My friend Natalie, at ChickenBlog, has this awesome tradition of listing 5 good things each Monday. I’m a gratitude junkie – so I’m in! (I’m squeaking in under the wire with only 45 minutes left of Monday… but in is in!)
I haven’t always been a gratitude junkie. I remember, when down in the dumps as a teen, my mom asking me to list 10 things that I could be grateful for. I used to get so mad at her. The last thing I wanted to do was be grateful. You know why? Because I can’t indulge in my nasty mood. <insert foot stomping here> Gratitude inevitably and always swept it away.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve found that I can’t stop being grateful. The nasty moods do hit from time to time but they are fewer and farther between. Living in gratitude is addicting. I’ll warn you though – it can and sometimes does annoy people. I’ve had people give me the stink eye and say to me: “You’re not one of those always happy and thankful people, are you?” Oh well. I can’t and don’t worry about it. It’s too good living in the miracle of this life and saying thanks for it!
My 5 Good Things:
1) I didn’t feel the Christmas spirit. It didn’t matter that Thanksgiving was over, the calendar said December and stores were decorated. I didn’t even feel it when the kind man from the neighborhood tree lot hauled our tree into our home. But somewhere between that point and the point when Paul and Amira put the last finishing touches on the tree… I felt it. The colorful lights and the shimmering silver bead garland, the new ornaments and the handmade ornaments and the smell of pine all spun their magic. I was bound by their spell. I’m grateful for the holiday season.
2) My sweet kitten (he’s a cat, but he’s still my kitten) has been dealing with an allergy of unknown origin. It’s been bothering him off and on ever since we moved to SoCal. It caused him to itch so badly that he would lick and bite open wounds into his skin. He wasn’t himself because he was so uncomfortable. It’s been heartbreaking. About a week ago, after saying a prayer to St. Francis, guides and angels for help… I got the intuition to do two small things. Neither of them, in the scope of what we have done and tried, made any real sense. But I tried them anyway. And, tonight, as I type and he sits warm, content and purring on my lap – he doesn’t have a single wound. His fur is growing back and filling in, he plays with toys and is happy. Muta is happy and well. I am so, so grateful!
3) This girl is open hearted love and grace. Most especially when I step out out of her way, I’m overwhelmed and moved by the way she navigates and learns. She teaches me. I’m grateful for her.
4) Nature is generous and beautiful. She fills my soul with knowing and peace, with beauty and paradox. I’m grateful for the depth of healing and inspiration I receive from Nature.
5) Yesterday afternoon, I had promised Amira that we would make gingerbread cookies. As the promised time came, I was suddenly hit with an overwhelming desire to nap. It was consuming. I just wanted to drop my head and let myself drift away. I asked Amira for 15 mins and floated in that near sleep haze. Paul broke through my haze and announced that my time was up. Oh man. Painful. I so didn’t want to make cookies. I wanted to SLEEP. Paul encouraged me to get up. Amira said: “Mama, just get up and you’ll be fine.” And so I did. And I was.
We had such a good, good time making cookies. I was embarrassed that, if left to myself, I would have slept through this experience. I’m grateful for the reminder to wake up and enjoy my loved ones and the experiences that are there for us to play and delight in. Sometimes naps are the just the thing we need… but this time, waking up was it. I’m grateful for waking up!
Alrighty, that’s my five. Except, I’m not done. She’s going to really, really wish I didn’t – but I’m going to tell you a 6th gratitude. This is it. Or rather, this is her. The ChickenBlogger. She’s a gratitude junkie enabler. More mighty, beautiful, inspiring and dear than she’ll ever know… she’s Natalie. I could go on, but that would embarrass her. So I won’t beyond the damage I’ve already done here. I’m grateful for Natalie’s heart and creativity. I’m grateful for her mentoring/enabling ways and her friendship.
What are you grateful for today? Tell me one thing, or five… or as many as you want. I hope you enjoyed sharing in my gratitude hit for the day.1 Comment | Permalink
Yesterday was full of good and interesting weather. As we were heading out of the house to make way to The Bird House for a tamale making party, the sun made a break from the clouds and shone bright through the rain.
