Laundry Line Divine

My head is spinning from this week of the Berkshire Festival of Women Writers. When I first contemplated the events I wanted to attend back in February when I got hold of the booklet, I did not imagine the amount of inspiration I would take in every week. I have been on a diet of elevated inspiration delivered by the Festival and all the women participating for this entire month.

It is a blur.
My writing journal is full of quotes.

In an effort to share this week of wonderment with you, I will offer you a few photos with accompanying thoughts. And, a preview of the week ahead.

Sunday, March 18. Saw 2 Movies. Sarabah and Granito: How To Nail a Dictator.
I met Pamela Yates, director of Granito. She said, “When the hand of destiny touches you, you have to act.” and Ricky Bernstein of the Berkshire Human Rights Speaker Series said of the Festival and these two movies, “we begin to see the immense scope of contribution women make every day”.

Tuesday March 20 I was at IWOWWOW (in words, out words, women’s own words) an evening of live spoken words at Deb Koffman’s studio in Housatonic. 20 women shared for five minutes each- poems, songs, stories and one report from a naturalist. It was an evening of high energy; the full house applauded all 20 women warmly. I read a segment of Laundry Line Divine: A Wild Soul Book for Mothers. The evening was full of lush descriptions of love, loss and living, rich with phrases like Pooja Karina’s “ love is something that must be spent, a currency that is liquid in your hands” and Caroline Forsman’s “an intimate intense purpose” (describing a trip to her dentist).

I took off Wednesday and Thursday. Life at home beckoned. Then Friday, JNB and I attended “A Woman’s Work” at the Unicorn Theatre. It was an evening of women’s stories and excerpts from 3 plays. We were completely taken by Lisa and Fran Mandeville’s music. Listen to them sing ‘Little Bird’ here.

Then Saturday, I trekked up to North Adams for a day of ‘exploratory letterpress’ with Melanie Mowinski. I have worked with Melanie before and had a vision to create a piece of art to commemorate ‘Out of the Mouths of Babes’ to use as a give-away for this week’s drawing. (which you can register for my subscribing to this website) Here is Melanie.
I had a blast. Letterpress is an antique art being revived by printer makers and mixed media artists. PRESS is a public art installation, which offers workshops, classes and exhibitions of area letterpress artwork and visiting shows.

Plus, while I was in North Adams, I visited Gallery 51 to see The Mother Tree by Helen Heiburt. The show was curated by Melanie and features the artwork of three paper artists. Follow the link if you would like to learn more. Let it rest here with these words, there are an abundance of ways for women to describe their journeys as mothers and I am thrilled every time I witness one. Absolutely thrilled.

Which brings me to this week.

You can see my dear Michelle Gillett’s poem set in letterpress type at PRESS’ new show that opens this Thursday. Two of the pieces I created will be in the show too.
Michelle, who graced our March 2 event with her words and perspective as the mother of 2 adult daughters, is a poet who inspires readers of all ages. One of my favorite frames of ‘Out of the Mouths of Babes: An Evening of Mothers Reading to Others’ was Michelle’s thoughtful responses to audience questions. She is a great listener. Michelle and I were guests on Radio2Women earlier that week and I loved talking on the air with Michelle who beamed the whole time like a lighthouse of joy.
And, I also love working out with Michelle, but that is another story.

Michelle Gillett and Gina Hyams by Christina Rahr Lane

Also this week, Hester Velmans is appearing in a talk about self-publishing. Hester is a Berkshire author whose experience as an author, mother and daughter of an author are captured perfectly in this interview with Serene Mastriani and Susie Weekes on Radio2Women. Hester’s blog post is here as part of the ‘Out of the Mouths of Babes’ series.

Is your head spinning now too?
The only thing I can offer you is to snuggle up with a copy of Alana’s cookbook and dream about making your own potato chips. You can register to win a signed copy of this beautiful new book by subscribing to the Laundry Line. Other gifts to be won are two limited edition letterpress prints of my commemorative art created at PRESS. Or five of you could win the brownie recipe by Janet Reich Elsbach and a souvenir program from our March 2 event.

Okay. I am going to get a cool compress and lay down for a while. All this inspiration is making me dizzy.

Thanks for being here.
If you like please:
Read Hester.
Listen to Lisa.
Visit Melanie.
Register for the drawing, which will take place next Saturday, March 31.

Nightnight.
Love,
S

PS This week you can expect guest blog posts from this outstanding line-up of mother/authors.

Kathy Drue
Susan Hajec
Leah Strimbeck
Linda Wisneiwski
Sharon Pywell
Ali Smith

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.

This rainbow landed on a magazine photo of this elephant that hangs next to my art table.

