Renewal and Re-visioning

It’s been a while since I’ve written. But, Shayne and I are back in Virginia, and our lives are changing dramatically now that the weight of caregiving is over.

For the last five years, my husband has been traveling back and forth from Arkansas caring for his father, who was disabled.

Shayne’s father died last March, and we are just now getting all the property sorted out as you must when you lose a parent.

Shayne has been gone 2 1/2 years out of the last five, and it has been a huge strain on our lives, and our relationship.

I feel sort of like a war widow in some respects, because I had to deal with both of my parents’ decline and death while he was handling the death of his mother, and the care of his father 800 miles away.

We have had our hands and hearts full of grief, exhaustion, and determination, to say the least.

But we drove home last week from Arkansas, and were able to get everything taken care of before the house is sold.

We won’t have to go back now unless it’s for visits.

When we arrived home, I immediately got a storage unit to put the things we brought back so that we can sort through them on our own time, and not in the house.

Best. Decision. Ever.

My old nemesis vertigo returned with a vengeance, though, so as I work to reposition those little crystals in my ears, I’ve not been at my studio as much as I would like.

I’ve had recurring bouts of BPBV for over 20 years, and this video is my go-to when it hits me.

I knew it was a possibility, because I’ve lost my glasses this week, and I was looking under beds and behind bookshelves, along with getting a haircut at a salon, (sink-bowl)—I’m not surprised I knocked one of the rocks in my inner ear loose.

I flipped over in bed and felt it go all wonky.

Here’s the video I refer to…

In studio news, I’ve managed to change up my home page here a little bit, and I also purchased a new photo box from Amazon which is about 100% better than I’ve ever had before.

I am thrilled to photograph my work now, without having to tweak the photos in PicMonkey.

All in all, things are finally going in the right direction, and today, Shayne and I were both feeling, dare I say, excited about our shared future together.

It’s been a heckuva ride.

Shop Update

I’ve had an unexpected trip come up, so my shop will be closed until September 29th. I don’t like stepping away, but there are important matters connected to the passing of our last parent in March that I need to handle in person.

While I’m away, I plan to use the time to begin moving my listings to this website. Over the next year, I’ll be gradually transitioning away from Etsy and will start offering my work directly here.

Before leaving, I’m also creating new inventory for Black Dog Salvage in Roanoke, since much of my work sold while I was in Colorado. I’m grateful for the “good problem” of selling out and excited to restock.

If you need to reach me, I’ll still be available through Etsy messenger. I’ve temporarily delisted my items, so you won’t receive an automated shop-closed message, but I’ll be checking in.

The Art of Reselling: Finding Value in Forgotten Items

Over the years, my husband and I have gathered more things than we truly need. Recently, like TODAY, it became clear: it's time to let some of it go.

Instead of donating, we called a friend who has just started reselling at a few flea market booths around town. She came by this afternoon, excited to see what speaks to her.

She doesn’t craft, she curates. And I love watching her booths come alive with her ability to decorate a small space with forgotten things, that somehow hold all those stories of what once was.

She's really a rescuer.

Where I see clutter, she sees possibility.

I don't have that knack.

I have to have a lot of space to think and be, and I can't seem to get past the clutter part of the curation process to be any good at it.

It just makes me want to run away and throw away!

To her, discarded objects hum with a faint memory of what they once meant, and what they still might mean to someone new.

When someone picks up an item in her booth and says, “This belongs with me now,” the story of the thing continues.

I find that very comforting.

I asked her why she loves it so much, even though it’s just a side gig. She recognizes that she is good at it, and has an eye for what people want.

And she is meeting some really great people, too.

What she is doing is a nice service for people like me, whose inclination is to just take it to the dump.

I'm definitely not in favor of doing that, because I want to see it reused and loved too.

I just don't want to take the time to curate and sell it.

And I have some furniture that needs a new home, but listing stuff on Facebook Marketplace is too sketchy for me.

It's nice that she's doing this, and I'm happy to support her new business.

She asked me to be on the lookout for vintage slips and old rolling pins, since those are evidently hot items in the resell market.

Who knew?

That’s who she is, though, a rescuer. And her creativity shows up in curation, which is truly an art form.

