I've Been Thinking...

       I have been thinking a lot about Joy lately.  I wonder how one finds it with so much anger and fear and distrust in the world.  I wonder if it is even right to feel joy when there is so much suffering and unease.

                If you did not know this about me, I have a crazy guilt button, installed years ago, possibly lives ago (but that’s another discussion).  This little button is easily pushed over things out of my control.  As I mentioned before, in March I was frozen, unable to paint or write or reach out.  I was safe and healthy, but the world was suffering. 

                Hand in hand with my, usually irrational, guilt comes the desire to right the wrong, solve the problem, correct the error, find the answer, make amends, prove myself worthy. 

                I do know that when your life is going well, it makes me happy.  When others are singing, it makes me smile.  When the band is playing, I want to dance.  When a baby is laughing out loud, so am I.  Joy is contagious. 

                Have you ever been in line at a coffee shop and noticed a group of people laughing and talking around a table?  How did it make you feel?  Were you drawn back to their interactions as you moved your attention to the menu, the clock, and others in line with you?  Did you notice other people in line being drawn to the same group?  Maybe an acknowledging smile or comment was passed between you and the guy behind you in regard to the jovial group.  As you walked away with your coffee, did you and the guy behind you have parting words and a smile; “Have a great day!”? Were your spirits lifted?  Joy is contagious.  Think about it, on your way out of the shop, did you hold the door and greet the people just entering?  Did they smile and greet you in kind?  With that interaction, did your spirits rise just a smidge? As you sipped your coffee at your desk, were those feelings recalled?  Maybe you had been nervous about a presentation as you drove away from your house that morning but on your drive to work, you were noticing the sunny day.  When you presented your ideas, you were more confident and well received.  The team was positive, smiling, and interactive.  With that, your level of well being and confidence increased.  By the end of the meeting, you were feeling joy, and everyone in the room was getting a little piece of that joy.  Joy is contagious.

                Most of us have not found ourselves in a public area with a table of joyfully animated people to observe for some time.  We are inundated with a frenzy of fear, anger, hate, injustice, and confusion in the news and on social media. Our brains are fed so much to worry about that they can dig themselves and replay the tapes again and again.  That is why I believe now, more than ever, it is important for us to seek and find our joy.  Joy is contagious and joy is healing. 

                I have shared my search for joy and happiness in times of personal crisis.  I used yoga and meditation routinely, but my brain always circled back to what was wrong.    When I was able to focus on my gratitude, my brain eventually came along.  I would write 10 things I was grateful for every evening before sleeping.  It was hard to find 10 things to write the first evening, my brain just kept reminding me of the negative.  As I persisted, it was easier and easier to come up with things to write.  I was soon turning pages with my lists; my brain rewired and was fueling me with all that was right.  I slept through the nights.  I could think clearly and was soon able to find my path.  As I stepped on the path and knew that was where I wanted to be, I experienced joy.  The further I traveled along the path, the more joy I experienced.  People came into my life and shared their joy.  I stepped into other’s lives and shared my joy. 

                The world is in crisis, which brings many of us into a state of personal crisis.  Some of us may fear for ourselves.  Some of us may fear for loved ones.  “Will they fall ill while working at the hospital or delivering meals?” “ Will they be able to pay their rent?”  “Will I be able to help them?” “ Will he be safe driving home at night?” “ Will someone step up if they cry for help?”  ‘What would I do if…” The rabbit hole is deep, and our brains are ever ready to jump in, look around, and multiply the worries, kind of like, well... rabbits.

                There is science behind the healing power of joy.  There is scripture behind the healing power of joy.  There is personal experience and testimonials behind the healing power of joy.  “But look at the world,” you say, “ how can I possibly find joy in this mess? And how can one person’s joy heal all this?” 

                Remember, the coffee shop experience?  The joy shared, helped to calm your mind; negative worries were replaced with positive energy and clearer thinking.  Your presentation was a slam-dunk of success and joy in the room.  You left the coffee shop feeling better and everyone left your meeting feeling better.  Think of my experience: Once I could focus on something for which I was grateful, the more I seemed to have to be grateful for.  Acknowledging my gratitude filled my heart with joy.  My mind calmed and I was able to think clearly.  I was able to forgive.  I was able to act.  I was able to heal. I was able to identify what brought me joy.  I was able to touch other’s lives and share my joy, which, I hope helped with their presentation, or healing or finding the answer....   

                In this time of turmoil and worry, if we can each disengage our guilt buttons, give ourselves the chance to be grateful, we can experience joy, think more clearly, find answers, help others, grow our joy, and spread our joy so other’s may find joy, and clearer thinking, and answers, and, in turn, spread their joy…  Joy is contagious. 

Joy and gratitude,
Bella

Did You Get Your Invitation

               It has tipped in and out of triple digits here all week.  As much as I love summer weather, it is always a crazy adjustment when it gets that hot.  Do we use the air conditioner, do we hold out?  Why that decision is such a struggle, I do not know.   But, I am not here to discuss that.  I awakened this morning to rain and thunder and lightning. I threw open the windows to let the freshness roll through the house, I looked out as the flowers seemed to dance joyfully in the rain.  There is no better music than a lovely Spring rain. 

   I am lingering in the sun room with a second cup of coffee.  The power is out, the rain is falling and my heart is full.  I am filled with such gratitude and joy for this gift of one more Spring rain before summer, the opportunity to just be… dry, safe, refreshed and hopeful.  My heart is dancing with the flowers.  As I sit and sip, and breathe, I think of all I have to celebrate in this crazy, busy, pandemic skewed life.  I wonder when we will see each other again.  I wonder why I haven’t written. I wonder how you are doing and hope that you have weathered this time unscathed. 

       I found myself frozen and unable to step into my studio for the first six weeks of our state’s stay at home order.  Was it guilt for having potential joy when others were suffering?  Was I lost without social connections?  Was I frightened, helpless and feeling the pain of the world?   Yes, yes and yes.  I could not put a joyful twist on this.  I was out of my league. 

