Style and Grace….a lament

053The beginning of love is to let those we love to be perfectly themselves, and not to twist them to fit our own image. Otherwise we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them. 

Thomas Merton

Summer 2011, I took a road trip to Kentucky. The solo return from the conference in Louisville brought visits to diverse places: bourbon distilleries and the Abbey where Merton spent his last days. On that drive home I realized how lucky I was to be make choices for myself and that it was important to afford the people I love: family and friends those same choices. Quite frankly, out of concern, I haven’t always been successful in “letting loved ones be perfectly themselves”. Who has?  Even in the years that have followed I’ve slipped in ‘wanting’ for friends and family. . . out of love. It’s a goal to remember that others are on their own journey, not a reflection of mine.

Over this last month, the compassionate words of Rabbi Harold Kushner’s have re-resonated. “The purpose in life is not to win. The purpose in life is to grow and to share. When you come to look back on all that you have done in life, you will get more satisfaction from the pleasure you have brought into other people’s lives.”   In the mid-80’s I recall reading his book When Bad Things Happen to Good People. Simple. Straight-forward. Thirty years ago, I was a twenty-five year old deciphering the ‘whys’ of my mother’s untimely death. She was not much older than I am now.

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Grow. Share. Forgive. Love. Carpe Diem.

None of us can escape sorrow. We grieve the loss and carry with us the joy. I learned that from my mother.

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January 2015 will go down as a month of certain (and often uncertain) plate-spinning. We all have some creative “circus days” optimistic elephantin life. My mother called it handling life with ‘style and grace’. She was a master at “plate-spinning” and “circus days”. The epitome of style and grace. It, like wisdom, comes with age.

I didn’t understand what she meant by “this too, shall pass”. Now, I do.  With style and grace.

Measuring

AM Lindbergh

Since Christmas life has been going at fever pitch. These last few days there has been quiet time to reflect…rest and relax. Not as much time with the camera as I would’ve liked but those days will return. Images of this last year flashed before me….one song stuck in my head.

Signs and symbols measure our lives. Often they speak louder than words…fill us with gratitude…grace                                           DSC_0041DSC_0334First AzaleaDSC_0033027DSC_0446Baton Rouge BeachTech Homecoming - 11/1/2014008Sunset with Friends Dec 13Measuring in love……002

Choices in the “Woods”

The great challenge is living your wounds through instead of thinking them through. It is better to cry than to worry, better to feel your wounds than to understand them, better to let them enter into your silence than to talk about them. The choice you face constantly is whether you are taking your wounds to your head or your heart. 

Henri Nouwen

I have this tongue-in-cheek theory that composer Stephen Sondheim has the secret to all of life’s situations. “The Gospel According to Stephen” has guided me along the path of life. My mantra: “Intelligent people are always on the road, growing”. However, on that path we sometimes hide our heads in the sand. We convince ourselves it’s safer but the scenery isn’t near as nice. Then, one day, something happens, either wonderful or not so wonderful and the head pops out of the sand….and we move along the road a little further.

The last few weeks have been a journey of heart and mind. I had plenty of shots for the blog but the stories seemed either too mundane or too personal. Then I re-read this quote from writer and philosopher Henri Nouwen.

Sometimes silence is the only language… Listening is the best option.

                                 Prayerful reflection…. both “head” and “heart”.   Balance.

ReflectionRon Rolheiser explains: “There’s a place in us that doesn’t want to feel our hurt, doesn’t want to take our pain to a place of silence, and doesn’t want to take our wounds to our heart. And so instead, in our heartaches and wounds, we grow anxious and obsessive, we struggle to understand, we talk endlessly to others, and we try to sort things out with our heads rather than letting ourselves simply feel them with our hearts.”

Centenniel Camellia
Burden Plantation-Camellia from a bush planted over one hundred years ago

Funny thing, more often than not people don’t take the time to know when we’re anxious or hurt….or filled with joy…. During the last three or four years I’ve purposefully had a conversation with myself  walking to work…I call it checking the ‘barometer’. Delighting in all that surrounds me, not the window dressing of life. Everyday beauty. People. Places.  Staying aware of each moment. I admit to my own resistance with living at a place of dis-ease. I’ve never cared for it but I’ve come to understand it is as much a part of life as a beautiful sunset or my children’s laughter….the voice of a friend….

Music. Dissonance resolves.  Begonias044022

Moving forward doesn’t mean leaving behind. Moving forward is finding peace in the moment, taking stock of what was, deciding what is…. then discerning the possible. Discovering grace in all.  

Stephen and Henri are both right….adventures change in the woods…..we sort through feelings rationally…heart and head…and I’ll add spirit.

Six Geese a layingI’ve discovered in the last two weeks I’m not one to leave anyone behind. . .

If life were only moments, then you’d never know you had one….

                                                                   

Another Voice–for “Auld Lang Syne”

For last year’s words belong to last year’s language And next year’s words await another voice. 

T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets

Last year, as appreciation to my son for his insightful gift I began this blog journey.  Searching for words, images.Bird's Eye Days blur during holidays. Some years are like that. Holly Reflection

BegoniasThis year reminded me of a few simple rules: to be still then appreciate the beauty that surrounds me.

