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‘Some people who make are driven by inspiration, others by provocation, still others by desperation. Art making grants access to worlds that maybe dangerous, sacred, forbidden, seductive or all of the above. It grants access to worlds you may otherwise never fully engage. It may in fact be the engagement-not the art- that you seek. The difference is that making art allows, indeed guarantees, that you declare yourself. Art is contact, and your work necessarily reveals the nature of that contact. In making art, you declare what is important.”
‘Work is a story that needs retelling. When we find ourselves telling the same stories over and over again about work, we are letting ourselves know that there are important things that we overlook every day. No matter how tedious the job may be, people and circumstances are always changing. There is always a new story waiting to be told about some nuance from our daily experience. We need to make myths from our daily lives and ennoble the things that we typically overlook. Mythologize and make heroes and heroines form the deeds of the people you see every day. Elevate their significance and the value of your work environment, and you will find yourself and your imagination rising with them.’
I started writing Laundry Line Divine: A Wild Soul Book for Mothers to share how I am raising myself while raising my children. Along the way, I started this website and began blogging. Laundry Line Divine has become my passion. I realized that it has always been my way of life, gaining density as I named and claimed it.
In January 2012, Laundry Line Divine birthed a project in ‘Out of the Mouths of Babes’ which is an event and a blog series, now in it’s second go round.
I am inspired by these quotes as I work to refine the marketing around my book and ‘Out’ events. I am honing my vision of just what I do here. Everything you see here is made by me or by people I have invited to hang their work on this Laundry Line. The words are spoken and the images captured from the finely woven details of our daily lives.
I am honored and thrilled that you have stopped in here today.
Over the next weeks, I will be making this site easier to navigate. Some of you have told me how hard it is to find the new blog series. That will soon be fixed. I’d love your input on other aspects I could improve.
All these things take time.
As so do the fireflies, who are making a sort of magic in the dark nights here in the Berkshires. If only I could capture them on film.
I will be soaking up their bio-luminescence tonight as I stand along a field where the Williams River runs past. I hope you too can step out in to this pre-Solstice night and see the dark sky reel overhead with the stars winking down at you.
I am going to leave you with this Radio Lab recording, which you must listen to. “Fetal Consequences” opens a possibility here in the context of ‘contact’….my imagination reels.
Please enjoy it.
So, with thanks and joy, I adventure forward with you, my loyal and new readers,
S
PS I think you may be intrigued by my friend Joanna Tombrakos’ new book It Takes An Egg Timer: A Guide to Creating the Time of Your Life. Joanne has a drawing for free Kindle copies in honor of the Summer Solstice starting tomorrow here.
Do not pray for easy lives. Pray to be stronger men. Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers. Pray for powers equal to your tasks. Then the doing of your work shall be no miracle, but you shall be the miracle.
~Phillips Brooks
This is from Maria Sirois today.
Maria has a set of wonderful offerings for you today, including the chance to receive her “Daily Inspiration for the Road”, where I got this quote.
It is a big week here at my house. We are coming to the end of our journey at the Great Barrington Rudolf Steiner School with Catherine graduating 8th grade on Saturday. Here is something I wrote about this moment in time.
It is a big day for the planet today, what with Venus passing in front of the Sun later today. Take a moment to state your prayers, requests, desires- whatever it is you choose to place at the portal of grace, this is an extra good moment to do so.
I am heading off to the BlogWorld conference in NYC for 2 days of excitement with my friend Joanne Tombrakos, who has a new book and wonderful offering here.
And this, just hot out of the hands of my 17 year old, the quote from his A+ work in Romantic Poetry…literally, he just handed this to me and I have to include it…well, you will see why-
“Attentiveness to subtle signs and traits, an inward poetic life, practiced senses, a simple, God-fearing heart– these are the requisites of a true friend of nature.” ~
Novalis
Whatever bigness going on at your house- astronomic, educational or social-
I must tell you that you, my dear, are the miracle.
Monday on the Laundry Line has me looking ahead to this week.
Well, really, it has me looking ahead to dinner, which, as Janet likes to say, we had last night. But it seems everyone here is interested in dinner again, so turkey sloppy joes it is.
I baked these scones this morning, which redeemed me in the pantheon of “mothers who do things in the kitchen at odd hours to benefit those who pass though later”.
Today, my dear friend Sharon Pywell is our guest blogger in the ‘Out of the Mouths of Babes’ blog series. Her post is perfect Sharon, she catches you unaware of her trajectory until you land smack in the center of a great tale. We have known each other since Sharon’s big college girl was a newt and we would whisper though visits while that girl napped…or debated how to keep the house warm enough for that child who refused to wear clothes in deepest winter.