I immediately began my search for a rainbow and found it directly behind me.
It was even a double rainbow…
This rainbow made you believe in the pot of gold and want to start running for its end.
This rainbow was one of the brightest I’ve ever seen. The brilliant colors and glow had us exclaiming and making declarations to one another about its beauty.
We took the short drive up to The Bird House and when we arrived… what seemed impossible happened. The colors were brighter and more bold.
Our impending evening of friends and tamale making was pre-blessed by the rain and its rainbow! Up next: Tamales!!2 Comments | Permalink
The skies are grey. These photos are from just before the storm came in. There is a fine, thin mist falling, followed by a squall and then a sun break. Next up, mix up the order and repeat. The gusts knock over the holiday poinsettias and Christmas decorations. It’s a stormy day! I’m happy. If you don’t live in Southern California, the novelty of this is lost. I’m revelling in it while I can. Tomorrow’s forecast is sun.
Stormy weather brings out the side of me that wants to curl up in a comfy chair, with the fire roaring. I want to read a captivating book, or have a favorite pen and journal. I like gazing out the window, watching the wind make playthings out of the leaves. I feel more connected to my creativity and that quiet, steady voice inside that invites and encourages me to fully be me. I feel my aliveness. It’s one of my favorite spaces to be in.
I have happy plans ahead… a tamale making party with friends. I’ve never made tamales. What are you doing today? What is making you happy?
Wishing you a content and joyful Saturday!Leave a Comment | Permalink
I’m having a small love affair with ornamental grass. There’s something I never imagined myself saying. This particular type is widely used, but its commonness hasn’t lessened my fascination for it.
I love how they are a dark maroon and gold color at first glance, and on closer look a rainbow of colors.
I love watching them move and dance in the wind. The fronds, depending on their mood, move in a synchronized dance or personal freestyle.
I love how, depending on how you look at it, the fuzzy fronds look like a either a silky, sleek fox’s tail, or an inching furry caterpillar.
I keep taking pictures trying to capture all the ways I see these grasses. It’s hard to catch using the camera. Our eyes are amazing with how they see the world. I am going to keep trying though. It’s a little love affair after all. I love every minute of it.Leave a Comment | Permalink
A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week.
:: Inspired by ChickenBlog ::
If you’re inspired to do the same, leave a link to your ‘moment’ in the comments, for all to find and enjoy.3 Comments | Permalink
Not-writing begets not-writing. The less I write, the less I have to write about. Writing begets writing. The more I write, the more I have to write about. At least, this this true for me. My creative process requires continuity. This is true for me whether it be writing, photography, or painting. Now that I’m thinking about it, this is true for me spiritually too. Is spirituality creativity? Are they synonymous? If not precisely, then they are closely related.
Today, I grabbed my camera as I walked out the door to go pick up Amira. The sun was already slipping toward the horizon, so I wasn’t certain there would be proper light to capture anything of merit. I ended up taking 20 shots and I’m liking about 12 of them. That’s not a bad ratio. And, this one, I really liked this one. The grass was back lit by the gorgeous golden-orange light of the setting sun. It was so, so worth that impulsive snatch of the camera on my way out the door. It was worth to me just for this one photo. It makes me happy. It fills that certain something in me that makes me more whole… more me.
It’s a good reminder for me to listen more to my impulses and less to my naysaying reasons for why I shouldn’t follow this or that impulse. My creative impulses are frequent and strong. Unfortunately, my reasons for not following them have been stronger. Rather, heeding my reasons are not stronger than my impulses but they are more habitual.
My assignment, and I do choose to accept it, is to flip that habit on its head. I will follow my creative impulses. I will allow my writing, my photography and my painting impulses to flow readily and easily. I’m starting today. This is going to be fun! I’ll let you know how it goes.
