Originally from Willows, WI, he’s been a photographer, an Olympic gold medalist, a pizza delivery guy and a member of the military. He’s turning 50 today, and has recently reconciled with his long-time love after being apart for six years. He is…
Ken Carson. You know, Ken—Barbie’s main man!*
When I was a child, Ken was part of my Barbie family. He had brown molded plastic hair and a head that, disturbingly, popped off without warning. If I had needed a doll for regular decapitations, he would have been my go-to guy. When his head stayed on, and there was always some doubt about that, he was the perfect companion for Barbie in all her adventures.
Poor Ken had few wardrobe choices. I seem to recall some flowered bathing trunks, but I can’t remember what else he wore. (Maybe he was really Cabana Boy Ken?) My Barbie had a whole wardrobe, including shoes. I am not as well-dressed today as my Barbie was when I was 7. My most treasured items were handmade, 50s-style doll clothes someone had given to me.
Barbie and Ken traveled in a chic yellow and orange Country Camper, with Skipper, Barbie’s sister, and their daughter, a non-Mattel toddler-size doll who had miraculously come into being well before I had any idea of the actual process involved. I spent many happy hours playing with Barbie & Co. (when I wasn’t creating elaborate storylines for my Breyer model horses—that’s a story for another day), and I packed them carefully away when I left for college. I believe I would still have them if it weren’t for The Incident. On returning from college, all my Barbie stuff had “disappeared” from our garage. Frankly, I’m still suspicious about the circumstances of that disappearance. My mom swears she didn’t get rid of them, but, really, that’s the only thing the thieves took?! Come on. I could have had a real investment there: a quick check of eBay shows the camper alone selling for more than $200!
I still pine for Barbie and her pretty wardrobe, Decapitation Ken and, especially, the Country Camper. Never mind that my life (and my house) is filled with more grown-up toys, like laptops and piles of books and art supplies, not to mention I now have a real horse to replace my models. If I still had Barbie and Ken they'd likely be stored in the attic with the Christmas decorations and the silverfish—a sad comedown from their days as a free-wheeling, camper-driving team.
What was your favorite childhood toy? Do you still have it? What’s your favorite toy now?
*For more information on Ken, see manbehindthedoll.com.
One hundred years ago, more than a million people came together at rallies in several European countries to call for women’s right to vote, work and hold public office and an end to discrimination. International Women’s Day (IWD) was born. Today, IWD has become a celebration of women’s economic, political and social achievements, but also brings attention to how much work still needs to be done in order for women to achieve equality. For example, around the world, women perform 66 percent of the world’s work—but earn just 10 percent of the income and own one percent of the property.
To mark this special 100th anniversary, the IWD Global Arts Initiative has launched “100 Women, 100 Artworks” and “100 Women, 100 Stories.” All of the stories and works of art, which include paintings, sculptures, photographs, collages and more, have been created by women from around the world, “to inspire, challenge, entertain and provoke thought from a gender angle,” according to the IWD website.
If you want to celebrate International Women’s Day, here are some simple things you can do:
Create something uniquely “you”—write a story or a poem, paint a picture, bake something, build something. And think of all the other women around the world who are creating today, too.
Thank a woman who has helped, encouraged or inspired you. (I'm sending a note to my high school creative writing teacher.)
Read a book or watch a movie about women’s history, struggles or achievements. Share what you learn with your family and friends. (On my list: Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide, by Nicholas Kristoff and Sheryl WuDunn.)
Donate to a cause that supports women (UNIFEM, the United Nations Development Fund for Women, for example).
Yesterday I went on my second “artist’s date” of the year. Somewhere in the needlework aisle of a large arts and crafts store, I realized…I’m not very “good” at artist’s dates. I feel like I don’t quite know what I’m supposed to get out of them. I’m not really sure what to do with myself, maybe because I don’t do them very often. I feel guilty taking time for an artist’s date when I should be working, whether on writing or around my house and for my family, because I already spend so much time at the barn with my horse. At least, I used to feel guilty until I began to think of artist’s dates as part of my work. Yes, I need to put in plenty of time continuing to learn my craft, reading and writing daily, but if I don’t occasionally stop to refill the well, it will run dry.
