And what is wrong with that? I know. I know. We are on the edge of spring. Winters back is broke, and the quicker March goes by, the sooner Summer will be here. Like really, how do you savour March? When the wind makes six degrees feel like minus six. Cause it does that here where I live.
Well I think I can. I think I can love March for the cold month that she is. I think I can.
I will take the mornings slow. Like this morning, sitting here with you, writing. I'll admit that in March is still Winter. Admission is important. It is part of acceptance. Yesterday I put away my parka like a silly fool. Why?
I will get it back out and wear it today. Bluster away at me if you want March. I can take you if I have on my parka.
Candle light at supper. Every March I pull out this candle in a maple syrup tin and I burn it at supper.
And love, maybe March is slow so we will have time to catch up and call a friend. To say how have you been? And have time to listen to the answer. Who shall I call?
And day light. The evenings may be cold still, but they are longer now. There is time after supper to lift my hook in the light and make my way through my mat. March is maker time. Time to sit and move my hands. The warmth of the rug is welcome.
And begin again. It does not have to be September of the new year to begin again. The Inspiration Sessions begin again in March. (Sorry, it's closed now) I start again with a new community of makers who want to learn. So I feel the excitement of new ideas percolating.
And percolating. March needs a treat. So yesterday we bought an espresso maker for the studio and Greg played the barista and made us lattes. And we felt the warmth of good coffee and friendship.
And warmth. At the end of the day on her day off Khush came in to introduce us to her friend and pick up a thermos so she could bring us in homemade chai tea to drink at work. Warm tea.
March is a long month for most of us and we need warmth. Warm clothes, warm tea, warm hearts, warm friends to bolster us against the wind.
And my Parka, I need my parka.
I am off for my walk now, I hope you get a little walk in today too.
Thank you for your support, for staying a subscriber, and for your kindness, Deanne
]]>When we went in he had on a tweed sports jacket. My daughter said ,"Where are you going?" I knew the answer.
He said, " We dress for dinner."
She said, "Aww that's so nice."
My sister said, "I am not dressed yet, as she was in her comfy clothes."
And they do dress for dinner and have for years.
They dress nicely for dinner each evening, no matter what they are eating, no matter if there is no one coming. They dress for themselves and for each other. They dress to celebrate dinner.
My friend up the street sets the table nicely every night. She lays a placemat, silverware and a nice glass every evening. If you drop in there around four you'll see it all set and ready to go.
What is beautiful about both these things is that they elevate the ordinary. They celebrate the ordinary.
Thinking about this today it brings me to the question. What in my own life could I lift a little? What is my own life could I add to just a bit so that it would become routinely nicer. What should I celebrate a little more?
Perhaps some white lights on my barn to light the winter nights? Perhaps setting my own table? Perhaps a little primping before dinner? I don't know. What works for one does not always work for the other. But there are definitely things I can do more nicely. There are definitely ways I can add a bit more beauty too. For there is never too much beauty.
I like the idea of elevating the moment, or the day so that it becomes more beautiful. It is part of creating beauty everyday. It is part of taking your own life and making it special. And that is what we are meant to do. We are meant to make our life our own, to make it identifiably ours, to make it especially for us, and of course for those we love.
So I will keep my heart open to this idea, the idea of elevating the ordinary. The idea that we can do little things to make something special.
One of my favorite quotes is from the song writer Warren Zevon. It is simply this, "Enjoy every sandwich."
Thank you for listening, for reading and for being part of the studio community.
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The thing I love about pencils is their impermanence. I can write an idea down and if there is a slight mistake I have the eraser on the other end. I also like the way it does not seep through the paper. I love that if my list gets too long I can erase the things marked off and add more with a pencil.
I like the way it glides across the page like silk. A soft slide.
When I sharpen my pencil I feel ready, that particular perfect point.
For years I was a connoisseur of pens, and I still have a love for them. Not fancy expensive pens. I have never wanted my pen to be a status symbol. It was all about the way the ink hit the page. I still like a nice gel pen with a medium tip but given the choice for the last few years, I will choose a pencil. Though I will always flirt with pens.