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I have a slew photos to share with you. I have this amazing friend, Natalie. She and three of the four of her amazing children took us to a nearby park to picnic and soak up some autumn delights. I had to share some of my delight with you!
I can’t tell you how good it did me to take this in. Amira was glowing too! We knew we missed the sight and feel of fall – we just didn’t know how much!
I couldn’t be happier that the trees here aren’t done yet either… they have more color and splendor to share. We have already made plans to return.
The weather this day was just cool enough that we could wear a scarf and a hat without feeling ridiculous or overcooked. It felt GOOD!
I love the spiky seed casings that these trees create. I love too when they turn dark brown/black and they remind me of a soot sprite tree.
Isn’t this beautiful? The bees certainly loved its sweet smell.
Take a peek at this brilliant cascade of orange berries!
And the Torrey Pines cones were impressive! This photo doesn’t adequately show how large they really are.
I loved the moss growing on this tree trunk…
And this reminded me of a tree Fraggle. Natalie saw an owl… which I rather liked too!
Have I mentioned what an incredible artist my friend Natalie is with patterns, colors, fabrics, and all variety of crafts. Her fall quilt is so beautiful! I should have gotten the fabric on the back in the photo too – perfection! Her creations make me want to dabble in the world of sewing, quilting, knitting, crocheting and so on. I love the richness, beauty and dearness that her works bring to everyday life.
Speaking of… look at these little gnomes that she created. They are beyond adorable! Amira and Maria spent a good time laying them out in the sun… telling their stories and admiring their beautiful attire. And don’t miss the little one in a half walnut shell crib… So sweet!
And these… I adored them! They are New Zealand Tea Tree flowers. After a quick research trip on Google – I discovered manuka honey is made from it. Natalie tells me these aren’t the most impressive specimen… but I am in love.
You can tell, can’t you? Amira and I were in heaven! There is nothing better than time shared with friends in a beautiful place!
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Why struggle to open a door between us when the whole wall is an illusion? – Rumi
There are so many ways that I feel walled in right now. In some situations, I don’t see a closed door that I can’t open… I don’t see a door at all! Now, if you know me, you know I’m not a pessimist. I do work hard to see the possibilities and believe that what is highest and best for my life is both here *right now* and on its way. (Yes, I know that’s a bit of an oxymoron and I do believe in both!) But, push comes to shove and I find myself far too often… discouraged, inspecting, knocking on and resenting that that wall that I see.
The ironic thing is I can see it clearly in my friends. I’m sure you know the feeling. I see the possibility, the beauty and the wonder that my friends have and are. It moves me to see it. And honestly, I’m confused and flabbergasted as to why they can’t see it for themselves. But then, I find it difficult to see for myself and remember that we are all so much alike.
It makes me wonder if I can discover the way to see it more correctly in myself… would it provide a road-map and inspiration for my friends to do the same? What does discovering “the whole wall is an illusion” make possible and create in my life? Will it mean that I will achieve my goals?
My goals, as of right now, are pretty ordinary and simple. I want to make a home business that will provide our family a steady additional income. I want to write, to paint, to sing and encourage and inspire others. I want to achieve strong, functional fitness and wellness… i.e. be right-weighted and able to confidently take hikes, run around, ride bikes, swim and do whatever physical activity that enjoying and playing in life offers. There are lots of other goals I could list… but these are the ones that have given me the most trouble for the longest amount of time. These aren’t extreme goals. I would tell any and all of my friends that they are more than achievable. And yet they have dogged me for years now.
For the sake of doing something different and thereby creating something different… I’m going to take the ‘fake it until you make it’ approach. If I really believed there wasn’t a closed door in my way, much less a wall… what would I do?
First, I am going to get out of my own head, and dismiss my perceived notions of keeping things to myself for the sake of “looking good” or being embarrassed. It’s a giving up of my manufactured self and owning *and loving* myself honestly… and giving others the opportunity to do to the same. If I am seen owning and loving myself authentically, it gives them (you ) permission to do the same. And, in being straight up about who I am (strengths and weaknesses), what I’m up to and where I want to go… I can take the journey with others who want to do the same. It’s definitely not about discovering the wall is an illusion just for myself… it’s about ALL OF US busting through that illusion.
