If Magdalena could dance

"If Magdelana could dance"

 Seth Godin wrote, "what makes it art, is that the person who made it overcame the resistance, ignored the voice of doubt and made something worth making. Something risky. Something human"
Since spring I have been traveling in a new direction. Many of my friends have been on this path with me even though they may be unaware. We have shared stories. Setting those stories free is essential to healing.
Thank you for the inspiration and the words.

Making due

 Summer is here and the request have come flooding in. A new bike, a new skateboard, more Super Soakers, new video games and Lego sets, trips to the amusement park and lots of ice cream. What my kids do not understand, because they aren't suppose to yet, is I spend a chunk this week on getting the pool open, buying them new summer shoes, bathing suits, shorts and yes, a few new Super Soakers. I also had to get prescriptions filled and pay the final heating bill. It was a long winter. I wish I could get them everything their hearts desired but that isn't the best example. Trust me, I have accumulated plenty of crap I do not need, but generally I try to use what I have first. I am frugal by nature and I enjoy the occasional dumpster dive. So how do I pass this on to my kids?
 After my last post I got to thinking about my father. He definitely had a big influence on my passion for salvaging. He likes making tables. The coffee table in my  house growing up was big enough and sturdy enough that as kids we would dance on it as we acted out "The Copa Cabana". Before it was our stage it was a pink wooden bench that my father rescued from a burn pile. If you look under the table today you can still see the paint. When I was little my neighborhood had "Junk Day". Everyone put out the things they wanted to get rid of and then drove around seeing what everyone else put at the end of the drive way. A wooden ladder became our monkey bars and our slide had a slight twist to the left but it was all salvaged, so with hammer and nails my dad made us an amazing fort. Last summer my mom and dad found a free rowboat on the lake and rowed it to my dock. Now I just have to find some oars.
This to me is fun. Memories are made discovering "new" treasures. I hope my kids will also find it fun and see its value. It  is easier to buy things new but times are tough and it just isn't possible. Making due demands more of our creativity, we may have to develop some unconventional solutions, but it forces us to think and ask questions. School may be out for the summer but learning should be a constant.

3 more days

I, along with millions of other, have three more days. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. I will spend that time contemplating what happened to the year. How is it I managed to still not get my basement cleaned out or even the hall closet. How is it that all my good intentions of organizing my life while my kids were occupied at school got away from me. I have three more mornings of sipping my coffee as I peruse Facebook and my emails. Three more leisure trips to the gym or a morning of Kayaking. Three more days to find the lost library book. And no more 8am movies. That was new this year.
 The population at the grocery store is about to triple. Instead of a 45 minute lap with a few gossip stops, food shopping will become an 85 minute lesson in patients, bargaining and saying "No!" No more humming along to the streaming 80's tunes I love so much.
 Yet, I will not have to trade snuggling for scrambling to catch the bus. Snacks will not be eaten in the back seat while going 75 on the way to dance, soccer, football, or scouts. Echoes of laughter will fill the woods along with barking dogs. Yes, summer is around the bend and I am looking forward to the change of season. I believe these are the times my kids will remember and not if my bookshelves were organized. I remember the fort my Father built in the backyard after a morning salvaging parts from around the neighborhood's Junk Day. He taught me how to use tools and the importance of making the most out of what was available.
 Put away the "to do" list and break out the sun screen, in three days, don't rush me.
Crap...just realized Wednesday is a half day!

So Close.

I spent this past weekend embracing the beautiful weather and doing my first installation.
It is dedicated to all the missed moments, the fleeting moment, coming in second, hearing the phone ring too late, forgetting to say good bye, or wishing you had said I love you more ofter.
It is dedicated to finding the strength to try again.
And now that I have completed one I must quickly move toward finishing the next. I couldn't have completed this on my own so thank you Patrick for lending me your thoughts, hands, and support.