I use it in my calendar particularly. No need to cross off a change in schedule I can just make it disappear, albeit there is a faded memory of what might have been. A change in address is just as easy. The pencil has its benefits.
The one weakness of the pencil is the sharpener. If you are on the road you must also carry a sharpener as you cannot trust the tip not to break. Also, if you have a fit of inspiration and write down note after note, you'll lose your lovely tip and need a sharpener. I am partial to big sharpeners that hold the shavings. In my knapsack they are big and there is a danger of spilling, so on the road my flirtation with pens becomes more serious, though I keep a pencil on the side. At my desk the pencil reigns.
All pencils are not equal I have found. There are different leads and they write differently. Like a pen you have to find one that's right for you.
I have learned that it is not a lowly forgotten tool after all and I buy them by the box. That's the other thing a pen lasts longer in every way. But still I like the glide my pencil gives me, like a ride of the imagination as I write down an idea, a hope a dream. It's impermanence both a reassurance and a reminder.
Such a simple thing to make me happy but it does. Not a day goes by that I don't pick up my pencil the same way I did as a small child with my hand wrapped around it full of possibility.
]]>Move over, I remember my young adult self well. I still feel pretty connected with her and I am surprised to find that is time to move over already but it is. I have to make room for the young bright ones to blossom and be themselves. They are like Johnny Jump Ups, Pansies and Petunias. Their beautiful showy heads rising to take their place in the summer of their lives. I can keep blossoming but I'll be more of a geranium, good and steady. Hardy. There, but off to the side a bit.
Change the world. Everybody gets their chance to make their mark on their time and place. Little things. Big things. From the periphery, I can see that the world is changing. I like a lot of it. This is not a rant about how the world is not like it used to be. Of course it isn't. It should not be.
Sometimes though I wonder why everything seems bigger and better than when I started out. Expectations are grander. But life is no bigger. Life is still only as big as ever, but no bigger. Our cups can only hold so much.
Abundance. Knowing when you are full. Knowing when to turn off the tap.
Seeking beauty. Seeing it in others as they take their place in the world.
Amazing. Little children grow up to become tomorrow.
From the periphery I can see more. I like that. When you stand on the edges of a crowd there is a lot to observe. A lot to take in. A lot to feel. When I called my friend and told her about being on the periphery of life she said she feels it too. Then she said something beautiful. She said that I was not on her periphery.
Central. We remain central to each other as we age and grow older together. We keep in touch, not just to remember what was, but so we can love what is new and beautiful about an ever changing world. So we can find our place in it for we remain. And those who remain always have more to give.
]]>I know we don't need to coax ourselves too much as we love to hook rugs. Sometimes though people tell me that they cannot seem to find the time so I got my thinking cap on. You can reap so many rewards from doing things you love.
]]>I know what it is like to carry this little thing. I feel unsure or apprehensive. My uncertainty rises in me when I am alone with my thoughts and I talk it down. For me sometimes it comes before I do an interview or a workshop. I always have to remind myself that I am just me. And as long as I don't try to be anything other than that I will be fine. That being myself is enough.
I talk myself through things all the time. Me. Confident me. I am a confident person in so many ways. There are lots of things I am sure of. I feel like I have done lots and know lots.
And still I feel so human, so frail, so small in the face of it all. Because I am that too. Last night I looked up at the moon with a bright star underneath it before I went to bed. Proof enough for me that I am small under a big sky. I find there are so many things that I know nothing about. So much about history, geography, nature and science that just bewilders me. Sometimes I learn things and when I go to recall them I cannot remember times or dates or facts. I just remember the idea. I have always been like this. I only know what I know.
And what I know mostly is intuitive. Most of what I know comes from life and from being with other people. Most of what I know I have learned at the frame, sorting out my relationships, thinking about my days. Other things I have learned from walking, being alone with myself for an hour in the morning. Mostly what I think I know is about the human spirit, and even that could not fill a tea cup.
I know that it is not only me that is small under a big sky. I know that many of us wonder. I know too that sometimes people know a lot and in that knowledge they cease to wonder and find a self assuredness. I admire their certainty. It speaks so calmly with such authority. Surely it's right? But then I am alone again and I become bewildered. How can you know? How can you be so sure of anything?