Part of my problem is that I don’t have many ideas of where to go or what to do for an artist’s date. I don’t always want to go to a store, because I don’t want to spend a lot of money on these excursions—plus I don’t find stores all that inspiring. I finally typed “artist’s dates” into Google, trying to figure out what to do with myself. (Some suggestions I found included going to a nursery to look at plants, getting a blanket and lying down outside to count the stars or find constellations, or visiting a picturesque part of town with a sketchbook.)
For my first artist’s date I went to a thrift store, one of the other suggested destinations. I spent a good two hours trying on clothes, looking at housewares and decorative items, and saving the shelves of books for last, like dessert.
For my second date, I made a trip to the aforementioned arts and crafts store. I needed a hook-and-eye closure to fix a pair of shorts (shorts weather is already here in Florida—take heart, Northerners, spring is on the way) so I decided to combine that errand with an artist’s date.
I went to the thrift store with no list or agenda, but hopeful that I’d find some inexpensive clothing to refresh my wardrobe or maybe come across a quirky item for our shelves, or a book or two. Wandering through the large, sunny space, I took time to look at things, and at my fellow shoppers. At the arts and crafts store, I discovered aisles and aisles of fascinating tools and supplies. While few of the craft supplies tempted me, and I skipped the fabric section altogether, once again I enjoyed the experience of just looking.
What I got from both these dates, aside from a few books and that hook-and-eye closure, was a feeling of possibility. Opportunities for expression, whether through clothing, decorating or crafting, are everywhere, and can be had inexpensively.
Am I doing artist’s dates “right”? Is there a “right”? Should I have walked up and down every aisle of fabric, even though I know I’m not going to sew anything? Would I have been inspired by the colors and textures of cloth? Am I limiting myself with the idea that I’m not going to sew anything? (Yup, I can turn a simple trip to a crafts store into a moral dilemma.)
I guess the point of an artist’s date is that I’m making an effort to step outside the usual confines of my days. It doesn’t matter how I do it, as long as I do it. Like anything else, I’ll get better with practice.
Have you ever gone on an artist’s date? What did you do? What did you take away from it? Any suggestions for my future artist’s dates?
I have a confession to make. I want to write a book. I’ve got a title, some chapter headings, an introduction and a vague idea of where I want to go with it. But I don’t really know anything about writing a book. Magazine articles, short pieces for the internet, blog posts, yes—books, no. So I’m educating myself, starting with a book called Chapter After Chapter. One of the recommendations the author makes is to read 100 books similar to the one you want to write. I’ve begun that project by exploring the world of blogger/authors. I thought I’d share with you five books by bloggers I’ve read recently:
My Formerly Hot Life, Stephanie Dolgoff. Blog: http://www.formerlyhot.com/. “You are not the young, relevant, in-the-mix woman you used to be. But neither are you old, or even what you think of as middle-aged. You are no longer what you were, but not quite sure what you are.” Dolgoff examines the major areas of a Formerly’s life, and how they have changed and are changing. Her conclusion: it’s not so bad to be a Formerly—but you won’t know that until you become one.
Living Oprah, Robyn Okrant. Blog: http://www.livingoprah.com/. Is it possible to discover one’s authentic self by following someone else’s ideal? Okrant attempts to answer this by doing everything Oprah says to do on her TV show, in O Magazine and on her Web site. This book entertained me, while making me glad I wasn’t taking on a project like this. (The control freak in me would have had a nervous breakdown.)
The Happiness Project, Gretchen Rubin. Blog: http://www.happiness-project.com/happiness_project/. This is one of my favorite blogs, and I’ve mentioned the book here before.
It Sucked and Then I Cried, Heather B. Armstrong, otherwise known as Dooce. Blog: http://dooce.com/. Armstrong’s book chronicles her struggle with mental health issues while trying to care for her infant daughter. Dooce is incredibly successful as a blogger, and was featured this weekend in the New York Times Magazine.
