea is, for me, the ultimate handbook on how to live simply and genuinely. One summer, in 1955, on a beach in New England, Anne Morrow Lindbergh found solitude and space for meditation and inspiration. She spent the summer writing about seashells and life, comparing the two. Even then, she spoke out about the trappings of our contemporary world and the paradox of our modern gadgets; things that should aid us really become adversaries in our lives by taking from us time, time we use to tend to our “stuff” instead of our life. The sea and the sand and the peacefulness of the beach are everpresent and her words are soothing and rhythmical and take the reader to a place of contemplation and peacefulness. Tuck it in your sun bleached straw tote and take it to the beach.While you sit near the ocean and walk in the sand, search your soul and find your essence. 

 

Lust For Life

This is classified a fictionalized biography written by Irving Stone, but it rings true for me and is very effective in portraying the fervor that Vincent Van Gogh lived with and the genius he possessed. I first read this book as a twenty year old art student and I have since reread it (twice) as an adult, two very different interpretations, yet one conclusion; the book is tremendous. While it is certainly poignant, it is encouraging (for the reader) to know that his work and his life are revered today. It is very frustrating to think how he and some that knew him died never really knowing the brilliance that was Van Gogh. When I read about his life (he wrote many, many letters to his brother Theo), I am able to see the essence of art. He had to paint and he did, regardless of what else he had to do or sacrifice, including food and relationships; he painted. I attach myself to this because it seems “we’ always have an excuse as to why we can not do things – not enough money, not enough time, I don’t feel just right, when my kids are older, it is too late, I have to clean the kitchen, etc. Van Gogh never had a reason not to paint. I could never live a life as extreme as his life, but I take from it lessons, lessons about “taking” life and not waiting for that illusive perfect moment to do what I love to do. If you choose to read this book, you will have a deeper understanding of Van Gogh and perhaps he will not just be the iconic artist that cut off his ear, but a person that lived by his own rules and refused to give up on his passion.

The Invisible Garden

Four summers have passed since I last read Dorothy Sucher’s The Invisible Garden. I discovered this literary treasure by suggestion of my one and only cousin on my dad’s side. To date, it is the best literary recommendation I have ever received. This little book, with the electric blue house on the cover, is reflective and encourages placidness and stillness; it is a good place to stop and feel summer in the garden. The author has come upon a farmhouse in rural Vermont and, although she has never really gardened, she begins. She takes you through the bramble that surrounds her little blue house and we discover how she transforms it and herself into a place of beauty. This book is very much about coming to terms with a garden and subsequently yourself.

sketches of my day May 2008 - Nov 2010

November 14,2010

goodbye

With mixed feelings and a bit of sadness, I may be writing my last post. My host has moved everything to Wordpress and I am not sure I want to go to all of the effort of "moving". I am copying all of sketchesofmyday's content, if for no other reason than to save all of the time and thought I have put into this site for 2 1/2 years, it has been somewhat of a documentation of my life, but I am not convinced I will "move" - so much time and effort. Anyway, I will , at least for now, quit with my musings.I also have to devote some time on our business' webpage and I will probably spend all of my daily allotment of creative energy and time there - I might even start a blog there :) !

www.caribbeanicecompany.com

If I decide to "move", I will keep my domain name, www.sketchesofmyday.com, if you want to, you can check on it later.

remember to b u

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November 11, 2010

veterans

Jasper Johns

You can interpret this any way you wish – that is the purpose.

I see the US flag getting smaller.

This was painted in 1958.

thank you

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November 9, 2010

listen

How daring would it be to spend a chunk of your (adult) life doing only what you wanted to do, listening to your spirit and your body and obeying, going with it? Wake up when your “clock” says to wake up and go to sleep when it says to sleep. Spend your waking hours in moments of engagement doing the things you want to do. I would spend many hours writing and painting and then I would break from those intensely creative moments and plant something to eat or take a walk or visit a friend. Would it all continue to seem so wonderful and special after many days of just doing what you wanted to do or do we need the contrast? Do we need the week to have the weekend, do we need the bad to see the good, do we need the rain? I suppose so, but then perhaps not. Perhaps we would feel more happiness and fulfillment being immersed in our element always.