And then I become certain. Certain that I would rather rest in the mystery. Unknowing can be a balm. I have an acceptance of uncertainty, knowing it will rise again and again. I don't have answers and deep knowledge about black holes and cycles of the moon, but I do have wonder and I never want to lose it.
]]>I loved watching him. And I told him, "I feel the same sometimes when I meet new people. I just want to keep looking at them really closely for a long time but I am a grown up and I cannot." Instead as grown ups we have to check people out more subtly. We sneak surreptitious glances at them, looking at them. There's no way we could just gently lean against them and feel their energy. Staring at them for five or ten minutes would just be odd. But children are allowed to this and somehow it makes perfect sense when they do.
In the afternoon at supper my friends came out with their two year old. I have met him maybe ten times before and he too stared me down once or twice. He has often come into the studio to visit and mostly he ignores me. Yesterday after being at my house for a few hours and going up the back stairs and coming down the front stairs fifteen times, and playing with my children's old toys on the carpet by the fire he relaxed with me. And this is how I know. In all the times I met my little friend he has never once touched me. Yesterday in the yard when he was going to the car he reached up and took my hand. That little hand holding mine told me we were finally friends.
I love children and their unabashed way of being. They teach me when I am with them. I watch them and I see so much. Staring at you, taking their time to warm up, playing freely, eating little bites of this and that. Demanding what they want in the moment. Getting tired and laying their head on their fathers' shoulder. They do what they need to do when they need too.
And to think we all start out like this. Little free spirits. Untamed and acting straight from our heart. I guess that means we still have it in us. Each of us has that little free spirit.
I like to think of mine as my little art spirit. The part of me that is still the way I was when I was a child. Purely curious responding to the moment. That part of me that is free and just leans into the moment. When I am hooking a big rug I find her and welcome her back. She is willing to get lost and let go in play. She does not worry what others are thinking. She is deep in the moment of her own time. I cannot call upon her instantaneously. She likes to be quietly cajoled and welcomed back. To access her I have to show up and work, and she comes out when she feels like it. She comes out enough that I know she is there, because I show up and do the work.
Being with children reminds me of my own children, but also of myself growing up. When I went to bed last night I felt really grateful for my day with them. For the fun I had and for their honesty. Watching them just be themselves, no guile, no second thoughts inspires me to be more like them. To just ask the question, to smile deeply at someone so they know I like them, to explore and to wander a new space.
To remain close to my little art self is to remain close to my childhood. All the lessons I learned yesterday are fresh in my mind today. And I am heading to the studio fresh and ready for a new day. If I meet you for the first time today, I'll try not to stare but you can be sure I'll be looking closely. I hope you get to spend time with children soon. They got so much to teach us.
I loved watching him. And I told him, "I feel the same sometimes when I meet new people. I just want to keep looking at them really closely for a long time but I am a grown up and I cannot." Instead as grown ups we have to check people out more subtly. We sneak surreptitious glances at them, looking at them. There's no way we could just gently lean against them and feel their energy. Staring at them for five or ten minutes would just be odd. But children are allowed to this and somehow it makes perfect sense when they do.
In the afternoon at supper my friends came out with their two year old. I have met him maybe ten times before and he too stared me down once or twice. He has often come into the studio to visit and mostly he ignores me. Yesterday after being at my house for a few hours and going up the back stairs and coming down the front stairs fifteen times, and playing with my children's old toys on the carpet by the fire he relaxed with me. And this is how I know. In all the times I met my little friend he has never once touched me. Yesterday in the yard when he was going to the car he reached up and took my hand. That little hand holding mine told me we were finally friends.
I love children and their unabashed way of being. They teach me when I am with them. I watch them and I see so much. Staring at you, taking their time to warm up, playing freely, eating little bites of this and that. Demanding what they want in the moment. Getting tired and laying their head on their fathers' shoulder. They do what they need to do when they need too.
And to think we all start out like this. Little free spirits. Untamed and acting straight from our heart. I guess that means we still have it in us. Each of us has that little free spirit.