And, just to be a little more clear for myself… it’s not even about achieving my goals (although that’s certainly going to come part and parcel). As I live a life where I see the walls for the mirage that they are… the more my life becomes a natural a source of peace and joy for me. Where I am is perfect because anywhere and everywhere I want to go is an open horizon for me to experience and play in. I think about the hours upon hours that, my daughter, Amira spends storytelling as she plays with her toys. The drama, oh-the-drama!… the ups and downs, the losses and the triumphs… they are all a part of a happy and satisfying storytelling session for her. And, for her, the stories have no limits. The possibilities, permutations, explorations and variations are endless. There are no closed doors and there are no walls, unless *SHE MAKES THEM UP*! That girl of mine… she’s a powerful teacher.
I’m the storyteller of me. I have been from the beginning.
(*cross-posted on my health and wellness blog, Embracing My Health)Leave a Comment | Permalink
This is a spoken word poem by Amira tonight, after hearing an owl hooting, while getting ready for bed:
Why do you hoot at the light of the full moon?
Do you talk to the moon?
Do you whisper to the moon?
Does the moon talk back?
Oh, Mister Owl, why do you talk to the moon?
by Amira Moment
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I have more imperfect perfect to share with you. Quite a bit more, actually.
Pelicans are another of my favorite things about being back on the coast (and I confess, the list is long). They are, at once, awkward and graceful. Come to think of it, they are one of nature’s imperfect perfect, aren’t they? They are our modern day toy-pterodactyls that own the cliff sides and the ocean’s fringed edge. I love watching them soar in group formation and dive into the sea for their catch. Watching them fish shows you the real meaning of whole-hearted commitment to a cause. (Watch this video if you don’t know what I mean.)
The textures on the cliff walls fascinate me. These walls are a results of nature’s patience and whim and, in places, human interference and reinforcement. There are very expensive homes at the top of these walls… so, of course, humans are going to interfere with the natural crumbling and erosion that happens.
Walking the corridor between the ocean’s waves and the towering cliff walls is a magical thing. When I walk, I’m walking in two worlds overlapped. Both worlds are powerful and beautiful. Yet, while the description can be shared, nothing else is. I feel exposed and sheltered. Expansive, yet defined. I think that’s why I often feel the most myself here. I feel safe to be me. My heart responds to it and allows, without that instinctual guard, an openness. I like it. It feels good. Feeling that way helps me hold onto it and bring it with me into the rest of my life’s world. It’s a good practice.
It wasn’t far from here that I saw, instead of a waterfall, a sandfall. It was a rivulet of deep orange-red sand falling down one of the creases in the cliff wall. The wind picked the sand up and carried it away. I dearly wished for my cellphone so I could take a short snippet of video (forgetting that my new fancy camera has video capabilities as well). Watching it carried me back to our visit to Kauai. We went in the late fall and there was a lot of rain (a lot of rain!!). All the rivers and falls ran red with the color of Kauai’s earth. I’ll have to scan a photo or two from that trip and share it with you. It was a striking, beautiful contrast between the lush green foliage and the thick, red, running water. I remember, at one point, other tourists standing near us and commenting how ugly it was and how disappointed they were in the rain that caused it. I’m grateful realizing that, even then, I was able to see the imperfect perfect.
And speaking of grateful, there’s Hank. Hank is our neighbor. He’s the one who got us out of our home and out onto the beach. What a gift he is… and that he gave us. Thank you Hank for such a wonderful afternoon. Amira and I had a perfect perfect time.
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Our neighbor, Hank, invited us to take a walk on the beach with him and, of course!, we said yes! Everything about the day was perfect! The skies were a gorgeous, clear blue. Perfect. The ocean was that rich, deep blue spotted with white-tipped waves. Perfect. The sun was warm. It was almost too warm, except for the off-shore breezes that kept everything… well, perfect!