I am deep in preparation for my sankalpa session with Karen tomorrow. We will look at our work over this past year and collect our sankalpa (or some may call them desires) for this New Year. Below is one definition of sankalpa, which is so close to my understanding of my desire, that they are one and the same to me. Not a wish list, not a gift list, but something deeper and resonant. By looking over our work of this past year, the themes that emerge and manifestations of our sankalpa from last year begin to take more tangible form. There is something of print making impression that our lives make upon us that develop a pattern- which I dare say is the stuff of my manifesto…but this is getting very wordy.
For now, I give you this definition and then a beautiful interview with Meryl Streep who speaks about her choices around her career and family life. This video continues to populate the ‘Out of the Mouths of Babes’ manifesto with poignant and clear expressions of the vital importance for our creativity to be expressed. Listen to her very last sentence. You will know what I mean then.

The juicy, precision sankalpa is the resolve, determination and good intention that resonates precisely in your core and aligns sublimely with your essence . It is fluid enough to insinuate itself through the semi conscious patterns of self sabotage, wounded self’s objections and ego discontent. It is a will power that is flexible enough to account for changing circumstances as the sankalpa begins to manifest in your inner and outer world. Yet it is precise enough not to be diverted by the core negative beliefs that stand against it.

this definition of sankalpa is from Saraswati Yoga

Yes, your creativity is important,
Love,
S

Walk to the well.
Turn as the earth and the moon turn,
circling what they love.

Whatever circles come from the center.

Rumi

There is a tumble of information flowing through me right now.
And, in the event of an emergency, please know, right now, that I love you coming to visit the Laundry Line. I am thrilled for all your support that is helping me birth my first book, “Laundry Line Divine: A Wild Soul Book for Mothers” and the ‘Out of the Mouths of Babes’ blog series and event.
I am not planning on dying any time soon, but it is important to me that you readers all know how vital you have become to my momentum. Not that I need you to write or create, but knowing you are out there improves my diction.

FeMail for KA-S 2008 by Suzi Banks Baum

This weekend, JNB and I visited the Norman Rockwell Museum, which is only about 20 minutes from my desk. Our friend Laurie Norton Moffat is the Museum Director. The museum houses the work of one of the wonders of the Berkshires, Norman Rockwell and also hosts a steady flow of intriguing exhibits highlighting illustration art and the people who make it.

this is part of a diorama the Reys created in visualizing a book.

This season NRM features “Curious George Saves the Day” which originated at The Jewish Museum in New York City. I am a huge fan of Curious George, having had those stories read to me, reading them to my little sister and to the kids I babysat, then lately, say in the last 17 years reading them and often quoting those passages to my kids for whom the ‘Man in the Yellow Hat’ and George himself stand for a certain kindness and rambunctiousness that is particular to that sweet faced monkey. Plus, we all share a fondness for bicycles, travel and paper hats.

I heard of this exhibit on my area NPR station, WAMC, where Joe Donohue hosts a daily interview show called The Roundtable. Joe is the best interviewer I have ever heard. Ever. I don’t know when he sleeps because he talks to his guests with such confidence about their work, having read or seen their creations. His personal experience and curiosity sets the guests at ease. So many of Joe’s guests say at some point in the interview, “Thanks Joe, great question, I never thought of that”. When I heard Joe talking to the curators of this exhibit, the story of the Rey’s life as it is reflected in the stories of Curious George and their other books fascinated me. I will tell you more about Joe another time, but if you’d like to hear him at his best, this interview of Michael Feinstein is quintessential Joe.

The exhibit of the work of H.A. and Margret Rey included personal papers, the few of which survived their swift immigration from Europe right ahead of the Nazi invasion of Paris in 1940. The paintings, illustration plates and photographs tell a story of great courage and enormous levity at a time where people like the Rey’s where loosing their lives, their livelihood and family members. I won’t tell you the whole story, because you must see the exhibit or see this timeline about their escape online here.

Something Joe said struck me. He reflected that though the stories and art of Curious George don’t tell the saga of the Reys fleeing Europe, their art stood as an antidote for what they were going through. Art does that. You may not actually depict the storms of your soul, but by expressing yourself, the passion of your inner life gains balance and equanimity or in the very least, your art work stands as a placeholder for your sense of self while all other aspects of your being are washed overboard by life events.

I love the handmade stamp Rey used over his signature.

I know most of you aren’t in a place to see this exhibit. But, you are near a bookstore, library or your own bookshelf, where that curious monkey is cooling his heels until you flip open the pages to see his lively and engaging antics. When you look at the pages knowing that the creators narrowly escaped Paris by bicycle and were assured exit visas by virtue of the illustrations and text they carried with them to prove they had gainful employment, you will realize that every work of art carries the heart and soul of it’s creator, no matter how cheerful or merry it appears.

During the next months here on the Laundry Line, we will be talking more and more about creativity.

Sending you splendid hours,
S