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Barbara Radecki Tells the Truth about her Creative Life

Another window sill in the Birth Room.
Another window sill in the Birth Room.

So it is like this.
People come in to our lives.
They make a mark.
Then they leave.
But the marks remain.

Barbara Radecki continues our discussion of mothering and creativity with this post. Welcome to another wonderful Canadian woman to Laundry Line Divine.
With Jennifer Boire, Eunice Scarfe, Coleen Davidson and Alaskan Monica Devine, the northern lands are well represented!

♥

 

The Creativity Makeover

 

I am in transition right now, and there is nothing like feeling oneself in transition to also find oneself meditating on life past and future possible.

 

My husband and I decided—it seemed randomly—to undergo a major renovation in our house this year (literally, this month; literally, right now). It started with a seemingly innocent question: how much would it cost to reupholster our old living room couch (a vintage 60’s red leather beauty, which leather was sadly rent at every seam, gutting cotton filler)? And the answer to that question was so onerous, so preposterous!, it began a stream of discussion that ended with: we might as well renovate the whole main floor.

 

The timing was serendipitous—as timing always is. Our two daughters had just “moved out”: the elder to New York City for an extended internship, and the younger to Montreal for college (which also includes being away for the summer for work and extra credits). And now our house was manifesting—in the most literal way—the transformation that had already started to aggravate me, to challenge me, to terrify me… to seduce me. From now on, I would be living without the ever-present emotional, kinetic, sublime energy of my precious people.

 

I was devastated by the loss of their presence. And I was besotted with the idea of creating in a whole new way. A way that wouldn’t be fraught with the awareness that—at any moment—my work might be interrupted so that I could truly connect with a child’s latest development or adventure or need. For the first time, I would come first. I could.

 

Here is the truth: my children never, ever stopped me from being creative. When they were little, I would write at night; when they were older, I wrote when they were at school, or while they ate snacks or played with friends; when they were teens, they were home much less, exploring their own creative lives at school and on their own, and it was easy to make room for my work. I never felt like I didn’t have “the time” to write. If I lacked energy, well, writing reignited it, like any good exercise.

 

But my kids were always “there”. Their energy was its own glowing being—vibrant and incandescent—with or without them in the house. It illuminated and fed how I worked and what I worked on. It saturated every fibre of what was ultimately produced. It informed my writing in unexpected ways. Whether it was from their stories, their experiences, or from their emotional vibrations. There was always a symbiotic relationship. How could there not be?

 

And now they are gone. Maybe temporarily, I know that. But certainly gone for now. And to emphasize the point, the house they grew up in is going too. The corners (into which they put themselves when they were naughty) are gone; the floors (over which they danced and cavorted) are gone; the walls (behind which they studied or watched TV or created masterpieces) are gone; the space that captured, briefly, that bright sparkling energy is transforming. Becoming something that will only be animated (right now) by the energies of my husband, our dog, myself. And, yes, my work.

 

But what will become of that work? Where will it grow? How?

It’s hard to answer those questions right now because of the renovation chaos—which is way more disruptive and unnerving than my kids ever were! But on its completion, I do anticipate a period of rejuvenation. That the space where I write will once again inform what I produce (and the other way around, inevitably). And that the new symbiosis will create something I haven’t yet “met”.

 

It will be, I imagine, a process as unexpected, joyful, frustrating, confusing, wondrous, devastating and sublime as raising children.

 

 

Canadian writer/actor Barbara Radecki has acted in many films and television shows, including a lead role in the film The Death of Alice Blue and regular roles in such series as Throwing Stones, Good Dog, 11 Cameras and Getting Along Famously. She was a key member of the team that developed and produced the award-winning independent film Expecting, in which she also co-starred and for which she was nominated for a Canadian Comedy Award. As a writer, several of her screenplays have been optioned, including a teenage psychological horror, a coming-of-age adventure-comedy, and a musical-comedy and webisode series co-written with writing partner, Deb McGrath. For three years, they also co-wrote the award-winning blog The Middle Ages. Barbara is currently working on a novel, The Darkhouse.

 

What Forces Affect a Woman’s Creative Voice?

There is Grandma Jo waving in from on Ali Smith’s Momma Love book on the Motherhood Altar.
There is Grandma Jo waving in from on Ali Smith’s Momma Love book on the Motherhood Altar.

Whodoggie.

