Can A Quilt Make You Cry?

My sister, Sue, is an artist. She quilts. She takes small pieces of different colored fabrics and puts them together in ways that nobody  has done before creating stunning designs. But that alone isn't what make her an artist. She takes her quilting one step further. Sue is somehow able to stitch emotion into her quilts. Each piece of fabric selected and every placement within the design are significant. She also adds to each of her quilts a special signature - sometimes a photo, or a meaningful quote, that describes the bigger meaning of the quilt design. This is what makes her an artist. She has told me that, for her, quilting can be like therapy. And I believe that as she stitches love into every quilt, she is sharing a bit of her soul. Whoever receives that quilt, can't help but feel the connection to that emotion. I believe that is what art truly is - it's not just a pretty design or a pleasing image. Art is connecting emotion from the artist to another person. Can a quilt make you cry? Oh yes...I've seen it happen many times.

Recently, we were fortunate to take a girls trip to San Francisco. Each of us was responsible for planning one day of the adventure and as a result, each day held its own unique itinerary and feel. We toured the city, drove along the coast, visited the redwoods, and ventured to the wine country. A local guide that we met along the way advised us to stop at Cornerstone Gardens which is a bit of an unknown treasure in the wine country. Cornerstone is an “ever-changing series of walk-through gardens” created as an inspiration for people interested in garden design and art. But I felt like it was something more – it was an exploration of the spirit expressed by various garden designs.

We spent an hour or more walking among the various gardens. Artists had created them each with a different theme and symbolic intent. One woman created a garden in honor of the brother she had lost - where “his whispers could be heard among the leaves”. But my favorite was the Wishing Garden. Each visitor to this garden was encouraged to take a length of ribbon and write a wish on it, and to then hang it on a wishing tree. The artist asked for wishes of “hopes for what is possible” which viewed together will “represent dreams of an entire community.” The tree was filled with wishes that others had left behind – some of them silly and fun, and some of them heartbreaking. We each took our turn. I don’t know what my mom and sisters wrote. I wished that “Days like today could be in slow motion so I could really savor every moment.” I can’t put my finger on it exactly but this garden was both therapy and art. Therapy for all those who entered and shared their wishes, and art because of the connection made with the person who created the vision.

We didn’t know at that time, but in a matter of only a few days, we would be together again – making wishes and sending out prayers for my brother Mike who was ending his journey in this world. My family was about to begin a four-day vigil together during which we promised to not leave him alone. During this time, we were witness to incredible care and emotional healing therapies of prayer, music, and companionship.

Many of you who know me well know that I enjoy photography and have participated in a personal project over the past six years of taking (at least) one photo every day. I’ve often thought of this more as a visual diary as opposed to art. Through those last days with Mike and the days that followed of planning the memorial, I continued my project but often times struggled with wondering “what is the point?” and wondering how I could continue my project on those days when it seemed pretty meaningless and how to do so in a way that was respectful. There were days when I certainly considered not taking a photo. However, I’ve taken a look back at some of the photos that I took over the last couple weeks and find that, for me, photography was my therapy. My visual diary became visual prayer - it forced me each day to truly be in the moment for at least one moment of that day, forced me to be inside myself and to allow myself a moment of peace. I needed those moments of solitude in order to pay honor to what was happening that day. Perhaps some of my photos may resonate with someone else who was there or someone else who has experienced the same emotions, and in that way, they become therapy for us both and perhaps even elevate themselves to becoming “art”.

We experience art and therapy acting together in so many ways every day and each person has their own expression whether it be quilting, photography, music, writing, animals, knitting, wood-working, whatever you are drawn to. I hope that you have art in your life and I hope that your art brings you peace to enjoy the moment.

Fifteen Years From Now....

