Tag: 365altars (Page 2 of 7)

seepage

April 16, 2012 / jeanne / 5 Comments

Seepage

from In Real Life‘s post on facebook today,
an adorable photo
and this caption:
“Why are you trying so hard to fit in
when you were born to stand out?”

and this good question from sandi faviell amorim of deva coaching:
“Question, play, challenge, inspire, nudge, shine => that’s me.
How do you express your greatness?”

let’s just call this
all the encouragement
i need . . .

i am tired of
being told
to be a cookie cutter
woman
by governments
and schools
and cultures
and religions.

i don’t flock
and i don’t herd.
not any more.

(don’t say i didn’t warn you.)

:: ~ ::

Today’s altar is this little altar cloth,
dedicated to the precious,
refreshing,
one-of-a-kind,
unstoppable
irrepressible
one-of-a-kind
individuals
we all are.

More about 365 Altars

tumult, 2

April 12, 2012 / jeanne / 8 Comments

Tumult2a

sometimes when you just keep going
when you just keep grappling
when you just flatout refuse to stop,
beautiful shiny
colorful jewels
spill forth
from the very epicenter
of the chaotic
tumult.

the chaotic tumult
is ragged,
rough,
it is seldom
mistaken for
pretty.
or comfortable.
and the shiny treasures
that spew –
they’re nondescript
and indecipherable,
at least at first,
but still
they shine on,
beacons.

:: ~ ::

Today’s altar is this altar cloth,
dedicated to the treasures that
sometimes spring from
tenacious tumult.

More about 365 Altars

tumult

April 11, 2012 / jeanne / 8 Comments

Chaos1res

i am agog
with images,
and i want to stitch
most of them
but sometimes
(more often than not)
when i pick up cloth
and thread a needle,
i see blank.
it’s neither white
or black
just the color
of nothing.
and then i worry
if i ever really
saw any images
in the first place
or if this is a sign
that i’m not to stitch
the images.
maybe i’m just
going crazy,
overestimating
my creative capability.

things swirl
and grow.

who do i think i am,
anyway.
(there’s no question mark
because that is no question.)

i refuse to live
in nothingness,
so i turn my hands loose
to grapple.
to gather
and join
fabrics.
and to give
my hands
space
without interference,
i set my brain
aside in a playpen
and turn it loose.

or do i?

is that even possible?

i remember the delightful
conversation i had with my son’s
girlfriend this past
sunday morning.
she regaled me with
the overlay
of her undergraduate
humanities studies.
at the essential core
was identity
and from there,
each year was
spent reading about
and pondering
identity in
specific contexts.

i want a copy of her
syllabi
(is this how you say
“more than one syllabus”?)
(i’m fluent only in
english and southern,
you know.)
when she can dig it
out of storage
so i can forge
down that same
trail.
will i find myself
there in the books
she read
so many years ago?
will i finally know
who i am
and
why i’m here
and what i am
supposed to do
on my stay?

do i make too much of this?
where “this” is
my self,
my life?

why can’t i just be satisfied
to be here,
to take one day
at a time,
living it
wherever it takes me?

am i too big for
my britches
in even considering
that i’m here for a
particular purpose?

is that too high falutin’?

who do i think i am?

is that the voice of
my big, bad
you-ought-to-be-ashamed-of
ego?

and as if that isn’t enough,
i’m on the verge
of a new identity,
one that has me
swirling
and pinging
and tumbling
in emotional
and existential
angst.

:: ~ ::

Iris6

my mother loves irises,
and they are beginning to
fill her backyard
with color.
seen through my macro lens,
they appear as
an entryway.
perhaps not a yellow brick road,
but a road nevetheless.
a road leading into
the unknown.
into possibility.
into Mystery.
an altar
of the finest
most inviting
(if not the most unsettling)
kind.

More about 365 Altars

nourishment

April 9, 2012 / jeanne / 8 Comments

“where were you and what were you doing when you heard about world war 2?” i ask my mother. i’d never thought to ask her that before, and i can’t tell you why not, but at least i ask her now.

she tells me that she was at school, so she didn’t hear about it till the day after. says she was 13 years old, so most of her reaction came from watching her parents. she can still remember the look on her daddy’s face, she says, then she goes on to tell me about how her mother preserved food – a lot of food, even canning biscuits and water. “if she’d thought about it and we had a place, i’m sure she would’ve built a bomb shelter,” mother says, and though she was remembering down one road, i remembered how i set about building a bomb shelter in 4th grade, complete with food and pillows and books and board games and safety/preparedness drills.

i knew my grandmother canned food – her pantry was always filled from her larger than large summer garden – but i never knew till that day last week that grandmother and i had preservation and planning for the future – our future and our loved ones’ futures – in common.

[insert face-size smile]

don’t you love stories that connect you with your ancestors? that help explain quirky characteristics about yourself? what questions would you ask one of your ancestors? you can do it without sitting next to them in the car, you know. just get our your pen and paper, write the question, then be quiet and see what appears.

one of the best questions i asked my now-deceased daddy is “what would the 40-year old you like like the 40 year old me to know about being 50?” (hint: you don’t have to ask living people face-to-face, and you don’t have to ask only deceased people these questions that your inquiring mind wants to know.)

:: – ::

p.s. my mother also told me that because of world war 2, there weren’t many school teachers to be found, so they had to take the fella who got lost walking the 3 blocks from boardinghouse to school. she also told me about one c harkness, a young woman who daddy asked out once. but, mother hastened to add, they never actually went out. i’m thinking there’s more to this story. stay tuned . . .

