moved...moving

So, I've created a new blog to showcase my artwork- my projects i'm working on, inspiration i find, etc. You can find it here: http://www.signedbyheidi.com/blog/

please visit!

I will keep writing more personal thoughts here, life reflections, but it will probably be more sparse than it's been in the past.

I've also started and plan on keeping up my etsy store which is found here:

http://www.etsy.com/shop/signedbyheidi

Right now I have some jewelry up, and I hope to add to it until all of my jewelry inventory (which I started selling in 2010) is gone. Then I will add ceramics, and illustrations and prints and the odd sculpture here and there once I get that going. But first, the jewelry needs to be sold! Tell your friends.

And, give me feedback, on prices, designs, what works, what doesn't. I'm open!

Alright everyone have a lovely Valentine's Day.

on the murders in Chicago

Really, Chicago, really?

I have half a mind to leave this city for good.

double time now

 

the seasons at this time of the year go from summer to winter very quickly- 80 degrees in the morning, 30 at night in one day, and then here we are, in the 40s, 50s, light jackets, gloves, scarves.

I find myself putting on socks more often.

this quick change of seasons is also reflected in my life. after months of waiting, years, things are moving, moving quickly now, double time. gasp to catch up and relax in the momentum, letting it carry me to the end of the year. I took on another full time job, working after my full time job medical sculpting, 5 mins down the road to a Christmas ornament shop, personalizing ornaments until 10pm. and then again for 10 hours on Saturday. for 6 weeks. rock climbing classes on Friday. Still the long commute. But if i hustle now, Jan 1st, when I START FREELANCING (oh happy day!) I will be in much better financial shape. And freelancing, working from home, oh what joy that gives my heart to not have to sit in a car for so long, wasting so much of my life. this year has been absolutely horrendous in that regard, absolutely. I will probably even get a rid of my car end of January, as I have not enjoyed it very much. I prefer biking, really. there's nothing like exerting yourself to get to a place. and that constant exercise... nothing better for my whole being.

amidst the hustle, if there is a silence, a moment to myself, it takes only a thought and i am crying wholly for my grandma. I do not like the thought of Christmas and Thanksgiving without her, I do not like it one bit.

 double time now, gotta hustle.

just this

I went to a YoYoMa concert last Friday (glorious artist that he is!) and the last piece was this one, and its too incredible not to share with anyone who can hear. do have a listen:

she said she said

we knew, my mom, dad, brother and i, when we walked into the house that it was for final goodbyes. final. something you don't think about until you absolutely need to- and then, then it really is the times for lasts, for goodbye. the time when you can't avoid it any longer. and it hits you, and the wind leaves you, and you

pause

and feel. and then walk into her room, where she is so tiny, and her body is a shell, the strong muscles and fat melted away, lost and dissolved and what i left is the raw and the essence- the broad smile and strong grip on your arm. and for a moment you're terribly afraid when you imagine life without her, but she is not gone yet and she speaks

she tells you she wants to wear the necklace you bought her a lifetime ago in London, the one she wore so proudly and you picked out so quickly and she wants to wear it in her casket, and wants you to have it before she's buried. and she tells you to take a picture hanging on her bedroom wall, and anything else you want. and you apologize for never taking her to Vegas. and even though you know you'll see her again, even though you know

even though you know

this life on earth is the only frame of reference you have. and you ask her if shes scared. and she says no. and you know that's not the full truth. she says shes going to a better place and she cant wait. and you know that's the full truth.

and then she makes a joke and you both laugh, because that is what you do together, you laugh. you poked fun at family members, strangers, each other. you were sarcastic and never took offense, and you bore each other's pain in your small ways, because that is what you do when you are family.

and she said, she said i love you.

and i wonder why i'm not crying, why i feel relief that her wish will finally come true, and that she won't have to stay here in this body anymore with so much pain. but i know i will feel the loss, and it will come when it's ready, when it's time, and the grief will flow and i will ride it's eddies out to the soul-lake where it will merge with other rivers and tributaries of emotion and experience and become part of my being.

and some days the river of grief is still and silent, waiting. and some days it is turbulent and forces you to the bottom where the rocks bash your body and leave invisible bruises. and you wish with all your heart that she is still here. that i could just call her. just once more. but you can't.

so you feel deep.

and you dry your tears.

and this is what you do.

and forward, despite

i find myself in tears nearly every night this week: sporting events make me cry. the Olympics, especially. and every day this week i've come home from work and turned on the Olympics, and watched people fulfill their life dreams, or not, and either way it's terribly moving and i always end up with a wet face.