I continued to work in health care, of course.  At home, I cleaned, I cooked, I meditated, and, no doubt, tortured Rick (the provider of love and support).  I thought I should reach out, see how you were, but what did I have to offer?  So, I did not.  I worked.  I cleaned.  I cooked.  I meditated.

     Then one day a few weeks into Spring on the calendar, the sun came out, bringing with it hope, joy and renewal.  The flowers popped out with that little beckoning and an invitation from Mother Nature. “Come out and play, this will pass, join the party.  Come and play, dance with the flowers, sing with the birds, and be delighted.”  So, I did.  I breathed in the fresh air and was filled with hope.  I was able to paint, plan and look to the future without fear.   

  I still cannot have that party, do lunch with my friends or take that trip to see those far but dear.  I know those days will come.  We will once again be able to play and laugh together, share how we weathered the storm, and simply breathe.  For today, I hope you can accept the invitation: step outside, breathe the air and feel the joy and hope of a Spring day.

With love and gratitude,

Bella

True Confessions and an Invitation

                I can’t say that anyone but me is keeping score.  Have you noticed that I’ve been dropping off the radar a bit more than is my norm (if I have a norm)? My absence from my blog and social media seems to have gradually increased over the last several months. So, today, I’ve decided to confess.

                It has been almost two years since my first blog and public commitment to leaving health care and living joyfully through my art. What a wonderful time it has been! I have been overwhelmed and overjoyed with the support that you’ve provided.  I have made new friends, laughed, cried and grown in so many ways.

                It was in the cold of February that I was asked to step back into health care. It had happened before, and I’d always declined. But this was somehow different. There was something close to my heart, people I cared about, and a worthy mission in the community; it was awkward, emotional, frightening, and  riddled with things long buried. (Can I get an ugh?)  It threatened to destroy what I had worked for the last year and a half.  I wanted to say, “No,” but I didn’t.

                Over the last several months I have tread cautiously on this tight rope that I walk.  Ghosts have been faced, tears have been shed, boundaries set, and new strength and joys found.

I had not shared with many, my return to health care, due to my fear of becoming The Nurse Formerly Known as Bella. Today I feel safe saying that I have found my balance. I know that I can see my mission in the world of health care to fruition and still work joyfully in my world of art. Joie de Vie Art & Word continues! (Our website remains a bit behind but, if through social media, you see something you desire and it is not on our site, please speak up. I will make it happen.)

                Thank you to all who joined me at my Open Studio last month. Old friends and new friends, you made it a sheer delight! You may hear from me less often, but I will be in my studio creating and, sharing my joy as I can: here, on Facebook and Instagram, and throughout the community every opportunity I get.

                “Where’s the invitation?” you ask.

              With the holidays just ahead,  I’m thrilled to invite you to a few events. Please mark your calendar, grab your friends and join me at one or all.

Holiday Vintage and Artisan Faire

(a fund raiser for local high school scholarships)

Saturday November 16

3:00pm - 7:00 pm

Chico Elks Lodge- Manzanita Place

Tickets at Omega nu.net

Christmas Preview in Downtown Chico

I’ll be at A Beautiful Life Furnishings

250 E 1st Street

4:00pm - 8:00pm

The Second Annual

Holiday Happy Hour at the Studio

Thursday, December 5

4:00pm to 7:00pm

788 Silverado Estates Court

Chico

Sun Salutation in the Thunder

I awakened to the rain outside my open door, the sky was pre-dawn darkness and the rain played a gentle tune as it fell to earth. A gentle and refreshing song, a song filled with promises of clean air, full streams, tall trees, dancing flowers, singing birds and life, and love and joy.

I arose , walked to my mat and greeted the new day. Sun Salutations in the rain. Lightening filled the sky and room with sudden brightness. A celestial timpani filled the air. I breathed in the sweet clean air and exhaled any worry. The rain played its joyful song of transition. Autumn whispered, “I am here.”

*******************

I knew that I was ready for the season’s change when that first rainy morning in September filled me with joy. Autumn offers so much beauty, fun and relief from Summer’s heat. Even my flowers appreciate the change. They seem to burst forth with larger blossoms and spread their leaves and branches with delight, thriving in the cooler warmth before the cold.

I’ve noticed that I seem to fall off the grid a bit in Summer and I thank you for your patience. I’ve no good explanation, it just seems to happen. I’m no hermit, mind you. I mess in the garden, I play in the water, read books, take little trips, welcome family and friends; all the while thinking I should be getting a bit more accomplished. Work does continue in my studio; I paint, I write, I stitch, and plot ideas of future projects. Mostly, I want to go outside and play or lazily enjoy some artful daydreams. Summer delights my inner child and she cannot not resist.

Autumn seems to bring me back to the studio with great passion. Days are no longer endless; the time of procrastination has passed. I have deadlines and commitments, and am delighted to have them. The opportunities to share my art are abundant and I look forward to each with deep gratitude.

So, please mark your calendars:

Art & Wine Walk, (downtown Chico):: Friday October 4th from 5 to 8 pm

you can see my art at Urban Couture, 212 main Street

(I will be at my brother’s wedding but there is a special guest standing in, so fun is sure to be had.)

***

CAC Open Studios Art Tour :

My studio will be open October 19 and 20 from 10am to 5pm

Studio #22 in the tour guide

***

I will share more dates as I schedule. The pleasure of sharing art, stories and laughter with you is a gift that I treasure and another reason that I love Fall.

Love and Gratitude

Bella

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Hope in Paradise

                Until recently, I had not been to Paradise CA since the devastating Camp Fire.  It’s been nearly 9 months and many others have been there; whether they had lost their homes, businesses, loved ones; or had been spared such losses, provided food and water to displaced pets and wild life, cleaned properties, painted murals, or were compelled to see the site of one of the biggest and most devastating wild fires in history.

                I could not go.  Was it a sacred place I dare not tread or did I feel I’d be judged as the rubbernecker at a traffic accident?  Did I need an invitation from someone closer or was I simply afraid it would be too painful?