I could be outside from daybreak to nightfall in these early November days. I see the season changing going from late summer, from green and lush, to early fall, brown and crisp. The air is clear from dampness and the sounds are lucid, sounds of leaves and wild rabbits in the woods. Sounds from inside reminding me of years past, of times I thought would never end, times from my youth when there was a larger expanse from fall to Christmas, a vastness that gave me time to absorb it all and appreciate it more. It eludes me now, I am over scheduled and unhappy about “too much” in my life, in these days of early fall when the woods turn colors and their and my inner spaces are revealed.

 

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November 3, 2010

it's coming

These early days of November are so welcomed. I walk through the woods with intention and look forward to the vivid sunsets that close out the cooler days. I know the holidays are near and I am happy to finally be able to avoid the hype and commercialism and, instead, experience their intention. There is such peace in removing value from things. I think in terms of my mother’s childhood and stories she told of Christmases - images that could fit comfortably within the binds of a Louisa May Alcott book, images of home and family and I strive for similarity. I also have stored in the clutter that is my memory images of my childhood and the Sears Wishbook and shiny new bicycles under the Douglas fir. Those Christmases were fun and so cherished and appreciated, for each gift was heartfelt and acquired from sacrifice but, unfortunately they became the gateway to the runaway train that is now the commercialized Christmas I have come to deplore… the balance was lost, the intention is gone – Christmas can now be found at Best Buy, not there in warm kitchens filled with scents of cinnamon or under covers waiting for the magic of the morning. I will be careful to not be a part of that machine that is about to flip the “on” switch and take from us the meaning of the upcoming season.

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October 28, 2010

wabi - sabi

I got a little interested in the Japanese concept of wabi – sabi. I find it so comforting to submit to the acceptance and even appreciation of imperfection. After stressing myself out over things being just right for a decade or so, I have found my way back to where I was and I love being here again. It is amazing how much worry and trouble you release when you put no value in things, specifically the appearance of things. I am not suggesting neglect; I am referencing “character marks” – like chips on furniture and scratches on floors and a slightly slanted tooth. The only requirement to be a “thing” in my life is to be a clean thing (or able to clean thing).

I found an article by Japanese architect Tadao Ando on wabi – sabi and I wanted to share it.

“Pared down to its barest essence, wabi-sabi is the Japanese art of finding beauty in imperfection and profundity in nature, of accepting the natural cycle of growth, decay, and death. It's simple, slow, and uncluttered-and it reveres authenticity above all. Wabi-sabi is flea markets, not warehouse stores; aged wood, not Pergo; rice paper, not glass. It celebrates cracks and crevices and all the other marks that time, weather, and loving use leave behind. It reminds us that we are all but transient beings on this planet-that our bodies as well as the material world around us are in the process of returning to the dust from which we came. Through wabi-sabi, we learn to embrace liver spots, rust, and frayed edges, and the march of time they represent.”

I think it is impossible to be happy if you think in terms of perfection since perfection does not exist in this life – let it go, celebrate the quirks and blemishes, the lines and scars, for these are reminders of living – release and breathe…

wabi – sabi.

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sketches of my day May 2008 - Nov 2010

October 22, 2010

look up

 

Just a quick reminder to enjoy the full moon tonight. The earth is getting itself ready for winter, getting ready to tuck in and slow down – sounds like I should do the same. I hope to spend a lot of creative time this winter. I need to.

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October 19, 2010

more prayers

The encouraging news is rescinding; there is a breathing machine taking his breaths for him now and he is in depression. I hurt so deeply for this beautiful child, more prayers. Be thankful for every step you take today.

why?

