I bought these holiday cards at Texture, my favorite little funky gift shop, a couple of weeks ago. (Never mind that I didn’t send out cards last year and still have boxes and boxes of the things sitting around-- I like cards!) I loved the design on the front-- the girl in her long blue dress and black boots, dancing through the snow. Underneath the picture are the words season of joy, which fits the image. It is a joyous little card.
I only just opened the box of cards tonight, intending to send out a few-- sometime this week. It was then that I read the back of the card and a shiver went up my spine:
Brush Dance
The Brush Dance is a Yurok Indian healing ritual where being true to yourself means giving your best to help a person in need. Being true to yourself is the one and only Yurok Indian law.
I had a couple of people in mind to send this card to-- a couple of people I think are in need of both healing and a “season of joy"-- which makes this joyous little card all the more special. Since I have been reading Joseph Campbell lately, I have been reflecting on being true to myself and staying “centered"-- remembering what’s important and not getting lost. That message of healing and joy applies to me, too. I not only want to be joyous, I need it.
Lately, I have found myself extending kindness to people I hardly know. It’s not as if I’m a horrible or rude person, but lately I seem to be drawn to people who are in need… perhaps because I recognize the need within myself. I tend to offer to others what it is I need most for myself. Among the words in my word ornament is the word nurture-- something that has always been important to me, but I am rediscovering what that means and how good it makes me feel to help someone else-- and to not forget to nurture myself in the process.
I read the Brush Dance description on this little card and I smiled because it was just too perfect for where I am right now. But it was the artist’s name that sent the shiver up my spine:
I believe in magic and I think the universe is trying to tell me something. I’m listening, I’m listening....
Last year for Jay’s grandmother’s 88th birthday I made her an ornament of words. The family had planned a big party for her and everyone was supposed to give her a hand-crafted ornament that represented us. In this case, the word ornament represented not only me, but also Julia. (I do not call her Granny or even Granny Julia, she is just Julia to me-- and I think she likes that just fine).
Julia is one of the best writers I have ever read, though she would argue otherwise. She does not consider herself a writer at all. We write each other “real” letters every week or so and her words flow off the page like poetry. I wanted to make an ornament for her that represented our mutual passion for words, that represented her love of the written word that allows her to write with such eloquence. She inspires me with her gift and makes me want to be a better writer. I chose words that reminded me of her, words that reflected who she is and what she means-- not just to me, but to everyone who knows her. Words like garden and nature and travel and books and wise and history. And writer, because she is.
Julia turned 89 a couple of weeks ago and she wrote in her last letter that her Christmas tree was up, with all of the hand-crafted ornaments from last year. I remembered that after I finished her word ornament I had intended to make one for myself. I really loved how it turned out, the way it could be turned this way and that and a few new words would flutter to the surface. A snow globe of words, creating phrases beneath the glass-- fondest wishes and greatest desires, memories of the past and hopes for the future. I wanted one for myself.
It has taken me a year, but I finally made my own word ornament:
I used many of the same words for myself that I used for Julia, because in many ways we are similar despite our 49 year age difference. I also added some reminders for the coming year…
What words would be in your snow globe?
I’m reading (re-reading) Joseph Campbell’s The Power of Myth. It is the book I will be using for the mythology class next semester and, though I did not get to choose my own book, I already own it. Serendipity. I was meant to teach this class! (Hopefully enough people will sign up for it to allow me to teach it.)
I love Campbell. Watching his mid-80’s interview with PBS’s Bill Moyer (loosely transcribed in The Power of Myth) is mesmerizing. The man had so much energy it’s contagious just watching him, twenty years after his death. I read him and I feel like I’m becoming more introspective, looking inward rather than outward, digging down deep for all of that intellectual and spiritual stuff that gets lost in the day-to-day materialistic stuff.
Of course, what I love most about Joseph Campbell is that he speaks to me on an intuitive level, he reinforces what I already know (even when I wonder if I know what I know I know… oh!). He writes about following your bliss, about going “where your body and soul want to go.” I try to live my life that way.
In the Middle Ages, a favorite image that occurs in many, many contexts is the wheel of fortune. There’s the hub of the wheel, and there is the revolving rim of the wheel. For example, if you are attached to the rim of the wheel of fortune, you will be either above going down or at the bottom coming up. But if you are at the hub, you are in the same place all the time… That is following your bliss.
That’s what writing is for me, always has been. It is my “hub,” my center. My bliss.
I said I was in a nesting mood and I meant it. I had another restless/sleepless night last night and have felt rundown all day, so I decided to just stay in and take it easy. Of course, I can’t “take it easy” when I have a ton of work to do. I didn’t get a lot of writing done, but I did get the house cleaned up a little bit, worked on my laundry, did a pile of dishes and took care of some teaching and writing administrative stuff like contracts and e-mails.
I also did some baking! I’m not even close to being in the same league as Jennifer who manages to bake enough to feed a small village in the span of a mere afternoon, but this evening I baked chocolate chunk brownies, maple pecan brownies with maple sugar drizzle and chocolate fudge. I also packaged up a bunch of those goodies to send to Jay (and class) and Sheri. There is still plenty left, though. I love to bake, but it’s dangerous to do such things alone. Case in point: my dinner consisted of one chocolate chunk brownie, one maple pecan brownie (pre-drizzle-- I wanted to see if they were any good) and a piece of chocolate fudge. Not the most nutritious meal… but yummy!
I had hoped to start some holiday cards tonight and maybe put some decorations on the Christmas tree and watch Grey’s Anatomy, but the night got away from me. Oh well. Maybe tomorrow. I don’t think this nesting urge is going away anytime soon.
Life. Love. Writing. Friendship.
Sex. Books. Movies. Travel. Politics. Feminism. Academia. Insomnia. Rants. Raves. Chocolate. Lots of chocolate. Some names have been changed, some stories have been embellished. Thanks for stopping by and beware of the dog. Read more...
