Keep Your Face to the Sun

"Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadow. It's what sunflowers do."

                                                                                                                          -Helen Keller

Reading aloud is a critical part of our home teaching day.  I love the moments when the older guys are drawn into the story we are reading, moving away from whatever they were doing in another part of the house to come listen as I read aloud to our youngest.

We are beginning this school year reading an autobiography by Helen Keller. Over and over again she uses words like see or listen or look or notice or visible beauty. A woman, blind and deaf. Sometimes, as we are reading, I have to comment on a sentence, to stop and realize that the author can neither see nor hear, yet she describes "the shimmering light of a Christmas tree," or "the noisy-throated frogs."

In June, I read The Music of Silence, an autobiography by Andrea Bocelli, a popular Italian singer, blind from age twelve. One of his teachers, "Dr. Marcuccio, also blind from an accident...had explained that even darkness was a visual sensation, and therefore, a perogative of those who have the gift of sight. 'The blind,' he added, 'cannot see darkness, just like the deaf cannot hear silence, which is an auditory sensation, the antithesis of sound.'"

Those of us with the gift of sight still need to learn to see. Even with the gift of hearing, we need to learn to listen.

 Helen Keller described the smell of an incoming thunderstorm. Do you know that scent? She described a scene, meeting people in a crowded room, shaking hands with "frosty finger tips, it seemed as if I were shaking hands with a northeast storm. Others...whose hands have sunbeams in them, so that their grasp warms my heart. It may be only the clinging touch of a child's hand; but there is as much potential sunshine in it for me as there is in a loving glance for others." Have you felt such awareness to touch?

 As a child, she loved the orchard, collecting apples and fuzzy peaches in her apron, the taste still warmed by the sun. Reading this autobiography aloud, together, gives us many opportunities to discuss the five senses and the beauty of our world. This gift, this perspective, seen through the eyes of a blind woman, gives us a deeper appreciation for the riches around us.

The Heart Sees

"...having the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and what it the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe..."

Ephesians 1: 18-19 ESV

Last Monday I wrote about seeing with your heart. I was thinking in terms of understanding, artistic perspective, or seeing beyond the obvious. Later in the week, I read this verse in Ephesians and caught my breath. "...the eyes of your hearts..." Your heart sees. With eyes. Wow.

I cannot explain it or claim to understand. But I love this thought, and look forward to learning more about this. One comment on the Monday post said we should include a "heart-sense" in addition to the five senses of sight, hearing, touch, taste and smell. Perhaps there are other senses we should be aware of, too? What do you think?

Imagine the Life

Five Minutes. Write, five minutes, the words smooth and flowing, the ideas, a discovery.

Today's topic: Imagine.

Imagine. Goals. Plans. Visualize. Dream. Dream Big. Vision.

I have a notebook. Pictures cut out, pasted in. Things I want to do, to have, a life I want to live, a goal to work toward. Looking forward, out there, in the someday. Fast forward to then, when life will be all I imagine.

But wait. Hit pause. Today. Now.

The bean sprouts in the garden, reaching for the sky. The piles on my desk telling me I am far from bored. The snoring from the bedroom, the son still cuddled up with his cat. The high cloud cover this morning, filtering the sunlight, coloring the fresh greens of spring. The ideas, the flow of thoughts as I read and write this morning. The smile, the touch as my husband says good-bye and heads off to work. Music to play, to hear. Plans for the weekend, the garden tour, time to sit out on the deck and read, weeding that wants to be done. The fan overhead brushing cool air across my desk.

This life, now, here. This is to be lived in the fullness of all I imagine. Love, joy, peace, rest, beauty - it is all here, now. Not in some imagined perfect future. In perfect today. And I smile, seeing it all in a new light, a fresh perspective, a deep gratefulness for all that is here, now.

Which Way Are You Looking?

Wandering Wonder

Five Minute Friday, today. The next one will be January, 2013. Sigh. Oh my. A deep breath, quick, before panic sets in. Before the unsettled nerves of all that has to be done in the next month, and all the unknown that spreads ahead in the new year...