Grace is in all that’s before me: people and places. 059

I see. I remember then carry in my heart to keep forever. . . as a prayer. Lighting the Way

Forgiveness. Peace. Joy. A Blessed New Year….

and into Eternity……Detail on side of Cadillac Hearse - circa 1916Harvest GirlTwo Bells

A new year…a new voice….ring in a new year….for auld lang syne!

007Imitation of Life

Finding Crème Brûlée

It’s been nearly a year since I began this photo-journal blog adventure. It started as a thank you to my adult children after last Christmas: to my son Patrick for his thoughtful gift, a new camera; to my daughter Sarah for her advice as a photographer and Fifty Fiveblogger. Each time I’ve held the camera my life quietens in prayer for them and for what surrounds me; for those–near and for—who I keep close. It has been a wild ride….filled with fun and adventure. At fifty-five that seems appropriate.

Like most people, these weeks before Christmas are busy with mundane balanced with preparations for the coming holiday. I learned long ago to take an inventory of values and expectations during this season. Traditions are important. . . well, at least to me they are. Name the day and time, keep it. Stay in the moment and enjoy it. All of that was very helpful raising two children. Keep ISimple Silly

Over the last week I’ve been preparing my daughter’s bedroom for a holiday spruce up. The renovation was a long-time coming. This transformation seemed to erase her childhood in my mind. With a few strokes exuberant, innocent hot pink became crème brûlée. She’s an adult. It was time.  primerHot Pink

As I was moving furniture, etc. I found what I thought was memorabilia that Sarah had been saving. Not so much! Mostly empty bags from shopping excursions she and I had taken together over the years when she had been home during holidays and summers. Lovely memories. At the bottom was a HUGE box.

My daughter has lived on her own for the past six years–all over the world. I do have some of her things in storage but I couldn’t imagine what was in it. I saw the box, smiled and laughed out loud.006

Sarah had been studying in Prague, living there for a year. At the end of the year  I joined her in Prague to pack up her apartment, travel a little then back to the states. There was a year’s worth of life to collect. Her suitcases broke; we bought new ones in Vienna. The image of our parade of suitcases on the tiny streets of Salzburg still makes me smile. On a cold, wet June day we decided to ship two LARGE YELLOW boxes back, praying clothes, books, worldly possessions would find their way home.  Neither of us could part with the boxes. Seeing them reminded me of adventures with both of my ‘children’….and the promise of future adventure….for them and for me. It is, after all, our tradition. . .

With those memories hot pink became crème brûlée. In a way, isn’t life like those layers of paint? It’s comforting to know somewhere in me is a shade of pink rose bud layered with green gingham checks. We move on taking pieces with us. . . keeping it simple.

Here’s to tradition…no expectations.  You’ll never know what you’ll find.

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Find Waldo.Not a Sham!

Safe Travels…Going Home

If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough.

Meister Eckhart

I’ve spent the last few days in purposeful, planned quiet; something that has not always come easy. Sometime back I realized  how much I relish balance. Maybe that’s what draws me to art, photography, music.

Life’s distractions. Turned off. 001-001Armed with camera, an open mind and a few serendipitous plans I traveled forth. The result: a brighter vision and remembering what ‘home’ is.  You carry it with you like a turtle. Finding home “in the kindness of strangers” who offer you a ride to ‘the perfect shot’.  Andale! Gentle Innkeepers. Friends old and new. Warm cities. 007Tolerance014
Safe travels, relaxing in my own skin, surrounded by diversity, tolerance, understanding, walking “placidly amid the noise and haste”.

Desiderta

Finding here understanding and acceptance.  Safe travels. . .home.

Prayer for Tolerance Gracias a la vita.   Serendipity. Joy. Safe travels. Home. . .traveling with thanksgiving….like a turtle….It is enough. Cullen Sculpture Garden - MFAH 008Cullen Sculpture Garden-MFAH

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023Rothko Chapel019Galveston-Houston Co-Cathedral

Art Brain-Scan at Menil
Serendipity….right place at the right time. The University of Houston is conducting a study on how the brain is effected by art. I volunteered to be a part of the experiment. Walked around the exhibition with these attached to my head while it recorded EEG. I can check up on the study, my individual part of the study via the University of Houston. VERY COOL!

Start Your Engines

If Autumn is the best season then November is the pinnacle. Colors change, days get cooler, holidays. 070

The week of Thanksgiving I enter my fifty-fifth year. Maybe because my mother died young, I see the importance of celebrating birthdays….friends and family….mine, I enjoy celebrating quietly. Aging has turned into something far different than what I thought I saw my parents and grandparents doing when I was younger. Fifty-five always sounded like a speed limit.

The best piece of advice I was ever given about growing old came from a friend, Louise about fifteen years ago. ‘Become a crone,’ she said. ‘Not the withered old hag in fairy tales but the deeper meaning. An archetypal figure, a wise woman.’ That sounded interesting. Those kind of women I’ve known my entire life: my grandmothers, the neighborhood ‘mothers’ growing up, and of course, my mother. They all lived life with style and grace.

