7 posts tagged “memories”

"Amidst". Watercolor, ink and pastel, approx. 12"x18":

i like how life has so many smaller journeys withing the larger journey. along with some existential angst i seem to have butted up against, regarding religion and the church (i keep saying i'm done discussing this with myself. obviously not!), there has been a door opened to me. actually, many doors. with letting go of pretenses and expectations (of my own and other's upon me), new spaces within me have opened up. freedom. has this ever happened to you?

my hubby carved out his corner of the art studio, finding our Korg Tritan. electronica and house beats made lucas bounce up and down; he has unbelievable natural rhythm. an old papier mache mask from a distant halloween party hangs on an upainted wall. distant, as in 1989. amber light fills the nook. all four of us crammed into the studio space no bigger than 9X12, with tunes by robyn hitchcock and cocteau twins and sigur ros swirling around us. it was a good feeling. something about small spaces gets me right down to the bone. maybe it is an ancient, genetic and feral need to huddle within a cave, with our small pups nursing and yipping. pastels, watercolors, acrylics and india ink doodles itch around the edges of the workbench. jaz was egging lucas on; he would squeal and lucas would echo him. then the hubby said, "can you picture what it will be like when they are older?"

tonight i tucked jaz into bed, and he started, as usual, "mom, i wanna tell you a story... when i was a little boy...." he is remembering today as if it were tomorrow. i think tucked into that feeling is where the sweetness of memories are being made. sometimes you can just feel it. you know you will remember today.

... this is for my hubster, because when i met you, you were jumping up and down in your living room, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, trying to get the rest of us teenagers to pay attention to the video, "balloon man". now i never seem to tire of mr. hitchcock:
 

we're over our colds, mostly. just a few niggling coughs and sneezes left over. now that we can venture outdoors, it's decided to snow. we've donned our snow-boots, mittens, scarves and all the rest that is repeated like a mantra before going out. jazz-man and papa picked out the fluffiest tree i think i've ever seen. it's just so fat! last night we trimmed it, or should i say, jazz did most of the honors, hence it is rather lopsidedly decorated on one side. i came close to "evening it out" last night after the kids had gone to bed, but i stopped myself, smiling. it's perfectly imperfect.

lucas has an incredible set of six-month pipes; when we watch the lawrence welk show every week, he sings along. it's quite loud. he distends the notes like a miniature opera singer. he is also fond of singing along to mr. roger's songs when i play/sing them at the piano.

i'm getting started on the christmas baking. as i pull out my grandmother's cookbooks, i get teary. it is the anniversary of her passing in a couple of weeks. last year was wrought with a great deal of change and family hardships. this year is astoundingly different. as i stood at the window last night, gazing into a pink, snowy sky, my husband wrapped his arms around me. "it's not like last year," he said, reading my mind. no, it's not, i thought. this time around the smiles come from a very happy place and there is a mostly slow and peaceful pace to how these days unravel themselves. i could get used to this.

here we are. not in person, but almost:

so, "really-deal" was coined by one of my favorite people in the world, sharon, a woman who mentored me when i was in the teaching profession. meaning, "the real scoop", or as in, "let me tell you the truth about...."

i'm not necessarily a fanatic about coupon-clipping, but i am definitely coo coo about finding good deals. even my two year old recites the mantra at Target, "we're going to find reallllllllly good deals". yes. we are. i reply. ways i get good deals are shopping garage sales for that big plastic stuff known as play equipment. it's extremely expensive new and works/looks just as well used. i shop thrift stores for everyday play clothes for jazz, lucas and me. and once in a blue moon i come across some FABU shirt for my working man that is new and name-brand. also, i shop a year or two in advance for the kids. target is especially good for closeouts at the end of season. i use clear gallon-size bags to organize the clothes and use a permanent marker to write the age on the front. the bags are there in my backroom and ready for when they get older. with diapers, i never shop without coupons. ever. i'm able to save around $25 every 2 1/2 weeks on dipes. that's huge for us. how? double a target coupon with a manufacturers coupon, then triple the savings with in-store manager deals. also, if you are still using a physical bank to save money, you aren't making much. i use ING direct online banking, where a savings account currently reaps a whopping 4.5%. their CD's are pretty darn great too. wonderful for starting college funds. 

here are some of my fave places to retain a phat wallet:
http://www.ingdirect.com/osa_google/
http://afullcup.com/upload/cmps_index.php?page=coupon_generator
http://www.fatwallet.com/forums/
www.craigslist.org/  -  yard and garage sales, etc.

don't get me wrong; clipping coupons doesn't cut into my life and i don't stop living just because something costs an extra buck.  i will never compromise for good wine, good chocolate, good beer, good coffee and good cheese. i've chosen the areas where i can save big. in the end, saving over 2K a year and living within our means is something i enjoy tackling. we usually use the savings to save for the kids' futures,
or to make memories traveling...