Life is a Verb, Patti Digh. Digh is not primarily a blogger, though she does have one (http://37days.typepad.com/). I happened to finish her book right when I was preparing this post, and I loved it so much I wanted to share it with you. The 37-day time frame came from Digh’s experience of her stepfather’s death: he died 37 days after being diagnosed with lung cancer. She writes, “The time frame of thirty-seven days made an impression on me. We often live as if we have all the time in the world, but the definite-ness of thirty-seven days was striking. So short a time, as if all the regrets and joys of a life would barely have time to register before it was up…. What emerged was a commitment to ask myself this question every morning: What would I be doing today if I only had thirty-seven days to live?”
These books give me hope. If they can do it, why can’t I?
I’m going to keep exploring the world of blogger/authors. Any recommendations?
Today a friend and I visited the Manatee Viewing Center in Apollo Beach, FL. Every year from Nov. 1 to April 15 visitors gather to catch a glimpse of these oddly appealing creatures at this state and federally designated manatee sanctuary. Manatees typically gather in the clean, warm water discharge canal between Tampa Electric’s Big Bend Power Station and the viewing center when the temperature of the bay falls below 68 degrees Fahrenheit. It’s warming up early this year, and we waited a little too long to visit—we only caught sight of five or six manatees still hanging out in the canal.
Until I moved to Florida, I’d never seen a manatee, but soon made their acquaintance at the zoo in Tampa, and once had the chance to swim with some at Crystal River. With their whiskery faces, leathery bodies and tiny eyes, they’re so ugly they’re cute, and they've become one of my favorite animals.
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| Photo: USFWS Endangered Species |
Manatees are gentle, passive and slow moving, but can be surprisingly nimble, able to swim upside down, do barrel rolls or stand on their heads or tails. They have no natural enemies, but unfortunately some are injured or killed each year by boats and other human-related causes. Manatees are migratory, and Tampa Bay is home to approximately 200 of them in winter, and around 100 in summer. (There are approximately 3800 manatees total in the U.S., according to savethemanatee.org.) West Indian manatees are protected in the United States under federal law by the Marine Mammal Protection Act of 1972 and the Endangered Species Act of 1973, as well as the Florida Manatee Sanctuary Act of 1978.
Manatees reproduce slowly, only reaching sexual maturity at age five. One calf is born every two to three years (twins are rare), after a 13-month gestation. Calves stay with their mothers during the first two years of life, so sometimes one mother will be accompanied by both her older and younger calves at the same time.
As strange as it may seem if you’ve gotten a good look at one, legend has it that sailors mistook manatees for the sirens of Greek myth, those temptresses who lured sailors to their deaths on reefs and rocks. This is reflected in the manatee's order name, Sirenia.
The manatee’s closest relatives are the elephant, aardvark and hyrax. The West Indian manatee is also related to the West African manatee, the Amazonian manatee and the dugong.
Another Manatee Viewing Center visitor
I use lists to help keep my life organized. I have to-do lists, lists of goals, lists of books to read, grocery lists and lists of items to buy the next time I’m at Target. Without my lists, I would feel lost.
However, I recently noticed my list making taking a troubling turn. A significant part of my day was spent making or keeping lists. In addition to the lists mentioned above, there was my “gratitude journal.” After reading Sarah Ban Breathnach’s book Simple Abundance, I’d been listing five things for which I was grateful each day. In an effort to be more efficient (what am I DOing all day?), every now and then I kept a log of my activities to see where all my time went. Since I was also trying to lose weight, and I read that successful “losers” kept track of what they ate, I kept a food log several days a week.
Then I picked up Your Money or Your Life, by Joe Dominguez and Vicki Robin. In one of their exercises to help “transform my relationship with money,” I started keeping track of every penny I spent. (I spent a lot on paper and pens. Hmm.)
And I realized that I was spending so much time recording everything I thought, did, ate and spent, that I hardly had time to think, do, eat or spend.