I took my camera, being prepared to capture all this perfection. In love with the beauty, I snapped away. Portions of me that would be lost otherwise, are always returned to me when I spend time next to the sea. I breathed deeply the fresh air. I enjoyed the meandering and peaceful conversations with Amira and Hank. I exchanged smiles with those who passed by. Perfect!
I got home and dropped my memory card into the laptop slot. WHAT? What I saw in the thumbnails was imperfect. Utterly disappointed, my stomach sank. I despaired the loss of photographic memory of the perfect day. Until that is, I saw these photos.
Then, then I knew, I had imperfect perfect. I’m so happy for experiences like this that remind me not to hang too tightly to ideas and and ideals of perfection. There’s nothing wrong, per se, with perfection. It’s just that it is such an unpredictable, moving and imprecise way way to judge the world. These photos of my beloved girl… are perfect. Well, imperfect perfect. I’m grateful for these reminders.
My heart feels like it almost can’t take it at times like this. Everything from, what I feel like is, an injustice… all reactions to it… and the vitriolic disagreements from different belief camps that follow in the turbulent wake.
I feel irresponsible sometimes because I tend not to stay in the thick of it because it feels like it could pull me under.
I wrote that last night after hearing about the not guilty verdict given George Zimmerman in response to his shooting and killing Trayvon Martin. As I read reactions on Facebook to the verdict, almost all of people in my news feed were shocked and deeply saddened. The diversity of my Facebook friends and acquaintances must be somewhat narrow (at least in this regard) — as I saw almost no one who found justice in the verdict. But there were one or two.
And then there was the arguing back and forth about whether the verdict was wrong or right.
My life’s intention is to have full faith in love, see love and work for and toward love. Each day, I expend my energy to find what works, where love is to be found and how I can nurture love to grow deeper roots and more abundant, rich fruit. I don’t want to put on rose-colored glasses. I don’t want to deceive myself about this world that we live in or live in denial about the way things are. And that said, the waves of emotion, pain, and despair that rolled over me last night and into this morning are unbearable. What I want to do is not click on the articles, social media threads or opinion essays. I don’t want to hurt any more.
However. And it is a very big, show-stopping however. I don’t believe the avoidance of hurting furthers my commitment to love. This where my pain is tempted to pivot to despair. How do I love and BE love in this situation? How do I make a difference in seeing our world turn toward love? The sheer scale of this particular gash in our shared humanity is larger than George Zimmerman and Trayvon Martin. It bleeds fresh today, this old wound with an ugly scar. It has been cut open again.
I’m a healer. Healers sometimes make the well-intentioned but a misdirected attempt at only fixing and stop short of healing. The two acts are nearly identical, but not quite. The origins of the word heal is ‘to make whole‘. The origins of the word fix is ‘to fasten‘. Sometimes fixing is a temporary balm and may be needed on the way to healing. For example, I broke my arm when I was in grade school. I was thrown off the back of a young, wild Mustang named Blue. I shouldn’t have been riding him, but I didn’t know that. The result was my arm broke in 4 places. My grandfather took me to the hospital and the doctors put a cast on it. They fixed it. But did they heal it? No. A cast fixes a broken arm… but it doesn’t heal it. The healing that happens, it happens within.
There is some fixing that needs to happen. There are laws that must be either thrown out or corrected. Important protections must put in place. Education and awareness must become a priority. All this fixes need to happen now!
But healing? How does that begin? I’m not surprised that the first place my mind went when thinking about this was Martin Luther King, Jr. Written while in jail for committing nonviolent civil disobedience during the Montgomery bus boycott, he said:
First, we must develop and maintain the capacity to forgive. He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. It is impossible even to begin the act of loving one’s enemies without the prior acceptance of the necessity, over and over again, of forgiving those who inflict evil and injury upon us. It is also necessary to realize that the forgiving act must always be initiated by the person who has been wronged, the victim of some great hurt, the recipient of some tortuous injustice, the absorber of some terrible act of oppression.