I took a photo of my grandkids recently. The photo was taken at the end of a great day together. Everyone was in good spirits after plenty of time playing outside, a visit to Auntie's cupcake house, and lots of silly play and laughter. They actually even posed for me - a rare occurrence - usually my pictures of them are taken while they are busy and not even aware that they are being watched. I love this photo. Sammy sits with her arm protectively around her "little" brother and her other hand is linked with his between them. I thought to myself, how fun would it be to take this same photo again in fifteen years to see how they've grown up. As I continued to think about that, I found myself thinking about all the things that will happen in their little lives over the course of those years, and also thinking about how quickly it will pass for me - just the blink of an eye.

The year will be 2030. Sammy will be 19 1/2 (I'm sure she will still be counting half years at that point) and Joey will be 18. She will probably be in college and Joey will be preparing for his high school graduation. They will have learned to tie their shoes, write their names, stand in line, read a book, do addition and subtraction, and most likely will surpass me in geometry, algebra, and chemistry. They will have friends and lose them. They will enjoy hundreds of celebrations with their family and they will also know the quiet of sometimes being alone. They will ride a bike (and probably will both also ride dirt bikes) and drive cars. They will break hearts and may have theirs broken as well. They will become more fully who they are - styles, likes, dislikes, interests, passions - and they will make lots of decisions about how they will use their talents as adults. They will have school conferences, concerts, and sporting events that their parents will attend (and probably a few grandparents as well). They will give their parents gray hairs and at least a few sleepless nights. They will receive thousands of hugs from me and I will receive thousands of laughs from them...and endless pride.

How can all of this happen in just fifteen years of time? It doesn't seem like enough time for everything that will fit inside. And yet from my perspective, I know that I will just close my eyes for one moment, and when I look again, it will be 2030 and I'll hope to be standing on this same grassy hill taking their photo once again. They will be grown and I can't wait to see what that looks like on them. I'm guessing that Sammy will probably still have her arm draped around Joey. They will both look confidently into my camera lens with eyes that have seen more than I can even imagine today.

And I know that it will feel like just a blink of an eye...

Beautiful! Gorgeous! Wish you were here...Prague

There is a bridge that stands in Prague connecting Prague Castle with Old Town and providing a means to cross the Vltava River for more than 600 years. Since ancient times, this bridge has been the scene of commerce, battles, political unrest, and celebrations. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of people have walked across this bridge and for the most part, they would have enjoyed the same sights that I saw when crossing this bridge just a few weeks ago. I have to admit that I always experience a quiet thrill when walking in the steps of history. For me, it was exciting and humbling to reflect on the knowledge that this bridge has stood for so many hundreds of years before my visit, and likely will stand for many hundreds of years in the future. I like to think that having walked in the footsteps of so many, I am part of that history and part of that future as well. 

It seems that many people might share this same longing to be a part of something permanent. Approximately halfway across the bridge, there is a monument (one of almost thirty that line its walkway) where people attach padlocks with their name, or the name of their loved ones, and the date that they crossed the bridge. I suppose that as they place their lock upon this monument they envision the possibility that it will stand there long after they have left, as a testament to their presence or even as a testament to the relationship with the loved one that they have documented on their padlock. As I first crossed the bridge, I stopped to look at this particular monument and to read some of the inscriptions on the locks left there. "Zaneta + Kuba", "Luisiana + Pasquale". Couples love documented for all time. Or at least that is what they envisioned.

However, on my return journey, I noticed a workman standing at this monument with a bolt cutter that he was using to methodically remove each and every padlock. Of course, the citizens of Prague do not want their monument spoiled with the leave-behinds and remembrances of so many people. And I agree that removing the locks is most logical course of action. However, for some reason, I couldn't stop thinking during my visit about all the people who left their locks anticipating their place in history, only to have them removed on a Tuesday morning by a workman with a bolt cutter.

We walk in the steps of all those who have come before us and sometimes we leave behind things of great permanence. But sometimes our footsteps will only be remembered by ourselves and by the spirits of history rather than through tangible proof that we once walked in this place. 

Prague is a city resonating with the history of hundreds and hundreds of years. And, while visiting, I was honored to feel a part of that history - even if only for a blink in the lifetime of time.

 Prague Castle

 The castle at Cesky Krumlov

 Gothic details overlook the city streets of Prague.

