As an artist, it’s both frustrating and humbling to constantly be reminded how futile it is to try to beat nature at creating beautiful things. All efforts seem so futile when you look closely at the simplest of things … the patterns on a seashell, the colors of a bird’s feathers, the clouds overhead. I use nature as my teacher and every day is again a reminder there is simply no way to learn these wonders in such a short time. It’s like always being in kindergarten.

I remain always on my knees in appreciation of the wondrous beauty of it all.

If someone or something always gets the last word, let it be Mother Nature. What good and lovely hands to be in, from the beginning to the end.

(featured photo by Catherine Massaro)

“I’m a member of the last generation of American children whose parents, especially mothers, did not worry about us almost constantly .” 

These are words from one of my favorite column writers on parenting, John Rosemond. www.rosemond.com

How I  loved the freedom I had as a child. Especially in the summer when our only requirements were to be home at 6 o’clock sharp for dinner, know where your brother and sister are, and don’t bleed out. Cuts were fine, bruises were fine, anything that required stitches or expensive trips to a doctor were not fine. We survived summers on great big bandaids and hydrogen peroxide. That’s that great stuff that bubbles up when it hits your wound and disinfects whatever evil you fell into. We looked like wild animals by the end of summer, just in time for school to start. Then came haircuts, hard shoes, and a return to schedules and accountability. Yet checking in was still slim. Dinner at 6 sharp NEVER changed, but it was up to us to seek out mom if there was trouble, and that was to be avoided if at all possible. Mostly because she was busy working and expected us to figure it out ourselves – which we did. It made us independent  in behavior and independent thinkers as well.

My mom was there for us though, solid as a rock, both soft and prickly. My independent streak drifted well into high school where I was consistently in trouble as I tested the boundaries of just how far I could go with practicing adulthood. I had many hard landings, including one very memorable expulsion. And just when I thought I had pushed the boundaries way past tolerance for even my father, I found a greeting card on my bed, with my dad’s handwriting on it. My father rarely, if ever, got involved with discipline problems which were my mother’s realm. So it was a surprise, to say the least , that my father had commented on my expulsion.

The picture  on the card was the famous Norman Rockwell painting of the little pig tailed girl, bruised black eye, all disheveled from a schoolyard skirmish, waiting on the bench outside the principals office – she had an impish smirk on her face. The inside of the card read simply,

HANG IN THERE.

Signed…

Love, dad

I still have that card, and still value how few words it took for him to tell me that it was my battle to fight , no matter what form it took, and love would be there to back it up.

Parenting back then was both soft and prickly … just like real life.

Thanks mom & dad.

Many, many years ago, ( when I was in my early 20’s) I took a battery of psychological tests, one of which was to ascertain skills and interests.
My three highest rankings came out like this:

1. officer in the military
2. homemaker
3. artist

My lowest score was nursing.

I was initially mystified by these results. What did these three seemingly unrelated professions have in common? It was explained to me that all three of these loved organizational behaviors. In the military, following organized thinking is very important when large groups of people must follow suit to accomplish a common goal. An officer though? Well, it showed I wanted to be in charge of the goal, leading rather than following.

The homemaker, having been raised in the bra burning era stunned me as well. But here it was again – organizing a well run home, replete with children, is highly organizational. Martha Stewart created an empire on this very premise. ( I love you Martha)

Now to the artist. Artists are lumped into the crazy bin of those living on the edge of madness and poverty. To the uninitiated in the arts, nothing could be further from the truth. The process of printmaking for instance, requires tremendous organizational thought both in the mind as well as the act of printing. Artists are forever trying to figure out the organizational principals of creating ideas that begin in the mind, but end up as a sculpture, a painting, a song.

So back to the happy homemaker. I have always enjoyed my living spaces. Apartment or house, boat or campsite, it was an organizational challenge to both decorate and create a refuge. It should be a happy place, and indeed, anywhere I could set up a ‘home’ environment was a happy place to me. I like to think all my mother’s efforts to teach my sister and I the skills of homemaking contributed greatly in my appreciation of this realm. But as it turns out, it was never the ‘home’ that made me happy, it was the exercise of organizing the space. And as it turns out, organizing space , color, shapes on a canvas was not any different for me than organizing furniture, plants, or rugs in a room. Organizing things settles my mind and helps me make sense of things. So while a home can make you happy, it’s sole purpose should not be ‘happiness’. What does that mean then if we become suddenly ‘unhappy’? Is our house to blame? We cannot perfect our lives by perfecting our homes.
And just as there is organization in nature, we should strive to find that lovely balance of organization within our home to sooth the mind and create that happy place to buffet us from the noisy, complicated world we have created outside our doors.

(featured photograph by Catherine Massaro)

(photography by Catherine Massaro)

I got stalled out big time over the last few weeks.

“Hey…it happens”, says my friend Jay. I rather enjoyed being given permission to have down time and stare down that big rock in my path for a while. By the end of the second week , we had become friends and here I sit, happy to be back in the saddle.
That big rock represents the ‘time out’ we should allow ourselves to muse, ponder, assimilate, reflect and slow down. We are all compelled to push forward, make stuff happen, engage! Sometimes the bigger the rock, the better the reflective time.
I feel relaxed and centered again, rather pleased that I did not get caught up in negative thoughts about what a slacker I was, or that I had lost my creative mojo.

After all, creativity is not on a time clock – nor should it be.

( photograph by Catherine Massaro)

Do you have a map somewhere on your wall? A world map? A map of the country you live in?
I have both, and I look at them often, both to see where I’ve been, and where I’m going next. Maps are for dreamers I think. After all, they are nothing but an abstract creation of a concrete world, and when I am looking at my maps, I’m dreaming about where the next visit, adventure or experience might take me. My map is covered with pushpins and strings that connect and crisscross across the country in a crazy nonsensical pattern that somehow illustrate my love of travel and a certain wanderlust. It illustrates my wide and varied friendships and those I never want out of my life for too long, while it also shows all those I miss and want to see in person again and again. There never seems to be enough time or money to get to all those people and places, but that does not stop me from traveling on.

Maps remind us there is a big world out there that’s ours for the taking. Everyone loves a map, but what good is a map if you don’t go somewhere new, and turn that abstract flat world into a 3 dimensional life experience? Maps are flat, but your life does not have to be that way – take a trip, big or small and give your life some dimension.

(featured image canvas collage SEE AMERICA 1ST by Catherine Massaro)

I wake up every morning eager to be inspired by what life has to offer me. I can do this because I made a conscious decision to live in the question – to embrace uncertainty and change. Uncertainty and change  are the only real constants in our lives anyway. They are the only two things we can always be assured of day in and day out. When I wake up, I know these two things will be my constant companions.

So how do you organize your days around uncertainty? Here’s how – by looking for connections and staying wide-eyed and ever curious about living that day. Decide to spend the day dwelling on the threshold of adventure and see what comes to you rather than chasing down a dream or goal.

It is my contention that your dreams and goals can come to you, simply by changing your intention. 

…and the Buddha said on his deathbed ,

                                                                               BE YE LAMPS UNTO YOURSELVES.

Just returned from a trip back East. Family, friends and business all jumbled into one great experience. It occurred to me that in the past, it was important to ‘shop’ for things to bring back from trips, and while I still love looking at new and different things, now my focus has shifted to sharing what I am seeing and experiencing via my iPhone or camera. I am not alone in this for certain, we are all ‘sharing’ more with this great technology.
Maybe what is happening is a collective movement to invest more in experiences than in things.

What a wonderful world it would be…