Creativity

Where does creativity come from? Are they ideas that generate in our brains? Do the ideas come from us or from some cosmic knowledge? Do we have guardian angels who are creative? Is it some spirit 'talking' through us?

I don't remember not being creative. I started sewing at age 2. My Aunt Nellie (my mom's friend) had a Singer Sewing machine store in Gould's, Florida and she taught me to thread a needle. Once I had that mastered, she made me a little kit of a little plastic doll and outlined fabric in the shape of dresses that I started sewing. I started a bag of fabric scraps that I guarded and used...growing bigger with time. I would take out the scraps and fondle them and look at them and calculate if I had enough to make a doll dress out of. That bag of scraps went with me first each time we moved and we moved at least once a year most years. This was my prized possession other than my doll.

Then I discovered the library and looked for books on crafts...nothing. Finally somehow we obtained a book on crafts but they required supplies that I couldn't afford much less obtain in the little town we lived in. I would pour over that book reading every word time after time to absorb the process. There was one little Scottie dog to make out of cardboard and paper mache and crepe paper that especially intrigued me. I had no idea what crepe paper was.

I had dreams of being a dress designer or costume designer. In my head were elaborate dresses. I could feel the imaginary fabric...imagine the stitches. I would draw dresses for my paper dolls that surely were designer quality I thought. Next I was in heaven when I walked into an art class in 7th grade. I was going to learn how to be an artist so that I could draw better dresses. The teacher had us what I now know to be inferior art materials with no chance of success in anything that we made. She had us copying the Masters from little prints that we could borrow from her. I was no Rembrant. I had no idea how to go about drawing a portrait. I did catch on to perspective. One day she told me that I was not an artist and never would be one since I couldn't copy those little pictures. I was devastated and shut down all efforts of being an artist. How dare that woman tell me I wasn't an artist! To this day I still resent her.

When I was about 21, there was an ad in the newspaper telling me anyone could paint and that I could take lessons at a lady's house for a small fee. My heart raced as I called the woman and enrolled. The lady's name was Myrna Knerim or something like that. We had classes in her garage. She taught us decorative painting on wood. Daisies, strawberries, mushrooms using oil paints. It was a step by step process and I could do it! She must have watched my face the first time I had a success as she came over to me and said I did good and that being an artist was merely learning brush strokes and technique. She told me anyone could do it! I was in heaven.

This opened doors to me that were closed. I started making things along with my sewing. I easily mastered all sorts of crafts and started my collection of artists materials. "She who dies with the most craft crap wins' became my motto. I have more craft crap than I have possessions or furnishings. It's almost embarrassing as to how much I have stored in boxes. I learned that once I mastered a craft I was done...bored with it and on to the next craft. Until I discovered clay in 1976. I had found my medium! I've gotten good at it but will never learn it all and that's fine with me.

In July of 1992, there was an ad in the newspaper to take pine needle basketweaving. I had seen it at a recent craft show and was in awe of it. My grandmother had given me a pineneedle basket from Georgia when I was 15 and I had studied and fondled it for years. I started the classes and it was so much like sewing that I was thrilled. Then the teacher had us make a little pot and sew the coils of pine needles on top. My being a potter already, I immediately went home and made more pots to sew the coils on to. I took a finished potbasket to the class and the teacher complimented me heavily....one lady in the class wanted to know why my baskets were so beautiful and her's wasn't. The teacher said 'because Ruth is already an artist and it came naturally to her'. Ruth was an artist!! Those words were the most wonderful words I'd ever heard. I started making basketpots like crazy. I entered a craft show over at Angel Fire, New Mexico that fall and won first prize overall that show with that first basketpot I'd made. That first place ribbon was awesome! Then I discovered people actually paying me money for my crafts...wow! What an incredible feeling.

When I was making my first basket, I had an idea of how it was supposed to look but it wouldn't take shape. I was fighting it. I felt like I had an angel on my left shoulder telling me to do this or do that and let the creativity flow. It was like I was using my hands and fingers to make the basket but that someone else was making the basket instead of me. I kept hearing inside my head to trust my instinct and just let the basket make itself. Finally I got tired of fighting it and just let it flow. It's an incredible basket! I made clay beads and sewed them on.

Always I would have an idea and I would make something in my head step by step. I have notebook after notebook of my notes and drawings of things I want to make. About this time suddenly I started seeing complete pictures in my head of something...usually pots or baskets and totally understanding how it was made from start to finish. I always thought anyone who handbuilt in clay rather than throwing on the wheel was not a real potter. Then I discovered pinch pots. I can get lost to the world making pinch pot after pinch pot. I do these for me and to give away to friends. I can spend 40 hours on a little 3 inch pot and never look up. I now sew beads on my pots if I don't sew pineneedles on them. My head is filled with pinch pots and I see no end in sight. I'm content.

