Laundry Line Divine

This snowless winter has not failed to pile drifts of inertia around my legs.
I want to crawl back in to bed on these gray mornings.
Hibernation. I hear my dear friend Anne Davin tell me January is time to hibernate.
I am healthy. I am well. I am not depressed.
I have taken stock of the past year.
I have stored the seeds of my desires for this New Year, this new year of the dragon-though for me it feels like the year of the squirrel. I host visions of a petite gray furred creature encircled in a nest of oak leaves, sleeping out the windy days in a high treetop.

Knowing that I had work to do today, that napping was an option, I took the morning more slowly than usual. I did not jump on to my computer. I let myself stay in my jammies. Thursdays are my art day. My husband and I have arranged ourselves around this day being the one day of the week where phone calls, appointments, music lessons, SAT prep class arrangements, pizza runs for late night paper writers, laundry duties and all the rest are handled by him. We have a life that has room for this. Jonathan’s office is in our attic. He is very disciplined when it comes to time, so, for one day a week, he makes this work.
When I say Jonathan is my hero, you now know just what I mean.

It came to me this quiet morning that I could treat myself as I would treat my best friend. No hurrying. No pressure to produce. Lots of tea.

I sat in my red chair by the window. This is the place where I write early in the morning, where I conduct my long phone calls, where the dome of silence is almost visible, where I can look out over our yard at crow’s eye level. My red chair is my crow’s-nest on my ship of dreams. There I sat and read this by Jan Phillips as the steel ceilinged morning passed me by.

“…I remember that I owe my creative spirit all the time and tenderness I would give my dearest beloved. One is as precious as the other.”

Now, at the later end of this day where rain has begun to fall, lowering the moods of the skiers in my household, I have risen to the occasion of some creating today. My Arthouse Sketchbook project is coming together. Here is one of the pages I have prepared to write in to. The title, which was given to me, is ‘Forks and Spoons’.
I cannot get away from the ordinary things that make our lives extraordinary. I love that.

What sustains me on days like today, where the momentum of all my projects stills and the energy that is my normal operating speed has slowed by winter grabbing my ankles and thickening blood, is this comfort. Being tender with myself today has made it possible to show up here with you and ask:

What sustains you?
What is it you would do for your best friend today?
Could you possibly do that very thing for yourself?

I listened to a recorded call while I worked at my art table. Sage Levine of Women on Purpose interviewed
Reverend Deborah Johnson about intentional living.
Rev. Johnson said this:

God has given you custody of you.

I have taken custody of myself today. I am my very own best friend.
And, I am taking me to bed.

Tell me more.
What sustains you in the bleak mid-winter?

Thank you for being here,
All my love,
S

PS There are some wonderful things happening on Out of the Mouths of Babes.
Tomorrow, Sherry Collier’s post goes up. Monday, Linda Jackson’s post arrives.
Next week, more amazing women will appear. You are encouraged to visit the blog and comment. Let these long gray days be filled with inspiration from other women.

PPS. If you want to read an absolutely beautiful piece on the power of women’s friendships, read this. Thank you Emily Rapp.

Have you looked at yourself today?
Did you smile?

At 6 a.m. this morning, I passed my 14-year-old daughter in the bathroom. I noticed the austere look on her face as she spread mascara on her already thick long eyelashes. I wanted to chide her to smile a little, ease up on her self for crying out loud, it is only six a.m. and can’t you be shining a little light on yourself today?
But, it was six a.m. and I was not yet up to being parental.

Then, later, I read Berry Liberman’s post on Dumbo Feather, a really fine online magazine from Australia. Berry interviewed Brene’ Brown for that publication. Readers of the Laundry Line may recall Brene’s TEDx talk on shame that I posted a few months ago.

Berry wrote in her post titled “The Scars We Live With and Gratitude” about her own self-image and the scepter of age making marks on her body, breast, eyes, and her waist. About plastic surgery Berry wrote:

There’s something we forget when we try and erase the years and the scars. We forget they are the markers of a life lived, of things learned, of love given and received, of loss, of laughter. How can I say to Willow that she’s enough if I don’t believe that I am? She’ll know I’m a fraud and most likely will feel that putting herself under general anaesthetic and letting someone put a knife to her face and body is quite normal. Necessary in fact.

I keep thinking about what I model for my daughter every day. Do I scowl at myself even before the sun rises? Do my upper arms or eyelids have the first say in whether what I see is beautiful or not?

Tomorrow morning, I will fly to Chicago to meet my sister Becky. We look in to each other’s eyes and see familiar lines, familiar traces of time around our smiles. Our voices lift and fall the same way. We both color our hair, but otherwise, our bodies are the reflection of time as it has made its mark on us. I will look at her and see family traits that I cherish in her, but on any given day I’d critique in myself. Here we are with our bright shiny youngest sister Elsa between us.

I was moved to tears when I saw this movie by Julia Warr of Brooklyn, NY this week. It has stayed with me and penetrates this discussion beyond any words I have about aging. This ode to her friend Maia holds a standard of self-cherishing and grace that I aspire to.

You will hear from women of every age here this winter on the Out of the Mouths of Babes blog series. Today, Kelly DiNorcia’s post about her life as a writer with her son and daughter sheds light on her perception of her value and creativity as it has changed since becoming a mother.