 Swans on the Vltava River.

 Charles Bridge

 Old Town.

 "The Biggest Music Club in Central Europe"? Really?

 Photo bomb at Prague Castle

 Art?

 Street Performers

Prague at Dusk

Letters

Over the past weeks, I have been so happy to receive holiday greetings cards from so many of my family and friends. To be honest, the tradition of sending Christmas cards is something that I long ago failed to make habit and to this day, just never seem to get done. However, I love seeing the photos and reading the greetings from others and would feel a special thrill going to the mailbox each day and knowing there might be something better there than the cable bill, the utilities bill, and a stack of direct mail catalogs. 

When I got together with my family to celebrate Christmas, my sister handed me a large envelope. Inside was filled with letters that I had written to her in the years when we still actually took the time to write a letter. The letters document some of my life as I went through college and became a young mother. On Christmas Day, I settled in with a glass of wine to read through them and felt oddly voyeuristic looking backwards into my own life. I read about the classes I was taking (and the classes I was choosing to skip). The letters chronicle my day through Psychology, Criminal Justice, and Chemistry. Noticeably missing are any letters written during my Astronomy class (or as I liked to call it "naptime"). The letters reveal to me what I know now to be true - but wasn't willing to see at the time - a college relationship that was doomed to fail - but was recounted in these letters in a way that made me laugh out loud remembering some of the most ridiculous situations that relationship brought to me. Throughout the letters, I reference so many long-forgotten worries. "Thanks for listening to me vent."  "Know that I stand by you with whatever you decide to do." Cryptic allusions to situations that I can no longer remember but at the time, seemed so very important. 

Reading through these letters, I was struck by two thoughts. First of all, it was so strange to read about myself with such distance. These letters were somehow different than any kind of diary or journal entry. Those types of stories are written for yourself only - but letters are written to tell the receiver who you are and what matters to you. I would have thought that since these were my stories, I would have remembered them more clearly or felt some of them more deeply but instead it was like reading the stories of a person that I only once knew.

Secondly, and maybe because I received them during the holidays when my mailbox was fortunate enough to receive holiday greetings from those I love, but I was so saddened by the loss of the simple act of writing a letter. I still share my stories - whether it be on facebook, or in private emails and texts, or in blog posts that are really written more for myself than for anyone else. And though our electronic and social media histories will probably outlive us all, those communications feel so immediate and somehow not quite as worthy of preserving. To hold a letter that someone wrote to you is like holding a piece of their time and you can take it out to read as often as you like, and can tuck it away into a keepsake box to be read and enjoyed again years later. 

It seems at this point that I should make some kind of declaration or New Year's resolution - to change my ways and begin to write letters once again. And who knows, maybe I will write some letters in the coming year. But chances are, like many resolutions, other priorities would take precedence and the goal of letter writing would just become a fallen resolution. So I'm going to be kinder with myself. Instead, I will give thanks for the letters that I've saved over the years and will read through them occasionally as a reminder of the journey. I'll be grateful for the stories that I have to tell and for the stories that others share with me. I'll appreciate the reminder that some worries that seem so important to us today, will be completely forgotten in a matter of time. I'll always wonder what amazing lessons I must have missed in Astronomy class. And I'll look forward to the occasional thrill of opening your mailbox to be greeted by an envelope addressed to me from someone I love.

I hope that you experience that same thrill many times in the year ahead and hope that you days are filled with stories to tell.

Guarding Over Christmas

This angel has guarded over Christmas for my family for likely close to 60 years. She sits on top of my parent’s Christmas tree and for me, seeing her placed on top of the tree each year when I was a child was truly a sign that Christmas was near. Beneath her gaze, I would sit and pour through the Sears Roebuck catalog, carefully reading the description of every doll, doll buggy, doll high chair, doll clothes, and doll feeding set that populated its pages. Her loving gaze and gentle fairy-like glow brought me excitement for the season and hope for Santa’s visit in my childhood eyes.

