It's Only A Car

When I learned yesterday that the engine of my car was destroyed and thus I would need to say goodbye to my Audi TT, I was flooded with a number of emotions ranging from annoyance to loss, panic to sadness, memory to reflection.  I was really struck by my own reaction and, in my usual way, spent the evening trying to understand what gives.  And I think I have a clue.

Yesterday marked the end of a chapter for me and the beginning of another one.  Both chapters have to do with the end of the era of being married and identifying as such. When I first got my racy little sports car, it was step #1 in declaring my desire for independence. I called it my midlife crisis car, and it was truly symbolic for me.  In many ways, that little car acted as home for me, as a safe haven of Lisa when all else was crumbling around me: my move from Seattle, my loss of a job, my kids leaving the nest, my marriage ending. So losing this car seems to mark an end of this era of beginning of change - at a time when I no longer need the symbol of independence as real change is happening.

Interestingly,earlier in the day, prior to learning that my car was truly dead and not worth reviving, I had finally begun the process that will ultimately lead to the splitting of property between my husband of 30+ years and me, thus allowing divorce. It has taken me two years to get to this point, and I am ready now, no longer scared of what's to come.

I will miss that little car.  I no longer make the kind of money that allows me to acquire such an expensive car, and that is a little hard to swallow.   I no longer live a life with as many of the trappings as I did when the TT entered my life, and I must admit I miss many of those trappings.  But I live a very nice life, and while I may not have many of the material trappings, I also no longer have many of the emotional chains and baggage I once had, either.  Here's to the next chapter, and RIP little car.

Collective Unconscious

Boyan Mastov

One of the experiences in art that never fails to excite and interest me is seeing evidence of the collective unconscious which leads artists in diverse media and diverse locations to be inspired by a similar muse.  How is it possible that a ceramic artist in New Hampshire and a fiber artist on Whidbey Island in Washington State can be exploring similar territory, each with his or her own unique spin, stamp, and stitch?  What informs the choice of color, shape, and composition?  It amazed me when I was looking at my company's site, artfulhome.com, to see new work, and I found these very pieces sitting near each other, looking like cousins, like kindred spirits.

Janet Steadman

                        
How is it possible that we as humans think alike, even when separate?  How is it possible that men and women can start in very different places, visually, yet arrive in similar destinations?  And why is it that certain visual cues cause a rise in so many of us?  Is it learned or just part of the human experience?  Are we all influenced by forces of nature that we are not aware of?  I don't know, but it certainly intrigues me when I see it before my eyes.

Joan Gold

Liza Halvorsen

Smitten

Here in my lovely foodie Mecca known as San Francisco, there is a singular ice cream business called Smitten. Imagine a pop up store in a hipster neighborhood where each scoop of ice cream is literally made one at a time, to order, before your eyes in a super little mixer piping in a cooling agent, very DIY meets hi tech. The ice cream itself is outstanding, and worth its high price and long wait if you are the kind of person who gets a kick out of artisan food-making and heavenly deliciousness. And so my story begins. After a movie the other night with a man I am getting to know, I suggested we head over to Smitten. Why? Because the night was still young and I didn't want it to end; because I am often up for adventure and am looking for a partner with similar energy; because I love ice cream and it seemed just right and he had never been to Smitten and I wanted to watch his reaction, because it was uncharacteristically warm for SF and I wanted to take advantage of the weather with this relative newcomer to the Bay Area. It wasn't a test. I have "tested" men in the past at times when I was playing more of a game of love than experiencing a real connection. This was wanting to know a little bit more about someone through an experience. And may I say? I was and am smitten.

Fate

Last week marked  Rosh Hashanah, the beginning of the Jewish New Year.   I am not, nor have I ever been, a religious person, having been raised in a secular household, yet I have always been aware and observant, at least in a casual way, of this most serious of Jewish holidays.  The idea of taking the time to repent for relationships gone awry and making amends to repair damage - or at least take responsibility - is a practice I hold in high regard and try to uphold.

But in addition, one of the beliefs associated with Rosh Hashanah is the belief that a person’s fate for the coming year is decided during the High Holy Days, and this I find most interesting to contemplate.  Of course I really don't believe such a thing is possible, as it seems to imply that there is a loss of determination of one's life based on the actions of every single day.  But what if?  What if it was possible to seal your fate based on the actions you took during a particular 10 day period?  What might you do differently?

