Maria’s Good Morning Monday Videos have become a thing, a ritual, a peaceful and calming meditation. They now have a large and loyal following. It’s a great way to start the week. I’m very lucky and happy to post them here on Bedlam Farm. You can also see them on her blog at fullmoonfiberart.com.
In her art, Georgia O’Keeffe liked the idea of expressing herself harmoniously through line, color, and shading. She believed that “colors and shapes make a more definite statement than words ” and, therefore, created mostly modern abstract paintings. “I’ve been absolutely terrified every moment of my life, and I’ve never let it keep me from doing a single thing that I wanted to do.” — Georgia O’Keeffe.
This may make me a creator of modern abstract flower photos. It is exciting to put a name on it. I admit I was frightened when I dared to take these photos; the correct spellers were swarming like hornets, and I was struggling to get close, as I wanted to do. It took me a couple of hours to do it, and I am far from done yet.
There are organized squads on social media that live to deter creative people from creating things in the open unless they can win spelling bees and be brilliant instantly. I am proud to mind my own damned business; it is a dying trait—sorry Grandma.
I mean it when I tell you I am grateful for your kind comments. They kept me going until I felt good about them.
In addition to creativity, O’Keefee, by example, taught me not to listen to the many people eager to find fault in others, usually strangers they don’t know. I’ve become a deletion specialist.
Tomorrow is a holiday, and I’ll be home, continuing my determination to understand and find a solid place to stand. So far, I’ve rejected fear, hatred, and anger, two useless and pointless emotions. Once again, thanks for your kind words. I have family, after all.
This is one of the reasons I like growing old and never complain about it. I might be learning something.
So far, my new inexpensive lens can do no wrong.
I took three still-life photographs today.
I love still-life photographs and don’t do enough of them. This was a quiet day, full of quiet and thinking. I went to the farmer’s market to buy two wool socks to replace the ones I bought Maria a decade ago, which had holes in the bottoms.
Maria rarely, if ever, buys herself any kind of clothing; she repairs them until they are not recognizable and her feet are beginning to freeze in the cold. She sometimes buys $5 or $6 shirts or dresses. I buy her shoes, I don’t ask her about them. She bought some new sneakers the other day, but one foot was hurting and isn’t now. I was amazed.
I may not see that again in my lifetime. Her Blogging is always evocative to me; she is devoted to it and carefully thinks about her writing. Her blog is quite wonderful: fullmoonfiberart.com. So are her photos, essays, writing about her art, and videos.
I like these three photos. They capture the feeling of the day. I’m thinking a lot about how I want to feel and need to feel and how some good can come out of either. I’m getting there.
Bud is a Sun Child, always where the sun shines in. He knows what it is like to be cold.
The morning sun dances all over the wooden walls of our farmhouse, catching one of Maria’s hats, scarves, and even one of her feathers.
Today, we’re celebrating Pasta Day with a heart full of gratitude!
We want to thank you for your recent contributions to the Cambridge Pantry.
Your quick and generous donations of Clam Chowder and Refried Beans allowed us to stock these items for the first time in the pantry’s history.
This has not only enabled us to plan ahead for a few weeks, a previously impossible task, but it has also significantly improved our ability to serve the struggling food-challenged people in this community.
The Pantry families and children will have warm and nutritious dinners this week as a cold front arrives.
Your support has made an enormous difference, and we are truly grateful. Your generosity allows us to make a big impact in our community. Thank you.
We have exciting news to share!
The pantry has received a grant to build a new storage room. This will enable us to stock the food people want and prevent running out once or twice a week.
Your contributions have made this progress possible, and we are delighted to share this news with you. Doing good feels good, and we all need that.
Today, Sarah is asking for three different kinds of pasta—Velveeta Shels, Ravioli, spaghetti, and Meatballs—and has found great prices: two under $5 and one $7.47. These are three warm and filling winter dinners.
Always putting herself in the shoes of the challenged, she is thinking ahead to cold and snowy weather where warm meals matter:
Here is the pasta she is seeking. Thanks. We are on a good and beautiful roll:
Chef Boyardee Spaghetti and Meatballs, 14.5 Oz Cans, Pack of 4, $4.48.
Velveeta Shells & Cheese, Original Shell Pasta & Cheese Sauce, three-ct Pack, 12-Oz Boxes, $7.47.
Beef Ravioli, 15 Oz, Pack of 4, $4.48.
