permission ship

I have high expectations for myself. Beliefs about what I should and have to do inform so many of my choices.  But above all, there are two children that need me to be their anchor in any storm. As mothers, we know this with every breath, but there are moments when that awareness is heightened. At these times we need permission slips to let some things go, while we navigate rough waters. I've had such a long string of lessons around letting go over this first half of 2012. Oh yes. 

I had a conversation with a group of lovely women about permission and how we need to grant more allowances to just follow our instincts as we prioritize. But I stumbled over my words and said permission SHIP instead of slip.  Love that! Don't you? Imagine a ship filled with permission sailing into a safe harbor... I went to sleep dreaming about boats, ships and all sorts of vessels. I awoke  the next morning and carved this permission ship... a sailboat jauntily making her way through the waves and carrying just the permission I needed on board. This carving feels like an integral part of my soul work. I placed the first print on a little notebook... 

I'm thinking the next one will be on a lavender pillow for easing me into each night... we all need permission to rest, now don't we? What would be aboard your permission ship?

new eyes

Change happens and seasons turn... there's no stopping it. Try telling a flock of geese to turn back!

 So, we prepare... 

We celebrate the gifts it offers with returning favorites: water color leaves and yarn dolls.

 We pause and take small sips.

And never forget to be grateful for how alive change can make us feel.

 I'm appreciating this fall in the same way one might who has newly fallen in love... as if seeing everything through new eyes. In many ways, I am diving into a new relationship... with myself, my children and this beautiful world that keeps showing me each day how mysterious and often quite amazing it truly is.

harvesting goodness

There are shadows lurking in the corners. Dark creatures that my children sense, but do not yet understand. They surface in their dreams... they scratch on the walls just enough to distract us from our daily rhythm. I did not invite them into my life, but here they are and it's my responsibility teach my children how to stay grounded in their midst. How to trust that goodness persists. These are skills that will serve them for the rest of their lives, but I hadn't anticipated the end of innocence so early. How do I do it? By the skin of my teeth on some days... especially when I've been up since 3 am shielding my 7 year old from nightmares. On most days, I find grace in providing deep nourishment with my heart and hands. Spreading light where it is dark. This often comes in the form of delicious food and creative expressions...
These are universal needs...
feeding our bodies and our souls
gathering goodness from the earth and within

Here's how we harvested goodness yesterday:
stitching, saucing, roasting, painting, carving... with an evening backdrop of jazz thanks to my very own piano man  talented son.


I know for certain that I am not the only one with shadows and challenges...  I bet you're a powerful harvester of goodness, yourself! What simple loveliness are you gathering into your days to fill it with light? What might you harvest today?

****

the magnolia tree

  Yesterday's overwhelming outpouring of love and wisdom filled me with awe. My gratitude goes beyond words. The web of support that can be woven by women throughout the world has no bounds now that we can reach one another from our homes.We are all intimately connected. Your comments and tender thoughts are a tribute to our shared humanity. I am proud and blessed to have you as friends.

If you've been visiting with me for even a short time, you know how much I appreciate the turning of the seasons and the beauty of the countryside we live in. My relationship with the natural world has deepened over the last few months, and I have experienced a level of synchronicity that happens when our eyes are truly open.

When my grandmother was a young mother she planted a magnolia tree outside of her kitchen window. She watched it grow and change throughout the years as she washed the dishes and cooked for her family. When my in-laws wanted to give us a tree for our 5th wedding anniversary, I asked if we could pick out a magnolia. My grandparent's long and successful marriage was an inspiration. I hoped that planting a magnolia tree outside of our kitchen window would bring us the same happiness. My husband and I planted it with the help of our three year old son and watched it grow as the seasons changed.  I don't get to see my grandmother as often as I'd like to, but her spirit has stayed close by in the magnolia tree outside my kitchen window... she's always just a glance away.