What was going on? Was I having a mid-life crisis? At the very least I was having a bad attack of self-improvement-itis. I was trying to improve my appearance and health and trying to handle money in a responsible and thoughtful way. I wanted to be more efficient, more creative and I hoped to find a deeper spirituality. I seemed to be trying to remake my whole life all at once!
I couldn’t go on this way. Frankly, I was tired. (I am woman, hear me snore.) It was time to accept myself for who I am. So I gave up all my lists, cold-turkey. (Is there a 12-step program for compulsive list makers?) Maybe eventually I’ll return to one, or some of them. But not all at the same time. For now, I’ll take it one day at a time. I’ll let go of my need to be perfect and concentrate on my need to Be.
Scout knows how to Be.
“No amount of self-improvement will make up for a lack of self-acceptance.”
Robert Holden
Today is Tank’s 16th birthday, though as a registered Quarter Horse, he “officially” turned 16 on Jan. 1. Tank and Frenchy, another horse at our barn, share a birthday and we always have a special celebration for them and the horses of our friends. The birthday party will take place next week, but here are some photos from past years:
Frenchy
Tank
Yum
Glory--notice the stylish tiara
We obviously don’t celebrate the horses’ birthdays for the horses. We do it because we look for excuses to celebrate, to share food (because there is yummy food for humans at these parties, too) and laughter. It’s one of my favorite simple pleasures.
How did you celebrate today?
Happy birthday, Tank!
A few months ago, inspired by The Enchanted Earth blog, I had the bright idea to take pictures of heart shapes I found as I went through my daily life, blog about it and call it “Hidden Hearts.” Since then, how many heart photos did I take? Exactly zero. It seems I didn’t see heart shapes around me. Maybe my vision was faulty--I am terrible at those puzzles where you’re supposed to find the pictures within the picture, and not once have I ever seen the image embedded in one of those optical illusion posters.
Still, I wasn’t quite ready to give up. Remembering this post, I decided to give it one last shot. I took my camera out into our yard. If I found some hearts, great. If not, I’d give up the idea and move on.
As I stepped out the back door, I realized there’s a heart shape hidden in our outdoor table and chair set.
That was OK, but what I really wanted was to find hearts in the natural world. And then I saw this one:
And this one:
And this one:
(I also discovered a face in our grill controls:
...but that’s beside the point.)
Now that I was completely focused on them, it took me only a few minutes to find all of these. Well. Is there a take-away lesson? If you know me, of course there is: You find what you look for. Looking for good in others? You’ll find it. Expecting your feelings to be hurt? They will be.
Looking for love? It’s all around you.
Happy Valentine’s Day—may your life be filled with love.
Bonus heart:
There comes a time in the life of every teenage boy’s mother when she comes to the following realization: my child looks like a ragamuffin/street urchin/orphan and I need to take him shopping for clothes. This realization will send dread deep into her heart, as she realizes she will have to 1) find a time when both mother and son are available for shopping, 2) find a store that stocks affordable clothing for the impossibly tall and thin young man her son has become and 3) convince said young man that shopping for clothes is a necessary and required activity.
If you find yourself in this position, here are seven tips to help you survive your next shopping trip with your teenage son (these tips can also be applied to husbands):
Choose a time when nothing more interesting is going on. This will be nearly impossible since clothes shopping ranks with household chores in level of interest. You may have to ground him just so you can pull him away from his friends/the Xbox/Runescape.
Promise him lunch at his favorite restaurant. You’re just going to have to put up with the fact that his favorite restaurant is one you hate. You will either have to eat beforehand or find someplace acceptable nearby where you can buy take out.
Let him drive.
Once at the store, don’t express an opinion about the clothes on the racks until he does. Be noncommittal: “Here’s a blue shirt. What do you think?” Heaven forbid he try on something his mother says she likes. Even after he’s chosen something, be judicious with your praise. If you like it too much, suddenly he won’t. (The reverse is also true: if you hate it, don’t express that opinion, either, unless you want it to become the one thing he absolutely cannot live without.)