levels of discomfort

How much discomfort are you willing to put up with? How hard are you willing to push? I do not do yard work when it is raining but I have signed up for a race that involved mud, hills and barbed wire. I gave birth to my two sons without medication (by choice) but I can't seem to make an appointment to get my tooth fixed. There is a relationship between discomfort and payoff. Does more discomfort at the start make it easier in the long run? Steve Pressman asks, "Are you willing to bleed for it?" when it comes to a new idea or goal.
My goal for tomorrow is to purchase a bag of cement and talk to the preferred local wood cutter. Last time I talked to him I asked him to donate a christmas tree to the Girl Scouts. He agreed without hesitation, but found it unnecessary to turn off his chain saw or remove the cigarette from between his teeth. What I need today is a 12 foot log, 10 - 12 inch in diameter, cut into segments of 6, 12, 18, 24, 30 and 36 inches. The dreaded words, "are you an artist or something?", may come out of his mouth. It is not the question but the tone that comes with it. Why does this hit so high on my levels of discomfort?  I will feel forced to explain something that is personal, to expose a piece of me to someone that doesn't understand. I am not always good at asking others for help. I know that about myself, but this question induces the fear of sounding stupid by having to explain something that I can't explain. The idea is in my head, on paper but during the process I don't want to have to explain it, What if it turns out different?
I hope by the end of the weekend my first sculpture will be out there for everyone to see. Then I hope, all the discomfort was worth it.

I have a car with a bag of cement and 6 logs in the back...yeah. I selected my log, the cutter got his chainsaw and handed my a tape measure. It was funny and a collaborative effort. Then he asked "is this for some sort of religious fanatic thing?"

Wall vs. Fence

After the boundaries have been established the next step is choosing. Do I extend a bridge to welcome others or erect a wall to keep others out.
Wall- a continuous vertical structure intended to enclose or divide.
Luckily for me I did not have to choose. I get to do both. Upon further inspection of the intended location of the shed I noticed that Joe did not remove the rocks but merely spread them out like a child that doesn't want to eat his peas and mash potatoes. The rock is now mixed with leaves and tree debris making impossible to plant anything to create a natural boundary. I built a mental wall out of passive agressive behavior and a few swear words. I also plan on giving him dirty looks when I see him...its a temporary structure but for now it's working.
A bridge is a pathway to ideas and moves us forward. So that is where I will begin...
An invitation to explore, play, and discover something new, Something that is intended to reconcile or form a connection between two things, Something that makes a physical connection between two things.
Quinn is a great helper and we got started on our bridge until the rain came.

Inspiration in the form of a line

   So where does one find inspiration? This past week it came from my neighbor Joe and his plan to put a new 20x30 shed on my property in order to store his Kubota TLB series tractor/loader/backhoe.
    After the large snow banks melted away, I noticed my neighbor had parked an extra large storage container next to his driveway. It crossed my mind that it was most likely on my land but no trees had been disturbed, so I let it go. It was when the two ton pile of crushed rock got dumped out on the driveway that I got nervous.
   I quickly put into motion all the ineffective ways of dealing with this issue. I talked to friends, I looked at a very old and vague plot map, I called a land surveyor who did the house two doors down, inspected some google earth maps, and even contemplated having my ex-husband come over, so basically I did nothing to solve or confront this issue. I even sat and watched him as he began to spread out the crushed rock. My keys in one hand, cup of coffee in the other, with a dumb ass look on my face, I pondered, "I wonder what he is doing? I think that is my land?" What better response then for me to get in the car and go to the gym. (this is what Steve Pressfield referees to as "resistance", next post)
   So what kick starts someone into action? Well for me it was when I came home and saw his Jeep parked on his new rock slab and my pine tree knocked down and left to die on my grass. It's 12 feet of willowy beauty wilting in the sun. She was still partially attached at the base. Now I would have to get out the saw and make the final cuts. I formulated the perfect opening line in my head, "just wanted to let you know I was going to be over to cut the bottom off the tree you knocked down", before I knocked on his door.  Have I mentioned that Joe is a very large man and he is a cop in one of the least desirable places to live outside of Boston? I find him a bit intimidating, for some reason.
"Hey, I was just going to come and talk to you," he said as he opened the door. Really?
   We are "ALL GOOD" according to Joe. So I walked away and came back armed and ready with my tape measure, a piece chalk, and my seven year old son for back up.
  125 feet is what belongs to Joe, not 145 feet. I was right, he was wrong. It took a long, twisty path but I faced some unidentified and unreasonable fears and came out feeling empowered and inspired.
   I was now motivated to set up the boundaries and lines for the sculpture garden. The modified plan was to work with what was already in the yard. I am still going to do this but in a more deliberate way. Intention is an important part of creativity. I spent two days relocating plants, trimming trees, taking down the wood stands in the woods and moving rail road ties. It timed out perfectly with the rain.
Thanks for the inspiration Joe and I like the shed, properly located at the end of your driveway.