 Each year our anniversary tree has blossomed on Earth Day. This year was different. The spring of 2012 was a strange and tumultuous one for me and for the Northeast. A mild March brought early blooms, and on the very day that my husband moved out, our tree was crowned in a riot of pink blossoms. I photographed them in wonder. Life was utterly surreal for my family, why not our tree? That night... our first night alone... the temperatures plummeted and a hard frost killed all of the new blossoms on the early Magnolias throughout our entire village. Limp, brown and wilted our tree seemed to be echoing my heart. Over the next month, as we learned how to find our footing, green life began to emerge from underneath the rotted magnolia flowers. On Earth Day, I marveled at how different our tree looked this year...and  at how broken I felt our family was. And on that night, as we slept, a freak snow storm piled 6 heavy wet inches on everything in site. Never had we had such a late snow... a snow day so close to May was unheard of. My children unpacked our snow clothes and we went out to investigate. I didn't see it first. My daughter did. "Is it dead?" The magnolia was flattened under piles. When the snow melted we discovered that our tree was most definitely alive, but the center trunk had split down the middle and each side had been sheered off in opposite directions. The center of the tree was gone and had been taken down a few inches, but it was still standing. I realized that even though I felt  ripped apart, my core was still in tact, and I would survive stronger then ever before. I was still standing just like our magnolia tree.

 At times of crisis our awareness is heightened as we search for meaning and understanding. Sometimes the deepest wisdom is revealed by remaining open to unexpected guides and signposts within nature. I found it right in front of me in the form a tree that mirrored my experience.

****

how to: find your makin' mojo

I haven't wanted to admit it, but somewhere at the beginning of the year, I realized that I had lost my "making stuff" mojo. My enthusiasm for creating and the constant rush of fresh ideas... they had gone into hiding. Intellectually, I knew that it was all tied into completing my book right before the holidays... and then well, the holidays. Knowing what it was didn't make it come back, nor comfort me. I decided to wait it out, take good care of myself, and see what happened. Guess what? Yes, you know the answer... of course it came back. With a vengeance! It's been knocking on my door quietly all week and then this morning it went and kicked that door down! Wahoo! Instead of posting about children's gifts at parties (next week, ok?), I was scribbling furiously in my idea notebooks. Plural. Finished one and began another. So, when I went to blog, all I could think about was you. You have probably felt this same loss of inspiration before. I can't be the only one? Right? So I jotted down what I believe triggered the return.

And here's a few details and an addition:
- When I'm in my studio, I've been listening to music without lyrics. It let's the words to my own ideas flow in. On Pandora it's piano solos. On my iphone it's Invoking the Muse.
- Craft party, knit night, or anything where you gather creatively with others (kids and/or grown-ups) is sure to spark new insights.
- Almost every day this month I've had a large glass of raw veggie/fruit juice and/or a green smoothie. They are power in liquid form, never to be underestimated.
- I've been making some small items for friends. Very different than making something for your children or home. If it's for a girlfriend, as it is for the recipients of those two pouches*, they most likely will appreciate something with your aesthetic. Makes it extra fun and super inspiring.
- If you live close to nature- go to the city. If you are an urban dweller- get to the country.

 What would you add to the list?

*pouch ingredients:
green army blanket, grey wool suit pants, linings:  shirt/skirt, recycled zippers

*******************

january-ish

So here we go 2012... I'm diving in! I'm sitting here with my new favorite cup*, watching the snow finally arrive, and gearing up for a fresh start. Last year was such a doozy, but I learned a tremendous amount. I get to bring that wisdom with me, thankfully. Here's what I know:

• plan and plot, but remember that in the end flexibility is my best friend
• self-care is as necessary as oxygen (sleep and exercise- I'm talking to you!)
• 24 hours in a day will never expand- stop fighting it and enjoy the parameter it creates
• coffee was/is not the culprit of a nagging health issue (thank goodness!), sadly wheat is (could be worse!)
• the house will not clean itself and neither will anyone else if the expectation isn't there (new chore lists have been made!)
• scheduling time with the people we love honors relationships 
• scheduling creative time honors its worth
• stating intentions is the beginning of making dreams happen- write them down, pin them up, speak them freely
• practice: listening, meditating, painting, sewing, exercise, baking... they all improve with daily practice
• organization will liberate hours from each day

And on that last note, I'll be skipping off to put into place my new (free and not so fancy) calendar system. I printed up 12 blank calendar months and am arranging them over my computer so that I can see the whole year at a glance. Bam! Today I'll transfer dates and sort out new ones as I map out my next year. I'm feeling so January-ish and loving it! Sending my extra energy and motivation through this screen right to you! xo!