Forgiveness does not mean ignoring what has been done or putting a false label on an evil act. It means, rather, that the evil act no longer remains as a barrier to the relationship. Forgiveness is a catalyst creating the atmosphere necessary for a fresh start and a new beginning. It is the lifting of a burden or the canceling of a debt. The words “I will forgive you, but I’ll never forget what you’ve done” never explain the real nature of forgiveness. Certainly one can never forget, if that means erasing it totally from his mind. But when we forgive, we forget in the sense that the evil deed is no longer a mental block impeding a new relationship. Likewise, we can never say, “I will forgive you, but I won’t have anything further to do with you.” Forgiveness means reconciliation, a coming together again.”
Reconciliation, a coming together again… that’s what happened inside me to my broken bones. It couldn’t have happened without the fixing that the doctors did. I’m grateful that they did the fixing they did – it was imperative that they did that work. There are already many, many people beginning and doing that fixing work in the world. And we MUST fix this. Unfortunately, fixing doesn’t bring about change, harmony, equality and love. It does build the supportive and necessary context for it to happen, but it does not create those qualities. And because it doesn’t, we cannot stop there. We need to heal. We must heal both our own pain and be there, as a part of our community, to love and help others heal too. This is internal work – work that is, at once, both intensely personal and profoundly corporate.
I will roll up my sleeves and do what I can to help fix this. I am doing the internal work of forgiving to begin the miracle of healing. (Forgiving means far more than just forgiving George Zimmerman… it includes our country’s history of these injustices, the culture that has allowed it to happen, myself for being tempted to turn away from the pain and so on.) In doing so, I am returning myself to wholeness and become a part of the transformational power of healing for everyone.
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Even though we weren’t done, MCASD La Jolla kicked us out for something as silly as closing time. Still being early evening, and far from ready to go back home, we made our way down through the neighborhood streets towards La Jolla Cove Beach.
The sun was warm and the breezes mild. We weren’t the only ones who thought this day was a good day to visit La Jolla. While there was a hub-bub, it wasn’t oppressive. I did have to time my photos, or choose my angles carefully to avoid including people in them. For example, there was a small cave between that jutting rock in the foreground and the hanging succulent flowers in the background. There, in that cave, was a small group enjoying that idyllic spot. Had they been friends, I would have happily included them in my photo. Instead, I chose my angle carefully.
The tide was coming in, so a lot of the beaches and rocky terrain was covered by surf. It has been many years since I’ve been to La Jolla. The landscape of the rocks and the beachfront seem different than I remember. I don’t know if it is simply due to the high tide, poor memory (cough, cough… it can’t be that!)… or due to the eroding nature of water on rocky shorelines.
These seagulls had a prime view of everything going on. Amira thought she would join them… until she got to the top and saw the condition of that plateau. Suddenly, she decided it was best left for the birds.
I’ve mentioned, many times, to Paul that I wonder how I didn’t have the eyes to see the beauty in San Diego when I lived here before. While hanging out watching the seals at the Children’s Pool, we met a woman who was on vacation. She grew up in San Diego and then went to college on the east coast. For the past 35 years or so, she’s lived on the east coast, overseas, and in Minneapolis. Recently, her and her husband decided they wanted to move back to San Diego. Apparently he wasn’t able to find a job here and instead found one in the Bay Area. They live there now but fervently wish they were here. I mentioned to her my observation about not being aware of the beauty I was surrounded with when I lived here as a teen, through college and then later in my late-20s. She sighed and said: “that the problem with growing up somewhere… you just don’t see what you have.”
I don’t know if I agree with her totally or not. If I was relying on my own experience alone, I might. However, Amira grew up in the PNW and she saw and knows the beauty she experienced while living there. She sees and is grateful for the beauty she sees here too. That said, she has a kind of awareness that I didn’t have until later on. My intent is that my awareness will continue to expand wherever I am. If my awareness, my eyes for beauty, begins to shrink… I hope those who know and love me will call me on it.