and then there's the spare moments when i remember my grandma, and the fact that she's gone, and the last moments we had. and i think that the grief is finally moving in, making a home, and will probably stay awhile, until it is time for it to go again. and the tears trace their well worn path and leave me with a wet face, again.

and then there's songs like this. that could make me cry on the happiest day of my life.

i let the tears fall and the emotions roll. i let them move me to do things i otherwise wouldn't; to push send on an honest email, to spend an evening alone at the lake in the sand and take the long way home through the forests, to slow down. to take each moment and hold it a moment longer, examine it a bit more, and despite the allness of it all, to try again.

yours til Niagara falls

you're on my mind

by which Light I see everything else

lately, the topic of priorities have loomed in my life. large events that have me moving through this time, moving through this space, asking myself large questions, making large decisions, making time for large introspections.

i'm going deeper. asking hard questions of those around me. wanting answers that go beyond the now and into eternity. i'm no longer asking what it is all for, that question can only be answered in scraps and fragments of truth. i'm not asking why this is happening to me, that question only tears and shreds confidence. i'm not wondering what is next, because it no longer matters. Now is what matters. This instance. These words. These actions. This time; now.

now, when, i said goodbye, for a time, to my grandma. i am so thankful to have had 30 years of time with her. so thankful that I was able to spend these past 4 years, past few months, living and working in a city close to home so that i could visit her more frequently, and really get to know her. to be able to travel with her to family events over the years, and as my siblings got married and have children, to remain single and be able to spend that time with her, instead of with a spouse or child. to get the chance to stand with family and friends and commit her to the earth from which she was made. to cry, wholly and freely, unabashedly, in front of strangers, unashamed for the emotion i was showing- to be vulnerable enough to feel this grief at it's full.

there is so much to write about this recent happening, so many things i have learned in the past week, so many challenges met and conquered. how do you have a conversation with someone, knowing it will be the last? how do you see your family cry for the loss? what advice do you give when questions are asked about whether that last trip should be made? these things aren't easy. not easy at all.

in the light of these things, all selfish, fearful, and small things fall away; perspective is regained. courage is found in loss. purpose is found in knowing you will go the same path, one day. confidence is found in knowing there will always be others who will catch you in your grief.

and so in this light, the Light of all eternity, i move on; we move on, furiously beating our hearts and feverishly pumping our blood, colliding like the molecules that make us- living, now.

never mind, i'll be fine

clean

And after the storm
I run and run as the rains come

And now I cling to what I knew
I saw exactly what was true 

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears 
And love will not break your heart but dismiss your fears 

Get over your hill and see what you find there 

With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair


mumford and sons

onward

this is it: the beginning of the rest of the half of this year.

i find myself in an odd place- the first half of the year was tumultuous. event after event, cars, boys, work, art, medical issues, sports, fights and reconciliations, funerals, trips and travel- really, almost ridiculous what was all packed into the first 6 months of this year.

and now, breath.

i find myself without a major project for maybe the first time in my life. website just needs some tweaking, but otherwise, i am all caught up. i knew this day would come, now i just don't know what to do with it.

i guess set new goals for the rest of the year. So here they are:

1. Get back in the ceramic studio.
2. Get out of credit debt, once and for all.
3. Take more rock climbing classes.
4. Learn French learn french learn french...
5. Get a new job.

That's it. That's really it. If I could accomplish all that by the end of this year....

when you know you know

i am a risk taker.

but sometimes, out on that ledge, that precarious high shelf, i get so scared, and i tremble and cry out for God to spare me... but if he doesn't and this becomes clear that this is where i must be, i stay and peer over the ledge.

sometimes that's the only way to know, the only way to really really know, the way to go on the right path.

and it's sad, that sometimes i have to be teetering out on that ledge, that the ledge is where I am being led, where the answers will finally come. but sometimes that's the way life has to go, sometimes this ledge is the only place where i will find the answers, and i refuse to shrink back.

so i went there, i looked from the ledge into the abyss and saw the lions licking their eager teeth, i saw the vultures circling in the sky, heard the rumble of coming storms, and tasted the sulfurous air. but across the abyss i saw the clear skies, the potential and hopes and possibilities. then i saw the thin, ragged rope which he's (again) offered me so i can cross, but this time, it's not enough. i need a sturdy bridge, or bulkhead, something to hold on to when the storms arrive and threaten to knock me off that ledge. i need a convincing argument, i need to see a fight in his eyes, and if that thin rope is all he wants to offer... all he can offer... then i withdraw.

i am a risk taker.

but i'm not a fool.

joy oh that joy

the looming death of Petunia

my dear, sweet guinea pig Petunia is enduring her last moments on Earth. Despite two recent trips to the vet, a shot of vitamins and drugs, she is not going to make it, her shallow breathing and listless body are making it evident. She hasn't eaten in days.

i will miss her. she is so sweet, I remember the first time my sister brought her home, she just loooved to be held and cuddled.