:: – ::

i spent this afternoon cooking and filling the freezer of my son who lives in denver (note: far too far away, if you ask me) with vegetable soup, lasagne, and spaghetti sauce. (that’s when i remembered the story my mother told me about grandmother preserving food in anticipation of possible ripple effects of world war 2.) today’s altar is about nourishment . . . from stories and food and love.

Nourish

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in stone

March 30, 2012 / jeanne / 16 Comments

PetrifiedPinecone

a petrified pinecone.

yes, really.

to see this pinecone
is to see an altar.
a special space
that’s nestled inside layers
of fierce protection
from the outside world.
a space filled
with layers
and lightning
and shifts
and color
and sparkle
and spaciousness
and i think yes,
that’s what an altar is.
a place –
even a place
in the center
of the usual daily hubub –
where we can go
to mark a space for ourselves,
where we can define
(perhaps to ourselves)
what’s most important
right here, right now,
where we can lay claim to
our most sumptuous selves.

:: /// ::

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Of Mere Being

March 19, 2012 / jeanne / 15 Comments

OfMereBeing7

The palm at the end of the mind,
Beyond the last thought, rises
In the bronze distance.

OfMereBeing5

A gold-feathered bird
Sings in the palm, without human meaning,
Without human feeling, a foreign song.

OfMereBeing3

You know then that it is not the reason
That makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine.

OfMereBeing6

The palm stands on the edge of space.
The wind moves slowly in the branches.
The bird’s fire-fangled feathers dangle down.

~Wallace Stevens, 1954~

Thank you, Karen Sharp.
I couldn’t find words to thank you for the gift you sent,
so I stitched an altar cloth for it,
and today it is my altar . . .
that feather you sent wrapped in your note.
so much more than a feather and a note.
divine energy.
alchemy, i’d call it.
alchemy through the experience of seeing.

///

More about 365 Altars

tally for today

March 16, 2012 / jeanne / 8 Comments

Festival

– waking up with headache

+ husband going to home supply store – alone

+ wearing skirt that capers & earrings that dangle

– talking to insurance agent who called to say mortgage company hasn’t paid insurance

= speaking with toni at the mortgage company

+ remembering customer service training i offered in a former life

+ delivering really good and much-needed customer service training with brevity and humor

+ remembering how much i enjoy speaking, training, storytelling

+ husband coming home with bojangle’s biscuits

+ lunching with a friend on the phone

+ singing favorite songs all the way to asheville

+ singing loudly

+ hatching 4 epiphanies

– forgetting 2 of them

+ seeing quilts at folk arts center

+ seeing woodturning exhibit at folk arts center

+ hearing the mournful sound coming from handmade flutes

+ getting a call from my mother (yes, really)

+ visiting a favorite store where i saw: a yellow typewriter, old cameras in various hues, the behind of a pink elephant, a bowl full of the tiniest dried pumpkins ever, a basket full of women taken around the turn of the century, an altar

+ treating myself to: a gift for a friend, a battered book with no cover but great inscription, a church vestament to wear for inspired writing, a small dress with sash, tucks, embroidery, and lots of stains

– not purchasing the photos of women to bring them home and give them stories

+ texting with a friend

+ hatching 6 good ideas

+ attending a talk by authors of Mystery of the Trees

+ having the store owner tell me the bathroom was behind “the mineral poster” but hearing it as where “the men are all past ‘er”

+ riding home through a dramatic thunderstorm

+ receiving an amazing package from a friend (top photo. did i lie about it being amazing?)

+ having my daughter post “i love you” on my facebook wall. (okay, that was yesterday but hey, i’m still glowing.)

+ having my son call on his way home from work just to chat and ask about my day and tell me he loves me

+ seeing the dog

– having no internet

+ eating 2 bites of the annual chocolate easter bunny

+ hearing husband tell me he enjoyed the talk i dragged him to

any way you add it up, it comes out to be a positive day. a day that made me feel alive.

i should have days like this more often.

More about 365 Altars

///

maybe you want to visit the women’s history month series my friend angela is hosting.
there’s a whole lotta’ women letting their colors seep out over there, and it is quite beautiful.

despite

March 13, 2012 / jeanne / 10 Comments

Wrapped4

sometimes
they wrap
themselves up
into small packages
so small
that they
blend right
into the background
becoming invisible
but . . .
if you pause a beat
and use the time to
look very closely
you’ll see
their bright colors
seeping out,
unable to be
contained
despite
the swaddling.

///

maybe you want to visit the women’s history month series my friend angela is hosting.
there’s a whole lotta’ women letting their colors seep out over there, and it is quite beautiful.

In Our Cute Shoes

March 12, 2012 / jeanne / 6 Comments

Today I’m honored to be a guest blogger over at Angela Kelsey’s place where she’s celebrating Women’s History Month by asking women to share stories about women who educated and empowered them. Though I count myself incredibly fortunate to have a long list of women who have supported me, nudged me, shored me, I chose to use this opportunity to tell you about Fran and Marcia and how they wore their cute shoes to step right into my life without waiting on an invitation. May we all have them, may we all be them.

~~ ::: ~~

And today’s altar is dedicated to storytelling from the inside out . . . to letting our loose threads, our frayed edges, our scratchiness show . . . to removing our masks and veils . . . to undoing the ties that bind and hide and silence . . . to stepping out of the darkness and into full bloom as we crack ourselves wide open and sparkle.

Insideout3