 

The Atlantic published an article that spurred a great round of discussion on the Internet over the past few days about motherhood and the creative life.

The original article by Lauren Sandler asks if the secret to being a successful writer is to limit the number of children one has. The article has drawn many comments, including authors Zadie Smith and Jane Smiley. Here is one of the literary responses on Melville House Books by Zeljka Marosevic.

Sandler’s article opens the idea that women writers would retain their peak effectiveness if they have only one child. She goes on to say more. Please read the article if you are interested. Marosevic’s response states that children are not a threat to a woman’s creativity and supports her points with some of the comments to the original article.

 

If you asked me,

 

Yes, having children does impact a woman’s creativity.

So does having a full time job. So does having a marriage. So does having a life.

 

Creativity is born out of chaos.

It is a human response to longing.

It is fired by the passion we have to express our inner responses to this fascinating and complex world. We yearn to leave a mark, to discuss ideas larger than our back yards, we yearn to remember or simply to play.

It is vitally important to get to that expression.

 

Having or not having children is a choice most women get to make today. Women, in a historical perspective, only recently got to make this choice. But I think the discussion of children or no children, one or two or twelve, (as Ingrid Hill had and still managed to write Ursula Under, one the best books I have ever laid eyes on), is beside the point.

Creative work, good intellectually valuable work, is borne no matter what your life circumstances. It is up to you to make the choice to nurture that work. Many commenters on Sandler’s article suggest that the way our society values mothering, what services are available to a woman with children are forces that have the most impact on a woman’s creative work. A woman may or may not have a partner willing or able to support her creative work, she may struggle with time and budget and scheduling conflicts that no partner or day care center can completely alleviate. So, she adapts. She finds a way to work.

 

Here is a bit from an interview with author Ingrid Hill on Bookslut:

 

Hill had begun the writing process the only way she could: in her head.

 

“We had a huge, long table we got from the University of Michigan surplus, taken from an old library. It was 12 feet long, and every night we sat down to that table for dinner. I made dinner, everything. I baked bread twice a week, I made my own yogurt; it was Little House on the Prairie. And I wasn’t thinking about the celery I was chopping or the pajamas I was washing; I was writing stories in my head, and I was doing the writing and revisions in my head.”

 

Certainly we could ask the question, what would Ingrid Hill have written if she did not have 12 children? What would Emily Dickinson have written had she found her way out of her house and into a marriage with children? What would Anna Quindlen or Anne Lamott or Maya Angelou or any one who’s work has inspired you, what if they had more time? Fewer distractions? Maybe they would not have had the yearning to express that they have now. Maybe Barbara Kingsolver would have stayed in the jungles with Steve and never gotten to living a year of living Animal, Vegetable, Miracle that she wrote with her daughter.

 

The crux of this matter, for me, lies in what happens in your life that shutters you, silences you or tells you that your words, images, offerings are not important enough, not worth the time, money, space or effort. If motherhood makes you stumble, it also can make you stronger, just as any other struggle gifts us.

 

Motherhood affects you. Alters you. It changes you forever.

But you are still a human being with something to say, with work to do.

 

Therese, a commenter to the Sandler article suggests that mothering changes the way you work. I am interested in this place of being transformed by mothering. This is why I write, why I teach the Powder Keg Sessions: A Writing Workshop for Mothers and Others (next one meets on June 30 at 1pm) and it is why I run the blog series that fueled the live event and the publishing of An Anthology of Babes: 36 Women Give Motherhood a Voice.

 

Therese writes,

 

 

When I meet people who are considering whether to have children, I tell them it’s like eating the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The scales fall from your eyes, and suddenly you have this new magnificent wisdom about human existence. And then maybe it was something about the prolactin hormones nourishing my brain – I never was able to be so organized or disciplined as to get whole books down onto paper before my daughter was born. There was a year of mommy brain, where all I could think of was her, and then after that year, I started writing in a way I had never quite seemed capable of before.

 

 

In the stew of this discussion float some big chunks of ideas to savor.

 

Do you feel that your creative life is supported by your life choices?
Does taking time for your creative work feel like an indulgence?
What would do for you?
Can you begin to consider that, as Katherine Paterson wrote, “ the very persons who took away my time are the ones who have given me something to say”?
Is it possible to begin to look at the way you live your life as innately creative?
Are there spaces and places in your life where you could redirect your choices to provide for your own creative expression- to read, to day dream or to pick up a pen?

