Travel

Since my last post I've taken a trip to Portland, Oregon, my first in several years. My stepson lives there in a russet-orange bungalow with his wife, two sons, and a cat. I'd been unable to travel due to my husband's health, and I worried about the accumulation of time and distance between myself and my grandsons, now 7 and 9. All four were waiting for me at the airport. Story and Harry gave me big hugs and chattered all the way home. So much to catch up on! So much that was new! The next several days were wonderful -- relaxing and refilling. After the first cool and misty morning of "postcard Portland," the sun came out and shone the rest of my stay. I basked in boys' attention, neighborhood walks, scrumptious market produce, music and theater in the parks, masses of roses and front yard gardens. (My stepson, Donald, grows artichokes in his, and hops trained to form a screen filtering sunlight to a sparkling peridot liquescence.) I was introduced to aikido and to yu-gi-o, a terribly complicated (to me) manga book/game series. When it was time to say farewell, I was reminded again of the fluidity of time, how it can stretch, fill, deepen, wait.

I was aware from the first that my husband's death set him free, and gradually it has freed me, too. I can travel, accept a last-minute invitation, or linger over coffee. Relationships, like time, are also not as fixed as one might think. I am still nurtured by the bonds of love and the life Roger and I shared, but the thin, electrical ties of tension, the alertness for the next disaster, are breaking down, disintegrating from lack of use. I'm glad to know that his death isn't an "all or nothing" deal, that some parts will go and some will stay--and those will inevitably change, just as I am. Maybe some will even become me, the joins rubbing off, changing with the seasons . . . seen sometimes, in perfect clarity, to contain all that was and will be and is. Moments of intense joy and deep gratitude.

 

The house in your heart

Hello and thanks to each of you who read "Continuation."

(Some of you told me you were unable to leave a comment and i appreciate you bringing it to my attention. I think it's fixed.)

So many responded, and i love hearing from you. Whether you tell me your story or not, i know that we all have a small library tucked away -- there are complicated poems with elaborate flourishes or vague allusions, litanies and lists, epics, short stories, romances (happy and heartbreakers), and mysteries. Here's a story from my Nana collection:  When my granddaughters would spend the night, and they were settled in the big bed we shared, i'd ask them to describe the tiny house that is their heart. How is it different than last time? What have you done to make it more truly yours? Did you change the color of the door or add a koi pond? We go through each imaginary room, laughing again at a shared joke or remembering the taste of fresh tomato bisque. Each of these bright moments added to the home's warm glow. Finally, i'd ask them if something had hurt them that day, if they'd worried about something, or if they had done something they later regretted. Occasionally, one said yes, and we'd consider some solutions. Then we'd take her little problem out of the house and blow the pain away, leaving just the lesson, to be kept in a book in her library.

Once, i told a friend about this ritual, and she was as delighted as a child at the thought of creating a house that was her own in every aspect, a place that truly reflected who she is and how she's grown, with spaces for whimsy, nurture, and reflection. Let me tell you right now, we never outgrow the need to be tucked in and kissed, to feel safe enough and sure enough to open our heart and see it as a home. If you weren't given that as a child, i give it to you now -- no, you give it to yourself. Get comfy in bed, close your eyes and take a big breath. Let it out slowly. The world around you dims and you see a little house taking shape. It's yours; open the door and go in.

Sweet dreams ~
     Suzanne

Continuation

It is a year since I visited my blog, a year since I wrote of events in the outside world, but not of events in my own. Those notes I kept privately though, just so I could make some sense of my rapidly deconstructing situation, a life that was falling apart . . . a month from August 2 to September 2 in which my husband fell and broke his arm, lost his ability to move, lost his hope, but never lost his courage or his spirit. It was a month filled with moves between facilities, colored with the intense palette of emotion, scored with doctors' opinions, messages, music, silence. It was a month that began on a sunlit afternoon and ended on a soft night under a moon that had begun, almost imperceptibly, to wane.

It was a month that I went from wife to widow, that I continued my journey without Roger, my partner of half a lifetime. There were time that I could actually see myself walking, accompanied by women, and a few men, who have remade their own lives.  A few would walk with me, alongside or just ahead or behind, then they would be replaced by others. We kept silence, just sharing space and strength. I am thankful to each of you. I don’t see that road now but I know it’s there. All of us are travelers, and each of us has needed companionship.

Now I am here. I have been writing, and in March published my thoughts on Roger’s memorial service in a blog essay titled “Transformation” for Sculpture Magazine.

I decided to pick up my blog, and hope that those who find it will discover something worth keeping, something worth sharing, and maybe companionship for awhile wherever you are.

Get out!

 If you know Robert Hillestad and/or the Robert Hillestad Textiles Gallery at UNL, you will clear your schedule to attend the biennial fundraiser sale this Saturday, August 18, 9-4 at 1339 N. 37 Street in Lincoln. For more info: 402-466-0951. Jay Rich says, "The entire east campus area has garage sales concurrent." Who can resist that? Fall's coming, kids are in school--get a project going!

 Justine Petsch (justinej2@gmail.com) has an invitation of a different sort: “I'm working on a signature fundraiser for FoodBank for the Heartland -- an Empty Bowls Event on September 20th. I need help painting/glazing 200 bowls. Work will be done at Hot Shops (many thanks to Tim Barry!) -- all supplies furnished.” Justine is hoping for plenty of volunteers on Wednesday nights in August, the 15^th, 22^nd, and 29^th from 6:00 to 8:30.