                Whatever kept me from going was set aside last Saturday; I had received my invitation.   I was going to meet the owner of a boutique that had reopened its doors in downtown Paradise.  I imagined we might meet in Chico for lunch or coffee, or I’d serve her wine at my studio.  When the phone call was over, she had invited me to her shop to show her my wares.  So, Saturday morning I gathered my goods, printed my prices, put on my big girl pants and climbed in my car.

                The drive up the Skyway began as I remembered: some speeders, some dawdlers, and others just driving as posted.  As I drew closer to the town there were signs: billboards and banners of Paradise Strong, Rebuilding Paradise and Camp Fire Attorneys.  There were burned trees, burnt buildings, missing buildings and landmarks… other signs.  In town there were workers in hard hats, heavy equipment, empty buildings, buildingless slabs, sparkling storefront windows, and “Open for Business” signs.  It was a stirring juxtaposition of devastation and hope. 

                My emotions whirled as I parked on the street near Bobbi’s Boutique.  There I was, in Paradise for the first time since the fire and about to call on a potential client; no time for sorting feelings, she was expecting me.

                 I was greeted with warmth and a smile.  The last of a congregation of shoppers was just going out the door.  The shop was fresh and clean, and offered a wonderful array of temptation.  (I can still hear a little blue purse calling my name.)  The owner was friendly, professional and a joy to speak with.  She shared a bit of her story, plans for the future, and her absolutely positive outlook on life, Paradise and its rebuilding.  Where many might see loss and sadness, she had a vision of hope and renewal.

                When I returned to my car,  I did not explore the town to see more or test my senses. I drove back down the Skyway, heart full and hopeful for those picking up the pieces, those rebuilding, those saying goodbye, those planting new roots and those in the air, undecided of just where to land. 

Thanks!

I was recently chatting with a friend about the effects of gratitude.  I’m sure we’ve all experienced it.  Say you’ve had a completely stressful week at work, you just realized that you forgot to stick a bill payment in the mail and the neighbor’s dog got into your back yard and tore up a flower bed.  Ugh!  Just before your head explodes, a friend drops by with a plate of brownies and returns the dress she had borrowed.  Your stress level lowers, just enough that the head explosion is averted.  That’s gratitude at work.  You thank your friend, give her a hug and your stress level drops, a bit lower. After a walk to the mailbox you notice how nice the evening is and venture into the yard to attempt garden repairs.  As you feel the earth between your fingers you see your beautiful flowers and realize that the dog had scratched around, maybe rolled just a bit, but most plants were intact and some of the weeds you’d been meaning to pull were now dealt with.  You chuckle, pull the few remaining weeds and whisper sweet little bits of gratitude, “I’m so thankful you weren’t hurt!  I guess I should thank Rover for digging up these weeds...”.  With each little thought, the stress slips from your body and your mood lifts.  That’s gratitude working.

There have been many studies done on the power of gratitude including Harvard’s Gratitude Case Study and Berkeley’s Expanding the Science and Practice of Gratitude.  Most, I believe, conclude that conscious use of gratitude can decrease one’s stress, improve one’s physical health, level of happiness and life satisfaction.

My friend had just started an exercise in her life, hoping to decrease her stress and find more happiness.  She had heard about it on a talk show.  My friend was starting each day by taking a moment to write three things that she was grateful for.  3 things, 6 things, 20 things or 1 thing; the beginning of the day, the end of the day, once a week... you will find many versions of the same idea should you Google exercises of gratitude. 

 Myself, I am a believer in starting and ending each day with thoughts of gratitude, written, spoken aloud or quietly listed in my thoughts.  I am a believer in expressing my gratitude to others, from the barista, to my hairdresser, to my husband, to my children, to the woman that held the door for me or the person that liked my art or my shoes or was kind in a difficult situation.  The more we express our gratitude, the more we realize that we have, to be thankful for.  I am a believer in gratitude leading to joy. 

I know that when life seems at its worst, illness, loss, over-commitment, it can be a bit difficult to think of what you are grateful for.  Your brain happily feeds you the things that are wrong, the problems it can work on, the things you might fix or want to fix.  Your brain lives to work on things, solve problems and in many of us, worry just a bit.  So, when you are at your wits end it is truly challenging to think of one thing you are thankful for. You might start to write: “I am thankful for my home,” and your brain gives you a list of neglected chores, the loud neighbors and the cost of the rent.  You refocus and start to write: “I am thankful for my good health,” when your brain reminds you of the headache you have, the fact that you haven’t been to the gym in two weeks and the woman down the street is a dying of cancer.  You shake it off, notice your cat sleeping on the foot of the bed, and write, “ I am thankful for my cat,” then, wait for it... nothing.  So, you write, “I am thankful that my cat likes to sleep on the foot of my bed.”  “I am thankful for the quilt on my bed  that was my grandmothers.” “ I am thankful for my grandmother.” “I am thankful for my family,” and suddenly, your brain chimes in “Well your cousin Bob is kind of a jerk.”

My point, when you  first start practicing gratitude you are retraining your brain.  As with any exercise, the more you do it, the easier it becomes and the more you can do it.  Start out able to do one push up, with practice you work up to 3, then 10, then 50 and 100.

It was not two years ago that practicing gratitude helped to change my life.  I had lost my job of many years and was shocked, hurt, angry and scared.  My brain was working overtime, there was a whole life to be fixed.  “Sell the house, get a job, get even, have a good cry, do yoga, tell the world, hold your tongue, hate, forgive, pity, love, breathe, forgive, think, think… there is an answer if I just could think of it.”  Daily, hourly, minute by minute it went on.  Running calmed my mind while I ran.  Yoga calmed my mind while I was on the mat. My brain was always right there trying to make things better, figure out why things happened and what should be done.  