Whatever your place, children or no children, bringing forth your ideas and dreams is worth the time it takes to do that.

I am going to be with Jan Phillips this week at Women’s Voices for (a) Change. This conference at Skidmore College in Saratoga Springs, NY is a gathering of artists and activists looking to take our work higher, to celebrate the work of women who have gone before us and to circle, to listen and consider what is possible for our work. Jan, who inspires my creative work so much, has written a new book which I cannot wait to read.

I will post from Women’s Voices for (a) Change this weekend.

Stay tuned.

 

 

xo

S

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Laurie May Coyle leads by example

Happy June people.

I am so happy to know you are here, reading these posts.

Our guest today is Laurie May Coyle who is a mother, artist and life coach here in Berkshire County. I met Laurie long ago when we shared a table in an art class at IS183. Laurie inspired me then and she inspires me now. I hope you enjoy her post. This week Laurie launches two classes at Lifeworks Studio here in Great Barrington. Here is info on that.

Laurie May Coyle with her girl Natalie
Laurie May Coyle with her girl Natalie

This week I am preparing for the Amazon launch of An Anthology of Babes: 36 Women Give Motherhood a Voice. If you have not yet ordered your copy of the book, or you’d like to send a copy to a friend, I’d love you to head over to Amazon to do that this week. If you happen to live in the Berkshires, please don’t order it-go to The Book Loft or The Bookstore in Lenox- always support your local indie bookstores.

But for most of you out there in the world, Amazon is your go-to place for this anthology. If you have connections to a bookstore or library in your area who you think might like to carry it, don’t hold back! Email me and I will send you a promotional packet of materials to share with your connection. Here is my address: suzi@laundrylinedivine.com

Until then, enjoy what is blooming in your yard!

With love, S

 

Laurie May Coyle

Leading By Example

I’ve been a mother for just over three years now. I have written much about mothering, spoken much about mothering, discussed and discussed and discussed mothering and parenting and all its ups and downs — with friends, colleagues, family members and strangers, on my blog, in person, in my classes and in the grocery store checkout. I have parsed the words of many many authors who have written on pregnancy, birth, infancy, parenting and everything in-between, distilled down their meaning and read between the lines, and also followed some of their exact “plans” of action (for at least a week!) for everything from sleep-training to breastfeeding and everything in-between. I derive much joy from being able to tell others what to do, and show that I know what I’m talking about because-see-I-read-it-here.
As it happens, though, I am learning in my life and career, that it’s not so much about telling-what-to-do as it is about leading, showing-by-example and exploring for myself and seeing what works. That’s where the magic happens.
This is the case in parenting and in coaching, and in friendships and stranger-interactions. No one wants to be told what to do, whether from a book or a movie or an expert or a friend (or, gasp, a parent!). We all want to weigh in on what we’re being presented with, and find for ourselves what works. Especially toddlers.
I find this has been the case in my parenting and in my creativity, and in my new found career path as a life and health coach.
I can compare helping a client find her way to optimal health through eating more veggies to, well, leading my daughter to find her way to optimal health through eating more veggies. Neither of them wants me to tell them what to do. Though they do look to me for guidance, for example (I’d better be eating my veggies, too!) and for accountability. And sometimes for something to resist and argue with, but I’m ok with that. That’s my role.
I can see that my daughter would be very upset with me if I didn’t “know what’s best” for her — she even said that once, in her squeaky, adorable three year-old voice, “you’re the mama, you’re supposed to know what’s good for me!” (I’m pretty sure that was after she hadn’t taken a piece of my advice and had fallen off of something she shouldn’t have been climbing on, but who’s keeping track?)
So I don’t tell them what to do, the client or the toddler. I am charged with gently guiding, letting them discover for themselves how powerful and knowledgeable they already are. And when it comes to green veggies, if we keep mentioning them or putting them on the table and eating them ourselves, they’re both bound to take a bite. And then another and another until it becomes a habit.
And I can gaze on with satisfaction, knowing they’re doing what’s right for them and they feel like they came up with it all on their own and they figured it out themselves. And really, they did do it themselves, with a little help, a little push and a little encouragement. That is my job, now as a coach and definitely as a parent.
I think I was looking for that from all those books I read about parenting. I wanted some hand holding, some cheer leading and some instruction. I wanted to know which way was the “right” way. To feed my child, to birth my child, to toilet-train my child and so on.
I found this kind of hand-holding and cheer leading in-person with the amazing team of midwives that attended our home birth — and I remember eventually putting those pregnancy and delivery books aside when I met them, because they seemed to know everything I ever needed to know and I could call them anytime I needed them, and they would answer, with a thoughtful, knowledgeable answer and then a little question about how I felt and how my body was doing — giving me the opportunity to check in with myself.
That was my first glimpse of an accountability partner. They were there for me, encouraged me and led me through a very tough time (i.e. childbirth) and knew that I would make it through and have a beautiful and healthy baby as the outcome. They held steady in their visions for my future, and it was so powerful to have them on my side. I have used that example in my parenting and now in my coaching, everyday since I met them.
I see in my parenting that leading by example is the only way to go. I know I can get a little too up-in-my-heads about the “right” way to do things (i.e. parenting, learning, healthy eating, childbirth etc.), and I want to pass on all that I know to my daughter. However, when I lean back and let her take my hand and we just sit in the present moment and I’m showing her the way by being me, that is when the whole world opens up to the possibility of an easy, joyful way.
Time slows down a little bit and I’m able to sit with myself, accept myself for my flaws and truths, and really see the person in front of me, whether it’s a client or my toddler. I’m able to hold their hand, encourage them, and cheer lead for them. Without judgment and with heaps of compassion for the reality at hand — it really is easy, and it really is joyful, even when it’s also messy and challenging.
And I believe easy and joyful is always the “right” way, no matter what any book tells you.