Shootings like the one that occurred at the Sikh temple are shocking to most of us. They are a terrible incentive to learn more about people or issues that are seen as different/dangerous to some Americans.  It so happens that my husband and i had recently watched Ocean of Pearls (2008), a lovely autobiographical film directed by Sarab Singh Neelam about the challenges of Sikhs living in North America. It is about finding oneself and understanding the past. It is about choices (on many levels). I highly recommend it!

"The True Guru is the ocean of pearls, one attains it according to his Writ. The Sikhs like swans gather together according to the Will of the True Guru. The ocean is full of gems and pearls, the swan eats them, but the ocean always remains full. The Lord wills that the ocean and the swans are not separated. Only that Sikh comes to the Guru, on whose forehead this Writ is recorded from the very beginning. Such a Gursikh not only ferries across the world-ocean, himself, but also saves his family and the whole world." (Guru Arjan, Var Ramkali, pg. 960)

Some Happenings:

This weekend, starting Thursday! —

Talented Sarah Fettin (artist, teacher, Bellows mentor, and daughter of the talented Carol Fettin) has a solo exhibition of mixed media work at the Michael Phipps Gallery in the W. Dale Clark (main) Library.Beyond the Garden is on view August 1-31, with an opening reception August 2, 6-8.

Linda Meigs’ photo series, "The Farm," is on display August 1 through September 2 at Bone Creek Museum of Agrarian Art in David City. An artist reception is set for August 2, 5-7.
*How about a day trip to David City? Linda would join us and provide background and reminiscences of the photos. As usual, my trips include delightful stops, delicious lunch, a surprise or two, and, of course, le chocolat. Please respond with a comment if you’re interested in a Friday art escape.

August 3rd -- It’s First Friday, 5-8, at Blue Pomegranate, where artists are creating fun animal pieces to help benefit the Nebraska Humane Society.

And First Friday Old Market Click for listings and map.

While the Artists' Cooperative Gallery is hosting a guest exhibition, members are showing work at Hot Shops Hallway Gallery, with an opening reception this Friday from 6-9.
and
Seven sculptors comprise an exhibition called 7 DIMENSIONS, opening Saturday, 7-10, at Hot Shops’ Nicholas Street Gallery and 13th Street Gallery.
See Hot Shops for news.

Cheryll Wallace's incredible drawings are an expression of her gentle and enspirited approach to life. She is having an Art Show this Friday, 6-9, and Saturday, 12-6, at Maud Boutique, 521 N. 33 Street. Come and see her drawing, jewelry, ornaments, textiles, postcards, and her newly-published book, Crafting a Life.
fyi– there’s a great café across the street. Marrakech bills itself as Moroccan Mediterranean fusion. I had a delicious vegetarian tagine recently.

Gallery 72, a contemporary art icon in Omaha, is moving from its longtime address at 2709 Leavenworth. John Rogers is having a “Moving, Staying In Business, Inventory Reduction, and Clean Out the Basement Sale” this month. Hours: Tuesday and Thursday, 12-7, Saturdays, 10-2. For further information or appointment, contact Gallery72@Novia.Net, 402-496-4797.

Please comment if you visit any of these weekend events, especially the new businesses on 33^rd Street. Art + small business = creative growth, and your patronage is a necessary part of the equation.

Next Tuesday is my mother’s 88^thbirthday, a day I will celebrate a woman who taught, and still teaches me the importance of caring for one’s family and friends, eating real and delicious food, being real, the importance of justice and responsibility, of resilience and looking forward, embracing the arts, and of truly enjoying life. Merci!

Happy birthday, Mom. I love you.

What do you love?

What do you love?  I thought about this as I deadheaded roses early this morning.  They’re yellow floribunda roses, and they bloom all summer in front of the office at my apartment complex. Last year, as I struggled to relocate (both literally and metaphorically), those beautiful roses greeted me each time I returned to the apartment with another load of boxes. They gave me welcome, serenity, beauty, and encouragement, like a candle in a window. This summer, I have returned the nurturance by deadheading them.  As I work, I talk to them. I thank them, encourage them, or just say “good morning.” You might think it silly, but I believe I am not alone in loving things as well as people.  “What do I love?”  When that question is answered, the next is “How do I show it?”  It’s easy to love people who love us back, to see our joy reflected in their eyes.  We’re challenged to love people who don’t love us, who may, in fact, make us crazy. And we’re conditioned not to love things. But this isn’t about obsessing or ownership, whether of things or people. It’s about recognizing relationship and contributing to the life of the other, while appreciating their contribution to ours. Caring for the roses doesn’t make them mine. But it does enrich their life, and that goes out into the world the same as a breeze, a cry, or an advertising slogan.

What do you love?

Shirley Neary has made a name for herself with her art quilts, and has a gallery in Dundee, 21st Century Quilts. She clearly loves color, texture, and stories.  But now, more and more, she’s expressing those loves with paint. Over the next several months, she’ll be making transitions and will sell the gallery. Keep in touch with Shirley via Facebook.

Thanks to all who posted comments on my blog or sent e-mail.  It’s great to hear from you!  I conducted my first Prize Drawing yesterday evening—old-fashioned names in a hat. And… ta da!  The winner of my brother’s newly published novel, a signed copy of Cotton and Silk, is Linda Meigs.  Congratulations!  You can learn more about the author, Michael J. Smith and his writing here.  I can deliver the book to Linda at her wonderful Farmers Market, every Sunday 11-3 at The Florence Mill.

How do you show your love?

Suzanne