and memories are invaluable.

on an altogether other note in life,
 
i have lost my religion.

it is difficult and bittersweet to be raised one way, and then choose another path. because that leaves the child-inside-the-adult feeling religiously homeless. and i feel that way some days. the justifications surface. my heart travels back to pentecostal baptisms, hell-fire-and-brimstone sermons, watching an old woman "dance in the spirit". it was real to me then, and it is part of the fabric of me now.

but most days i feel refreshingly free as i carve a new path. i see the world through different eyes and it looks even more beautiful. pragmatism and science have taken up residence in the place once only inhabited by blind faith. lightning bolts have not struck me dead yet for believing in evolution or denying the existence of hell. tho, there is room for much humility in realizing the creative hand which guided this planet to evolve over billions of years and believing we are, every one of us, God's children.

and i don't feel abandoned by God. i would have thought it so, were i to still adhere to my childhood faith. losing my salvation and all that bunk.... instead, i feel closer to God in the humility of realizing that who i am was an incredible billion-year process. there is a space for science and spirituality to coexist.

the ghosts here are mostly friendly, only whispering my memories and gently chiding me for something i can never believe again.

 

this morning, i was inspired by jen to exhibit a novice attempt at quilting... the third one i've made. little by little, i'm getting ready for our second baby to arrive. when jazz was a month from being born, i made a quilt for him; it was one the handful of ways i prepared myself for having a child. when i was done, i felt elated. it was an imperfect quilt, but it was my gift to him.

i've always been a sucker for traditions at christmas, easter, thanksgiving. well, all the holidays, really. partly because it makes me feel like i'm seven again, just to celebrate and be joyful at these times. but now, there are many more complex reasons.

becoming a mommy has deepened my understanding and need for rites and traditions. on one hand, i'm sure there are lots of (boring) anthropological thesis papers out there on this very topic. but since i'm not nearly so organized, i thought i'd jot a few willy-nilly reasons, in no particular order, i find myself drawn to making things like quilts, baking at christmas, cutting out hearts at valentine's day:

-----it's a lot of fun.
-----i cherish the traditions my mother created with me
-----i want jazz-man and his brother (coming soon) to feel giddy at these special times
-----life goes too fast out there, but i can make it special in our home
-----it's a woman's right of passage into motherhood to impart traditions to her children
-----what else are you going to do when the weather is rotten?
-----fine motor skills
-----making things that last
-----creating helps me stay centered and remember who i am
-----it's a kick-in-the-pants to make art alongside little people
-----traditions anchor one's life; you can make something tangible that was once just a feeling inside
-----honoring life is important
-----i learn more about how my child experiences, watching his hands mold and shape little things
-----memories and time together... irreplaceable

lastly, i wish you all a happy valentine's day for you and your lovely friends and family!

childhood never got left behind. sometimes i forget where i came from, but it doesn't let me forget for long. amidst the diapers and bills and moving plans and escrows and driving for groceries and yada yada... amidst it all is a vine of life that encircles me wherever i may be emotionally, physically, age-wise and spiritually. that vine sprouted amongst the roots of fig trees and date palms on the site of an old plantation house when i was two. i am sure of it. that is where all my earliest creative memories began.

my father was a native american jeweler, self-taught. he claims his mayan and apache ancestors huddled around his ear and whispered to him the secret methods of crafting jewelry. i believe him. my mother was a former bible-belt pentacostal, turned hippie, then reformed pentacostal. she was and still is an incredible, untapped artist... she can sketch absolutely anything. my brother was a wildflower. his mind and attention was caught on every little breeze that blew past. i can see him in a memory, his straight, black hair in a bowl cut flying out from his head as he ran willy-nilly along the dicondra grass. my dad's friend, another hippie, Michael, was a stone-cutter in his employ. together, dad and Michael worked methodically and long on every necklace, bracelet and earring on the creaky top floor of that old house. the window to the jewelry studio was streaked with powdery residue that flew off of the grinders and drills. below that window, outside, lay bits of broken turqoise and coral that escaped the machines. and that is where i would often huddle:  toes dug into the dark soil, digging and collecting bits of colorful stone.

this morning, these memories came to me as David Bowie belted out of the Ipod. jazz-man was squealing as loudly as he could, "mama is dancing!!". which i was. ridiculously. picture a five-months-pregnant woman bouncing up and down to Suffragette City. Michael used to love Bowie, Buffalo Springfiel, Seger, Queen, Hendrix, Canned Heat... the tunes pumped out of that studio, accompanied by Michael's stomp-stomping foot.

so, i have to tell myself to not forgot who i am as i grow more and more into motherhood. i have to resist the forces that try to lull me away, want me to forget my identity. i want the jazz-man to know mama. who i really am. i do not want to become a robot. i've seen it happen before. know what i mean?