xo

To your artful life,
Laurie
Laurie Coyle is a Life Design Coach, Artist and Mama, melding her passions for unconventional living, mothering, nutrition, art, design and personal development. She inspires creativity, abundance and health in the lives and businesses of artful entrepreneurs (while empowering them to stop doing shit they don’t want to do!).

She helps overwhelmed, multi-passionate creative women find their true path and make money from their calling, so they can live more creative, fulfilled and happy lives.
She lives with her husband and daughter among the trees on a shady hillside in South Lee, MA, along with one dog and one cat, who mostly get along.

She works with entrepreneurs and wannabe-entrepreneurs through one-on-one coaching, group programs and courses, both online and in-person, to create systems and strategies for busting through fears and soaring to the heights they only dream of. She’ll help you find the most healthy, sustainable and thrilling path to the life and business of your dreams, with ease, grace and heaps of joy.

When Women Were Birds

There has been a sweet quiet on this website all week.

My son graduated from high school.

My daughter is plowing through her last days as a freshman at Monument Valley Regional High School.

And I was in a play directed by Pooja Ru Prema.
You can see a gallery of photos of Rites of Passage here. (The gallery is incomplete, but gives you a flavor of the experience. I will post more photos.)

I have been living the reality of rites of passage all June.

As the rain pours today, art day, I resume with putting motherhood on the front page. Motherhood is a journey every woman takes, birthing art, children or businesses- if you choose to claim this journey of your life as a birthing. You may not and that is totally fine by me.

I have been steeped in birthing, as a creative person, my whole life- ideas, plays, adventures, children and now books. During the month of June I will continue to share guest blog posts from Barbara Radecki, Cheryl Paley and others along with more of my own.

Summer reading lists are floating around all over town.

My first suggestion to you is Terry Tempest Williams’ When Women Were Birds.

In it she says:

“…Twenty-two years later, these words, this image, “When Women Were Birds,” came to me in a dream without explanation.
Were we?
Are we still?
Or are we in motion, never to be caught? We remain elusive by choice.
“I am a woman with wings,” I once wrote and will revise these words again.
“I am a woman with wings dancing with other women with wings.”

In a voiced community, we all flourish. “

~Terry Tempest Williams
When Women Were Birds
Picador 2012

My experience in Rites of Passage gave wings to my voice.
I read to the audience as they passed through our Kitchen, curated by Karen and me as FeMail, honoring Woman as Domestic Goddess. Karen and I conceived a space where the creativity of women births communion, communication and connection. We decorated the kitchen table to be an altar to our art making, to the alchemy born from women’s interaction with every day life. While Karen made art, I read, Tanya made toast and Gil washed the dishes as the audience meandered around our space, listening, smelling, seeing, hearing and touching. They left at the beckoning of a bell.

We carried and carry on.
Winged. Voiced. Blessed.

What’s next for you?
What’s next for you?

Here is to June. Wet, dry, hot or cold, grateful to be alive.
With love,
S