From an Upper Floor

Industry and Creativity

 Our world needs our arms and legs and talents.  Heaven needs our industry to keep our planet afloat.  We are industrious and we are also creative.   And to be both is what life is all about.  We construct our lives by what is imaged and we create in physical space what we envision.   This planet is the best classroom ever because what we envision we can make manifest as quickly as we gather materials to do so.  There are those who  never take  time to process information into something they can do within the framework of where they are.   They hasten to buy it all and wonder why there is so little satisfaction in the acquisition.

 Taking an idea, we soon find it gives birth to many more.   For some of us it is like looking up a word in the dictionary.   One word gives rise to another and soon we  spend hours looking up words that pique our interest and add depth to our vocabulary.  What is needed is time for solitude to sift and sort and explore.  Everyone needs solitude, from the toddler to the elder.  Time is needed for an idea to come to fruition.    It cannot be done in front of a screen designed to constantly stimulate without time for employment of an idea.   A  ‘go to your room’  was never argued in our home for it meant there would be uninterrupted personal time.  Personal time meant personal space was not violated.  It was time where thoughts could roam the ethers and come back full of substance.

 I was grateful for hours spent observing  work done by my brothers and our sons.   Learning to do was my genetic heritage.  With the birth of grandchildren also came the birth of woodworking for me.  Starting with plaques I soon ventured into toys.   It was also grief therapy needing to heal a breach in the family when our David died.  The shaping and the sanding were helping put love into  toys our grandchildren would be playing with.  Working with our hands is part of who we are as human beings from the first wedge and mallet we shaped from rock.    This may sound like old fashioned work but one might find it a delightful addiction.  And though we might think otherwise,

 most of us were not to the manor born.

(Some of the Pink Feather Fleet were space vehicles.   Of course,  of course.  That is why I called them Illusion I, II,  etc.)

the music tangles
in the wind
of muted sound
and we live again

When our son became seriously ill and I could not find holiday cards that spoke to what my heart carried,   I started to make Christmas cards.   The first card was made with construction paper  and carried a poem of mine that I had a local printing company print.   That Christmas I learned of many who were carrying heavy burdens who appreciated the card.  One man said that he told his wife Eleanor, we will frame this and I will live!   He had just recovered from a heart attack.   He said I will be reminded every day and the card in a frame on his dresser was his reminder.  We do not know when we make the effort to do a something how far the ripples will reach.

 This wall quilt is a fabric version of a Christmas card I made when we as a family faced an unthinkable future.   But we learned many things and were gifted with joys never thought possible.  To begin to do with one’s hands and mind is a gift of unmeasurable dimensions.

 One of the most important lessons we can teach our young is to begin the task, whatever it is that one desires.   Even when we don’t know how to do something, beginning will be the largest hurdle to overcome.   When we begin,  we will be shown how.   In just measure  commensurate with our abilities,  we will be taught.   And this is how we learn.  This is how we accomplish what it is that is our heart’s desire.   The materials may not be the best,  but whatever we have on hand is what we use.   Eventually, ways will be shown and events conspire to place within our hands what will not only be useful, but necessary.   But we must begin.

 Not everyone will be an artist, but we can do what is within our capacity.   Our technologies have placed lessons on television, but we find ourselves judging what we do with professionals who have spent lifetimes doing.   We can express ourselves within our means and do something we have not done before.   Our efforts at what we are able to do are commendable.   And these efforts are noted.   They allow the god within to cheer us on and say now we can do this and this.   It will be with effort and care and we will do better and better.   And one day we will call ourselves primitive artists but more importantly we will be able to take another step in conquering the fear that we cannot do anything.

Hey there, mister. . . .are you ready?   Almost,  he says and in a few minutes he appeared.

Where are we going,  he asked and I said to do some errands .   We can walk and because it is early,  it is still cool.   We did not hurry along,  just sauntered.   As we came to the corner we heard a marvelous bird song.  We stopped, looked at each other and then he pointed up.   We saw the solitary bird singing his mighty song.

 The little one squinted and said I see you and I hear you.  And the bird stopped his singing.   Ohhh the young one said.  We waited and then walked on.   It is okay,   I said.   We continued to the next corner and there was another clear song.   We looked up and he said whispering,  I not say anything.  So then I said,   I can hear you but I cannot see you.  And the singing stopped.

 They not like our saying to them that we like their singing?   I cupped his face with my hands and said,  I think they are surprised that we take the time to listen.   By listening we say thank you quietly  and they hear our thoughts.   He took this thought and nodded yes.

 A few blocks later there were songs being sung though we could not see any birds.   I felt a tug and looked down at the questioning face and in his grateful voice said we do not see you but not stop your song.  And they continued to sing.

 I also thank them he said.   Do other peoples give thank yous?   I guess not too often I said.  We forget as we get older I think to give thanks for what we do not see even when it is beautiful and we know even when we do something good and could not do what we do alone without some help.  Like the singing and the morning and the night when we sleep.   I ‘member always now, he said.   I don’ want the singing stop ever.   Not ever he said.  My heart be sad then, he said.  Very sad.

 Mine too,   I said.   Mine too.