I like to think of mine as my little art spirit. The part of me that is still the way I was when I was a child. Purely curious responding to the moment. That part of me that is free and just leans into the moment. When I am hooking a big rug I find her and welcome her back. She is willing to get lost and let go in play. She does not worry what others are thinking. She is deep in the moment of her own time. I cannot call upon her instantaneously. She likes to be quietly cajoled and welcomed back. To access her I have to show up and work, and she comes out when she feels like it. She comes out enough that I know she is there, because I show up and do the work.
Being with children reminds me of my own children, but also of myself growing up. When I went to bed last night I felt really grateful for my day with them. For the fun I had and for their honesty. Watching them just be themselves, no guile, no second thoughts inspires me to be more like them. To just ask the question, to smile deeply at someone so they know I like them, to explore and to wander a new space.
To remain close to my little art self is to remain close to my childhood. All the lessons I learned yesterday are fresh in my mind today. And I am heading to the studio fresh and ready for a new day. If I meet you for the first time today, I'll try not to stare but you can be sure I'll be looking closely. I hope you get to spend time with children soon. They got so much to teach us.
]]>When we listen to each other we give grace.
Sometimes maybe a little mercy too.
I am always amazed at how good it feels to talk something out with a good friend. There is a weight that gets lifted off your chest. And it is not because they see your side of things. Often they point out what you are not seeing yourself. It is just good to have another little soul like yourself to share your story with.
On the other side of that is being the listener. To be there to hear the whole story, to hear it maybe twice or even three times. To be there not waiting to speak, not wanting to give advice, just to listen. For mostly we know our own answers , we just need to be heard.
When you have a story to tell it is amazing how long five uninterrupted minutes are. To talk steadily for five minutes allows you to say a lot if you really want to. Sometimes the idea of talking for five minutes about something can be daunting. So really hearing someone out often only takes that, a few minutes of quiet.
I have a mind that drifts so when someone wants to tell me a story I have to be actively pay attention. I have to keep my focus so I can know the full story. I remember being in counselling school and learning about active listening. It revolutionized listening for me. Once I could think of listening as something engaged, encouraging and active, then I could do better. I could listen better.
It is really interesting sometimes when I am talking and I can feel that someone is not listening. You can feel it. I just let the conversation go. I always feel slightly cheated for a second or two and then I recover. We know intuitively when we are being listened to. Sometimes we see it in our interactions with others after the fact. They understand us better. Our relationships get stronger.
Sometimes people have told me a story that helps me understand them so much more. Five minutes of listening can deepen a relationship. I suppose sometimes five minutes of listening can weaken one too. Though in my experience listening to someones' story, or having them listen to mine, brings us closer to understanding each other and makes us care more.
Five minutes. If I tried to talk right now for five minutes it would be hard to fill, but when we have a story that we need to share, it is just what we need. Last night when I jumped in the car with Joanne I needed to talk. I did not even know I did before I got in. Sometimes you find that you just need to process your day and it's lovely to have a friend there to listen.
]]>This of course comes from the lucky. For others the new year is a time to start again, to shed the past, to begin. Again. Some are so ready for the old year to rest and the new year to begin.
Most of us have something we need to shed, and most of us have something we need to renew.
Last night I went to see the movie Napoleon with my family. There we were together, bags of popcorn in our lap. In the dark looking up at the big screen. A simple pleasure, lost in a revolution, sent into exile, returned, then sent again. A life of drama on the screen. But in the seats we were free of it, free to get lost in a story. So free.
Today I wake up and know I'll go to the frame and hook the sea. Again.
But somehow it never seems enough. That if I hook it once more it will be better. The turquoise will be stronger, the waves will meet the bay in a way they never did before. Me in my little life in a room perched above a winter field. No snow, just grass and trees with barren branches. So beautiful in its' austerity and its plainness. What once looked empty now looks so full.
Everything feels tender at the beginning. Uncertain. And this can be true for a new year too. We are just getting to know it at the same time we are beginning to shut out our Christmas lights. Perhaps we need them a little longer to light the way. Maybe all of January we need a little glow to warm us. I will keep mine on.
I need a lamp. I need the light that shines from it, on me, and in me. I am the one to hold it out for myself. This is my job in a life. To hold the lamp for myself and for someone else who might need it. Winter is long but it is worthy of the time we spend here. It lets us wrap ourselves in the comfort we crave. And it lets us think. We can stack books beside our chair. Read a novel in a day sometimes. Pile rugs to show in spring. Make stew. Why would we ever make chicken stew in July?
