Light Paintings

I used to make quilts of richly saturated solid color fabrics mixed with black. I hand quilted them with either black or shiny gold thread. I loved the process and was always a little disappointed to finish one. There was something about the vibrancy of the colors that satisfied my creativity in a rich way. I haven’t made a quilt in years, but lately I’ve been making light paintings at night. I am as satisfied with these photos as I was with the quilts. Sometimes I feel so frivolous or like I’m copping out by taking these, but really, I don’t care. I love how they look.

Making lemonade

Lately the universe seems to want to teach me a lesson about making myself happy, reminding me that my happiness is my own business and my own  responsibility.  This force is devious, I must say.  I have had lots of chronic, nagging discontent all around the edges of my existence lately, and I finally realize that even when other people are involved with it, the blame for my reaction to the events that befall me is completely my own.  I know, big d’oh.  Sometimes I forget this.

Yesterday, at the end of another week like many before it, and probably many more to come, I was feeling on the edge of something teetery.  I drove home with tears hovering at the edges of my eyes, for no reason I could have verbalized even if there had been anyone around to notice them.  I thought of going home, and what I would do with myself other than lay down and dissolve, and it occurred to me, not for the first time, but with some force, that I’m tired of feeling this way and it’s time I do something about it.

The first thing that came to mind was re-creating the feeling of safe haven that I need in my home, and which I have been feeling too dilapidated to make for many months now.  In times of feeling battered by the world around me, the most important thing I can do is create a sanctuary for myself, someplace from which to step forth refreshed each morning.

A few months ago I made the resolve that I would accept any and all invitations that come my way this year.  I tend to hermit up and go nowhere, and this year I decided to change that paradigm.  Today I realized that not only must I accept invitations, I need to issue some.  So that’s my next step, after I reconnect with my safety, inviting friends to do something fun. Mixed in all this is the need for creativity (my photography outings make me ridiculously happy!), and for recentering myself on a regular basis through meditation or prayer.  Something like that.

Hmm, this is sounding curiously like Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, isn’t it?  Physical safety, nutritional and exercise needs met, check. Moving up, satisfy creativity, check.  Making connections with other people, check.  Honoring my spirituality, check.  It really is all in my hands.  That is nice to know.  A little scary too.

The Woman Who Collected the Sky

Once upon a time there was a woman who collected sunrises.  Every morning she drove along the highway a little while before and a little while after dawn.  She learned to see before it actually happened which days would begin with a dramatic, glorious splash of color, which would be softly swirled in heart-renderingly muted pastels and which would just quietly open or close without much color at all.  She knew just where were the best places to stop and catch a photo of the beginning or end of the day.  The places where it would be uninterrupted by a tall orchard or a plethora of high wires.  The places where it might be reflected in a rice field, doubling the drama.

On the weekends she occasionally slept past the sunrise, and inevitably when she saw the tinge of color left in the already sunny sky, she felt left out.  Like she’d missed one that she could never get back. And while her conscious mind told her not to worry, there would be another tomorrow, she knew inside that it would be a different one, not THIS one.  Something in her heart felt the need to see each one, to collect it, whether in a photograph or in her mind’s eye, and she almost always did.

Sometimes she collected a sunrise and a sunset on the same day, although rarely were both dramatic.  The saying, “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight; red sky at morning, sailors take warning,” played through her mind every time the sun came up or went down red.  When she knew that rain was predicted, she prepared herself for a glorious morning and left home in time for a stop or two along the way.

She began to build a collection of sky photos.  Sometimes she shared them with friends, online or in person.  Sometimes they praised the beauty of her photos, but at other times they reacted in a less than complimentary manner, telling her they  just didn’t see the story in a sky photo.  At first she felt let down by these reactions.  She questioned herself, wondering if she was becoming a boring photographer.  She even felt apologetic about her sky shots, and quit sharing them.  When a fellow photographer friend asked her one morning if she was “still grinding them out,” she felt a little embarrassed by the camera constantly in her hand or around her neck.  At least until she remembered that he was a really grouchy guy at times who had never seen any of her photos at all, at least not outside of her camera, and she forgave him the comment.

She suddenly realized that her passion for the sky was hers and it was compelling.  And she would continue to take photos of it or not as the inspiration arose.   Her pleasure and fulfillment were her own responsibility, no one elses.  And she really didn’t mind at all whether anyone else was interested in them or not.  She began to collect the sky at all hours of the day.  Whatever would bring her that feeling of a full heart she would continue to seek, knowing that the joy of those moments was greater than any compliment or condemnation of others.  It was her own, and she would treasure it.

Having lived a good life

Last night was the quasi-monthly meeting of the bookclub to which I belong.  Wait, I think I should restate that…of which I am a member.  That is more accurate, as after last night I’m not so sure about the belonging part.  The book we read was, The Middle Place, by Kelly Corrigan.  It was a memoir about the author’s and her father’s bouts of cancer which took place roughly at the same time.  Actually it was kind of a love letter to her father.  As such it was very well done.  Never mind that I didn’t really like either the author or her father.  The book was a quick read and is well written.