Speaking of Amira… look at her. Look at her over there all by herself. She’s taking in the world, thinking her own thoughts and seeing it all in her own unique way. She’s changed so much since we moved here. In 10 days, Amira and I will have been here one year. In less than a month, she will be finishing up the 3rd grade. She will have finished her first year outside of homeschooling. She takes these changes and challenges with such grace. When I think about who she was when we pulled into town and compare it to who she is now… I’m overwhelmed. My parents are coming to visit us in a couple of weeks. They haven’t seen her since September and I know just how much their heads will spin when they see how she has grown and changed.
I need to write more so I have more facility with words. I want to express just how grateful I am for life and those I share it with. I feel like I’ve used up all the usual words for expressing this the way I want to. I want some new, poetic terms and turn of phrases. I’ll keep practicing but until then, for today, I’ll borrow from Rumi: “Every object, every being, is a jar full of delight.“
and also a poem titled Mindful from Mary Oliver’s Why I Wake Early:
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I see or hear
that more or less
that leaves me
like a needle
in the haystack
It was what I was born for -
to look, to listen,
to lose myself
inside this soft world -
to instruct myself
over and over
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,
the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant -
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,
the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help
but grow wise
with such teachings
as these -
the untrimmable light
of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?
Last weekend, we decided to get out of our 5 mile by 5 mile stomping grounds and head down to La Jolla for the day. Our first stop was what will forever be, in my mind, the La Jolla Contemporary Museum of Art. It is now the Museum of Contemporary Art San Diego. They have two locations, La Jolla and Downtown. (On a different note… Anyone know the thinking or idea behind the ‘X’ logo they are using?)
The museum still seems new to me because I have the museum I went to in college so deeply embedded in my psyche. It’s a lovely museum and its views out over the La Jolla oceanside is incredible. I didn’t take any photos of the view from the museum. But don’t fret, my next post is filled with photos of the gorgeous La Jolla Cove.
On approach to the museum, the first piece we saw was one of Andy Goldsworthy’s cairns. I remember the first time I saw Andy Goldsworthy’s work. It was in the early 90′s. We were sightseeing with my parents, who were visiting Paul and I. We walked into into the Elliot Bay Book Company in Pioneer Square. There on a display table was A Collaboration with Nature. I remember opening the book and then losing myself… time and place vanished. I bought the book.
Immediately after the cairn, we saw The Hammering Man… a smaller version of SAM‘s (a mere 22 ft high compared to Seattle’s 48 ft tall sculpture). It was an interesting feeling seeing such an iconic piece of my Seattle home here.
Here is Amira providing a little art docent introduction to The Hammering Man at 3,110,527 (forgive the crow trying to give his own treatise on the art and what it means to him… he was quite the loudmouth!):
This piece, by Dan Fischer is titled Gerard Richter. It’s a small work. The canvas with the candles is what captivated me. It’s graphite on paper and has incredible detail and realism. I’m always overwhelmed by artists who create such with fine-tuned technique and time-intensive methods. The mood and depth of the candle light in this is amazing!
Because we got a late start, we ran out of time to see all the exhibits showing at the museum. Of the portion we saw, this was one of my favorites. I didn’t catch the title – but the artist is Roxy Paine. It’s a large piece, probably 5 ft by 6ft. Here again, I was reminded of my NW home roots… and dear ones (ahem, Laurel!).
We didn’t get to tour the outdoor sculpture garden but will definitely be back to do that. You can see Nancy Rubins’ Pleasure Point sculpture on the back of the museum. The sunlight, as the day wore on, had that lush, rich and beautiful tone to it. It couldn’t have been prettier.
Paul and I spent quite a few hours at the La Jolla Contemp when we were in college. Something about visiting there last weekend was like coming home. It wasn’t just going to that museum, but also spending time with art. We haven’t done enough of it and it was plain that all three of us really got a lot out of it. I can’t wait to go back and take in more!Leave a Comment | Permalink