One day I read that writing 10 things that you are grateful for at the end of each day could change your life.  Really?  Hmm... I can do that, I thought.  Not so easy.  Note pad and pen on the nightstand, showered and comfy (as I could be) I would sit on my bed, take pen and paper in hand and write, at least try to write.  Pen to paper, I cried, I thought, I cried, I wrote, I forced myself to get to 10 things every night.  It was not easy with my brain throwing up painful memories and trying to redirect me to the issues at hand. But each night it got just a bit easier.  I wrote ten things, oops, that was twelve, then fifteen and then I was turning the page.  I found my sleep easier, my smile relaxed, my worries lessened, ideas were hatched, and decisions were  made; my heart filled with joy and Joie de Vie Art & Word was born.  My path was set, and I was grateful.

I am a believer in the positive power that gratitude can have on our lives.  I am thankful for every day and the opportunities that it holds.  I am thankful for the wonderful people that have welcomed me into their lives.  I am thankful for friends, family, the sun in the sky and the flowers that are blooming.  I am thankful for every new day and every new project.  

Speaking of new projects, I would love to hear some things that you are thankful for.    Please jot them below in comments.  Share this post with friends that they might share their thoughts of gratitude.  

Thank you for reading, thank you for responding and thank you for the joy that you bring!

Love and gratitude,

Bella

Dream Home

A few years ago Rick and I decided to look for a larger home. Our home was cute and comfortable but a bit small for our life.  So, the search began.

Our realtor first showed us a house closer to my place of work and in a lovely neighborhood. It was a much roomier house than ours; there was an office for Rick, a studio for me, a large sunny yard and a pool, but it wasn’t perfect, there was much to be done. With our crazy schedules and skill-sets I didn’t think it was right for us, so we kept looking.

As we looked at other potential homes, some were brighter and shinier, some bigger, some smaller, my mind would always go back to the first house we saw. Have I mentioned the tree The front yard had a most lovely tree. It made me pause as I approached and left the house. It drew me back to the house over, and over again. I drove by it and looked from my car each day on my way to and from the office. I had our realtor take me back through, sometimes with Rick and sometimes with a friend.  Each time I passed the tree my heart was filled.

I could list everything that wasn’t right: hedges, floors, cabinets... None of it mattered; there was that tree... When I looked at the tree I knew We had found our new home..

New floors and some of the painting took place before we moved in. Furniture that fit the house was purchased. Art was hung, plants were placed and little by little we settled in.

I recall one evening, As we relaxed in our new home,, Rick asked how I liked being in my dream home. Now, I am a Pisces, a romantic dreamer and a people pleaser, who would never intentionally hurt a soul. So, where that literal minded imp that responded came from was a total mystery. I explained how I did love our new home, but a dream home was something much more:  newly built, bright and shiny, the castle on the hill, the glass house on a warm ocean beach... need I go on? The deed was done. Thank goodness for true love and a good sense of humor. I doubt that I shall ever here the end of the condolences for having to settle for less than my dream house.

…

Spring forward to last Friday. I was in the bedroom getting ready to meet a friend for dinner. Rick was rehearsing with friends for an upcoming show;  their voices and laughter floated down the hall.  As I walked to the front door I simply had to pause. There was Rick with his saxophone, surrounded by friends and making music. I knew in that moment that this was it;  a home filled with art, music, laughter and love truly is my dream home.  I walked to the car,  paused by the tree and smiled.

Joy and Gratitude,

Bella

It's Here!

Spring is here, if not quite on the calendar, it is here. The skies are bluer, the sun shines warmer, the trees are beginning to burst into bloom and the robin I’ve been watching in my yard for weeks, looks at me with a little robin smile and winks.

I’m sure I’ve mentioned my love of Spring, I cannot help myself, it fills me with such energy and joy. I want to dance down the street singing some silly Spring song so others will look up and share in the joy of the season. I want to till the soil, plant the crops, sing with the birds, buzz with the bees and take the time to smell the roses. I want to dance and hike… no, ramble through the countryside, write poetry ‘neath a tree, soak up the sunshine and maybe save a little in a bottle, that I may pull it out one cold day in the deep of winter.

Spring is filled with hope and new beginnings. Babies are born, couples are joined, blossoms are visited by the bees, and the cycle of life continues. Tulips push through frozen ground and the sun smiles with pleasure as it plays with the showers that fall, making prisms of color dance ‘cross the sky.

Spring is a celebration! It’s Mother Nature’s annual party and we’re all invited. It’s an open house, come and go as you will, but don’t miss it. There will be music and flowers, dancing in the sunshine and under the stars. So get up from that desk, put on that dress, and step outside; it is the place to be. Bring an old friend or make a new friend. Go ahead, dance, laugh out loud, and dream your dreams; anything is possible. Spring is here!

Joy and gratitude

Bella

The Gift

                Yesterday was my birthday. The sun was shining, and I seized the day to simply play outside. I hung out in my yard with some Towhees and Robbins and squirrels.  All of us especially love the wonderful tree in the front for its many offerings: beauty, shade, seeds, no doubt insects, safe harbor and a grand view for those who venture to the top. I sauntered through the neighborhood and in the afternoon wandered downtown to touch bases with some friends and peek into the shops.

                Did you know that shopping is a pretty-fun sport in my book of games?  You may score the perfect pair of shoes, that little something missing from the kitchen, or that gift you’re going to need next month. You may not buy a thing, but you will always walk away with something (no, not hidden in your coat!);  a hug from an old friend, a smile from a stranger, the kindness of someone holding the door, or a chance to show kindness to others.

                An aside: if you haven’t warmed up before hitting town and go in stiff, cold, and moody, you may walk away with a spray of mud from a passing car, someone cutting in front of you in line, or the guy with the invisible companion spatting insults as you walk by.  As with anything in life, it is what you make it.