(Some of the many remarkable pantry volunteers.
This is a reminder that you can access the Cambridge Pantry Amazon Food Wish List by clicking on any link above the Cambridge Food Pantry green button at the bottom of every blog post.
Everything on the list is urgently needed and is updated frequently. We are delighted that many people browse the list and make their own choices.
Sarah’s choices usually mean the pantry is out of items and unable to replenish them. She is crafting a whole new food pantry, and we fully support it.
(Sue is unloading Army of Good donations.)
Today is Pasta Day; Tomorrow is Rice Day
“When we speak of listening with compassion, we usually think of listening to someone else. But we must also listen to the wounded child inside of us. Sometimes, the wounded child in us needs all our attention. That little child might emerge from the depths of your consciousness and ask for your attention. If you are mindful, you will hear their voice calling for help. At that moment, instead of paying attention to whatever is in front of you, go back and tenderly embrace the wounded child.”
— Thich Nhat Hanh
There is a wounded child inside of me, deep and sometimes frightening. I’ve had fear and anxiety in my life for as long as I can remember and before I had words. As many people know, it’s a part of me; it will always be there.
I first encountered the idea of the wounded child reading Thomas Merton and then again in decades of therapy.
Over time, I understood that the fear inside of me often came from that child, not the reality of what was happening in my life. I learned the wounded child is in many of us. When I feel fear as I did last week, I know now to stop and think – some call it meditation and ask if the danger and fear I feel is coming from something outside of me or whether it has triggered something profound inside of me, something I might not remember or have words for.
Pain is inevitable in life; suffering can be a choice. Terror and fear of the future are often not reality. They are infectious, and people quickly pass them along to one another. I don’t let that happen to me if I can help it, and usually, I can. The wounded child needs my attention.
As Hanh and others suggest, when I feel that fear, I try to speak to that wounded child – you know him or her, they are not rare or exclusive to me – and tell him he is all right, he is not in danger anymore, whatever is happening to me outside need not spur panic or crippling anxiety.
I can deal with the issues I face in the real world calmly and clearly, without panic, but with thought and perspective. I ask the question the gurus always suggest: “Am I okay right now, and if I am, then I don’t need to feel panic or terror.”
There is no reason for that right now. Today, I am fine—better than fine.
I will deal with reality when it comes, and I am very good at that; I’ve done it all my life, and so have the wounded children in their way. And I will never spread or enable panic to others. Panic, like hatred, solves nothing and saves no one.
Fear is not a guide for me in life; grace, faith, and listening are what now work for me. I talk to the wounded child often, but he has calmed down, as I have, and gotten the attention he deserves. So have I, his father, perhaps my real one.
The truth lies in history and the complex story of humanity.
Spiritual upheavals are a part of democratic life and human life.
They are not unique to our time.
I recall my life in the 60s when leader after leader was gunned down and killed; we thought our country was hopelessly divided and coming apart, ugly battles in the streets, worse than now.
It was frightening, but as has often happened in our history, and more than once (think of the Civil War, the vicious battles over immigrants), it healed in parts and moved on to different crises and divisions. And then back to the same ones. That’s what happens in diverse countries. We will never be free of these populist revolutions. They never seem to last.
It can be disturbing, even frightening, but it isn’t the fear that the wounded and helpless child felt that shaped our psyches and consciousness and that I sense is exploding all around us. Contrary to the hysteria, we are not powerless and never hopeless. Whatever the future brings, it will not be what the pundits say it will be. It never is.
Sadly, we have few authentic and empathic leaders to guide us; they are all in the fray. Healing leaders do emerge; it just takes a lot of chaos before we are ready to hear them.
When I talk to the wounded child, I know I am often frightened in a profound, even terrifying way. The injured child most often has no words and no way of knowing that they can be safe and deal with life in better and more secure ways.
Today, I’m devoting my life to my wounded child, my lifelong companion.
That will be a painful process in some ways, but it will often lead to a feeling of peace and liberation. Yes, I am safe in the certainty that I am older and wiser now. I understand that today, I am not in danger. I love my life, and I’ll take things as they come. They are rarely as bad as people tell me they are.
I’ll find time for silence and reflection, go back, put aside whatever is roiling me outside, tenderly embrace the wounded child, and tell him he is safe. I will always remember that I am talking to myself as well.
I’ll be back, I expect, for some Flower Art, I’ll otherwise be silent today.