* a cup note: I drink a hot beverage multiple times a day. I tend to have have a favorite cup. Sadly my best mug cracked after 12 faithful years, and I've been hunting for its replacement ever since. I think this gorgeous white one comes pretty close, as it fits my two top mug needs: it feels PERFECT in my hands and is pretty enough to make me smile each time I use it. The best part- my good friend Julie made it! She doesn't even know that my husband gave it to me for Christmas, so I can't wait to point her to this post. Anyway, her work is incredible, so if you're on the look out for that perfect cup (or bowl) to drink in the new year- Julia E. Dean is now on Etsy!

gentle

The holidays are such a wonderful time to gather with those we love.  Joy and celebration are everywhere right now.  For any of us who have lost someone close (perhaps someone so dear to us that they were an integral part of our holiday traditions),  this month can hold a quiet loneliness. I know this is true for my family.  I wanted to honor each of you today that is missing someone you love right now... often as you continue to create a magical season. Maybe there is a friend who is experiencing this December with fresh grieving. A phone call or special card  recognizing how hard this month might be for them could be the kindest gift of all. There is great healing that comes from feeling seen... from being connected to others that recognize what we are feeling. So in the hustle and bustle of all of this joy... joy that is real and wonderful... I just wanted to send out some tenderness to those of you that might need a little extra right now.

Be gentle with yourself.

gratitude reminders

I cut out the printed leaves with the plan to write on the back of them. As we near Thanksgiving, we always take time to acknowledge what we are grateful for. Writing it down reinforces it for all of us, but this year I thought about creating some prompts- ones that could be read out loud at the dinner table now or any time of year.
Here are some others I've been writing down to go with the two above:
-I am grateful for (each member of the family) especially when he/she _______.
-I appreciate the sun because________.
-I love the moon because__________.
-I'm thankful for this insect and this is why____________.
-I'm grateful to the Earth because_____________.
-I love my body and am grateful that it can______________.
-I'm thankful for my home because_____________.

This is a good start, but I bet you can think of one or two I've missed. If so, please share in the comment section. I've got a few leaves left that need filling! The gratitude bucket I gave you a peek at yesterday is the perfect place to store our thankful reminders.


There's been so much bucket-making action (all over the world!) that I wanted to make a new one, too. I used the patten from the medium round burlap bucket and eliminated handles. I printed two pieces of stiff linen ( formerly a linen blazer) for the outer layer. Linen takes ink so beautifully it makes me weak in the knees! Versacraft stamp ink is my favorite for carved stamps on fabric. It's permanent once it's been heat set. Do an Etsy search under supplies to find the colors you'd like. The interior is just a section from an old drop cloth, a few paint splatters are a reminder of its former job.

I had no idea how much inspiration I'd gain from last weekend's simple walk in the oak forest... thanks for joining me as I followed my "oak arrow".

intuition

 Investigating new materials necessitates a thoughtful exploration of what works and what does not. And that is exactly what this little woolen pouch became for me in the tiny free moments this week has offered. I have enough things that must get done each day, and having a source for play for maybe 10 minutes here or 20 there has been totally satisfying and just plain fun! Experimenting asks you to make creative choices based on  intuition and allows for mistakes along the way. The red wool triangles that had felt (no pun intended) very geometric when I cut them out asked to be something. I turned  them into arrow heads at the end of each tuck. The fact that one is a little wonky was just part of me learning how to work with such incredibly thick wool. No easy task. I tried out different widths for the tucks and decided that the thicker ones are my favorites. The thin ones are very tricky to keep even, and I may even rip out the stitches on that wiggly skinny one on the pouches flip side.