Later I discovered genealogy and discovered on both sides of my family tree were artists and craftsmen/women for generations and generations. Every one of them made something with their hands. Blacksmiths, wagon builders, wheel makers, seamstresses, painters, cabinet makers, furniture makers, engravers, and yes, even potters. I own a beautiful oil painting of roses painted by my great grandmother in 1898. My mother drew and sewed. My dad was a cabinetmaker and furniture maker. Both my brothers are incredible with wood. My nieces and nephews are all creative with two nephews amazingly creative with computer programming. There are all sorts of crafts. I have something each member of my family has made and they are my treasures. My daughter is amazing at drawing. Megan and Mandy fill their time when I have them making something or just plain going through my craft cabinet piece by piece claiming materials to make something. My refrigerator is usually covered with their latest masterpieces. Megan quickly grasps the ideas. Mandy loves multiples of anything and spends hours arranging them in patterns and designs. These two girls will always know they are artists and revel in their uniqueness if I have anything to do with it. I can't wait until I have a studio again so that I can teach them clay and making tremendous messes!

Don't

One of the things I want my girls to know is don't let anyone hit you. They steal pieces of your soul from you when they do this. Every time you see that arm raised or that hand coming at you....the next thing to pain you will see are parts of you flying off of you. You can learn to not feel the pain, but you can't do anything about those bits and pieces of your self worth being eroded away. Don't let anyone belittle you or make you feel less than...for they chip away at your soul as surely as there is a sun rising in the morning. Don't let someone take away your innocence and your sexuality as that will cause ruts and gashes in your soul that may never heal. As you mature and grow older in years, you have to buy back all those bits and pieces...all those chips and ruts a piece at a time to become whole again. It takes years of buying this back...sometimes losing your purchases in one little incidence when you are caught off guard. Sometimes you just go bankrupt and have to start all over again. It's called two steps forward, one giant step back. Take care of yourself as only you can do. Gather around yourselves only people who nurture you and help act as a barrier to those who take from you....only those people who give you a safe haven or will stand up for you when you can't. Purchasing your soul back takes a lifetime and the currency is heartache and tears.

If I Ruled the World...

I BELIEVE in Love, Life and Happiness. I believe that the most powerful thing in the world is love, especially the love of your family. I believe that life is a precious gift that should be treasured by all, and I believe that happiness is something we all should share.

I HOPE that one day we may have true peace on earth and that we can all help to make the world a better place for our children.
Ronan Keating
https://www.starscents.com/ronan/home.php

His website:
http://www.ronankeating.com/site.php

This is one of my favorite singers. There is a lot of good music coming out of Ireland these days.

Chicken Fried Steak

I am very close with a friend of mine named Jo Ann. We met when she joined our local Apple Club and hit it off right away. We became fast friends with so much in common. Our friendship rocked along for several years and then she moved away when her husband Jim got transferred. About the same time was when Ben had his accident and I suddenly had a full time husband with a tremendous amount of care needed. This was before email so we wrote each other letters. In one letter, Jo Ann told me what a pain Jim had been for several days and was a bit ticked at him. She told me that she had figured a legal way to kill off our husbands and no one would be the wiser: Just feed them the foods they wanted and we would kill them off slowly by clogging their arteries. No one would ever suspect! She then added that as a matter of fact, she was going to make chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and gravy that night!

Well, shortly afterwards both Jim and Ben started opening and reading our letters to each other. We had no privacy! No way to gripe about the stupid stuff our husbands did which is what most women do....is a way of relieving the stress and laughing. Men have no idea how stupid they can be and we women have mountains of things to laugh at when the subject gets to rolling...but that's another story. So....in one of her letters, she closed it by writing, 'I'm making chicken fried steak tonight' and gave me a fatridden menu. I wrote her back that I had fed Ben chicken fried steak the night before and gave her my menu. It got to the point that once we were talking on the phone and mentioned that we might make chicken fried steak that night and both men started drooling and actually wanted the meal. We laughed.

Next, I started telling my other friends, Shirley, Dian and Charlotte about 'chicken fried steak' and each added items to the menu. It kept growing. Charlotte even told her lifelong friend in Germany about it...so our custom has gone international. I think this should be a national woman's movement. Hmmmm.....planning a menu as I type....

