Mapping 2014

Winding up the holidays is always as much of a joy as entering them.  Part of that movement toward the end of the year is an essential annual exercise I learned in 2009 from the four women who wrote Reboot Your Life.  It's similar to but different than making New Year's resolutions.  It's called the circle exercise.  I'm quoting from an earlier blog entry I wrote in 2011:

"One of the most interesting exercises is to set goals once a year that are achievable, and then take a look at the end of the year to see how you have done. You can read exactly how to undertake the "goals circle exercise" in the book written by the four Sabbatical Sisters -- Catherine Allen, Nancy Bearg, Rita Foley, and Jaye Smith -- titled Reboot Your Life: Energize Your Career & Life by Taking a Break available on Amazon. com.

This exercise is in the chapter titled "Living the Lifelong Sabbatical."

Make a circle and divide it into six to eight pie slices, which you then label with aspects of your life.  I use six slices, and they are labeled health, creativity, books, financial, career, and personal.

The next step is to identify five goals for the new year in each category.  This can take longer than one sitting; and indeed you'll find that some of the pie slices change from year to year because of projects you might undertake.  Once you've completed this portion of the exercise, then pick out the goal in each category that is most important to you.  Make a new circle with only a single goal in each slice, and keep it with you to remind yourself and review progress during the year.

All of the slices are designed to have equal weight so that you have begun to balance your time more evenly across these aspects of life.  Those of you who have never made a circle and divided it evenly in a deliberate attempt to re-balance your life might want to give it a try.  There's a certain lightness of spirit that comes from this exercise year after year. "

I completed most of my 2014 circles on an early morning walk at foggy Green Lake (photo above)  on New Year's Day.

Backing into the holidays

We had a wonderful evening in the heart of downtown last night, up 23 floors, admiring art and books and having terrific conversations with colleagues on the Seattle Public Library Foundation board.  Tonight, we're attending a combination potluck and group watercolor show at Montlake Community Center.  My teacher, Jan Morris, has invited students in all three of her classes to bring work to show.

Of course I would rather leave all my work at home.  I went back over everything I've painted so far, and decided to keep working on some pieces, and to toss others altogether.  These are the four I am taking, on the theory that my teacher was right and that, "once [you] get the hang of it, you'll be a bold painter."   The rule in our class is that we are not allowed to make negative comments about our own work or the work of others.  So after having looked at so much art over the years, I will try hard to give myself a break.

As I grade papers at the end of the quarter, and work on tweaking my course for the next quarter, I am slipping in home maintenance work and prep as we move full gear into dinners and parties to celebrate the season.  James arrives on Saturday evening, by which time I plan to have most of the work done and the holiday decorations up. 

His plane gets in too late to join us to walk at Green Lake on the annual "Pathway of Lights," an amazing celebration that includes carolers, hot drinks, and festive behavior. 
 

Photo: Amy Duncan

 All the setup for the lights is done by volunteers.  And this photo is taken before the coziness of darkness sets in for walkers.

On Sunday afternoon, I am hoping James and I can go for a walk at Dunn Gardens for the annual solstice walk, certain not to be so packed as the prior evening's event.

On Monday night, we sit down not just with our friend Hazard, but also with his two sons and our son, for what I hope will be a festive dinner that includes a pie made from Wild Mountain Blackberries collected in past summers, direct from the freezer of the late Diana Adams.

I am away at National Academy of Science meetings in Irvine from Wednesday to Friday afternoon, but back in time to set up for a weekend  open house that precedes the one my friend Suzie always has.

There will still be time to stroll through "Candy Cane Lane" by walking across the Ravenna Park bridge in our neighborhood, and to catch up with close friends who fly home for this time of the year over other gatherings for drinks or dinner.

We finish it all off on Christmas Eve in our Ravenna neighborhood with Luminaries, and a last stroll through streets filled with our neighbors.   

These are well-honed traditions for us.

And you know how the rest of it goes, just like other families across this country.

Happy holidays everyone!

Holiday Intentions

 

When a wreath arrives from Children's Hospital each year, we know it is from Hazard and Diana (this year, in spirit). And it signals the beginning of the holiday season.  We have a great deal to reflect upon this year, and simpler is the order of the day for gifts, gatherings and celebrations.

We lack for nothing, especially since James will be home for two weeks of the month.

Our children and grandchildren are all thriving, each uniquely himself or herself.

We'll celebrate with neighbors and friends later this month --- Leroy reminded me yesterday that our holiday open house is actually older than I remembered.  We started it in 1978, with a full contingent of neighbors, university colleagues, Seattle Art Museum staff and Seattle area press.

Since I'll teach my last class of the fall quarter this week, there is a bit of a break from routine for the rest of December, and thus an opportunity to mix things up a bit more.

I'm going to add a weekly yoga class to my workouts; and try to maintain two hours a week of painting even after this watercolor session has ended mid-month.  And I'm determined to actually take advantage of some of the invitations I usually can't accept this time of year, to catch back up with others.