When I appliqued the red pieces to the front side, I enjoyed the red stitching on the reverse side, so I mimicked it on one of the arrows here.

I added a zipper so that this "play" could become functional, but discovered that although I've made unlined wool pouches in the past... not such a good idea with this thick stuff. No zipper snagging yet, but I'm positive there will be a stuck zipper issue in the not too faraway future. Live and learn. Experiment and discover.

Trying new things, while listening to my inner voice for guidance, has long been my approach... but these days I'm deepening this practice. I'm getting quieter so that I can better hear the answers. It's touching every facet of my life, not just wool pouches! Instead of waiting for New Year's to make my resolutions, I'm following my intuition and new goals are being achieved simply by living with ears to my heart, instead of lists on paper. I've long felt a shift taking place, but didn't put it into words until this morning's cup of tea. So obvious. So right.

Note: Just as I pushed the publish post button, a light bulb went on... arrows! I made arrows in multiple directions. Follow those heart red arrows! Intuitive choices are always significant,aren't they?

"When you think of who you are this morning, you are who you are at this time in your life because of certain choices that you made. Say, when you were twelve, you stood in front of maybe five possibilities, and you chose the first one. Then things went on until you were eighteen, and suddenly it opened up and became ten again.This time, you chose number seven. Then it went on again and then when you were 28, maybe you were down to three; this time you took two. When you were 40, it was up to five; this time you took four. And so you chose, always, one choice. But the interesting question to ask is, what has happened to the lives that you didn’t choose. Where are they? Where do your unlived lives dwell?"

- John O’Donohue (an excerpt from one of his talks on Divine Beauty: The Invisible Embrace”)

I took this photo last weekend and have been coming back to it each day. It stirred something deep in my core. The solitary beauty of this frozen moment as she gazes through the branches into the depths of the blue sky- it mesmerizes me each time I look at it.Yesterday, I heard the words under it in the author's lilting Irish accent, and I couldn't breathe for a minute. That sounds odd... like his voice just appeared over my shoulder and whispered in my ear. Not exactly. I was practicing my new cleaning technique (which is only different from my old one in that I listen to podcasts as I do the never-ending tasks of keeping my home together: laundry, dishes, etc. I highly recommend it.). I was listening to John O' Donohue, the late Irish poet and philosopher. itunes has this talk available in the audiobook section for only a couple of dollars and it is well worth it, as he's lovely to listen to. (Thanks to Lis for pointing the way) It's a beautiful talk, but that last sentence stuck with me the most.

Where do your unlived lives dwell? 

 He went on to say that he suspects that our unchosen and unlived lives continue to live themselves out "secretly and in accompaniment with us". This has given me so much to ponder within my own story, and even more so to think about as I parent my children.
Have a beautiful and thoughtful weekend!

Maya

p.s. the gratitude bucket winner has been announced in the post below.

philosophical friday

Yesterday took me by surprise. As much as I missed my children, I was very ready to get to work on that second day back to school. Nope. Flooding closed all roads, and schools were canceled for our entire region. Really? Really. The skies were clear when we woke up, so I was shocked and they were disappointed beyond belief. It was a grouchy, grumpy morning. For all of us! Time to head outside.



Oh that's better- just what we needed! And here's what I learned... when life gets a little stormy, put on your boots and jump in the puddles. Why not embrace it as this little splasher did so well! (couldn't get her out of that puddle)

Yup that's metaphor #1 for today.

***********************

My second lesson came in the afternoon as I watched my daughter's newly achieved prowess on two wheels. I'm so darn proud of her! She had been wanting to take off her training wheels for far too long, but couldn't get to that next step. Knowing this, her best friend lent us a strider with these famous words "it'll only take ya 3 days!" I wasn't exactly skeptical, but didn't want to set my daughter's expectations to high.