Boopie

I've told mostly stories about Megan, my oldest grand daughter in this blog/diary/book. She is just plain outspoken and gregarious. I can always guarantee one amazing thing to come out of her mouth every time I see her. I was talking to my daughter about this and telling her that I wanted some stories about Mandy who will be 4 in September so that years from now, she won't feel left out and will have some history that she may not remember.

Amanda, as she was named at birth, was immediately dubbed as 'Boopie' by Megan. This baby was incredible from birth as she was beautiful, but she was difficult for me to learn. She didn't seem to want the normal baby things...she didn't especially want to be held....she didn't cry much and she was just an all around happy baby. Boopie was quiet. The fact that she was immediately claimed ownership by her sister Megan was cute. Mandy never seemed to mind Megan bossing her around or doing things for her....a lot of times she relied on it. Mandy is sometimes like a 'sleeper'....she just goes about her quiet way and pretends (well, sometimes deliberately) to not be quite so smart in order to get people to do things for her. It wasn't until she was about 3 1/2 did she become a cuddly bunny. She also started accidentially showing intelligence and cunning ways. She will take just so much of Megan and then just reach over and yank the heck out of Megan's hair....or throw something and break it faster than you can blink...or just plain 'mow' Megan down....if she decides that going into an immediate hysterical scream/crying tantrum won't work. Mandy precisely calculates which tactic she thinks will work for the immediate situation.

Both Megan and Mandy are artists. Megan is the picture artist and Mandy is the tactile artist. Megan understands the concepts while Mandy has to just get in and immerse herself with the material....become one with the clay. Mandy will be my potter. Both girls have a vivid imagination. Megan is very verbal about her imagination. Mandy just immerses herself in whatever she is playing with and ignores the world.

One night this spring, I was getting the girls ready for their bath. Megan got undressed but Mandy....you have to strip her down. Megan did this for me that night. I turned around from the tub to see one naked child who had drawn with permanent markers a complete bra on herself. It was the funniest thing I'd seen! I wanted to take a photo of her but in today's world, one is very careful about such things for fear of being considered a pedophile. I didn't take the photo. Now I wish I had.

Well, here is the story my daughter send to me about Mandy:

well, if mandy would do something other than sit and play quitely by herself or pulling meg's hair then you would have something to write......i'll discuss it with her.
actually, i have one really good story. one night we were watching a movie in bed getting ready to go to sleep. meg sleeps in the middle, mandy on the right and me on the left. i looked over at mandy and she was holding her favorite dog in the air. i asked her if her dog was watching the movie and she said yes. i told her that if her dog wanted to watch then she needed to turn him around where he was actually facing the tv and by the way, that meg and i really weren't enjoying looking at the dog's butt. mandy said ok and turned the dog around. then a few seconds later she casually turned the dog back around, butt facing meg and i, and lifted his tail. then she grinned an evil little grin. meg noticed and screamed "oh gross!!" and mandy started laughing like crazy. then for the next half hour or so, every so often when no one was paying attention, mandy would put the dog in the air with it's butt in meg's face until meg would say "oh gross! i don't want to look at a dog's butt!!" then mandy would laugh and put the dog down.

Out of the mouths of babes

On Sunday 07-16-06:
After leaving church, my grand daughter Megan insisted that all three of them (my daughter and two grand daughters) discuss what they learned in church that morning. They each took our turn and at the end, Megan was lost in thought. My daughter assumed she was thinking about what everyone had learned. Then she spoke. Megan asked, "Mommie, every time we go to church, all they talk about is God and Jesus. When are they going to get off that subject?" My daughter explained that the reason they go to church is to learn about God and Jesus and how to be nice to people; that this is what church is for. She replied, "Well, I guess that's ok then. I still want to go back."

Longer

If we only have now, I want you to see and know the me.
I want to feel your soul touching my heart.
My only regret is that I didn't know you when I was younger so that I could have loved you longer.

One of my heros

We all go through life knowing people and having heros...that person who exemplifies the higher ideals or actions that we look up to for inspiration. We read or hear about heros everyday. Yes, there are true heros who are true heros who selflessly are willing to lay down their lives for others but there are other types of heros. I have one such one in my life, my daughter Rodina.

Rodina was different yet the same from birth. I always knew her and her disposition. Yet, in all this, she has always had a different take on life...different ways of seeing things that would blow me away that such a young child could think the things she did. Sure, she was a girl and later became a woman and had all the foiables of a female....yet she still maintained a level of awareness that was so unique and all encompassing. We are not only mother and daughter, but we are also best friends. I've gone to her many times with thoughts to see what her take is on a situation and she has the most amazing ability to see the whole picture and give me an honest assessment which is usually totally correct.