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October 18, 2010

staying home

Rolling out of bed on Monday morning is difficult, especially after a week end of beautiful weather. Except for a short trip each year to a place far away, I think I could be happy just staying here each day. I have spent years setting up “centers” for myself around here – fruit trees, the woods, a place to paint, a quiet spot to write, my garden, the chickens, the small burning pile near the woods, the keeping room at sundown when the light filters through the blinds and a fresh cup of coffee to sip will I watch, and my kitchen. I spent a bit too much time in the kitchen this past Saturday – I have to stop looking at recipe books during the week. I made 8 loaves of persimmon, carrot, sweet potato, and pumpkin bread, spinach lasagna, vegetable soup, and Texas brownies with made from scratch icing. I went crazy in there escaping to the outdoors to plant sweetpeas (the flower), turnip and carrot seeds, and broccoli plants while things baked and simmered. Anyway, I could handle more of this; I may just understand why Emily Dickinson never left home for 26 years.

a mess!!!

persimmons

soaking sweetpeas

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October 15, 2010 - propped up

It seems fall has finally arrived. It is a relief to feel the coolness in the air that, not long ago, was thick with dampness. Perhaps we can open our windows now and feel the crispness that encourages us to knock down cobwebs and fluff pillows, for soon, the holidays will be here. The dawdling moments of summer have diminished and I see night falling earlier each evening, minute by minute. 

"Autumn begins with a subtle change in the light, with skies
a deeper blue, and nights that become suddenly clear and
chilled.  The season comes full with the first frost, the
disappearance of migrant birds, and the harvesting of
the season's last crops."-   Glenn Wolff and Jerry Dennis

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October 14, 2010 no news

no news

Watching, waiting.

Patched up and swollen.

Hoping to discover a "connection".

God is the greatest physician.

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October 11, 2010 - sadness

I am reluctant to post what follows, for it is not something I like to put out there; it is something painful. I was out late last night visiting a former student in ICU – he is 21 and he is paralyzed from his neck down. He was in a car accident. I do not have the words to describe how gentle and beautiful this child is and I do not understand, for one minute, why. I do know that my perspective on life has shifted, which is why I imagine these sorts of horrors occur – to make us stop and “get it”. I am so grief stricken and laden with sadness, my body hurts as my heart shatters. When I woke Elizabeth up this morning and she turned her head to moan a sleepy moan, I witnessed a blessing from God and as I type this post, I watch my fingers move across a keyboard, there, I witness another. I have become aware that it is all a miracle. Please pray for this child that is lying in bed so terrified and so crippled. And while you are praying, please realize how blessed you are.

share

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October 11, 2010 more pain

 

Sleep was difficult last night and work today was difficult. I have just a bit of news - surgery on his neck from 1:30 to 8:30 followed by orthopedic surgery on his femur. No more news than that. I have managed to hold on to some hope, but mostly I continue to be miserable. Thanks for all of the prayers and responses – I know how sincere and well meaning you are, as I am – we are armed and determined with the power of prayer and we are tireless warriors. More tomorrow…

The value of consistent prayer is not that He will hear us, but that we will hear Him. 

William McGill

October 3, 2010 - piddle

And so the week end ends…Here, where I am, it was perfect weather and so hard to say good bye to it. I wonder if I would appreciate the week end so much if I did not work. I think so; somehow whether you work or not, the week end says slow down. I spent some of my Saturday “just piddlin”.I delight in the art of piddling; my grandmother was great at it – she piddled well into her 80s. I looked up “piddle” in the dictionary and it said, "to spend time in a wasteful, trifling, or ineffective way; dawdle (often fol. by around): He wasted the day piddling around. "

I so disagree!! It is important to piddle. I think I uncover some of myself when I piddle. I might come across a Lego block from Jon and Will’s childhood or a tiny toy airplane that Matt and Drew forgot in a deep corner of a cabinet or a trail of bobby pins and earrings Elizabeth has left behind and my mind takes me to some moment, a pleasant one, of long ago. Funny, but those long ago moments seem so perfect now, so comforting and soothing. Time does that and this old house that has held our lives for over 25 years is a great place to find those yesterdays.

 “What we are today comes from our thoughts of yesterday…” .

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October 9, 2010 - an artist

 

My role in society, or any artist's or poet's role, is to try and express what we all feel. Not to tell people how to feel. Not as a preacher, not as a leader, but as a reflection of us all.
John Lennon