                Now, I might be typing in the comfiest new jeans ever found on a whim, but that was not my take away. (Yeh, yeh... not my big take away).  As I wandered through the shops I came upon a woman, working at a counter.  We had first met a month or so after the Camp Fire.  She is an artist and lost her home and her studio in the fire. She is young, from my perspective, and has been challenged with residual effects from a stroke.  One would not realize any of these things about her. She simply seems to be a source of kindness and loving energy.  Her name is Jessie, the same as one of my favorite and inspirational aunts (another time).  When we first met, Jessie shared her story and the fact that she was collecting keys from people who had lost their homes and property in the fire. Her plan: to build a phoenix rising from the ruins for her town. I promised to tell everyone I knew that might have Paradise keys to share.

                Spring forward to a sunny cold day in February,  say… yesterday. There she was behind the counter exactly where we had first met, wearing her same warm smile and greeting me as I entered the store. I asked about the phoenix, and Jessie excitedly shared that she was 25% of the way to fruition.  She told me the phenomenal number of keys she had received and, since I did not retain that figure, let’s just say it must have been close to one hundred million billion.  As the phoenix evolves, not only is Jessie working her day job, she is creating a huge art project for a March show, supporting our LGBT community.  But that’s not all, oh no …  Jessie drives a truck, pulling a trailer filled with portable walls and supplies for painting murals with the children of the Paradise schools.  The program’s name is “Art on Wheels,” and Jessie’s calendar is filled with days from now into June, where she will be driving her trailer to meet the children so they may paint murals for their schools. When the phoenix rises, and the schools rebuild and reopen, the murals will be placed in their forever homes. What a gift!  Did I mention Jessie plays violin?

                Yesterday was my birthday.  The sun was shining, and I seized the day…

Joy and Gratitude,

Bella

Jessie playing the Birthday Song.

Oh, the Joy!

            Have you ever had a favorite pair of jeans?  A pair of jeans that you could wear everyday, if you thought no one would notice.  A pair of jeans soft and worn from the years?  A pair of jeans that you would mend or patch a hole just to keep them in the wardrobe?

            I am a keeper of favorite things.  I do love the idea of passing things along, that they may bring comfort or joy to whomever awaits.  But a favorite pitcher, a beautiful bowl, a cuddly sweater or pair of jeans may make the cut of joy season after season. 

            I recently said goodbye to a pair of jeans that were probably 15 years old.  They carried with them memories of the fun day with a dear friend when I bought them.  I will not go into the details of our break up, my jeans and I, but thank goodness for long shirttails and good friends.  We’d had a good run.  It was time to let go.  No mending, no patching things up, just a clean break, “Thanks, you’ve been great… Goodbye.”

            Then there is the pair of jeans which I have just patched for the sixth time.  There is no memory of a special trip, no price tag that states, “must wear 600 times to break even,” no special design or stitching.  A basic jean from a basic catalogue.  What makes me patch these jeans yet again?  Why have I held them so dearly and long?  Was there a joy attached from the seamstress who sang softly as her skilled hands stitched on the pockets and secured the seams?   Was the cotton from a field where the sun shone warmly, the water was plenty and the farmer grateful for a bountiful crop?  Was there a joy sent from someone’s first day on their first job packing the jeans and sending them my way?  I’ll never know but I will probably patch them again before we are through.

            Everything in this life has energy.  We share energy with people and things that we encounter, no matter how briefly.  If they are cold and prickly, we may withdraw.  If they are smooth, warm and beautiful to behold, our spirits may be lifted.  Our response to the energy from the encounter, be it joyful, woeful, angry or grateful, will reverberate and morph as we encounter others.  Throughout our lives we are the cold and prickly or the warm and beautiful.  When we are joyful all those around us may share in that joy.  If we are sad and angry we may affect the world in the same way. 

            I believe, like Tony’s cologne (yet another story), our feelings and behaviors will resonate in the environment and linger after we are gone.  If we leave a room angry, people entering after us may feel uneasy.  If we have shared laughter and loving words, when we leave, those who follow may sense their spirits lifting. 

            I will never know what these jeans experienced before arriving on my doorstep, but I am grateful for the years of simple joy and comfort they have provided.  Like my jeans, I want to resonate a simple joy, comfort and acceptance for all that I may encounter.  I know that I will feel pain, sadness and disappointment at times, that comes with this life.  It fills my heart to realize that the joy and gratitude I feel as I create here in my studio, is imbedded in each creation and will resonate, I hope, for those it may encounter for many years to come.

Joy and gratitude,

Bella

Thoughts from my Winter Studio

     I believe it was sometime in November that my studio became a very disorganized storage unit.

     Welcome a friend displaced by the fire: empty the guest room closet into the studio closet. (You know the closet I speak of.  Yes, the luggage just sat in the middle of the room.) I was blessed to participate in several pop-up markets, each a success and joyful meeting of friends old and new.  With each market, another layer of disorganization slipped into my studio.

      Suddenly, the holidays were here, “Make room for the tree!”

     "Just put that chair in here.”

     "Now where did I put that? Hmm... Have you seen...? “

     Joyfully the holidays unfolded.  Family and friends came to visit, celebrations were merry, and the yellow tape across the studio entrance was strictly abided.  I do believe all the packages that had been hidden in the studio, found their way under the tree and into the hands of their intended.   The ball dropped, songs were sung, dances were danced, kisses were shared and another year came to a close.

      Now it is the new year and  I am writing to you from my studio.  It is here you can find me, working and watching the falling rain.  As I watch, I give thanks for the memories of the year gone by and look joyfully to the future.  As I watch, I celebrate this Winter with its rain in the valleys and its snow in the mountains.  I give thanks for each day as I work in my studio.  It is here you can find me, in my wooly knit hat and sweater, watching the rain and celebrating while dreaming and painting of warmer days. 

As you read this, I hope you warm and safe from the storm.  May your year be filled with joy and wonder; and your biggest worry, the bunny in the garden.

Isabella Stewart

01/20/2018

Before you go, take a look at the pictures in the side bar. You can see a bit of what I’ve been up to since back in the studio. Stay tuned for Spring has not yet sprung..

Tough Question

              Recently a friend asked me how I was doing in retirement. I normally smile thoughtfully and respond, “It’s great!” any time the question arises. But I am never comfortable with my answer; it never feels quite honest.