Sharon taught me about the real time facts of being a writer with a family. She was vigilant, before I understood why, about her writing time and boundaries. When we would visit her and her family, Sharon was always clear about when she would be writing and when we’d be visiting. I inhabit that vigilance now, as I have dedicated more of my time to endeavors that require solitude. Like right now, there is a 17-year-old filling my hearing with a loud phone call and I am tempted to go silence him, but, I will just close the door and cling to the barnacled surface of my concentration and keep working.
I have long admired Sharon’s sense of language and description. Her latest book, My Other Mother is a surprising journey and I was intrigued from the first chapter. I hope you will click through the links in her post to read that chapter for yourself.
This Friday evening the Festival presents an evening talk about self-publishing hosted by Carole Owens with Hester Velmans, Jana Laiz and Melissa Batalin. Here is where you can read the details. Hester’s ‘Out’ post is here.
And, if you’d like to learn more about the life of a self-published author, read my friend Joanne Tombrakos’ posts. Joanne appeared in our ‘Out’ blog series earlier this month.
And, finally, if you want to know how dinner turns out, come back later.
Until then, I am holding on to my concentration with a strengthening grip and shuttered vision. The dishes, the laundry and the noise can wait.
All my very best to you,
S
PS Have you registered for the ‘Out of the Mouths of Babes’ drawing yet? I have added my own recipe for Coconut Rice Pudding to the prize list. Just subscribe to the Laundry Line to register. Winners will be announced on April 1.
As I look back on what I have written,
I can see that the very persons who have taken away my time are those who have given me something to say.
Katherine Peterson
Yup.
She is right.
The blog series running here within Laundry Line Divine called ‘Out of the Mouths of Babes’ was initially inspired by my desire to create opportunities to share stories of mothering and creativity with other women.
I thought it seemed like a good enough reason to invite other women to share. Now, I have women sending me posts at a rate of about 6 a week, at least. This sets my head spinning. The depth and beauty of the posts, all different, all savory with the piquant flavors of raising children and sweetened by those very experiences which in turn, raise us.
Half her life ago now, age seven
I know there are readers of the Laundry Line who do not have children. This blog series is not exclusive to mothers, it just invites them specifically, because as a culture, unless we are talking about products- and there is history here- read about the advertising campaigns of the 1950s designed to make Rosie the Riveter want to return home and stay home- the voices of mothers have not been given equal value in our culture.
Women artists, creators, inventors and innovators are seeking equality. We have been at this for generations. As a writer and artist who is a full time Mom, I am sharing my stories and invite you to share yours. I have room for you here, whether you are creating books, like my dear friend Joanne Tombrakos or creating peace with your four children, like Dr. Deborah Gilboa.
I am getting more relaxed about these video blogs. My son has been watching them, offering me only a small amount of scorn. I can tell there is a bit of pride in him, proud of me, surprised by me a bit. This is his third week with a broken leg, at home in bed and he has graduated from literate infant to literate toddler. Yesterday, he successfully used his crutches. Today, he is exhausted by the effort.
Ben when he was eleven
Like the time I see it is taking him to recover from his skiing accident, so is my ability to move this ‘Out of the Mouths of Babes’ project ahead. It is every bit a part of me, as my visual work or my parenting and equally susceptible to interruption. This post has taken me hours to write. I cannot move this work any faster than I can move my son and his 25-pound casted left leg. He is the living expression of ‘One Step at a Time’.
Ben racing 2011
Catherine, my girl, has been eternally patient these weeks and just a little cranky. I have been looking at this photograph of her, comparing her black eyeliner gaze to the wonderment of this child.
By Bonnie NordoffCatherine in Miami
Raising children takes time. And those children take time.
As a mother, I have offered my time, a coursing vein of O-positive blood for the life force of my children to quicken and stand independent, away from me. Women do this with all the work we create, infusing our projects with our life force. The meals we plan, our matrix of thought or the vivid arenas of relationship all require our time, our currency of aliveness. ‘If only I had more time’.
How would you answer this question today?
If only you had more time?
If only I had more time? I would share this post with you. Honor Tina Fey for her hilarious and truthful prayer for her daughter and then jump over to my art table and forget the rest of the world exists for a while.
Here is Tina Fey’s prayer for her daughter. You can find Tina’s book BossyPants at your local bookstore. Read this before you run over there because, well, it is snowing here today, life is full of surprises and a little bit of humor makes it all worthwhile.
Love,
S
Tina Fey’s The Mother’s Prayer for Its Daughter
First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor
Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.
May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the
creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.
When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her
grapes in half And stick with Beer.
Guide her, protect her
When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean,
swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform,
crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting
on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on
large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels,
roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of
Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,”
and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.
Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where
she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get
outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.
What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m
asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.
May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the
sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.
Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and
be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a
Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day –
And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.
O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled
invective of her peers
And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V:
Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of
Hollister,Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in
front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.
And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord,
That I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M.,
all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is
leaking up its back.
“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off
her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude
will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental
Note to call me. And she will forget.
But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.