Her sister Iris is sleeping next to her right now; I am glad she has a friend to sit with her during this time. It's just the knowledge that she won't be on this Earth much longer, the finality of it, that is so sad. I will mourn her to let her go.

These were taken when she was healthy:

ambiguous but it needs to be said

.

.

.

i never wanted to be here, in this place that you've put me. 

and now that you've put me here, on this precarious high shelf, ready to tumble, i need to get myself down. 

and i will, oh i will. 

(and i'm not sure if you've put me here or if i've climbed up.) 

i'm not going to stay.

.

.

.

a series of unfortunate events

this looked nice:

new lamps on my porch:

a new library book, a clean guinea pig in my lap, and the night to myself:

until i heard angry buzzing, looked up, and saw hornets in our outdoor light. i guess they made a nest in the light... 

i ran inside.

oh well.

i haven't moved much

But with this view at the end of my bed (and a raging flu virus), would you?

keep me

the honk and the words "F---- Youuuuu" screamed in my direction snapped me out of my early morning reverie. A lady in a silver car was slightly in front of me, at the end of the on-ramp next to me, her window rolled down, cussing me out. I was eating a granola bar, listening to my book on tape, blindly following the car in front of me, in this typical bumper to bumper traffic that I knew would go on for the next hour. She didn't have her blinker on, wasn't trying to merge, and yet somehow decided I wasn't letting her in.

She pulled in behind me, and then a few minutes later, pulled alongside me on the other side of my car, and started screaming out her window at me again. I rolled up my window and turned up my book on tape, shaken, but resolute to give her nothing back. I couldn't believe she could be sooo angry, and wondered if screaming at me made her feel better. I started to really hate my commute again, but then looked at all the thousands of cars around me, and realized this was the first time I had ever been cussed out on the freeway, and for driving 3 hours a day, really, I had made some mistakes, but besides a random honk or two, no one had ever gotten this angry. So, she was an anomaly, not the average. I also wondered what kind of person she was like when she wasn't in a car, and if anyone I knew would make such an outrageous fool of themselves when provoked. It was embarrassing for her, I was embarrassed for her. For humanity. Sad, too.

That afternoon I went to the lake and sat on a bench eating my McDonald's. The lake was pure sparkling blue, the sky cloudless, and the wind gentle. Birdsong and waves filled my head. An older man with a walking stick came walking up to my bench, and in a friendly way he told me not too look too long at the lake, it would be dangerous for me. it was as though he had read my mind, as I was thinking that i would just spend all day here, at lake's edge. I said to him, yeah, i may never go back to work! He stopped and looked at me full-on, and exclaimed yes! exactly! you get it. and he went on to tell me he was in double danger, as he had a house on the lake in northern wisconsin, and had just come from there, and had a boat that he spent all his time on, named Wavewalker, after Star Wars. He said when he pulled the boat in for the final time yesterday, the boat had said to him, when are you coming back? and he laughed. I listened to him, fascinated, this old man was a kindred spirit, i knew it immediately. And strangely, he had the most vividly blue eyes, the exact same color of the lake. His eyes were otherworldly, I have never seen eyes like that, and couldn't tear my eyes away from his. they seemed to glow, almost. and after he walked on, I wondered if I had just encountered an angel.

The message, I think, was this: humans yes, can make you sad. can hurt you. but don't give up, on all humanity. keep hope. there are others who will buoy you up, and tell you about their boat that spoke to them, share their joy in the lake and nature, stop and have a friendly word, and go on. that, and God will keep me, will send me exactly what I need, exactly when I need it. I can trust him, for it has been proven to me, over and over and over.

it will all be ok.

ttd: pixel pusher

this is my quiet work that pays my bills, the pushing of pixels into order and art.

this is where i've been all day, at computer's edge, refusing every social invite this weekend to finish this project. 

and it is so near! one more day and it will be complete, oh happy thing that is!!!

I am thankful for this screenshot of a nearly completed illustration!!!!!! 

6 exclamations thankful.