Winter waits. It waits for us to catch up with ourselves. It waits for us so we will realize the beauty of the moment. A snowflake that lands on your mitt and you can see its' complex structure and be struck with awe.
A calendar turns and you see that you spent another year and you ask yourself,
Did I spend it well?
Did I love the moments, the hours the days?
Did I notice myself moving through time?
And with your answers you enter the next year with a prayer on your lips for yourself, and for those you love. You pray on your knees, or with your hands, or with your words. Maybe you scrub and clean, maybe you make, maybe you sing. We all have our ways.
We all find our way.
]]>And I thought you are right.
If you got something you want to share, share it.
Step into the light.
Show your talent, tell the story, and bask in a bit of fun.
Who will care in twenty years.
You might as well show your rugs.
You might as well tell others what they are about.
You are here right now.
Listen to the rhythm.
Dance by the fire.
You are here right now.
In this time.
In this place.
A blessing.
Blessed.
"Breathe before you leave."
A young woman told me today.
A police woman.
Someone who sees it all
and knows the stories.
And I thought, that is good advice.
I want to remember this.
Breathe before you leave.
Take a deep breath
and take it with thanks.
And know the beauty
of this simple act.
Prepare yourself
Rest in your own being.
Feel your own strength.
Listen to the people around you
who have something good to say.
There is wisdom
in the young and in the old.
And the wise sometimes
don't know their words
resound later
in hearts and minds
that go about their days.
Wisdom often finds a home.
]]>Should auld acquaintance be forgotAnd never brought to mind?Should auld acquaintance be forgotAnd the days of auld lang syne?
For me part of the new year coming is to retreat and to renew. I took a weekend this December and reviewed my notebooks and sketchbooks for the past few years, focusing mainly on the last year. I went through the notebooks and wrote down everything that I wanted to remember in them in my latest book. I book marked sketches that I wanted to go back to.
I also sat down and wrote down everything that mattered from the year past. I wrote about small things I did to the house & the studio. I wrote what I was pleased about and what I could do better. I took the time to step back and reflect and take in what the year had been. At the top of every page I asked myself a question and bullet pointed the answers. I could tell you my questions, but the important thing of course, is to come up with your own questions, the questions that matter to you.
We cannot learn from our lives if we don't reflect upon them. There is great importance in stepping back and reflecting. We can see what we have accomplished, where we have fallen short, what has mattered. In knowing these things we learn what to do more of, and what to set aside.
When I reviewed my notebooks from a few years ago I saw that I had written, "Renewing my relationship with Terry Cove" as one of the good things that happened. We were always friends but in the last few years we have worked together and reconnected again, and it has been good. I enjoy her company, and we so easily fell back into an easy trust. We renewed an old friendship.
Sometimes all we need to do is renew what is already there within us.
Renew.
We do not always have to come up with new thoughts and ideas. We can reconnect with what we already know. And to do this we must step back and reflect, and we must learn and sometimes relearn what matters and what is important to us.
To renew is not to go back to things the same way but to make them new again. We add, take away, and transform old ideas and experiences so they find a new home in our hearts. We find the good in what already matters deeply to us and to focus on it. Renewal is essentially the art of creativity. I do it time and time again. In my rugs and in my life.
It is because I retreat that I am able to go strongly forward and grow.
This time of year, like I have done for years, I prepare myself for the next year with three simple words. And I will carry those words into the new year, paired together as they are, the three "R"' s, and I hope they will help me savour what I already know and love what I have yet to learn.
Retreat. Reflect. Renew.
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This week is simply about preparation. We ready our lives to celebrate. We open our homes to guests and we may visit others homes as guests. Even if it is just us in our own little house we celebrate a little. It is Christmas.
This time of year I often think of childhood Christmases. They were not all perfect but there was plenty of good. There is no perfect Christmas, just our Christmas. The legs fall off the turkey, someone cannot make it to dinner, no batteries for the new remote something or other, and maybe someone making a point a little too loudly across the table.
Whatever happens, happens, and we can just be there with all the grace we can muster.