If I play my cards right, I won't have to make new intentions for next year -- I will already be living them.

Shadow shapes

I spent two hours this morning trying to figure out how light falls on tulips.  As a photographer, I try to spot the source of light and the patterns that light makes before I shoot.  It did not help me a bit this morning.  The camera does one thing.  My hands and eyes just don't seem to get it.  Right now, I'm trying to understand whether Malcolm Gladwell's "Outliers" hypothesis on10,000 hours is what I am looking at if I want to paint well.

Vincent Van Gogh and his tulips

 One thing is sure, 10,000 hours or not -- I need to become more comfortable with the brush and with mixing color and understanding how to make different types of shadow shapes.  (Take a look at the master, above.)

So I will be converting a corner of my snug into a place where I can paint  every day, moving closer to the place where what I know I want to do and what I can actually do are the same.

Three families, four boys, 29 years ago

James Harrison Sowers Searle was born at 5:41am twenty nine years ago today.  His lighthearted father wrote:

"Little James,
with all of his names,
was born to the world
on Tuesday.

We wrapped him in rugs,
gave him six hugs
and took him home
the next Thursday."

Though he spent the first ten days of his life in ICU at Swedish Hospital, he's been a blaze of energy since then, grabbing life with both hands.  Of course, one loves their relatives but him I also admire.  He does good in the world.  He cares about other people.  His is his own person.

Three other boys whom we know and love were also born on that day.  We met Sam and Belinda Bell in childbirth classes at Swedish, and managed through all their growing up years to celebrate twins Cameron and Claiborne Bell and James with parties that included magicians, board breakers, swimming parties, fireman, friends and family.  We came to know Evan Swink after he and James became classmates at Bryant Elementary School.  They went on  to Eckstein Middle School, then both to Roosevelt High School and the Roosevelt Jazz Band.

This morning has become an annual occasion for counting my blessings, to have such constant friendships  in my life as Sam and Belinda, and with Suzie, who is always there to cheer me on, to tease me out of a funk or to inspire me with her attitude toward life and the curves it has thrown her.

So out there in the world are four men who will each make their mark.  Today,  I'm cheering them on.

All Saints Day is my cousin's day

In New Orleans today, Catholics are in the cemeteries decorating graves in honor of All Saints Day.  As a child, one of my favorite religious books was "Lives of the Saints," that had beautifully rendered (like the image above) portraits of the best known saints across from a single page that told her/his story.  It's from that book that I picked my own confirmation name (from Saint Teresa of the little flowers).   From that book and other biographies I read came a love of storytelling and aspirations to be good.  But November 1 had less a religious connotation than a reminder of my mysterious older cousin Dennis, who shares his birthday with the feast of All Saints Day.


Dennis is a well known playwright, director and actor today, but in those days he was merely older than my cousin Kathleen and myself.  We rarely saw him, especially after he went off to college.  He was different, and made a name for himself at an early age in the theatre.  He took on my Aunt Teresa one summer while doing a theatre residency at the University of Iowa, refusing to shave his beard in order to be an usher in his cousin's wedding.  You can guess how that one came out.

Dennis' father (Jim) and his mother (Alice) were my godparents.  His mother and mine were close friends their whole lives, and reconnected us years later on the East Coast.   When we moved to upstate New York, Dennis had relocated in Ottawa, and we got to know him and his children through summer visits back and forth that sometimes included our mothers.  I admire all of his children,  and think of them as friends as well as relatives.   Though we are flung about in various parts of the work, we manage to keep track of one another and to meet usually every five years at the Hayes Family Reunion in Iowa City, hosted by Dennis' brother, Jim.

So that's the story of November 1, a time of year when we know for sure that winter is coming soon, when the light is slow to arrive and quick to depart each afternoon.  Stories are what Dennis can tell, and stories are what bind us together, with more than enough light to go round.  Happy birthday, Dennis!

"I don't paint things. I only paint the difference between things." -- Henri Matisse

I have completed one six week watercolor class.  The last session was a breakthrough for me, and I was able to create or finish three pieces that my instructor felt were worth framing.  I offered Leroy his choice as a birthday present, and he picked the one  shown below.  Later, he mentioned that he would really like to have all three.

So I framed the three and hung them in the kitchen in a kind of mini-gallery.  It may be that we'll get tired of looking at them, or that my style of painting will evolve over time -- in which case I can either add more framed watercolors to the wall, or use these frames, standard for watercolor paper, to display newer work.

One thing I know for sure:  I am never bored when trying to paint.  Some may see it as arrogant to frame anything at this early stage of learning how to paint.  Others may suggest that there is little or no sign that I am taking a course in the Volunteer Park Conservatory in the 12-15 watercolors that I did paint during the course. I don't really care what anyone thinks.  I've got a lot to learn and hope that at some point in the future I will actually be able to paint what I see.  In the meantime, Matisse's quote seems appropriate.  I'm signed up for another six weeks of classes at the conservatory.