Well, these no pedal balance bikes are miraculous balance teachers! They are a bit pricey for the short amount of time you'll use one, so I was happy to borrow it. And guess what? She was ready to take off her training wheels on day 2 with the strider! After a week of practice, she is now officially a biker! Holy cow!

So, metaphor #2:
If you're ready to take off your "training wheels" (so to speak), don't hesitate in finding the right tools to help you meet your goal. Hmmm. That's all for my philosophical Friday, folks! Off to catch up on the time lost well spent yesterday!


photos via instragram and my shaky hand as  I chased beside her! 

transitions

Oh, what a hush. It's so very quiet here today in my empty house. It was wise to take the last few days to be with my family. And now- Squam sewing is going strong. It's so good to have a focus , or else I'd feel too much like this swing. But I'm hustling and bustling, and it's wonderful to be checking things off of my list again. I'll show you what I've got up my sleeve the moment it's ready. Hope you're settling into your own week..  and if your life has switched rhythms recently- may the transition be gentle and smooth.

If nothing ever changed, there would be no butterflies.  ~Author Unknown

day's end

This photo was taken yesterday. As the sun began to set, the very last rays illuminated the cosmos out front. This is one of my favorite times of day, especially when it's warm enough to be outside with bare feet and short sleeves. I've taken to sitting on the front porch as the sun goes down. I love watching the sun disappear over the horizon.  It only takes a few moments and is easy to miss. When I lived on the West coast, I'd watch that firy ball set into the sea and listen for the "sizzle". Out here, it slips down over a field and into the earth... much more of a warm sigh or exhalation. Watching the day turn into night... sometimes I witness it alone- with the evening's soundtrack (dishes clanking, piano practicing, and my favorite voices) filtering through the screen door. Other times, I find myself with someone warm on my lap or walking down the road with a tall boy or my sweet man. Always pausing. Endlessly admiring.

Of course, lovely sunsets will not end with summer, but I know that these quiet moments will be harder to find. Schedules are about to shift. I will be taking some time to watch the last few sunsets of summer vacation with my family and our dearest friends. See you all back here next Wednesday!

Glorious Glories

Our Grandpa Otts morning glories have begun their summer dance upon our picket fence. Remember back in May when I spoke lovingly of  their care-free ways? There is something so utterly wild and romantic about a tumble of purple glories climbing and cascading over an old fence. For me, these deep violet blossoms will forever hold a memory of a tiny little boy who came into the world when they were in full bloom. I was pregnant with my son when I planted my first morning glory seeds along the fence of our matchbox sized yard in California. Our very first family photo ever taken was beneath the morning glories (it was a tall fence!) The first few days of motherhood are so intoxicating, terrifying, and awesome... I remember looking at the blossoms, so huge next to his fragile little body, and thinking that the entire universe had just shifted.

Every once in a while, when I see my tall son run by this overgrown glorious fence, I remember that young mother who looked at the world anew. If only I could send her a love note back in time... I'd tell her to hold him tight while she could, because children reach, stretch and grow faster than even the wildest of vines.

a toast at day's end

I stepped out onto the front porch last night

a celebratory glass of wine in hand

the setting sun smiled over the freshly baled field

and my whole being sighed

the first calm breath in days

what a luxurious moment of stillness

the laughter from behind the screen door eased the ache

of so much time spent away

invested inward and outward

 as I give birth to a book so filled with my everything

knowing that this unsustainable outpouring has an end

mama made meals will be the norm again

home tending will resume

but as I'm still in the thick of it

this solitary toast to the evening sky

was my salute to pursuing 

my dreams

fiercely

and gently, too

it was my toast to you

sweet friends

who have made all things possible

simply by being here

¡Salud!

 

first day

Happy Summer Solstice friends! And so begins my favorite season of the year. All of my senses are heightened as I take in:
-the riot of colors
-bursts of flavors
-early morning bird songs
-scents of a thousand blossoms
-touching the warm earth with my bare feet and hands
And let's not forget about the swimming. Oh glorious water, how I love you!  I am a summer baby through and through. And what about of those lovely ladies of the lake above and below? The first week of June gave Squam Lake a taste of what was to come... the magic of summer gatherings on and by the water. Sun and water alter time, you know. They work together to slow the hands from turning. Laughter flows easily. We let go.