Fortify yourself with Starbucks (or other favorite treat).
Don’t try to shop for yourself, too. Never mind that you see an adorable top just your size…
Confine your trip to one or two stores to avoid shopping overload for both of you.
Clothes shopping with a teenage boy is not for the faint of heart, but it can be done successfully. And remember, it could be worse. He could be a girl.
What was your everyday adventure today?
As I’ve mentioned before, I’m learning natural horsemanship techniques so that I can be a better leader to my horse and have a closer bond with him. While watching one of the Parelli Level 1 DVDs recently, something one of the instructors said resonated with me. She posed the question, when someone asks you if you can do something you’ve never done before, especially something hard or scary, what should you say? Her answer:
“I don’t know.”
Not “I can’t.”
Because, really, you don’t yet know if you can do it or not, because you haven’t tried. You don’t know what is possible.
Some other alternatives she came up with included: I haven’t up until now. I haven’t done that yet. In the past, I haven’t tried that.
These phrases leave the door open, instead of slamming it shut with an “I can’t.” I’ve found “I don't know” very helpful when I’m offered the chance to do something that scares me. I don’t always rise to the challenge—but sometimes I do.
What are some things you say to yourself when faced with a challenge?
What's to be scared of?
“Before we are able to receive a gift, from a friend or from nature, we have to be open to it; a bottle with its cap screwed on tightly cannot be filled with water no matter how much water we try to pour into it or how often we try—the water simply runs down its sides, never filling it. It is only when we feel worthy of happiness that we open ourselves up to life’s ultimate treasure.” Even Happier, by Tal Ben-Shahar, Ph.D
Puzzles are some of my favorite simple pleasures—crossword puzzles and jigsaw puzzles particularly—and my favorite reading genre is the mystery. There’s just something I love about putting things together, figuring things out, not knowing, and then—voila—somehow the pieces come together into a finished puzzle or the knowledge of whodunit.
In doing puzzles, I’m OK with not knowing, at least up to a point. When I get stuck on a crossword clue, I skip it, coming back to it later. If I find I’m skipping a lot of clues, maybe I’ll put the whole puzzle aside for a few hours. When I pick it up again, I almost always do better. The same with a jigsaw puzzle—after trying repeatedly to find an elusive piece, I’ve often come back later only to pick it up and put it straight where it belongs. (Provided my husband and/or son hasn’t hidden the piece from me.)
If I’m reading a mystery that has me stumped, I step back and watch the action without trying to guess the crime’s perpetrator, simply enjoying the writing, the characters and story. Sometimes, the clues I need are just a few pages away (and sometimes I remain stumped).
I find life itself a bit puzzling, don’t you? I only see bits and pieces of the whole, not knowing how choice A will lead to consequence B, which in turn produces outcome C. Some things that seem disastrous often work out to be blessings in disguise—and sometimes the opposite occurs.
I often think of the Chinese parable about the farmer who used an old horse to plow his fields. One day the horse ran away. When his neighbors came to commiserate with the old man, he replied, “Bad luck? Good luck? Who knows?” A few days later, the horse returned, bringing with her a herd of wild horses from the nearby hills. The neighbors returned to congratulate the farmer, who replied, “Good luck? Bad luck? Who knows?”
When the farmer’s son was thrown and broke his leg while trying to tame one of the wild horses, the sympathetic neighbors were met once again with “Bad luck? Good luck? Who knows?”
A few weeks later, the army marched into the village and conscripted all the able-bodied young men…leaving the farmer’s son with his broken leg behind.
It can be hard not knowing. When I’m uncertain about my next step, or facing frustrations of some kind, I should take my cue from my behavior with other puzzles: watch the action and enjoy the mystery, or put it aside for a later time when things somehow clarify themselves. If things seem bad, wait and see what happens next. A setback can become an opportunity, and an opportunity can become a setback. I guess the key is knowing that it all fits together, somehow, into the perfect puzzle of my life.
Have you ever had an experience that initially seemed bad, but turned out to be for the good? Vice versa? What did you take away from the experience?