But, today. Five minutes, right now, this moment.

Today's theme word, Wonder.

Go.

I wonder as I wander out under the stars...These words to a familiar Christmas song ring true to my heart.

I wander. I roam aimlessly through the days, the weeks, the months, the years. I keep busy. I do the next thing. I make lists (oh, I am good at lists!). I search to find a path. I blaze a new trail. I sit down and wait for someone to - please, oh please - show me the way. And, I get up and wander again.

As I go, I learn. I grow. I discover. I travel. I stay at home. I explore. I draw in tightly within my shell, keep my wanderings close, internal.

As I wander, I grow in wonder. The ocean waves unsettled on the shore. The mountain peaks, dusted with powdered snow. The sunsets coloring the town with peach and yellow and pink. Baby toes, growing quietly inside mama. A petal, unfurling into a splash of deep red. The full moon, glowing, illuminating across the dark sky.

So much, if I just open my eyes, awake to the wonder of it all. When I wander, my focus is down, on my feet, the path, trying not to trip. When I wonder, I look up, look out beyond myself, see so, so much more.

His mercies are new every morning. Ah, the wonder of it all.

Time is up.

Untie the Knots

A Painter of Light

Thomas Kinkade, known as a painter of light, passed away last week. His paintings, popularized through prints, calendars, cards, books and local galleries, are said to be in 20% of the homes in the United States. We are one of those homes, with several of his prints on our walls.

In another house, these climbed up the stairwell. Here, they work well following the line of the high ceiling. One day, our youngest was sitting on the couch, looking up at them. He said they told a story. "You go in through the gate, walk along the path into that garden in the middle painting, sit and rest awhile in the gazebo, then keep climbing on the trail, through the trees by that stream, up the hill until you get to the top and can look back down on the valley below." I hadn't really planned it that way when we put them up, but it works.

One of our daughters, in a college class, heard the instructor severely criticize his paintings as unrealistic and fanciful. Yes, we have lived in beautiful areas, but we have seen, many times, sunsets and sky and ocean scenes as spectacular as those he paints. For real. Cloud forms, sunrises, sunsets, light reflecting across water, ocean waves, cozy cottages, busy city streets, mountains, trees, all are scenes he painted. The next time it rains, watch for the lights reflected onto the streets, like in this painting. For real.

I love the houses and cottage scenes he paints. He said at one gallery, a woman came up to him to say one of his paintings got her through a very depressing time. She would look at the scene and visualize herself sitting on the porch, comfortably rocking in the chair, looking out over the field. By imagining the peace and quiet and calm of the place, she was able to rise above her conflict. This is one of my favorites. The dappled sunlight across the roof and courtyard, the abundant flowers, and the indoor lights shining through the shutters make it very inviting and comfortable. I could sit there, in my rocking chair.

His books, also are inspiring. Simpler Times is my favorite, a book easy to browse through, or to read and absorb. My book has crinkled, wrinkled pages from a time it got wet, but that does not dampen its message of creativity and joy and beauty. My favorite quote is from the chapter on romance.

"Contrary to popular opinion,  romance is not a relationship - although it can add fullness and spice and excitement to a connection between two people...Romance is instead an attitude, a set of habits, a way of encountering the world. You are a romantic when savoring experience is a priority for you, when you are willing to invest time and energy into making your experiences more vivid and memorable...We live in a beautiful world, one that is shimmering with romance. It's all around you, rich and lovely and exciting. It comes into your life when you open yourself to savor your moments - happy and sad, beautiful and mundane, alone or with someone you love."

In Lightposts for Living, he writes about planning and living a fulfilling life. He challenged readers to write a ten word summary of their life goals. At first, I thought that was impossible. Ten words? All of life purpose in ten words? Right. It came to me, one night, after I had worked and re-worked it.

People and places are improved because of my influence. Surprisingly, I fit it into nine words.

This artist, with his human frailties and struggles, just like the rest of us, expressed his creativity and encouraged us with scenes of joy and peace and love and beauty.
 I am inspired by him, and grateful.

Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving. Giving Thanks. Beyond the traditional holiday, before and after, part of my journaling each day is to add to the 1,000 Gifts List (based on Ann Voskamp's  One Thousand Gifts).

Most days I already know what to write down. Scenes that caught my eye. Events that sparked gratitude. Words that spoke encouragement. Connections, relationships that are full and fulfilling. And, also, the challenges, emotions and events I need to face head-on and tackle with courage.

Some days, though, I sit there, needing an attitude check. A gratefulness generator. When I have to dig for something to write down, first, my heart needs to refocus. There is never a shortage of people/events/things/scenes/life to be grateful for. But there can be a dire shortage in my ability to see and understand and acknowledge those items.

That is where the 1,000 Gifts List comes in. It inspires me, in a gentle, quiet way, to pay attention, to see ( to learn to look) and to be aware of all there is around me. Far too easily, I zero in on the uncomfortable, the bad news, the harsh word, the shortage. All that causes me to miss out on the abundance abounding around me. Sometimes I can almost hear Ann's voice saying, "Wake up to the moments...figure out a way to stay fully awake...these fleeting moments, this is all we have...".(from her trailer for the book on the website)

I step back, take a breath, and write my list. Things I wouldn't have noticed, events that would have eluded attention, scenes I really didn't stop to admire and appreciate; they become part of my list, part of the record, the journal of my process. There are still days of foggy understanding, days of tears and frustration, days of discontent and chaos. Many, too many.

Another reason for the list is as a review tool. To thumb back through the filled in, scribbled on, quickly jotted pages [I keep a handwritten copy, then type it onto the computer, again, as a review] brings a smile and relief, filled with memories, hope and love. The foggy, frustrated, discontent, chaotic days  become colored with hope, framed with love. In spite of me and my bad attitude days. Don't think this means I'm always happy and smiling and thrilled with life. Those are the days I really need this list and the effort it takes.

Writing down the list turns my attitude inside out, spilling peace and content and calm and order, not because of me, but instead of me. Instead of my grumbles and frowns, a calm breath and quiet. Opening my line of vision beyond my narrow little world, opening my sights to greater things, to light beyond anything I could imagine or think. Beautiful. It is a process. Progress.

Saying Grace Beyond 1,000

When I began writing out my list of one thousand gifts, one thousand things, small and large to be grateful for, I imagined reaching the thousand mark with a sense of accomplishment and completion. This week, I reached that mark, and found instead that it was one more signpost on the journey, a viewpoint, a vista overlook to stop and admire the scenery before continuing on.

This list is not completed, rather just beginning as I learn to take a moment, pause, and savor the cup of life brimming over with blessings and gifts – tiny things like the steam rising from my coffee, or huge things like job and relocation decisions.  I am still retyping the list, lost in cyberspace a few weeks ago, copying from the notebook where I have kept a duplicate hard copy list. (Click above on A Counting of One Thousand Gifts to see my list)

Even on days when my emotions are running rampant and the tears flow; when the day’s complications leave a storm of confusion and chaos; when the bustle hasn’t left many moments for contemplation, writing this list opens a door to the opportunity to pause, to recall the joys (interesting word: re-call, to call them up again, review them happily), and to face the challenging moments.

In Ann Voskamps’s book, One Thousand Gifts, she uses a word, eucharisteo.  Jesus, as He breaks the bread and says grace (eucharisteo), expresses gratefulness and gratitude for the sustenance of life. He also gives us a vivid illustration of Himself, broken and given as a blessing to us for the sustenance of our lives now and eternally. Writing this list, one thousand and beyond, causes me to pay attention, to be aware, to understand how many, many opportunities there are to “say grace” throughout the day.  Each time I jot down something I see or hear or appreciate, or, each item on the list that marks a difficult challenge, a tough lesson, a signpost has been placed. The view changes from  overwhelming dark clouds, to a cup brimful of blessings.  The grace, the light glows through the dark clouds and I find the peace in the pause of “saying grace.”

