Letterwriting - A lost art

What a wonderful thing is the mail, capable of conveying across continents a warm human hand-clasp.                              ~Author Unknown


Recently, I was having a conversation with a good friend lamenting the lost art of letter writing.  There was a time when sitting down with a pen and paper to communicate with someone was important.  When writing, one often took time to think about what to say, how to say it and reflect on the joy the receiver of the letter would have.

Now a days it’s all texting. Texting this, texting that.  Texting for everything.  And it’s challenging, because texts mean a shortening of  words and funny expressions and what if you don’t understand the happy face symbol.  I just learned what the :) means.  I didn’t know.  Texting is not good for the English language and children learning to spell.  While being able to communicate with someone instaneously it has it’s benefits, it’s not good for dating.

For trying to make that first connection, it should be face to face, to read the nonverbal signals.  Not through a text message.  But texting is fun, quick little conversations through out the day.  I send a little text message and wait to hear the trill of my phone telling me someone has responded back. 

Back to dating, texting makes it hard to know if someone is sincere.

What happened to long phone conversations on landlines?  That’s what I like.  But the information highway didn’t consult with me before saturating the market with phones that can do all sorts of things beside just make phone calls.

There is nothing more beautiful than getting a piece of mail.  A hand addressed note written on a piece of stationary chosen by the correspondent.  It says someone took the time to compose and articulate a thought to another person. 

Of course I learned to text because my son was going off to college and informed me that was the way I could communicate with him.

But I did take to it. And enjoy sending out little good morning messages to my friends.

But back to letter writing, I reiterate, there is nothing so sweet as a getting a piece of mail, handwritten.  I like writing thank you notes and sending them in the mail. I like the idea of surprising someone.

Texting, writing, calling:  it’s all about communication, vital and important in our world.   Reaching out and connecting with another person sharing the beauty of life.

(for the sake of this post I didn't mention email (focused on texting), but that is another blog post)

 To send a letter is a good way to go somewhere without moving anything but your heart. 

~Phyllis Theroux

Beauty

"Sometimes you

hear a voice through the 

 door calling you....

                          This turning toward what you
                          deeply love saves you."

               - From Rumi "A Voice through the Door"

I have always loved flowers.  This is a peony that grew in my Grandmother's garden in Northern California.  It was the first bloom of a plant that typically does best on the east coast.  She had green fingers and plants grew for her.  It took her many years to get this first blossom.  Gardening is an art of love and patience.  I recently came across this photo and it reminded me of my Grandmother's strength and patience.  I love this image.

On being a Mom: the continuum

“Making the decision to have a child—it’s momentous.  It’s to decide forever to have your heart  go walking around outside your body.”  - unknown

Mother and chilld
watercolor on watercolor paper
3/17/2012

When becoming a mother, what changes happen for women? Why? Why change? Why reflect? Why learn more about life and one’s self?

Recently I was reflecting on some situations from the past.  I thought about how before having my children I was reckless and carefree ( I didn’t think before I spoke).  About how I didn’t always pay attention to what I said or how it might be received.  I was a stream of thought style kinda person.  Now I am very careful with my words. 

Words can be tools of healing or weapons of destruction. 

Having a child is a milestone in many women’s lives.

It was in mine.  Beginning with knowing that there was a life growing inside me began to change the way I thought about life, I began to value everyday a little bit more.

How does that connect to growing up? Using my words?  When I was a child my father thought nothing of calling me a “dummy or aunt jemima”.

Of which I am neither.  But when you are a child, your parents words are golden, all powerful, all knowing. 

With my children I made a choice to never say anything remotely demoralizing.  I learned to use the word choice, decision, think about that, not okay.  Always talking about the action, not the child.  I continue to refine my communication abilities in my work with other people, my friends, family, co-workers.  I have learned to I think before I speak. 

As parents we can be a source of healing or a source of pain for our children.  It doesn’t mean I don’t get frustrated or angry I do.  We all do.  But I try to take a deep breath and be mindful of what comes out of my mouth.  And sometimes I say I am sorry.  And of course they say they are sorry too.  We can apologize.  Apologize and repair the relationship.

Becoming a mother is one of the richest, most rewarding experiences on this planet.  I found I had a love that was deeper and unconditional and protective of the growing people in my care.

Mothers are fierce in their protection of their children.  Witness the mother in the tornado that protected her children with her body so that they would be safe. 

When my sons were in elementary school, I used to have an emergency strategy in my head.  How would I get to them?  In my fanciful head I would leap over the buildings, push the cars out of my way.  I would get to my boys.  I would protect them.

That’s what moms do.  We feed them.  We worry about them.  We do our best to instill values that they can apply their whole life.

It’s a tiresome job.  Some of us don’t get enough sleep, worry about money, external things, how we are going to survive, are they reading, writing, being nice.  And who is being nice to us? The men in our lives, families, friends, coworkers, bosses?  Do we take a few minutes out for ourselves to remember and realize how wonderful each and every one of us is? 

Becoming a mother is one of the richest opportunities for learning.  We learn becoming a mother is not for sissies, you have to be strong. Because we will be challenged. 

P.S. – in my definition a mother is not necessarily someone who has birthed a child, any woman who has opened their heart to a child is a mother. 

Poetic Inspiration

watercolor on watercolor paper
12/2011

When she walks into the room,

everybody turns:

some kind of light is coming from her head.