This seems the stuff of movies and romance novels, of science fiction and fairy tales, of operas, both musical and of the soapy variety.  I had a couple of dates planned during these 10 days with a man I am most keen on, but to put the pressure on those dates that the actions from them might seal my fate for the next year?  Unfair to both him and me!  I have some really interesting business meetings coming up within this same time period, but again the pressure to have them determine the year's outcome seems to suffocate them before they even happen.

I realize that how I behave does have a longlasting effect whether in relationships of  love or business.  Both kinds of relationships are so much more complicated than to have their fates sealed by a 10 day window, yet having the marker of a holiday to remind us that WE are in control of our actions, that WE are responsible for how we act and treat others, and that WE are not above apologizing when we behave badly is most welcome.

Socks: A Love Story

When I first saw this yarn, I decided it was time to knit again.  Knitting is symbolic for me, an indicator that I am calm enough to slow down, an indicator that I have free time or that I am willing to make free time just for me.  Knitting socks is yet another indicator, challenging the impatient side of me to do something which takes a long time and which requires doing it all over again, i.e. making the second sock.  And knitting these socks?  The yarn was much finer than what I have worked with and I decided to try a new knitting technique, to challenge myself beyond my comfort.

All that, with no pre-determined destination for the socks, should I ever finish them, and yet I undertook the project.  Knitting for me is much like cooking; in both activities  I get as much pleasure from the task - or tasks- involved as I do from the end project, and particularly sharing the end project.  

I found incredible joy in knitting what started out as "the goddamn socks" and ultimately became the meditation socks.  The intimacy of sock knitting, with its small needles and the ability to hold the whole piece in my hands was comforting,and I fell in love with the calm and experience of knitting all over again. I briefly dated a man who thought he should be the rightful recipient.  As with cooking, I have learned not to lavish too much of myself on someone too soon, and the unfinished socks remained with me after this man left my life.

When I realized who might be the perfect recipient for the socks- and I considered many - the experience came full circle.  I gave them to a friend with whom I've had a fragile relationship, and it felt really good.  I could never have knit for him before, because it might have implied an expectation.  Now it was possible.  And the love story of the socks turns out to be with me.

Why Not?

I don't care much about fashion, but I certainly like clothes.   Contradictory?  Not at all.The whims and vagaries of fashion no longer interest me, and I rarely follow what is happening on runways as that has little effect on my life.  But a great pair of shoes or a perfect dress, some inventive spin on a basic or a knock-me-over-with-a-feather coat and I get a little weak in the knees.  My closet is full, yet the siren call of something fabulous and new often calls. 

A friend recently commented that I was lucky because I have a lifestyle which allows me to dress creatively, as opposed to her life which she described as being not worthy of artful dressing.  Baloney!  While it is true that I get to show up at work while she shows up in her studio, I show up like this out of choice.  

 I went to the movies the other night with a friend and decided to toss on my new sassy shoes, just because.  They made me happy, and as my friend can attest, made others smile with delight.  Could I have shown up in flip-flops or sneakers?  Sure, but I didn't, my choice.  Could he have shown up in his fleece vest and dad-jeans?  Yep, but he, too, is trying on some new looks - and looking and feeling good.

My daughter has said it perfectly: "If you have to get dressed, why not make it fabulous?". Why not, indeed!

Soar, Little Bird

I return to the theme of watching my now adult children flying on their own, triggered to write by the crazy success my daughter is currently experiencing.
In case you have not heard me shouting from the rooftops, my daughter, Zana Bayne , is getting a great deal of attention for her leather designs currently being worn (again and again!) by Lady Gaga and her dancers - on tour, on television, in the New York Times, and now on Gaga's latest video released this week!

With her success, I am asked repeatedly how she did it and how I did it, and the answers are pretty simple. She, Zana, did it by working her tail off, by having an idea and pursuing it, by treating her ideas and her work and her career as if they were important and persisting in being herself unabashedly. (This is, after all, the same person who at age 8 put a yellow post-it on our home mirror saying "be yourself".)

What did I do as a parent? I gave her the room to be herself, encouraged her creativity, answered her questions when asked, gave her a role model of a working woman confident in her own roles as professional and mom. I never pushed her toward a particular calling, but watched and nurtured what she wanted.

I believe strongly that our job as parents is to not screw up our precious little progeny. Watching Zana soar right now only strengthens that belief. The world of leather and Gaga is foreign to me; it is Zana's world, not mine, with styles I can admire without them being mine, representatives of a younger generation and our future.