Because grace is often the gift we need.
Plenty of love. We need that too. And Joy, and a bit of foolishness, and letting down our guards and hoping. We always need hope.
So much waiting.
So much preparation and readiness.
Mostly from my childhood I remember my anticipation. I would wait for the day. I would wish for time to go by. Now of course, it is the anticipation itself that I relish. The waiting itself is the thing I love.
A string of lights. A bit of baby's breath on the tree. Cherry cake. Cans of baklava sent from relatives far away. These things that come before the event are events themselves. And they brighten our lives, lift us out of the everyday. They brighten the darkest days of the year and remind us of the love surrounding us.
When I flick on outdoor lights, I think of the drivers passing by and how those lights remind them of the season we are in. A season built upon love. How on a dark evening their world is lit up a little as they pass by. I think how it makes the yard easier to get around in when people come to our door. The lights are a sign of good will and cheer, lighting the way through winter.
A little light in the yard to lead the way. Little mini lights of hope.
And what do any of us really hope for if not for peace.
Peace in the heart.
Peace at the table,
Peace in the Valley.
And that is my hope for you and for me on this Christmas Eve. That we let the light in our hearts glow.
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We are always going forward, moving ahead. We are taught from childhood that this is important. I remember in grade two we had this series of books that were in levels that we were encouraged to work through during the year. We would start with pale pink ones then work our way through to pale green, blue, and then on to deeper colours. There was no better way to teach me to read. I wanted to get through those colours and on to the next one. I was aware that other people in the class were at certain stages, but mostly I was deeply focused on getting to the next colour. We learn early on to keep pushing forward, to keep moving. We are encouraged and rewarded for this.
And in many ways it is good, it is life. We push on. That is what we do. It is later on in life that we learn the importance of retreat. The idea of retreat is as important in growth as is the pushing forward.
I was much much older when I learned that as important as it is to go forward it is also important to retreat. To take a few steps back and rethink, and examine, count your blessings, and prepare for more.
What does the word retreat even mean? For me it means to take a step back from my everyday life and focus on something that is important to me. In doing this I take time out for myself. I read, I learn, I write, I make, I dream. Over the years I have gone to several online retreats with leaders that I want to learn from in both art and creative business. I took the time to step away from the routine of my life to focus on something that was important and beautiful for me. And it was good for me. In many ways I think it lead me forward, rather than pushed me and I like that.
Sometimes in life no matter how much I do or accomplish, I just move on to the next thing. I bet you find that you do this too. I take it for granted and think," ok, what's next? "
And then I remember my word for the year a few years ago, "Savour". Take the time to appreciate, to love, to respect what is right now. Take time to step back and see the beauty.
Retreating, yes it's a verb for me, is about taking the time to be. To feel the love and the glory of the moment. No matter what online retreat I go to I have my rug hooking ready and with me. I use it to absorb everything I am learning. I hook away for a couple of days and I listen and watch. I put my hook down sometimes to draw to take notes and capture the inspiration of the moment. I listen to the people who are facilitating the retreat and the very nature of retreating helps me listen to myself. I take the time to step back from my daily routines and responsibilities and I hook, and I find the quiet place inside myself.
It renews me.
I have always found that finding the quiet place inside myself deepens me and my creativity. Most days I get up carry on with my routine and get lost in the world around me like everyone else. I know that my rug hooking and my writing benefit from this, but I also know that the real jumps in both of these things happened because sometimes I stepped back from this world and went on retreat.
I stepped back, and because I did, I could see and feel what the next right thing was. The idea of retreat has had an enormous impact on my work, on my life, on who I am. I believe in it, the beauty that abounds from it. I know it has deepened and changed me and help me grow. But it is more than that.
For me it is just so much fun. It is joyful and meaningful for me to grow in what I love to do. It ignites my passion for making, for art, for life. It inspires me. It is what I am here to do. And I am here to teach you the same, to help you find meaning in rug hooking and creativity and I want to do that.
Retreat. Renew. Winter.
It is time for something beautiful.
Time for you.
]]>Recently my friend Sheree Fitch, the writer, told me that she does not think of this as a well into which she goes deeper and deeper. Instead she said,