Even the geraniums look curious…

We’re all attracted to the perfune

of fermenting joy.

we’ve all tried to start a fire,

and one day maybe it will blaze up on its own.

In the meantime, she is the one today among us

most able to bear the idea of her own beauty.

and when we see it, what we do is natural:

we take our burned hands

out of our pockets,

and clap.

                   - Tony Hoaglund, from “Grammar”

I found this poem back in 2004, in a magazine.  I loved it. To me it speaks of just being in tune with one's self and letting one's light shine through.

The Gift of Life

Watercolor
12/2012

When you look back on a lifetime

and think of what has been given to

the world by your presence, your

fugitive presence, inevitably you think

of your art, whatever it may be, as the

gift you have made to the world in

acknowledgement of the gift you have

been given, which is the life itself…

that work is not an expression of the

desire for praise or recognition, or

prizes, but the deepest manifestation

of your gratitude for the gift of life.

                                              - Stanley Kunitz

Wild Woman of the heart and
soul
2011

Rethinking The Help

Afro Queen
oil pastel on paper
2004

In the summer I wrote a post about The Help by K. Stockett,

the book about the black maids in the south.  I didn’t care for the book.  It triggers my own feelings about racism.  I have not seen the movie.  But I have read what others have written about it, and what the actresses have to say about playing the parts. 

That caused me to rethink my ideas about the movie.  One thing we as humans are very fortunate to have is a freethinking mind.  We can change it at any time.  We have the capacity to revisit our thoughts, weigh all the options, and reflect on why we think what we think. And change our minds about something.   That is what happened to me with this movie/book. 

So my new take:  while I won’t be rushing out to see it, I have respect for the actresses that took up the roles of portraying a segment of our population that had no voice.

And to me that is what The Help did.  It gave a voice to women that were invisible. 

I love the actress Viola Davis.  I think she is beautiful, powerful and amazing.  She is a dark skinned black woman following her dreams.  She was on the cover of LA Magazine and she was gorgeous.  She had a short afro and was exquisite. She has grace.  She took a risk on this role. 

Back to the Help.  Slavery, indentured servitude, taking advantage of people because of their skin color or race or religion has been apart of the makeup of America. 

Have things changed since the sixties? Are the lines of inequality fading? Is there equanimity for all?

Good questions to ask. Can one answer with a yes or no or maybe? The answers are as complex as the questions as the person answering would be.

I did change my mind on the book. To be black in America is no easy feat.  My challenges as a light skinned  black woman are different that a darker skinned black woman.  But my hair tells my story.  My nose tells my story, my lips.. they tell my story.  I am the Help.  My grandmother’s and great grandmothers were The Help.  

In my new reflective space, I value that these women are now visible.

The Hair Thing - Welcome to My World

Life is an endless struggle full of frustrations and challenges, but eventually you find a hair stylist you like.  ~Author Unknown


I have hair issues.  Everyone does. Or some people do and others don’t.  I was born with kinky, curly hair.  Hair that requires work to look nice:  Work that I don’t necessarily want to do, it depends on the year, my style, where I am at with my look.

Dixie Peach
Varnette Honeywood

In my story, I have a mother that really wasn’t all that much into hair either.  When I was little, she didn’t care that I cried when she tugged on my head and hair to comb it.  And I had those funny looking braids and a very tender scalp.  Hence, her plan was to relax and keep my hair short. Like her.  But she wasn’t consistent and lacked family support (because we were overseas). It was a nightmare of a mess.  

Fast forward to being a grownup and not having any strong hair skills.  For a while I did the natural thing, still keeping my hair braided.  Simple, it worked in college. 

I learned to deep condition my hair with olive oil in a sauna, making it very healthy.   But it was time consuming, the braids.

Oh! and I tried wearing braids, the cornrow/ weave ones (the fake ones).  I thought someone put a rug on my head – hated it.  It was awful.  All she did was tug on my head, of course I didn't like it, I have hair tugging issues.  I mean the worst $300.00 dollar mistake I ever made. I don’t understand that one, how women go around with rugs on their heads.

I have straightened my hair with a relaxer.  And kept it short.  And it worked.  For a long time. 

Then I wanted something different, but I don’t like a lot of hair fiddling.  I found a relaxer that left my hair curly and ringlet like.  And I loved it.  I felt the straight hair was too severe and got tired of it. Why couldn’t I have that beautiful mixed race curly spirally hair?  But I was happy with the new curly look.  I had to use curl stuff to make the curls, but for the first time, I felt happy with my hair.  It wasn’t too difficult to style, so it met my needs and I thought it suited me. 

Alas and alack, my hair got dry, and brittle and needed care and I had to find products I could afford and liked.  Thus began a whole new chapter in my life. 

Since I don’t wear makeup, I take decent care of my hair.

There is the leave-in conditioner, the curl crème and the anti frizz stuff.  And sometimes the combination works and sometimes I have to tweek it.

The great thing about my hair is painting it.  Doing representations of it in my work.  I love making squiggley lines to depict my curly hair.  That is fun.  That is what I love about my hair and my identity.

self portrait
acrylic on canvas panel 2011

They say people with straight hair want curly and vice versa.

I am just trying to be happy with who I am and how I am on this planet right now.  So I am figuring it out.