056 - CopyIn our family, I was surely loved but never a princess. A strong-willed child with thankfully stronger-willed parents. Difficult adult choices were made less so because of the lessons they taught me.

After a car accident two months ago, my thoughts of were filled gratitude. EIMG_3068very day is gift. IMG_3013 These were certainly thoughts that were familiar at significant life moments: births, deaths, graduations, moving. The wreck just gave me food for thought. Carpe diem. Seize everything with love…and seize carefully.

Traveling at fifty-five I see the treasures of family and friends, some have been companions on the journey for 25, 30…even 50 years. There have been lapses in some relationships. There may be miles between some of us. I’ve learned that miles and time aren’t a measure for family and friends…and certainly doesn’t diminish my love for them.

“They say there’s a heaven for those who will wait…..”

A nice sunrise. A lovely sunset. Friends and family to share life.  Thanksgiving. Billy Joel could’ve been right about us Catholic girls. Fifty-five. Start your engines. IMG_3067IMG_3060

 

Simple Gifts

Beware the barrenness of a busy life. ~ Socrates

Three weeks ‘on the go’. Fun-filled adventures.

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GO! In the time I’ve missed the quiet, the camera click, waiting for a sunset, resting in ‘the moment’, simple moments with friends and family. Autumn reminds of me that. A homecoming of sorts. Time to settle in and nest.  During the summer I made hard choices about future projects. The autumn ran away with those choices like a race horse. I allowed it.

Last weekend I traveled to my hometown for the first time since July. It’s good to touch base with those people who share collective memories, love you no matter what. Driving back, my thoughts drifted to the idea of unconditional love…. my parents, family, dear friends, my children.

DuetLA Tech Band HomecomingMonroe-St. Matthew's and Post OfficeI can only hope that I’ve been as generous and accepting with  those special people in my life….my family, friends and students. . . and beyond.

The road leads us many ways in a busy life…some days the path is straight, some days…not so much….the gift is finding the simple way and loving through it. IMG_2984

First you make a roux….

A good base. Any good cook knows it’s the foundation. Parents and teachers too.

Last Sunday morning was the first really cool day we’ve had in South Louisiana. Gumbo weather. I couldn’t wait to hit the kitchen. To me, making gumbo is a spiritual experience. It keeps me ‘in the moment’. Reminds me of where I came from, where I am, where I’m going. Well, like I said….it starts with a base….’first you make a roux’. First you make a roux

I didn’t realize until I moved to South Louisiana but gumbos vary by regions. My mother’s family came from Mobile. Questions about using tomato (I don’t) or okra (I do) never occurred to me. My mother and grandmother never used a recipe. I learned from them. I still use my mother’s ‘roux pot’.  009

The first gumbo has become an October tradition just as surely as the smell of sweet olive on a crisp afternoon or selecting the perfect pumpkin. I make gumbo throughout the year but there’s something about that first one on the first cool snap….feels like home….It's October!

Wednesday my daughter texted, asking for the recipe for ‘Campfire Stew’. Another family and Girl Scout tradition. The week had been filled with ups and downs but those moments had nourished my spirit. Today I’m making Campfire Stew. It’s not over an open flame like we did when I was a Girl Scout with my friend, Leslie or as a leader with my daughter…or camping with my kids….but in the cooking I’m linking all of those together….yesterday, today….and a promise for tomorrow…..October Rainbow

October….

Yes, “first you make a roux”…then you sit back and enjoy….feels like home

mid-October Gloaming

Satisfied

“Satisfied!”

This week I was reminded of my grandfather. He’s been on my mind since the summer. A man who’s simple approach to life, wisdom and humor served him and his family well during the Great Depression, two World Wars. He was never at a loss. Anytime you asked him how things were or how he was….his reply?

Satisfied.

I was in Boston a few months back helping my daughter with a film project she was finishing.  It had been relaxing time cooking for these creative artists, their lives filled with promise. During the days there I thought about how grateful I was for the resources and time my parents and grandparents had invested in me and my brothers. I hoped they knew how much we appreciated their generous spirit. We always had what we needed and then some. We were given opportunities to explore and develop our talents. The story of our lives were written by love and hard work.001-001

On my last day I saw one of the sets for the first time and got my answer.

The room was wall-papered in pages from an old dictionary…..on the desk of the vintage-style room was an antique typewriter not unlike one I had in my closet at home, an heirloom from my grandfather. When I went back to take a picture….the typewriter had been moved for another shot but I was……

Set from Typical Haunts

Satisfied.

Too often today we’re looking for magic, highs, eternal youth or for what might be…. instead of being

Satisfied.

with what is….

Satisfied friends1 35th Birthday Celebration

My grandfather was an adventurer..through books and people. His life experiences led him from days of horse and buggy to seeing a man walk on the moon. He was not a well-educated man yet the wisest man I’ve ever met. He knew the value of everything, including a handshake and the warmth of the sun on your face.Satisfied sky He was not unique in his generation.

Satisfied.

I look at my own family. Two adult ‘children’ who are content in their lives. I remind myself that my parents and grandparent walked similar roads. Theirs were different times, perhaps…..but in this…..we are the same….

Satisfied.

Family Tree