Dear summer, 

I promise that I won't be completely consumed 

by my exciting projects (*deadlines*)  

and let you pass by without being appreciated and adored.

Love,

Maya... Cancer Crab, Moonchild, and lover of the dog days

Will you please welcome summer in with me? I know not everyone loves the heat... and on the other side of the world you may be wrapped in woolens, but if we're singing this season's praises what would they be... to YOU?

Goddesses from left to right: Jen, Pixie, Jonatha, Michelle, and little Maya on the dock at Backlog 

you are so good

Writing yesterday's post generated some healing, but the multiple phone conversations with my grandfather that followed it brought me right back to that hard place. I might have stayed there in darkness, but so many of you came to my side.  Reading and rereading your respectful, poignant and sensitive comments and stories helped shift things so much. I can't thank you enough for your support and courage to share. Pretty amazing what power we women have... even virtually. So, I went to bed with a bit more ease, and when I came downstairs in the morning this is the vision that greeted me.

I'm a bit spoiled... my back door view looks this sweet most summer mornings. However, today I saw it a bit more clearly, and viewed it as a sign that life was looking brighter  And it was. We honored my grandfather's memories by DOING them. It wasn't hard. The way that I celebrate summer with my family is based on my childhood vacations with my grandparents. We ate freshly picked peas for breakfast's first course (in honor of his abundant gardens). The badminton net was set up beneath the Walnut tree, just like the one under their maple every summer. Afternoon brought swimming, and I wove the tale of how I first learned to swim. Yes, that grandfather of mine taught me to swim... in the 7 ft deep pool he built by himself out of cement blocks. I've told you this one, right? He took the styrofoam insert that had come with a television and cut out a circle in the middle for me. I was six. It became my incredibly shrinking life preserver, as every day he cut off another chunk. One day there was only a small piece to hold onto, and I just began swimming. He swam with me every day right before lunch. He'd be hot and tired from working in the garden, I'd be happy and excited to have a someone watch me jump in over and over again. It was only ever a quick dip before my grandmother called to say sandwiches were ready... but it was my favorite part of the day.

Anyways, today felt easier and I thank you for listening... for indulging me. Unless you're a cat, birthdays tend to be full of emotions, whether they're our own or the ones we love.

And yes, Hickory and my grandfather were both born on June 17th. He looks a little sad and pensive here, but really he seemed to have a fabulous day (caught a mouse to boot!)

One more thing- I didn't forget, it just took a while... the winner to Growing up Sew Liberated has been announced right here in the giveaway post. So go see if it's you!

soulful mothering: love notes... and heart stones

Today I'm honored to be one of Amanda's guests in her heartfelt series: Soulful Mothering. Thank you Amanda and congratulations to all of the Soules as they welcome in their littlest- Annabel.  Hello to any new friends visiting. If you enjoy and admire Soule Mama, we already have one thing in common, don't we! When she first wrote to me about her series, I thought of sharing something that was a part of our daily ritual- love notes . You can read about them right here.

 *********

 I created something with similar intent for a recent trip. At the beginning of June, I traveled away from my family to teach at Squam Art Retreats. Even though this is my third time, and although my children do get older each year (and my husband's "special daddy adventures" grow more elaborate!)...  the separation is still quite hard. I wrote new love notes for each day... and made these. Because of course, making something always eases an ache.

I carved a tiny heart rubber stamp and printed love on small lake stones. Each one was kissed  and left with a letter on individual pillows for their first night. Since there were a bunch,  I hid them in different spots throughout the house for surprise"mama kisses" that could then be tucked into pockets. Doing this was as much for me as it was for them... maybe more so.

Now, a jar of heart stones sits next to the one of love notes on our counter.