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Priming Your Pump

Vintage Valentines Greeting

“The privilege of a lifetime is being who you are.”

Joseph Campbell

What does “Priming Your Pump” mean?

Do you feel dry and stale sometimes?
Do you wake up wondering if something new will come in to your day to surprise you?
Do you wonder if your resources are running out?

This is normal, grossly normal, as we like to say here on Hollenbeck Avenue.

Icy Valentine's Heart

We are in deep winter here in the Berkshires. Our larders are plumbed for just the right snow day sustenance. Bean soup simmers here at my house. Butter is softening for Ginger Molasses cookies. Wash is drying on a rack.
Home chugs along in winter mode, I am stocking my inner fires with good music and tea breaks to watch horsetails of snow curl off the garage roof in the wind. I will make a snow angel today, I will, just let me lean on to the radiator a little while longer.

We are well in to winter comfort. I feel the sun on my back through several layers of wool and jump at the sound of a large mass of snow sloughing off the roof as the sun warms it too. Movement comes, but slowly in this deep winter cold.

The other night at my writing workshop at the Ramsdell Library in Housatonic,
we painted and doodled on small pieces of watercolor paper. These small palates of lines and color are appetizers for the creative voices of the women who gather to write at the library three times a month for an hour, on Wednesdays.

Serene Doodle 2014

Very often and sometimes for entire lifetimes, women feel pressed to duty. Our families, our professions, our relationships demand our attention and we freely give it. Women are wired for connection and we nurture these interactions with our full focus.

But, we also weary of doing for others to the detriment of our own nurturance. Taking time to write, to fuel the chilly hearths of our own voices, is necessary to building any creative practice. If you do a little something every single day, whether you dance in the morning to Lou Reed or you thread a needle and embroider or you mold a bit of clay, massaging your expression with warm hands, you are doing what I call “Priming Your Pump”.

Our creative expression has often been hiding out behind the clamor of busy lives, busy minds, busy bustling occupations that leave no room for singing at the top of our lungs, or weaving baskets. To begin, you must warm up. Like me leaning my entire frame against the radiator in the kitchen, absorbing it’s warmth in to my tissues before putting my boots on, I become ready to move.
Priming Your Pump is any small action of making that carves a path through the clutter of your mind to the place where your voice resides. Your inner castle door or as John O’Donohue calls your “Genesis Foyer”, is the place of beginning.

Priming the Pump

So, Joelle, to answer you literally, to prime a pump which is designed to draw water up from the ground as Ben is doing there and as I saw when hiking in the Alps with our Ursula this summer, you must lift the handle and pump it repeatedly to create suction that coaxes the water up and through the pipe and out the spout. To prime the pump of your creative voice, we engage in gentle slow attention building activities that settle our minds, clear the clutter from our thoughts and make way for a new beginning. We keep our inner pipes warm with small creative acts.

Priming Your Pump Alps

Yesterday, I wrote about The Rainbow Way by Lucy Pearce. Her book about nesting a creative life while mothering, she urges readers to begin. Lucy writes,“The only place to start is at the beginning-just start-and keep going! You can paint over it, rub it out, delete the words. You can start again, and again, and again, and no one dies.”  The women in my writing workshop begin by painting and doodling. We do small writing exercises to engage and enliven our imaginations, like making a list of all the words you can think of beginning with L and taking three of those and writing a small paragraph including those words. Just letting your making be playful. Your creative voice warms up, your visions find safe passage from your inner life to a page or pot.

Jan Phillips says, “We only have one lifetime under this name to speak our truths, to manifest in the world the supreme force of love that cannot be made explicit without our hands, our eyes, our voices and actions.”

You do only have this lifetime to tell your story. Grace Paley said, “The world is a better place for having its stories told.”

I urge you to live full out, to burn brightly today, as no one other than you, your one precious life lived is worth more than anything. Let your stories take form, however that works for you, but do not squander them.

Making things has always and ever been my life. Long before I contemplated motherhood, making was just what I did. I learned to sew when I was ten and began making my own clothing. I learned to make quiches and my friend Patty and I baked them for dinner parties as a way to make money. I worked all through my acting career in costume shops, making costumes for Martha Graham’s dance company and the Cabbage Patch Kids calendar.

When I became a mother, my making magnified.
Soup and cookies and jam became easy in my hands.
I learned to knit when Ben was a baby and dear soul, he has lived a life with wool socks and sweaters and itchy hats. Infant Catherine sat up easily, propped up by wool everything…she was a winter baby and the perfect model for my knitted dreams.

This entire making for others nourished me; my desire to create was well channeled and had practical value. Elizabeth Zimmerman, my knitting she-ro said, “Knit on with confidence and hope, through all crises” and I followed her instructions to a tee. Knitting and jamming and gardening comforted me while raising my children. These tasks fulfilled a very necessary part of our daily life, warmth, interesting meals and bountiful gardens producing edibles. I was fully occupied for the most part.