Gift from the Sea

Gift from the Sea, by Anne Morrow Lindbergh, is a book I have mentioned before, one I enjoy reading and re-reading. Her perspective on balanced, healthy living, written long before either of those topics was popular, challenges and encourages me.

She quotes a term, "Zerrissenheit," translated from German as "torn-to-pieces-hood." Does that describe any of your days, your life? She talks about life today (this was written in 1955)..."the feverish pursuit of centrifugul activities which only lead in the end to fragmentation...shattered into a thousand pieces. On the contrary, she must consciously encourage those pursuits which oppose the centrifugul forces of today. Quiet time alone, contemplation, prayer, music, a centering line of thought or reading, of study or work. It can be physical or intellectual or artistic, any creative life proceeding from oneself...Arranging a bowl of flowers in the morning can give a sense of quiet in a crowded day--like writing a poem or saying a prayer..."

Written during a seaside vacation, her analogies are related to the ocean, seashells, the beach. She relates lessons of life to lessons from the sea.
Another term I enjoy thinking about is her idea of having "island eyes." The ability to see through a lens to examine your life, your priorities, your choices; especially to be able to see the beauty all around you and how our lives are touched by that beauty:

"I must remember to see with island eyes."

 For her, the ocean helped her step back and see values, significance, signposts, and find balance for her life.

Lessons as we observe nature and the beauty of this world help us to understand the complexities of life.

What part of nature helps you to see more clearly?  Do you have mountain-eyes, garden eyes, desert eyes, or as Anne Morrow Lindbergh, island eyes? Wherever you prefer;

remember to see, really see, with [your] eyes.

Graduations and Life

Life is full of graduations, most of them not formal events, but personal achievements - stepping stones from one level or skill to the next.  One step at a time.
Each step may not seem like much, but it is progress, the forward motion, that counts.  Over time, we can look back along the path and realize how far we have come.
The speech quoted below is from our daughter's high school graduation speech last June (valedictorian, proud mom!).  I thought it would be fitting to include parts of it here, as a marker for her to think how far she has come in the last year, and as a reminder to all of us to think about our stepping stones and our dreams yet ahead.




     Many graduation speeches might begin with “We made it!” or “This is it!” But, in truth, this is just the beginning. As an artist, I like to look at this as a drawing. We’ve completed the outline, now it’s time to shade in the details of our lives. Our younger years have given us the footing we need to move ahead in life and be successful. High school graduation is not the end of the road, but merely a stepping stone in the long walk called life.

     We have our entire future to discover ourselves and build our lives. Whether we’re going to college, joining the military, or just joining the workforce we’re all stepping out on our own paths. Throughout high school and our younger years our lives have been pretty similar, growing, getting into school, moving up from grade level to grade level. But now it’s time for us to step off the path and forge our own way, leave our own foot prints, and decide where our path is going to take us.

...Now we can take the lessons we’ve learned, and show the world what we can do! It is time for us to start our own lives, learn our own lessons, make our own marks on the world, and discover who we are!

     I’d like to end this with an amazing quote I heard by Brad Paisley: “Visualize what you want out of life with all your might. Close your eyes and build it in your mind. If you want to be an architect, visualize the things you want to build. If you want to be a songwriter, visualize the effect your music will have on the audience. That’s what I do. If you don’t dream about what you want, it will never come true.” So let’s not only start dreaming, but make our dreams a reality! 

Good luck to everyone and God Bless You! 

Her blog is: littlebitzofart.blogspot.com
Her website: littlebitzofart.deviantart.com

Art Inspiration

My friend, Jane, came to visit this week, with paint gear and sketch book as always. She is a great example to me of paying attention to the ordinary everyday scenes of beauty around us. She was the first one, years ago, who pointed out to me that art is about ordinary events.  She said, "Look at this famous painting: a little girl, sitting in a chair, with a handkerchief in her lap.  How ordinary is that?"  Jane showed me that great art is often not about the profound or miraculous, but about the common, the usual, even in the people around us.