             I worry that I left my job before I had planned on “retiring.” There was to be a party, a trip to parts unknown, doing things I love, more time with family, quality time with Rick, and a plan… (we may be on to something here, a plan…). I love spontaneity and living in the moment, but I realize that I like to be in control of my life and unplanned retirement was me being completely out of control.  So, when my friend asked, she asked with some specificity that did not quite allow for, “it’s great!”,” to be my answer.

            I am not sure what I actually told her. I’m certain it was not eloquent or enlightening, but the question has really given me pause and time for reflection.

            It was one year ago this month,  that I posted my first blog. As I look back on the year my heart is filled with joy and gratitude. I have learned so much, made such wonderful new friends and truly strengthened some old and dear friendships. I have learned to follow my heart, which is not, I’ve found, the road most traveled; it is bumpy and beautiful and not on the map. My life is the party.  My life is traveling to parts unknown.  It is a house filled with music, conversation, meditation, art and love. I celebrate my marriage, my family and the time we have together. I celebrate my friendships old and new. I celebrate my art and the joy that it brings.  I plan to live each day joyfully learning, sharing, creating and giving thanks for this wonderful life.

            Now when you ask me, “How’s retirement?” my answer will honestly be, “It’s great!”

Love and joy,

Bella

Breathe In, Breathe Out (and if you’re in California, wear a mask)

            I sit at the keyboard waiting for a joyful message to flow through these fingers. I sit in my studio in my safe and warm house and am deeply thankful. Yet, my heart breaks.

            There is change in the air and it is not the crisp, cold of November. The air is heavy with smoke and the heartache of a town asunder and populations displaced.  I feel helpless each time I see the news, glance at social media, look out the window, open the door, go to the market or talk with friends.  It is a problem so close that I can touch it and so huge that I can’t fix it.  My donations just don’t seem enough; not money, not clothing, not food, not bedding, not even a bed. Yet I continue.

            I am not alone. There is joy in a community that has opened its arms to welcome and assist so many who have been displaced. There is joy in the hopeful, the kind, the strong, and the caring.

            As I write the Camp Fire is 4O% contained. There is rain predicted for Thanksgiving.  Fire fighters have come from around the globe to battle this blaze. Thousands of prayers have been offered for their success.   Meals are provided, pets are cared for, loved ones are located…   All those able, reach out and assist.   People talk of rebuilding.  There is hope for the future.  Together, love and humanity can overcome adversity and devastation.  My heart is filled. 

            I sit at the keyboard and write.  In hope, there is great joy.

Sending love - Isabella

Come Out and Play

            There is a coolness in the air, golden hues in the trees and a joy on children’s faces as they run through falling leaves.  Summer has slipped into autumn.  The days are shorter, the nights are cool, crops are harvested, parties are planned, there is soup on the stove, bread in the oven, pie on the sill and smiles on the faces of passers-by.

            There is a promise of plenty: rain to fill the streams, nuts, grains and fruit to fill the pantry.  There is a promise of time: time with family, time with friends, time to pause and give thanks, time to enjoy the beauty that surrounds us before the cold and bare of winter.

            Squirrels are busily burying nuts and lining their nests.  Bears are foraging and shopping for caves.  Turtles are slowing from their warm summer pace, birds are flying south, and flowers and trees are sending their seeds to find new homes before the sleep of winter.  Change is in the air.

            Autumn is, to me, an invitation.  I sit at my desk as a branch taps the sill, “Can you come out and play?”  It seems a perfect chance to take a run, walk through the park or through the town, meet a friend for lunch, ride my bike, shuffle through leaves, or simply be, with the wind in my hair and the sun on my face.  Outside, the wind swirls the leaves through the sunlight; red and gold, green and brown, light and shade.  There is great joy in the breeze.  “It is autumn.  Come out and play.”

Isabella Stewart



Zen and the Art of Coffee Brewing

                It was several months ago that a friend was in search of a new coffee maker.  She’d had the brewer that used individual pods to make a perfect cup one cup at a time.   I shared with her the joy that my French press had given me for years.  It is simple, safe for the environment, and takes up no space on my counter when not in use.  The coffee grounds go into the compost and all is right with the world.

                I do so love when someone embraces my approach to anything.  Of course, this was not the case.  My friend warned me that use of my French press could be killing me.  Seriously?

                Off to Google land I went to read about studies that showed drinking 7 or more cups of French press coffee a day could lead to health issues; all due to the poor filtration of the press.  Hmm…  I followed the article with a search for the perfect coffee maker.  Low and behold, coffee brewed through a filtered cone was the purest.  Bachelor coffee, that’s how I’ve always referred to it.  But, of course, there was a brand above the rest.  The cone filter system that could brew whole pots of coffee and not simply one at a time as in true bachelor coffee.  Interesting.

                I shared my findings with my friend then justified my use of the press because I never consumed 7 cups of coffee in a day.  I was safe, and my beloved French press remained.

                As fate would have it, one morning, weeks later, my French press broke.  I was crestfallen.  Rick, provider of love, support and Aztec Mochas (yes Leo, on fire, but that’s another story) rushed to the coffee shop.  My hero.

                Thus, my personal coffee maker mission began.  I remembered the filtered cone coffee maker and consulted google one last time.  Then it was off to the market.  There on the table was a French press, exactly the style of my recently departed.  As I held it tenderly, I noticed on the same table, a very cool looking pot, the top in the shape of a cone.  One would have to buy filters separately, but they were conveniently on the same display.  I’m not sure how long I stood at that table.  In the end, I apologized to the French press, “we had a good run,” and walked away with my shiny new cone filtered coffee pot. 

                The next morning, after reading the instructions thoroughly, it was time.  It was rather entertaining making the giant square filter into the perfect cone shape for my pot.  I ground my coffee beans but before I added them to the filter,  I poured a bit of just-off-boiling water through to warm the pot. (They thought of everything when writing the instructions.)  After discarding the water, I measured my ground coffee and placed it into the filter.  (Okay, I didn’t weigh the beans, but I did follow the rest of the instructions.)