She knows value is never truly gone.

It’s simply waiting for the right eyes to see it and the right hands to take it away.

Random fact about me: I probably spend more per month feeding birds than on my own personal care.

Connecting With an Ant

Yesterday, I went for a hike and decided to stop at a bench to take a break. 

I noticed an ant on the bench, and my first instinct was to flick it away.

I can't tell you how much I abhor ants.

But for some reason, I stopped myself. 

I thought to myself:

"What if I were an alien, and was visiting Earth, and I came across a human? 

Maybe I'm a huge alien, like so big that the human can't really see me because of his limited perspective.  

If a human annoyed me, would I just flick it away? Or would I understand they were only tiny in comparison to me, and unable to understand what I was about to do because of their stage of development?”

While sitting there, with this imaginary story running through my mind, I looked at that ant again. 

Instead of indulging in my irrational fear of ants, I tried to send it a simple message: 

I see you. I won't hurt you. Maybe I even love you. 

I got very emotional. 

It wasn't about this little black ant anymore, (actually, he was big for an ant), but I suddenly noticed how many tiny little lives I've affected because I was annoyed at them. How many gnats I've swatted at, bugs I've thumped and so on. 

I looked at the trail through the woods I was just on, and watched for about 10 minutes how many winged insects use it as a speedway. I also watched some deer come up the path...my road was their road, too. 

In that moment, something clicked within me. 

I realized how much of my daily life is based on stupid assumptions and for the most part many of my actions are actually unconscious reactions. 

I rarely stop long enough to actually notice the beings around me that are just trying to live, travel, and survive the day. 

Just like me. 

I started to cry. 

I believe that tears often come when we subconsciously recognize that we are not separate, but connected.

I wonder if this recognition is built into us, maybe to spur us on to realize that God isn't out there, He's right here within, always.  

We are Him, He is us. 

That ant, yesterday, helped me go up a rung in my spiral of understanding things. 

Life isn't a hierarchy based on size, intellect or being bipedal with opposable thumbs. 

We are all of us a part of the same creation. 

And if we can take a minute at a quiet crossroad, and choose recognition instead of dismissal, compassion instead of apathy, maybe we can individually shift the world, just a little. 

I hope my little ant story shifted something inside of you today.

Random fact about me: My favorite flower is the Rose of Sharon. I had a bush in my backyard as a kid, and always thought of it as 'my flower'.

Morning Feelings: Embracing Renewal and Clarity

I'm Feeling A Sense of Renewal.

This morning, I chose to begin with light. I stepped outside to sit on my porch, letting the sun warm me for fifteen quiet minutes.

While I was there, my eyes landed on the Morning Glory I wrote about yesterday.

Its simple presence reminded me how powerful it can be to welcome the day with intention of letting the light set the tone for how I feel before anything else.

Back inside, I made breakfast and had a moment of clarity. After looking up high-histamine foods, I realized I’d been overdoing it the past couple of week, so it's no wonder my psoriasis flared.

Sometimes the body speaks louder than the mind, and it’s up to us to listen.

This led me to investigate more about how stress affects healing.

Today I’ll be ordering one of Gabor Maté’s books, a small step toward understanding my inner world and the connection to psoriasis.

And writing this post feels like another step forward.

Yesterday, I shared how I've been writing in the evening instead of the morning, and that my writing felt dimmer.

Writing this morning feels like more proof that I’m back in rhythm with my creative practice.

The rest of my day will be devoted to my shop site.

Seventy designs to upload, new descriptions to write, and a lot of SEO ahead.

If I’m going to truly step away from Etsy, this work is essential. I would rather be in my studio making stuff, but this has to get done. And I've got a solid 3 days to do it.

But beyond the tasks, what matters most is this: I feel renewed. Grounded. I've got more clarity about the importance of caring for myself first, before offering my energy to others.

And maybe that’s the reminder for all of us, that renewal doesn’t always come in big, dramatic ways.

Sometimes it begins with a flower, a bit of morning sun, and the decision to start again.

Morning, Glory!

Random fact about me: I spend about $500 per year on pretty rocks, outside of the ones I find on the ground. They last way longer than flowers, so that's how I justify the expenditures.