 Though my tools as a writer are different from hers as an artist, we both enjoy looking for the moments of the day to capture with words, camera, or on canvas.  She is developing her skills as a plein-air painter - an artist who paints outdoors, capturing light and shadows, and being able to work quickly to capture a scene. The word comes from the French Impressionists style.  That is also what I attempt to distill into words: the impression of a scene or an event or a character.  She talks about composition, meaning to arrange the parts of a scene to create a unified, harmonious whole.  Not that much different from the compositions I write to form a picture in the reader's mind with words.

We talked and shared thoughts and inspiration and goals and motivation and where we are each headed with our skills, what we plan and hope to accomplish through our work. We spent a pleasant afternoon inspiring each other.

another one of Jane's paintings 

Her website and blog is  www.janethorpeart.com, if you want to peek at some more of her work.

This Moment

     Hit the floor running in the morning, and rush headlong through the day.  It's easy to do.  It takes effort to stop, pay attention, to notice the beauty moments and the young people filling our home - young people growing and changing faster than time itself.
     Boys and a daughter, gathered around the table, each working with their own schoolwork books, notebooks, computer, papers, pencils.

One dog snoring, the other crunching on her rawhide bone.  The cat meowing at the back door, "Let me out," and he just came in two minutes ago, meowing outside the door.

The phone rings.  A lady machine wants to clean our air ducts.  I could stay on the line and wait to talk to a real person to tell them we're on the no-call list.  Or, just hang up.  The timer goes off.  The rice is done, let it sit for five minutes.  The gardeners arrive, get the cat  back inside, quiet the dogs from barking.  There are "strangers" in the yard, can't blame them, but we did tell them to stop barking.  The washer and the dryer hum, someone's buckles clang in the dryer. Write lists: packing plans for a trip, for the son's next essay ideas, for another son's multiplication practice.  Think of an item for the grocery list, jot it down. Sirens off in the distance, someone having an un-ordinary day.  A question, "What does this assignment want me to do? I can't figure it out."  Read the computer page, try to understand, together.  Timer goes off again,  move the rice off the stove.  My planner sits open with today's list and space to write in more as it comes up.  Another cup of coffee, get out the creamer.  Something is dripping in the refrigerator.  The package of chicken is leaking down through two shelves. Gross. Add clean the refrigerator to the list (needed to be done, anyway).  And it's not even the middle of the morning.
     This moment. It is all we have. An ordinary morning, nothing spectacular. Or, is it?
     Being together.  Being home.  Being home together.  This is one of the key reasons we teach the kids at home.  To be together.  To be with them in the myriad light bulb moments.  Not just as they learn to crawl and walk and talk, but when they see multiplication as a shortcut to adding, or the construction of an essay with form and pattern, or a tough solution becomes clear.  "Oh, I see!"

     There are the spectacular moments.  Our son and his wife are visiting the Grand Canyon this week.  That is spectacular.  There is art in finding the spectacular in the common, ordinary everyday. Ann Voskamp, in One Thousand Gifts,  A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are, does a beautiful, sometimes heart-breaking job of delineating the ordinary beauty in a day, even under painful circumstances. She is willing to face the tough questions head-on and look, really look, at life, and with vulnerability, stand her claim that grace is always there.  With a heart open to see the grace, we will find it.
     Her book is number nine on the New York Bestseller List this week. As she wrote her own list of one thousand gifts, and wrote her journey into a book, I don't imagine she had any idea how hungry the world would be for her message of beauty.  Her words, sometimes difficult words, of light shining into dark days.  Her challenge to live fully among the dishes and the messes and the clamor and the conflicts. The blessings she discovered along the way.

     This moment.  It is full and rich, if we have the eyes and the heart to see it, really see it. Does our heart have eyes?  I think so.  How we perceive, is skewed by our heart - with bitterness and regret and resentment, or with hope and love and acceptance. We can learn to perceive with love and grace, find the gifts and the spectacular in any moment. To see with our hearts, the beauty in this moment.