Henry James

Today it feels like summer. I didn't have to drive to school at 3:30. I haven't seen a backpack on the counter or the floor all day. RE is at the pool gaining freckles and losing spare change. There will be a pile of semi-wet towels on the dryer for the next 90 days. The crockpot is working full-time. My tomato plants are getting bigger. I can hear the buzz of a lawnmower at any given moment if I listen closely.

Summer afternoon, summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language. -Henry James

"A Long Afternoon"

 

"Fireflies"

 

"Seashells" 

These pictures remind me of a few things:

• The summers of my youth. Fireflies are everywhere in Missouri.
• Puck. Shakespeare's Puck. I think he might have lived in that hollow tree on the top drawing.
• I need to use my Prismacolors more. Less computer, more sketchbook!

I ripped these illustrations out of a 1996 Anthropologie catalog entitled "Beautiful Day." I ripped them out, so I have no reference for who drew them.

Vortex

I'm staying busy. Vortex busy. 

Lord Byron said THE BUSY HAVE NO TIME FOR TEARS. Ovid, a Roman philosopher who lived from 43-17 B.C. mused BE BUSY, AND YOU WILL ALWAYS BE SAFE.

Projects have always saved me from my darker self in life's tougher moments. You would not believe what I have accomplished in the last two weeks. I designed my sister's save-the-date postcards, cleaned out my art closet, shredded stuff, threw away stuff, sewed a dress, completed the mending, made a gift for someone special, went on Friday AND Saturday dates with Greg, and pounded out a considerable dose of angst on the stair stepper and Samson leg press. Don't get excited, my legs are still as scrawny as ever. My point is that life is irresistibly engulfing and I am thankful for how much there is to do.

One of the things I threw away from my art closet was a Smithsonian magazine I'd saved since 1996. A BYU classmate had given it to me because it had a feature on dragonflies, and everyone knew that I loved dragonflies. (Unfortunately, the magazine didn't list photo credits, so I am unable to name the photographer for the above photo.) Anyhoo, I loved dragonflies so much that my first email was dragonflygirl2@juno.com, I decorated my home with dragonflies, and I even wore a dragonfly cardigan. (Now I'm into bees, but that's another story.) Unearthing this dragonfly photo post-crisis reminded me that there is power in being busy with good things. It also reminded me of a Cecil B. DeMille (film producer and director of the Academy Award-winning The Ten Commandments) quote I wrote in my journal nearly twenty years ago. This is his recollection of a summer day in Maine spent lazily drifting in a pond:

"One day as I was lying in a canoe, a big black beetle climbed up into the canoe. I watched it idly for some time.

"Under the heat of the sun, the beetle proceeded to die and its shell became dry and brittle. Then a strange thing happened. The glistening black shell cracked all the way down the back. Out of it came a shapeless mass. There gradually unfolded iridescent wings from which the sunlight flashed a thousand colors. The blue-green body took shape and left the dead carcass. It sailed across the surface of the water, going farther in a half second than the water beetle could crawl all day long.

"Before my eyes had occurred a metamorphosis-the transformation of a hideous beetle into a gorgeous dragonfly.  I had witnessed a miracle. Out of the mud had come a beautiful new life. And the thought came to me that if the Creator works such wonders with the lowliest of creatures, what may not be in store for the human spirit!"

I believe this. I believe that God is real and that he allows us to wither, as it were, like water beetles in the hot sun because we emerge as something better and more beautiful. I also believe that while we are in the Dead Beetle Phase we can stay busy within our shiny black confinement until it's time to crack the shell open and start a new chapter as dragonflies. I believe it is a considerable amount of work to change from a crawling nymph to a gossamer-winged aviator. Most of all, I believe it is worth it.

Photo from Smithsonian, 1996, p. 75. Caption written by Richard Conniff. Photo caption: Configurations of smoke blown around a dragonfly in a wind tunnel show how turbulently the air flows by the insect's flapping wings. The vortex created over each wing can exert the uplift of a miniature tornado.

Random dragonfly trivia: The largest dragonfly existing today, Tetracanthagyna Placiata, is native to Borneo, where a fossilized specimen had a wingspan of 24 inches.

Net

I am a superstar circus performer. I walk the tightrope of life. I wow the ticket-holding crowds with my ability to get from Point A to Point B under difficult vertical circumstances. Life on the tightrope can be hard with the required poise and precarious balancing. Plus there's the added fear of falling. Independent tightrope walkers don't like falling.

My boss, the Head of the Circus, has informed me that if I'm going to succeed as a tightrope walker I have to better myself with every step AND enjoy the scenery the tightrope has to offer. I don't look down much because the "scenery" appears to be a very small elephant sitting on a ball far below me and a net I've never needed to use. I will stay focused on Point B ahead of me, thank you very much, and the elephant can enjoy the scenery.