My two reading challenges are off to a great start, and already I'm having so much fun. I'll periodically post about what I'm reading, and I'll keep an updated list on my separate 2011 Reading Challenges page if you want to check in between posts. So far, here's what I've read:
Off the Shelf Challenge (Goal: 15)
A Pelican at Blandings, P.G. Wodehouse (fiction). I love P.G. Wodehouse and his gentle, goofy humor. This book cost me 50 cents at my library's "Friends of the Library" bookstore and it was delightful from start to finish. The first paragraph reads: "The summer day was drawing to a close and dusk had fallen on Blandings Castle, shrouding from view the ancient battlements, dulling the silver surface of the lake and causing Lord Emsworth's supreme Berkshire sow Empress of Blandings to leave the open air portion of her sty and withdraw into the covered shed where she did her sleeping. A dedicated believer in the maxim of early to bed and early to rise, she always turned in at about this time. Only by getting its regular eight hours can a pig keep up to the mark and preserve that schoolgirl complexion."
Drinking the Rain, Alix Kates Shulman (memoir). When she turned 50, Shulman, a novelist, began spending her summers alone at her family's cabin on an island off the coast of Maine. Sound romantic? The cabin had no indoor plumbing or heat! Shulman read, wrote, even foraged for food in the tidal pools (particularly mussels) and the area surrounding her cabin. Alone, she discovered the interconnectedness of all life.
A favorite quote: "For years, I avidly read books and eagerly wrote them, systematically trying to stuff my head with all the thoughts of mankind, but always so determined to master a subject or pursue a goal that I seldom practiced the simple pleasures of reading whatever caught my fancy or following a thought wherever it happened to lead. My plans and projects were usually so backed up that no matter what work I was engaged in at any moment, I suspected it ought to be something else." (I know just how she felt.)
The Shadowy Horses, Susanna Kearsley (fiction). A new author for me, thanks to Danielle at A Work in Progress. Kearsley's been compared to vintage Mary Stewart (Madame, Will You Talk? My Brother Michael, etc.), and I found her writing very similar. I'm thrilled because I love vintage Mary Stewart!
Verity Grey, Kearsley's protagonist, comes to Scotland to work on an archaeolgical dig searching for remains of a Roman marching camp. "I woke in the darkness, listening. The sound that wrenched me from my sleep had been strange to by city-bred ears. Train-like, yet not a train...the rhythm was too wild, too random. A horse, I thought. A horse in the next field over, galloping endlessly around and around, galloping, galloping...." There are no horses anywhere near the house Verity is staying in--why does she hear them running every night? What other ghostly presences haunt Rosehill?
The Summer Book--Tove Jansson (fiction). Jansson is a Swedish writer, who is known mostly for her children's books. I also discovered her through Danielle. (I've gotten tons of great book recommendations from Danielle's blog--you should check it out!) Reading this book felt like being wrapped in a warm summer day--pleasant in chilly January. It tells the story of a 6-year-old girl and her grandmother spending the summer on an island off the coast of Finland (I must have a thing for summer island books!). It's more like a series of vignettes than a true novel, but each story is quietly beautiful. From page 36: "[Grandmother] turned on her side and put her arm over her head. Between the arm of her sweater, her hat, and the white reeds, she could see a triangle of sky, sea and sand--quite a small triangle. There was a blade of grass in the sand beside her, and between its sawtoothed leaves it held a piece of seabird down--the taut white rib in the middle, surrounded by the down itself, which was pale brown and lighter than the air, and then darker and shiny towards the tip, which ended in a tiny but spirited curve. The down moved in a draft of air too slight for her to feel."
Vintage Mystery Challenge (Goal: 4-6)
The Crime at Black Dudley, Margery Allingham. This is her first "Albert Campion" mystery, and a pure delight. I found Allingham's writing flowed easily and made me want to keep reading. I also enjoyed the characters in this story, and I will be reading more of her work. (Sorry I don't have a quote for this one--I returned it to the library before I wrote this post!)