                Coffee in filter, just-of- boiling water in hand, I poured, in a circular motion, just enough water to wet each little ground, then watched.  When the water had filtered through , I counted to thirty and watched shiny bubbles form and pop atop the moist grounds, releasing some, no doubt, unsettling gasses.  As I watched I threw in some thoughts of gratitude, they fit nicely.  Then I began to pour my just-off-boiling water, carefully, in a circular motion atop the grounds, keeping the level well below the top of the pot.  I watched as it dripped through to the pot.  I waited patiently as room was created for more circularly poured water.  I did not time it but did realize that the French press required much less of my attention.  Thoughts of things I would do while coffee brewed in the press floated through my mind.  I let them go.  I breathed, I focused, I poured, I waited, I breathed in, I breathed out and the thoughts floated through.  “With the press I could have dusted the floor, with the press I could have brought in the paper, with the press I could fed the rabbit…”  the thoughts floated through. 

                Eventually it was ready, grounds set aside to cool for the compost.  I poured the crystal-clear brew.  I had never seen such clear coffee.  No oil or sediment was visible to the human eye.  Wow!  It as delicious.  I raved to Rick about my theory on Zen and the art of coffee brewing.  These folks had nailed it.

That was then, this is now and in between I have tried slipping in a chore, a day dream, a text or a phone call,  the problem lay in losing my focus.  As I followed my busy brain through this thing and that, I would realize my pot stood waiting for me, and return to pour not quite just-off-boiling water over the grounds.  I’d try jiggling the filter to see if it would speed the process.  I vowed to remain focused, so we would have hot, or at least warm coffee sometime that day. 

                The immediate gratification girl within me truly misses the French press but I do not listen to her.  There is pleasure in the sparkling coffee grounds, striving for the perfect flow of just-off-boiling water and simply breathing.  Thoughts float through, I focus and, voila, a lovely pot of coffee appears.  What joy!

                It never ceases to amaze me the many ways the universe provides me opportunities to practice and embrace patience. 

Isabella Stewart

August... Really?

                It’s been just over a month since I’ve written.  I’m still here.  As I reflect on the month gone by, I give thanks for the wonder and joy of this life.

                July, for me, is a minefield of emotions.  Three of my favorite folks have birthdays in July.  Two dear friends celebrate their love and commitment each July.  This celebration falls just 4 days before Rick and I celebrate the first time we saw each other and the day we celebrated our love in marriage.  Don’t forget Independence Day, the 4th of July.  I love the sparklers, fireworks and celebration of it all.  I think we all understand a possible mix of emotions when we consider this country’s history, its current course and its possibilities for the future. 

                Then there is Independence Day… the 5th of July.  Independence Day for Isabella; the day that I walked away from the world of health administration, pay checks, politics, stress and a wonderful group of people that I still love today.  (Wave your sparklers then, please, pass the tissue.)   As to shake me out of my selfishness, somewhere in the month, our world caught on fire!  My prayers flowed for those who have been harmed and for the strength and forgiveness of Mother Nature.

                That was my month of July, a roller coaster and minefield: happy, happy, joy, doubt, fear, laugh out loud, flop, joy, pause, reflect, fire, water, travel, breathe, question, love, love, gratitude, success.  Like a movie or good book, it had it all.

                 To quote my dear Rick (provider of love and support), “That was then, this is now.”  Welcome August.  I am back in the studio, heart full of song and wonder.  Lots of fun things headed our way so please stay tuned.

For today, I leave you with a joyful bit of July:

The Tree House

To be amongst the rustling leaves and

birdsong, a joyful gift from heaven.

I stretch and the sun kisses my cheek.

Good morning, I welcome the new day.

Birds dance in the air above me and

watch from the branches that surround.  Light

and shadow dance on the leaves to the

music of the morning.  I balance.

I breathe.  I am filled with gratitude.

Oh, to dance among the tree tops and

rejoice in this new day; the moss glistens.

And you know who you are,

Bella

08-04-2018

Good Morning

            Waking up at my favorite retreat is such a joy.  Sunshine, a cool breeze and birdsong welcome the day.  I can sit by the water, sip coffee and listen to the morning.  I can greet the day with yoga in the warming sun.  I can take a brisk walk ‘round the purlieu, chance an encounter and friendly chat with another greeter of the day; or simply wander the grounds speaking only to the flowers and thanking the sun for lighting the day. 

            Here I can sit and sketch, get lost in a book or do a bit of writing.  There is a space to paint!  I can swim in the afternoon, knowing that the sun will warm me should the breeze still be cool. In the evening I can share the days adventures with Rick as we watch the reflection of lights dance across the water. 

            There is music every day.  Such a joy, music, and those that are so filled with it that they must share it with the world.  They sing from their hearts and entice instruments to sing out in joy.   They may perform alone or bring a band.  Myself, I sing in the shower, dance down the hallway and embrace the music that fills this place.  There is music every day.

            It is here that I may heal all hurts, dream all dreams and celebrate all joys.  It is here that I may find solitude from the chaos in the world.  It is here that I may, with an entourage of friends or family, create a joyful chaos of celebration.   It is here that I am.

            Awaking in my favorite retreat is such a joy.

Isabella

Learning to Draw ( Art, Patience and Growing)

            As I found myself at a pause with a couple of big projects, I picked up a book on drawing in hope of entertaining my immediate gratification girl.  “Patience is a virtue,” was the lesson way back sometime, as it remains today.  What do they say; the universe gives us opportunity to learn, upon opportunity to learn, until we hopefully get it.   So, I wait patiently for the scanning to be completed in someone’s busy schedule and I learn to draw.

            “What?” you exclaim. 

            Yes.  Did you know that I hold my pencil wrong? 

            “Although I paint,” I have often joked, “I can’t draw.”  My scribbled little sketches are seen clearly enough by my brain to usually pick the right brush and stroke when I am at the canvas.  This has never ceased to amaze me.