I have not been the only one that she has watched over. She has seen each of my brothers and sisters as babies at their first Christmases and watched them grow through the years. She has looked down as our family grew even further with grandchildren and great-grandchildren. And she has seen us all bear the sadness of the holidays celebrated without some of the ones that we love to hold close. Though our family has changed through the years, and we all look a bit older, she has not aged. She once again sits on top of my parent’s tree, steadfastly guarding over Christmas for yet another year.

I’m no longer a child and Sears Roebuck no longer sends out an annual Christmas catalog. And I know now of course that Christmas is about so much more than the excitement of a new toy. For me, it’s about continuing to enjoy it through the eyes of the children in my life – their joy and excitement about everything that is Christmas to them – the tree, the lights, the music, their family together, learning the traditions that we hand down, and yes, their new toys. I also believe that it’s about remembering. Remembering those that aren’t here with us to celebrate. And remembering that we are never alone. We are watched over, guided and guarded, by something that is greater than ourselves. The angel on top of mom’s tree reminds me of this, and all the power of love and hope that this season holds.

Wishing you and your family a Christmas that is guided by love, guarded with care, and enjoyed with the spirt and wonder of a child.

Beautiful. Gorgeous! Wish you were here...New Zealand!

The world is full of so many beautiful places. Recently, I was fortunate to travel to New Zealand - a place that immediately tops my list of places you must go. It is the most unique combination of all that is wonderful about  other beautiful places I have visited like Cape Cod, Banff, San Francisco, and Scotland. A country that overwhelms you with its natural beauty and forces you to join along for a high adrenaline journey through all it has to offer.

The first objection many people have to traveling to New Zealand is the flight time. This worried me too as (believe it or  not), I am somewhat afraid of flying. However, for several reasons, the flight time is no longer a valid excuse in my mind. First of all, you leave LA at night for what is actually about a 12 hour flight, however, arriving in the very early morning (two days later - I know, it's confusing!) But, if you are able to sleep on the plane, this falls right in line with your natural sleep rhythms and you arrive ready to face the day. We flew on Air New Zealand which was recently voted the best airline in the world and due to our upgraded seats, we flew in comfort.

Typically bathrooms on an airplane are not something worth noting but not the case here. The bathrooms were HUGE and even include a wall mural "library" - check out some of the book titles.

We arrived for a whirlwind 5- day adventure that included airplanes, jet boats, helicopters, touring, eating, wineries, and a jump off a 14-story bridge. Whew! Following are some of the highlights from our journey which is impossible to sum up with any amount of words. I'll let the pictures tell the story.

You arrive into Auckland - which is a city that is all about the water and the harbor.

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I found a Cala Lily (my favorite flower after lilacs) growing wild!

New Zealand is famous for its wine and you have to take advantage of the many opportunities to visit any number of wineries for samplings.

This is a Cork Tree (part of the Oak family). The winery uses this cork to bottle their wines.

The cultural museum in Auckland allows you to peek into the history of the island. It is thought that the original inhabitants, the Maori, were from an island called Hawaiiki. Many thought that this was Hawaii but current theory actually is that "Hawaaiki" actually means the entire region of islands from Hawaii through the South Pacific. People moved from island to island until finding their way to New Zealand. The water, which many might think of as something that would separate the people, was actually the thing that brought them together.

Queenstown is everything you might think of when you imagine New Zealand - big and beautiful. We got to experience it firsthand upon our arrival from the seats of a very small plane. This is the pilot - I was the co-pilot.

God Moments

Yikes! Glad I didn't know this until we landed...safely!

Prior to my trip, my dad told me that there are more sheep in New Zealand than people. He was absolutely correct - they are everywhere!

Future Sheep Herder

More sheep...or in many cases...our dinner.

Jeeps took us high into the mountains on narrow roads that tempted you to look down...which you then quickly regretted.

Panning for gold in the river.

Driving up the river...quite literally. (This is where the "running of the horses" scene was filmed in Lord of the Rings.)

A beautiful stop on the jet boat tour.

When in New Zealand, dress for the elements.

And just enjoy the ride!!

Spectactular!