Jump ahead to a few years ago. She met and married a man who adored her. She had two babies with him and life was good. Then he got on drugs. He got stupid and crazy and put her through a living hell. The things he did to her and put her through were unspeakable and she didn't tell me for the longest time. I blame myself for this as she grew up seeing me taking abuse and she had the reality that this is the way life is. When she finally told me, I immediately got her out of that mess and she took her children to a woman's shelter and lived there for quite sometime. All this time on top of it all, she had postpartum depression that was almost dibilitating. This is a condition I have learned is in my family. Although I never had it, I understood it after learning that other women in my family including my mother having had it. What Rodina went through that I later found out was the worst abuse anyone could imagine and heartbreaking for a mother to hear. Better women would have folded.

Things kept getting worse for her....she was having hell on earth and it didn't stop. She kept spiriling downward and I was helpless to help her. In all this, she was a good mother to her two girls...a really good mother. She finally spiraled down back last October/November. She was so low that she couldn't take care of her daughters. It was not easy on me either. I was supporting her financially by this time and it was really hard. Two of my best friends told me to just cut her off and let her sink. That hurt. I could not do this. However, I had to get 'tough' and take her girls from her. It was the hardest thing I think I've ever done in getting tough with her and tell her to get her act together or lose the girls forever. She was at the lowest point in her life and I made it lower. The night I took the girls and ranted and raved to her then left, I didn't know if she was going to live or die that night. That was the hardest night of my life.

I went back to her apartment the next day and she and I cried and cried. She was at least out of bed and working on trying to clean up her apartment and act. She had chosen to live and get her girls back in the night. Only six months later did she tell me the reason for her spiriling down: She had taken herself off her antidepressant medications cold turkey the month before. I didn't know where to turn but to prayer. I asked my family and close friends to pray with me. I continued to pray and I know they did also.

Slowly but surely, Rodina pulled herself up and got on with living. I gave her daughters back to her and she plunged into motherhood with a vengance. She found a job...a most difficult job with the worst hours available...yet she kept plugging along. Eight months of a job from hell...working sixty hours plus, her stepfather and I babysitting what seemed to be all the time but in reality we had the girls two nights a week each. The bonus to all this was the wonderful times we had with the girls and the closeness we now have with them.

Now, Rodina has landed a wonderful job that she will be able to support herself with benefits, holidays, vacations, retirement and best of all, good hours and weekends off. She's come so far in the last 8 months! SHE did it for herself and her girls! I am so proud of her and also wish her the best. The backbone that she has shown is an inspiration.

Like in a recent song: 'To the world, you may just be another girl...but to me...you are the world'. My daughter is the world to me and to her daughters. Some day I hope to help them understand what a fantastic woman they have as a mother.

A Hidden Place

A Hidden Place
by Carol Elaine Faivre-Scott


Each of us has a hidden place
Somewhere deep within ourselves;
A place where we go to get away,
To think things through,
To be alone, to be ourselves.
This unique place, where we confront our deepest feelings,
Becomes a storehouse of all our hopes,
All our needs, all our dreams,
And even our unspoken fears.
It encompasses the essence of who we are and what we want to be.
But now and then, whether by chance or design,
Someone discovers a way into that place we thought was ours alone.
And we allow that person to see, to feel and to share
All the reason, all the uncertainty
And all the emotion we've stored up there.
That person adds new perspective to our hidden realm,
Then quietly settles down in his own corner of our special place,
Where a bit of himself will stay forever.
And we call that person a friend.

...his concern switch was always on...

I've been cleaning out my magazine collection...going through my good ones and keeping only inspirational ones. In an American Craft June/July 1994 issue was an obituary. Why I read this obituary, I don't have a clue...I usually only look at the photos and read articles that pertain to techniques or history. This one told about a man and his life...not your standard obituary. I read it several times thinking each time that this man must have been a really neat person....and....I sure would like to emulate this person:

"...cared, deeply and consistently, his concern switch was always on and at the ready, his advice was unflinchingly straight from the hip. He did not protect himself with the pampering responses but offered a steadying hand for me to face reality with, in what would be my (not his) best interests.

He was just as hearty with 'Why, that's wonderful!' as with 'I agree, this is pretty serious!'. Here was a man with a large heart and a concern for what is right and beautiful.

To walk a craft fair with him ...was that rare visitor, more concerned with makers than with their production....he related on a gut level. ...a very human, sometimes bungling autocrat, cut of plain goods, large-hearted and with clear vision!"