But this practical making, embellished daily making led me to wanting more. This is where the writing of Laundry Line Divine begins. This is the point in my life where this blog took form. FeMail came to being at this time. This is what led to teaching writing workshops and social media for authors and artists. This is what birthed Out of the Mouths of Babes: An Evening of Mothers Reading to Others, which led to An Anthology of Babes. You can read all about this genesis here.

What I want to get to you today is this: Take small steps toward what you desire. If it is writing, then prime your pump with doodles and dancing. I can only tell you what I know to be true for me and that is a daily practice of small creative acts keeps my winter pipes warm and flowing with inspired attention, reflection and expression.

Priming Your Pump Valentine's Day 2014 2

So here is the writing prompt we used on Wednesday.
Write in to this statement: “This is what you get today…” and shed light on the parts of you that might not be so glamorous or perfect. (another stumbling block to creative acts is waiting for things to be perfect. I invite you to celebrate
the places that aren’t so perfect. They are much more interesting!)
Mine was about my passion hoarding of colored pencils.
From that tidbit I then wrote this ode.

And so, in closing this Valentine’s Day post, I leave you with:

Ode to the Woman Who Loves Pencils

Oh, beloved scrivener of lead, wood, oil, gold embossed shafts of possibility.
You, who sing to the grrr, grrr, grrr, grrr of the Boston Champion sharpener,
the music of a sturdy color-tipped twig runs symphonic through your long fingers.
Gripping your deft collaborators, your short stubby yellow hexagonal sticks,
scratching fine lines with lean steel mechanicals to form nice architect-y flat-bottomed letters
who play as if a ruler, a long metal thwackable ruler butted under your pencil’s momentum
darting across large sheets of vellum.

Oh lover of where lead leads you, retire in to my arms.
Let this product of oak and oil surround you,
until you too become one of us: a perfect tool for tracing the lines of a life.
©Suzi Banks Baum February 12, 2014

Wishing you moments of apricity all day long,

S

 

 

PS Thank you Joelle, for asking for this post. You primed my pump! xoxoxo S

PPS Please share this post with a friend who needs a bit of warmth today. Share the Valentine’s Love!

PPPS The synchronicity is not lost on me here. Writing about priming our pumps on Valentine’s Day, which celebrates
our most precious of pumps, our hearts! Here is to each and every one of your hearts, much love!

Making #Valentines on a #SnowDay. XoxoS

 

Leaning toward joy Maria Sirois, Thanksgiving, giving thanks.

Celebrating #grace, no matter what. Sending you love today. XoS

Lean toward joy.
Link onto arms that support you.
Lead from your dreams.
Love what you love and who you love.
Listen for sounds that comfort you.
Learn what emboldens you.
And linger over moments that lift you.

 
~Maria Sirois

This being Thanksgiving and Thursday, I cannot let this day pass without some attention on what we share here and why.
Seeing and celebrating the sacred in daily life requires more of you when days are full of family and busyness. Or, perhaps this and these days are full of quiet, but you sense the stirring towards this season of dark nights and bright days.
This swirl of activity is exactly where daily life begins.
With these people.
With these pesky attitudes.
With this sink full of dishes.
With all these boots lined up by your back door.

It is these people, this table round-even if it is just you today, reading, potchkeying around the house while the whole nation watches football, stuffs turkeys or has a regular Thursday anywhere but in the USA, it is this action of taking a moment to stop and see, that is your portal, your entry point to falling in love with your own life.

Like my dear Maria Sirois asks of us, “Linger over moments that lift you”…could you do that today?

@cattbaum is a winner in my book. XoS

We ran/walked a Turkey Trot today. I was happy to do something new and outside.
Tomorrow, Friday, we will not be shopping.
And the next days, of Advent beginning, of heading in to the full tilt pitch of December, I am getting ready to host, with Pippa and Penny Best of The Story of MUM, a FeMail art workshop and reading of An Anthology of Babes: 36 Women Give Motherhood a Voice at the Museum of Motherhood in Manhattan.
If you are near NYC next Thursday, stop in! Here are details.
And wherever you are today,

thank you, for reading me here, for sharing this site with your friends and for

shedding your own particularly grace-filled light with the people around you.

All my love,
Suzi

Wish You Were Here

August FeMail Suzi 2013

You know I make mail art, right?

I have had a mail art collaboration with Karen Arp-Sandel called FeMail for 7 years.
We are presenting a workshop Art and Story as Deep Connection for Alchemy Initiative this September.
Here is a post about it over on FeMailArt.

DSCF3476

I gotta go swimming.
I am boosting my happiness with savoring these last days of August every single day.
It is so tempting to just jump all over my work since returning from our #summeradventure2013.

More more more for you dear Laundry Line Divine readers as the days roll on.
The Out of the Mouths of Babes blog series will ramp up again with great posts by women from all over the globe.
Plus, September is my favorite month for posting.
If you are hungry for a gorgeous poem, Monica Devine posted one here today.

Til next time!
Love,
S

When Women Were Birds

Rites of Passage bathroom SBB

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

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