What it is also about is the time in life when you are someone’s mother and someone’s daughter at the same time.  You are in the “middle place.”  Before I go further I should say that I am the age of the other club members’ parents.  All but me are in their mid to late thirties.  Usually that isn’t an issue, except that they are all best friends as well and I’m just a fringe bookclub member.  But that’s okay.  The books are always good and I like the women in the group.  I’m just a lot older.  I was invited to join by one of the original members who has been my friend since we went through student teaching together a long time ago.

Last night as we discussed the book, someone said that “we” are all in the same place as the author of the book, which isn’t true for me, but NBD.  Eventually the zinger dropped.  “My dad just turned 60 this weekend.  He’s healthy and active, but really, if he got sick and died now, it wouldn’t be such a big deal.  He’s older, he’s lived a good life.  He’s not raising little kids.”  While I totally get the kids part, and I can’t imagine not living to raise one’s children, I’m definitely not in agreement with the other part.  She’s talking about my peer, and I don’t feel that the part about being done and ready to go now.  I have not yet looked at my life in that way.  I still see myself as having a lot of things left to do.  I’m not even thinking of retiring yet.  Frankly, the comment just creeped me out.  Made me wonder why I was there.  Or if I should return.  But I’ll get over it.  As long as the books are good.

It’s funny about money…

I pick the lion dancer this morning because he seems like a symbol of abundance today, the first day of a new month.  The first of a month always seems like a good chance to begin again, avoiding the errors of the previous one.  For some reason in the past months money has been tight for me.  I know that my income was reduced by several hundred dollars a month when my previous higher paying job was eliminated last summer, but I do still have a job and I earn considerably more than many people in the world.  I am blessed and fortunate in that.

So, why the feeling of parsimony?  It is all about the credit cards.  Over the years I let their balances creep up and creep up.  I have two, which I swore I would never do again.  Actually I have three, but one has no balance.  It is that blasted Costco American Express card which I rue ever accepting.  I’d heard about the great rebates, and my intention was to only use it for the amount I could pay off right away.  But then things came up, and I couldn’t always pay it right away, and voila!  It was maxed out.  I learned in a difficult way about the vindictiveness of a credit card company. They arbitrarily raise interest rates, lower available credit without obvious reason.  Okay, not exactly without reason.  The interest rate raising happened because I missed a payment a year ago January after the big storm when I had no power for over a week and I had to suddenly come up with over a thousand dollars to have a fallen tree removed from my and my neighbor’s yards.  I paid double the next month, but ni modo.  My rate went up to 24.9% overnight, and they refused to even listen to my story of woe.  Paying that card off became my new religion.  Never again was I late on anything.  They finally reduced the rate, and then after several months of perfect payment they arbitrarily reduced the available credit.   So then I took out a 0% interest card and transferred the balance.  I do not use it and am paying it off.  But in order to do that, I have to be absolutely vigilant in making the payment I told myself I would each month.  No months off for good behavior.  I dream of the day that I have all that extra money each month, but that day is uncomfortably far in the distance.

So I budget, and now am doing the envelope thing.  A few dollars each month parceled out into weekly envelopes so I never get to the last week or two with only $55.00 left.  Or less.  That has happened before and it is not pretty.  This whole experience has left me with a new view of money.  And myself.  I realize that for years I kept up what I was doing because I had room on my credit card.  I visited my mom because I could squeeze the airfare on my credit card.  I bought those great shoes the same way, gifts for my children the same way.  I have never been extravagant, really.  I just didn’t have the cash, so I used my cards, always intending to pay back what I spent but never actually doing so.

So now I see myself as sort of grimy, somehow. Or maybe not grimy.  Maybe inadequate is a better term.  Like I should be comfortable at my age, able to buy what I want to – not still using envelopes.  Being single is part of it, I suppose, not having anyone to share expenses with, but really, the truth of the matter goes back to self control.  I want what I want, whether it is food or travel or a great pair of shoes.  Or a new camera for my daughter. Or a good hotel room for her wedding night. And all of that is okay.  Not extravagant, just outside my means because I already owe too much.

At the beginning of the year I found a snowball debt reducing tool.  Here is the URL to it:  http://www.vertex42.com/Calculators/debt-reduction-calculator.html According to this tool, I’ll be debt free within two years, as long as I can stand to be so vigilant.  Meanwhile my computer is slowing down, my camera is not as agile as it used to be and my phone contract is up. An iPhone beckons me.   I WANT NEW ELECTRONICS!!  But I will resist and keep faithful to my snowball debt reduction, sending off big clumps of money every month to pay for the last things I wanted and had to have.  But I’ll say right now, that my reward for having paid it all off will be slick and shiny.  And paid for in CASH.  I will get there, envelope by envelope.  And boy, will it feel good!