I've requested my next book from the library: The Norths Meet Murder, by Frances and Richard Lockridge.
What are you reading right now?
I had a couple of blog post possibilities in the works for today--but after I arrived at the barn this morning to find this:
I began to rethink my day. I have never seen Tank so dirty before in all the time I've had him.
Apparently, he felt the need for a mud bath.
And he still had his breakfast on his face (the brown stuff on his nose is bran mash).
Fortunately, it was warm enough today to hose him off instead of curry and brush all that mud and sand off him.
Sigh.
It’s gray and rainy outside today, and my plans for a walk with my neighbor and a trip to see Tank have been postponed or cancelled. I’m curled under a blanket with my computer on my lap catching up on emails and convincing myself that in a little while I’ll hop on the elliptical for some much-needed cardio to replace that walk.
If you’re looking for something to brighten up a rainy Monday (or any other dull sort of day), here are three cyber-destinations that help me find a happy place:
http://1000awesomethings.com/ Check out the picture under “Clean Baby Smell.”
http://gimundo.com/ Sutitled: "Good news…served daily." When you’d rather read about heroes than horrors, check in here.
http://www.gypsygirlsguide.com/ Daily inspiration for your inner gypsy. (Thanks, Laure Ferlita, for sending me a link to this blog.)
Bonus destination: Please click here for a great post about creativity, self-esteem and body image written by Elizabeth Patch.
OK, enough fooling around--time for that cardio…
P.S. I’d like to say happy anniversary to Larry, my husband of 23 years—he qualifies as a both a pleasure and an adventure, sometimes at the same time!
All through the hectic holidays, I avoided taking time to focus on a word of the year for 2011. It was almost like I was afraid. It’s a big commitment—I’ve got to live with this choice all year!
Finally last night I sat down with a long list of words I’d compiled over the past few weeks. The first word that had popped into my head was “possibility”—with echoes of Emily Dickinson’s line, “I dwell in possibility.” One morning I woke up with the thought, “I want to create beautiful things,” so I added beauty/beautiful to the list. I love my life and don’t want to change it—I just want to make it richer and more vibrant. Vibrant, bloom, more, fruitful and flourish were the next additions to the list. These all had their merits, as did the half dozen other words that I had to choose from. But nothing resonated with me quite the way “open” did last year.
I find that I often discover what I really think about things by writing about them, so I took up my list and started writing random thoughts about what I want 2011 to be like, what I want to focus on this year, and so on. This year I want to improve my level of confidence, to live more consciously and have more fun! I want to flourish instead of feel as though I’m bumbling along just making do. I’m ready to heal some old emotional wounds—BUT I don’t want to be so serious and earnest all the time. I want to be more light-hearted instead of worried and anxious. And that’s when a word sent a tingle up my spine: light. Light, not heavy; happy, not sad; bright, not dark. Open the windows and let in the light. Get rid of excess—weight, stuff, wrong-headed beliefs—and lighten up. Maybe that’s why I started the year off cleaning out my office?
Light has an aspect of consciousness to it that appeals to me: casting light onto my thinking and my actions instead of operating in a rote manner. It has a positive connotation, a certain brilliance. It can be a noun, verb or adjective. The properties of light are quite intriguing and offer scope for future analogy. “Light” works perfectly with “open”: the door is cracked, the window is open, the light can shine in.
So. Here I am with my bright, shiny new word of the year. What effect will it have?
(If you’ve chosen a word or theme for the year, please share!)
It’s the second week of 2011—isn’t it about time for a good list? And I mean, a good one, full of simple pleasures and joys.
A few years ago, I compiled a list of “100 Things I Love” as an exercise in something self-help-y I was reading at the time. If I recall correctly, I was to pull it out when feeling a little blue, just to remind myself of how many things there are to love in my life.
When you have to make a list of 100 things, some interesting items appear. Alongside the expected—family, friends, chocolate, libraries, horses and books—appeared the more unusual:
Mahjong Titans (a game I play on my computer)
Yellowstone (we visited a couple of years ago and I'm dying to go back)
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| Yellowstone--did I mention we were there in June? |
The smell of leather (mmmmm).