            Yet, now, 2 days and 25 pages in, I hold my pencil differently.  I stand at my easel and draw.  Dots, lines, shapes and shadows, bottles, glasses, pitchers and things.  Each simple sketch fills me with joy.

            Please recall that I studied Communications and Nursing in college.  Then spent the last few decades in health care and administration.  I did not take photography in high school because I couldn’t draw, and art was a prerequisite.  Yep, (my head shaking) “I can’t draw,” has been a message I’ve given myself for most of my life. 

            Isn’t it funny how we can limit ourselves with a single seemingly harmless thought.  I can’t draw, I can’t dance, I can’t sing, I can’t do math, I can’t ride a bike, fit in, go there, talk to her, jump from a plane or climb a mountain…  What are we telling ourselves, our friends, the universe, with such a harmless little statement?  I can’t succeed, I am not worthy, I am settling for less.

            Do you have an I can’t in your vocabulary, conversations or thought stream?  The truth is, you probably can.  Should you truly allow yourself a chance, you will not fail.  We are each capable of great things, no matter how small they may seem in our very full lives.

             I have stood on great red rocks looking down at the planet, and on a point with the ocean to my left and a river to my right, both, when I knew I was afraid of heights.  I didn’t listen to my I can’t.  I gave myself a chance at I can.  I may have counted my steps when the path was steep and narrow but it got me to those breathtaking, joy filled moments.  Now, I stand at my easel, pencil in hand, one step at a time, and I draw.

Happy Mother's Day

            Here I sit, feeling the gentle coolness of the breeze and the comforting warmth of the sun on this Mother’s Day.  I am almost never home on Mother’s Day because it falls, if not on the day, always on the weekend of Rick’s (provider of love and support’s) birthday.  You will usually find me on a warm beach, on a cold beach, floating in a mineral pool, or riding on the back of a motorcycle through the mountains.  This year we are home. (Not to worry, the birthday has been properly celebrated for the last week; as it should be.) 

            I have been a bit out of sorts this weekend.  Not because my children are not gathered around me.  Not because I injured my knee Friday and have no yoga, no sitting like a lotus.  Not because I barely slept Friday night.  Not because I dubbed my latest project a total fail. 

            Well, maybe the failed project, which I knew going in would not be the outcome of the envisioned project, but a step, an experiment or test to see if my idea would work.  Did I say that I knew that going in?  And it actually will be perfect the next time.  Sometimes my immediate gratification girl steps up and says, “What?!?  I’ve been waiting politely and now we are starting over…” throwing herself to the floor, kicking and sobbing indecipherable wows.  (Rick and I are both thankful that this girl is, for the most part, contained internally.)

            It truly is not any one of these things.  I know my children are happy and healthy in their lives, knowing I am on some grand birthday adventure.  Quite likely it is a combination of them all that put me out of sorts.

            In the wee hours of this morning my mind offered up a potential pity party; combining anything that may have had me out of sorts in the last 10 months and presenting it all in a totally confusing, dreamlike dream.  When the party was at it’s peak of ridiculous confusion and frustration, my mother appeared. 

            My mother comes to my dreams from time to time and sits, quietly, reassuringly present.  I awaken knowing she has visited and all will be well.  This morning she spoke!  I am not able to recall and accurately quote, but she clearly told me it was time to let go of things and go forward with the life I was capable of and meant to have. 

            Not only did my mother speak, my father joined us!  He spoke with my mother and to me.  My father has not been a big visitor in my dreams.  Can you sense my wonder?

            It all ended with me driving, realizing I was in the back seat, then my father at the wheel, then me driving from the driver’s seat and all the while my mother riding shot gun.  Our destination, a waterslide, which my father slid down backwards and fully clothed.  I recall thinking he really shouldn’t be doing that with his shoes on, when I noticed a man (whom I did no know) floating on an innertube, surrounded by laughing, swim suit clad children.  He was fully dressed, shoes and all. 

             I awakened to sun filling the room and a Happy Mother’s Day text from my daughter.

            Here I sit, feeling the coolness of the breeze and the comforting warmth of the sun.

Isabella Stewart

Note: I sat down this morning to write a poem, but it makes me cry to write poetry (potentially another blog another day).  Happy Mother's Day to all loving mothers and all who love their mothers (or mother-in-laws).

Double Joy

            Spring Cleaning is, to me, like the Chinese wedding ornament Double Joy.  Washing woodwork and windows, chasing dust bunnies, sorting, organizing, airing, revisiting and assisting items that are longing for a change of scene to find their way, carries with it two kinds of happiness.

            Every painting on the wall and book on the shelf has its due attention and stands or hangs a bit taller and straighter.  The sunlight dances through the windows, enticing those that it can, into its embrace and a late morning nap.  Then, there are the once forgotten treasures, packed away one day long ago.  As small as a button or key on a string or as large as a cradle in the attic, they are there, waiting to be found, waiting to share their stories of hopes, dreams, laughter and love from times gone by. 

            I am nearing the end of this year’s Spring cleaning adventures.  The first week was spent with my son.  My heart was filled, and my walls adorned in perfect shades of white and indigo.  I cleaned nooks.  I cleaned crannies. I cleaned the studio closet (Do I hear eerie music in the background?)  The studio closet that, since we moved in, has held my art supplies, boxes I had avoided unpacking, a plethora of things I knew not with what to do, and, most joyfully, my once forgotten treasures waiting to be found.

             Not a box was unopened, not a shelf uncleared. There were photos.  There were sketches from Europe.  There were poetry and prose.  Some writings mine, some from family or friends.  There were books I had written in bygone years.  All, a joyful reunion of memories.

            Now, on some quiet evenings or lazy afternoons, I may go to my closet and slip from my shelf of treasures found, a moment in time to ponder and muse.

 A celebration of the present and a joyful revisiting of times passed, Spring cleaning, much like the Chinese wedding ornament, is truly a double joy!

Isabella Stewart

Then, there are the once forgotten treasures, packed away one daylong ago.