Life is like that. It makes its mark on you. Passion shapes us; time carves experience in to us. My body is as full of stories as my imagination. I desire to celebrate those stories, share the ones that cause my heart to race and step in to loving my body, every mark.

Chicago holds the funeral of my dear Uncle Jim. Close readers will remember him as a commenter here on Laundry Line Divine. When I sat with Uncle Jim during the days after my Mom, his sister-in-law, died, I saw my eyes in his. I saw the way our upper eyelids are shaped around our eyes. I saw his eyebrows lift in gestures I myself make. I am sure Uncle Jim was capable of Catherine’s scowl, but of the time I have seen him in my life, he was smiling or pondering a question with a knit of his eyebrows that drew the together in the center and up on the ends. His voice held all the timbre and lilt of the Banks side of sound for me. I will miss it every day. Here is what he said in response to one of my posts about my Mom’s passing:

‘How many heartbeats in a minute, in a day, in a month, in a year? Each one is a goodbye.’

This is me listening to Uncle Jim with my step-Dad.

Please enjoy Kelly’s post.
Please wink at yourself in the mirror.
Consider gratitude, as Berry does, for your one fine body.
And, as Maia does in Julia’s beautiful film, move in your own beautiful grace.

All my love,
S

I am a woman who enjoys working with other people.
I also passionately crave the company of my own silence.
There are many times that I hanker to be with others making art, making jam, raking, ice skating, working at almost anything.
Togetherness makes my heart sing.

My friend Chandler sent me this quote.
I wish I had the exact source. If you know of it, please send it to me, so I can note it here.

“Design school taught me that collaboration makes ideas and outcomes more meaningful — not only in the final results, but also in the process. Life is so much about the process — having fun, playing with others. My artisan partners are the best part of the work I do.”

I have a slew of artisan partners. I play with Karen Arp-Sandel all the time.
I am playing with Janet Reich, Michelle Gillett, Alana Chernila, Gina Hyams, Jenny Laird, and Lynnette Najimy in ‘Out of the Mouths of Babes’.

Coming up on my ‘Out of the Mouths of Babes’ blog series will be two months full of women writing about their mothering and creativity.
Monday, Shari Simpson-Cabelin’s post will be up.

Later this week, Kelly DiNicoria and Sherry Collier will be featured.
Kelly sent me this note the other day that sums up why I am so passionate about ‘Out of the Mouths of Babes’.

I LOVE the idea of nurturing mothers’ creativity in that way! I am taking the Level 2 Momoir course with Cori Howard starting next week (I did Level 1 through SheWrites) and I am really becoming interested in the idea of helping people to tell their stories, especially mothers. It is so empowering to tell your story, and I feel SO strongly that we need to consciously build and nurture small havens of non-judgment for women. We are so hard on each other, and most especially hard on ourselves!

Kelly DiNicoria

See how this happens? One little spark ignites another and soon we are all blazing with warmth of shared wisdom, experience, tears and laughter.
That is what the evening of March 2 at the Berkshire Festival of Women Writers is all about. Please follow our blog series. You are invited to attend our March 2 event. And please, savor the value of your mothering. If you have a story you’d like to share with us, consider submitting a blog post to me at suzi@laundrylinedivine.com.

Your comments are heartfully appreciated.
With love,
S

if you are curious about those numbers, they are there to verify my authorship of this blog so I can play on the Technorati site. xooxox

Today on the Laundry Line I am giving a big shout out to Berkshire Local She-ro, Amy Cotler.
Storey Publishing published Amy’s book “The Locavore Way” in 2009. The well illustrated book is filled with great information on how to eat locally sourced foods and support community based agriculture wherever you live.

Included on Amy’s page of thanks, is my collaborator, Karen Arp-Sandel. Karen must have cooked up some of Amy’s recipes. Aside from being a fervent FeMail artist, teacher and yogini, Karen is a wonderful cook.

Two women and a wheelbarrow full of creativity centered around our most basic task as humans, which is to feed ourselves and sustain our health and well being with nutrition. What a great combination.

In the next weeks, I will be featuring other local authors from the Berkshires.
There are so many. Writers find many warm spots to share their words here in the Berkshires, like at the Tuesday Night Writer’s Room at ybar in Pittsfield.

I have my own venue for featuring some local wonders at ‘Out of the Mouths of Babes: an evening of mothers reading to others’ on Friday March 2, 2012. The Berkshire Festival of Women Writers is hosting us at Blodgett Hall on the campus of Simon’s Rock College of Bard. Please join us if you can. Turn to the ‘Out of the Mouths of Babes’ page here on LLD for all the details and read the blog posts there.

This week’s blog post is from Lissa Rankin, M.D. of Owning Pink – and aside from meaning Medical Doctor; M.D. also stands for magnificent dame! Lissa is a friend through The School of the Womanly Arts in NYC. Lissa is a mother, artist and well spoken advocate for women’s health.

Lissa has written an important and useful book called What’s Up Down There? Questions You’d Only Ask Your Gynecologist if She Was Your Best Friend.

Our Sunday night dinner with Shar, Susan, Abbey, Jeff and Melinda.

How about you? Are you reading any of your local authors? I would love to hear about them here.
Be well.
Love, S