Here are a few more, in no particular order:
Ladybugs
Crossword puzzles
Rain
Wind
Singing
Robert Bateman’s art
Anne of Green Gables
Old houses
Flea markets
Walking in the woods
Being alone
Homemade bread
Flannel sheets
Fires (in the fireplace, not the forest!)
What would you put on your list of 100 things? Share a few with me—I’m always looking for more things to love!
Reading this post reminded me of a concept I’ve heard about that comes from Japanese culture: Wabi-Sabi. To sum it up in a rather general way, wabi-sabi is the art of finding and honoring beauty in the imperfect.
Now this is a concept I can get behind! I love the look of old and imperfect things. I buy distressed furniture, partly because we tend to distress things ourselves even if they don’t come that way, but also because it appeals to me. I find old pieces with a few battle scars much more appealing than something brand new and sleekly perfect. However, wabi-sabi is more than a design aesthetic. It’s a whole outlook on life, an outlook that “[acknowledges] three simple realities: nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect,” (Richard R. Powell, Wabi Sabi Simple).
Wabi-sabi doesn’t just put up with imperfection—it embraces it. That’s a good thing for all of us. I’m guessing you’re not perfect—I know I’m not. When I find myself bogged down in the same old issues, now I see I need to go beyond accepting that I’m imperfect all the way to loving my imperfections. This really goes against the grain for those of us in a culture that believes all personal faults should be eradicated immediately, if not sooner.
Perfect doesn’t exist. Imperfect—with all its glorious faults and detours and mistakes-that-turn-into-blessings—does. So today, let go of one thing you’re still a perfectionist about. Examine and embrace the flaws you see. Let the beauty of wabi-sabi wash over your life.
To learn more about wabi-sabi, go here.
I love watching cleaning/organizing shows on TV. There’s something cathartic about purging a home of what’s not needed anymore, cleaning it thoroughly, and putting back only what is useful and beautiful. I really wish someone would come to my house and do it for me, but since I don’t expect that to happen, I’ve gotten started on my own clean sweep.
I actually started a few weeks ago on our home office, which my husband and I share, because it had become what we only half-jokingly called “the pit of despair.” One wall is a built-in bookshelf with a flat surface halfway down, and more shelves and a cupboard where we keep our shredder below that. The flat surface had become stacked with piles of books, files, papers and miscellaneous stuff that I hate to admit belonged to me. So one weekend, I tackled the area. After going through everything, discarding and filing and moving things to different spots, I dusted and neatened up the whole space. Now, when I sit in my rocking chair first thing in the morning, to read, think or do morning pages, I love looking at the light shining onto many of our travel souvenirs and the spines of so many treasured books. I’m still in the process of purging my files and cleaning off my desk (the holidays forced me to take a break) but I’m almost done.
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| Part of the finished project |
My office hasn’t been the only focus. I’ve also scrubbed out my tack trunk at the barn (it had at least an inch of dirt in the bottom of it) and all my grooming tools, and several other cleaning and organizing projects wait in the wings.
While I do all this cleaning and purging, I also have time to pull out my attitudes and beliefs, give them a shake and try them on for size. Do they still fit? Are they true and useful to me, or are they holding me back from my goals and dreams? It’s time to let go a few of them, too, I realize—especially the ones that begin with “I should” or “I can’t.”
Once I clean out the old, my next step will be to see if there are any little touches, such as fresh flowers or a pretty basket to hold art supplies, that will inexpensively warm and brighten my spaces. I also swap outdated or wrong beliefs and attitudes for new, more positive ones: “I will finish writing my book this year,” for example.
A brand new year seems like a good time to do a little purging, whether it’s of papers and clothes or of attitudes and ideas. I feel a sense of relief and lightness as I clear away the clutter of things I no longer need or want, and let go of outdated ideas and negative thoughts.
How about you? Are you cleaning out any old ideas and attitudes in this new year? What are you replacing them with?