I am a superstar circus performer that lost my baby and my balance on May 22. Big Upset under the Big Top. I fell for the first time. I cringed in anticipation of what impact on the net was going to feel like. I was afraid it would hurt and tear my porcelain skin. I feared the jeering crowd.

It turns out that the net is remarkably soft and woven from hugs, prayers, facebook messages, real mailed letters, cake balls, cookies, French pastries, bouquets of flowers, Edible Arrangements, dark chocolate, heartfelt emails, encouragement, concern, blackberry jam, homemade cards, Hallmark cards, padded envelopes, sympathy, empathy, scriptures, doorbell rings, texts, voicemails and love unfeigned. In fact, I can't believe how big the net is, and it is only used by me. The net is restful and pleasant and I didn't realize I was so weary from balancing my load on the tightrope. I would like to bounce on the net a little while longer until I'm strong enough to attack forward progress on the rope again. I'm humbled by the niceness of my net and how far people have reached to contribute to my net. Humbled to tears, frankly. The net is one of the great miracles of my life and I will never forget this.

I have realized that the Head of the Circus knew I was going to fall. He watched me fall from close range and made sure my net was ready. I told the Head of the Circus that I was mistaken about the scenery, and that I get it now. The NET is the scenery.

I am a superstar circus performer that will definitely get to Point B because I have a good net. My net saved and lulled and loved me. I am not afraid of falling anymore.

*Image of card from my original Crazy 8's card game I played as a kid. Before I was in kindergarten I would set the whole game up on the floor of the entryway and wait for my sister Suzette to walk in from school. She would drop her backpack and play with me immediately. We played a LOT of Crazy 8's as kids. This set is awesome since every card has to do with the circus, and what tightrope walker doesn't love a good circus?

Quill

My birthday is in May. From second to twelfth grade I could not enjoy my birthday until Guild was over. "Guild" was the National Piano-Playing Auditions and it meant I had to play ten memorized piano pieces for a judge on a grand piano on a stage in a dress somewhere on the campus of the University of Missouri.

Guild was consistently a few days before my birthday and I couldn't exhale or anticipate my joyous day until my audition was over. I participated in Guild for ten consecutive years which means I earned a High School Diploma in Social Music. Do I even know what that means? No. But I earned it, and it came with a medal. The kicker is that even though I haven't had to audition in 18 years I still get the "Guild panic" every May before my birthday. My stomach tightens up, I realize I don't have to do it anymore, my stomach relaxes.

Guild taught me the rewards of practicing, how to block out scary, educated musicians (I always blocked the judges out and imagined myself at home in the living room), how to focus under pressure, and how to put mind over matter by mentally stopping my hands from sweating. Even with my mind of steel the pedal would still shake now and again. Nerves happen.

The best part of Guild was getting my report card with the judges' marks. Each year a real calligrapher wrote the participants' names by hand. I could hardly wait to see how my name would look after being interpreted by an artist. I loved my name when I saw how it could be written. I was always glad I had a "k" in my last name because a "k" seemed to be loved by the quill. My favorite years for how my name looked were '93 and '90. I also love the blob of ink on the "k" of '86.

My teacher signed my report card as well. My teacher was Anne Manahan and her husband was Stan. Stan and Anne Manahan. No lie. She went to Juilliard. I didn't deserve her.

I wonder how many years I'd have to practice to whip out a decent rendition of "Liebestraum" again. That was the piece I was most proud of mastering. Glory days, you are gone. All that remains is calligraphy.

 

 

 

 

 

Knot

I can untangle anything.

I was good at it as a kid and I'm even better now. RE brought me her most delicate gold necklace chain that was wadded in a knot the size of an M&M. I used two straight pins, a sheet of typing paper, natural light and 25 minutes of patience to restore it to a single strand. Last week I was winding a ball from a loose skein of yarn and ran into a snag. I wasn't about to snip the yarn and continue. It was a matter of principle. Yarn was stretched all over the kitchen and suspended on cupboard pulls, but I found and removed the internal error and finished my yarn ball. See? I can untangle anything.

Monday I was pregnant. Today I am not. I cannot untangle this.

Ten years of hoping and wishing and trying and failing and then an unexpected miracle. Weeks of bliss. Days of cramping. Lots of bleeding. Still bleeding. Still hurting. Still blessed. Still loved. Still waiting for the wisdom of hindsight. Still seeking silver linings. I know they are there.

Heavenly Father, please untangle this knot. This one is out of my skill set. This one requires your hands.

With thoughtless and impatient hands

We tangle up the plans

The Lord hath wrought.

And when we cry in pain He saith,

"Be quiet, man, while I untie the knot."

-quoted by President Boyd K. Packer, "Ensign", November 2009