Memorial Day Story

This Memorial Day, I want to take you back to December of 2005, when I received the following e-mail:

“I was doing a web search looking for cranes to use as Christmas ornaments when I happened upon your site. I was wondering what the approximate size of your ornaments were, where I could purchase them and if it would be possible to get them customized with lettering.”

I sent back an email asking for some more information. The next day the following information came:

"I'm looking for 12 cranes and would need them by Wednesday 12/21. I live in ........., Indiana, just outside of Indianapolis.

Regarding the custom lettering, I was looking for them to have "Bobby" and "Believe" printed on each of the wings (either on top or on bottom), preferably in gold lettering."

I agreed to take on the project. I had no galleries carrying the cranes in the area at the time, and the last sentence pulled me in. I finished up the cranes, and contacted him again to find out where they needed to be shipped and payment information.

In the next e-mail, he said he would send me a check and gave me the mailing address. He also included the following:

"P.S. I happened to review your biography on your web site and thought you may, for inspiration or just curiosity, want to know the reason for my request. My nephew, Robert Paul Warns II was a marine killed in Iraq last November (there is an incredible 5-minute video tribute on the website). Since our family tends to be a bit on the spiritual side (kind of Catholics meet Buddha) we celebrate Bobby's life and feel and "believe" that his spirit is still with us. We've adopted the crane as a remembrance of Bobby, both because he used to fold them and give them to children in Iraq (he loved children) and also because of their significance as a symbol of peace. I am really looking forward to passing out your cranes as a special Christmas remembrance.”

I have never been so touched in my life as I was by this story. Some eighteen months later it still brings tears to my eyes. I never cashed the check that was sent, and I sent a few more cranes. So they made a donation to a local charity that supports people who are working but struggling to make ends meet. Bobby Burns came from an amazing family. And there are many, many other families all across this country today who are missing their loved ones. Their brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, nieces and nephews. And each one has a story. Today, on memorial, remember Bobby, and all the other soldiers who have lost their lives in a war.

Noise, Noise, Noise, NOISE, Noise!

I wish I could say that I was one of those people who has a "practice" of meditation. That each day I would go to a certain place and follow my practice of meditation. But I am not.

That being said, I do have to say that meditation has taught me alot about observation, and about being better able to quiet all the noise around me. This quiet is the only way I know to be able to really find my "voice". To be able to listen to the ideas that surface. They mostly come to me at other times, when I am not in a meditative state. But it was through meditation that I learned how to focus and turn up the volume on that tiny little voice that pipes up from time to time, and might otherwise be drowned out.

Sometimes I am not even aware of the level of background noise that is constantly around. I am always amazed when there is a power outage at how much quieter everything is. The constant background hum of motors is silenced. Suddenly the "tick,...tick,...tick,..." of my battery run clock is the loudest noise around. And when the power goes back on, it is not just lights or blinking LED's that signal it's return. It is the rising hum and whir.

It is easy to fill in the blanks with sound and other stimulation. Turning on the TV or radio, listening to an iPod, or even getting on the computer, are all done with such ease that it is not even conscious most of the time. Just habit. I am an NPR junkie. I can rattle off the schedule of my favorite local NPR station with way too much ease. It is on in my studio, in my car, in the kitchen. I even wake up to it most mornings! But lately I find the need to just turn it off a bit more often.

I became more aware of the power that silence has through guided meditation. I used to hate to meditate. I thought I couldn't, actually. But when it was finally explained to me that all those thoughts about everything I had to do that start pouring through my brain are absolutely normal. All I had to do was gently guide my attention away from them, and back to my breath. The noises in the background. Observe them and then go back to your breath. That was it. No right or wrong really. Just gentle attention and focus. I could do that.

I found it was just the remedy I needed at those times when I thought my head was going to explode from all the things I was trying to juggle. It calmed me down, and focused my energy.

One of the most amazing things I observed during meditation was the pause. The space between the inhale and the exhale. When your breathing slows down, and your focus increases that pause becomes another moment in time. To me, it was almost like time was suspended for a moment. And I guess there are days that this is exactly what I am craving. "Stop the clock! Let me breath for a minute!" With meditation I was able to do that. It really takes slowing down and focusing to observe the pause. And if we can observe the pause, what other things are there that we can observe if we just slow down and focus.

If you have never meditated. Give it a try. If you used to meditate. Try it again. You don't have to do it everyday. But you might want to. For me, it is the perfect antidote to a harried life, and a valuable tool for an artist's life.

Mindfulness

Anyone familiar with the principles of Buddhism, will be familiar with the term "mindfulness". For those less familiar, what it boils down to is being fully in the present. Surrendering to the moment. Not being caught up in the worries of what has already happened, and what is coming down the path.

So what does this have to do with the world of craft or business? In my approach to creativity, it turns out it is essential. But to be honest, I did not come at this consciously. It snuck up on me. And it was only in reflection that I was able to make this connection.

I used to feel that I had to plan out anything I made to the nth degree. Drawings were completed in my head before pencil touched paper. Sketches were made of ideas I had. Or when I was sewing or knitting something, I had an image in my head of what the finished piece would be. I would carefully follow instructions or patterns. But too often, the end result did not match my expectations. And so I would be disappointed in the finished piece. And, I missed out on much of the joy of the process. My head was fixed on the end product. I was working for the finish line, and not paying enough attention to the journey.

Somewhere along the line, I found I had made a shift. Part of it may have been in my work with polymer clay. The immediacy of the material encourages play. Exploring the possibilities of the material with no specific end goal in mind. Over time, I found that more often than not, I was starting most of my work with only the vaguest notion of where it was going to take me. I might know that I was going to make a vessel, or a necklace. And I might plan out the form or shape. But that was as far as my planning would go. Until that step was complete. Only then would I start to think about what I would be doing next. I no longer follow directions for things. I am forever adding my own twist, or changing something about the way something is done based on my experiences. I trust my own intuition more than in the past.

This step-by-step approach allowed me to better understand the material I was working with. I noticed nuances I might have otherwise missed. And it allowed me to be open to the opportunities or happy accidents that might occur along the way. I was able to work in a way that let me be present to what I was doing right then and there.

It has spilled over into my knitting and other media that I play with from time to time. This spring I made a C3PO costume for my 6'3" husband with no pattern. He was doing a Star Wars routine on ice with my daughters. I should have run in the other direction, but instead, I dove in. And the end result was pretty darn good. I did not get ahead of myself. I trusted my sewing skills, and took each challenge as it came. In the end he had a very cool costume, and I felt better about myself as a sewer. (He made the R2D2 model and the landspeeder by the way. They made quite an impression!)

The biggest changes for me have come with how much more joy I get from what I am doing. Whether it is doing the knitting often do at night to relax, or the clay work in my studio, I am having more fun, and I am happier with the outcome. Even when things go wrong, I don't own the failure in the way I did in the past. Before, I was the failure. Now I can see it in a different light...., the piece didn't work, but maybe I learned something along the way. And it is easier for me to let go of my work and send it out into the world. I own the process, and the finished product is just the result of that. Sometimes I will be so happy with how a piece came out that I want to hold onto it for a bit longer. But ultimately, it feels empty. Not nearly as satisfying as the actual process of creation.

The materials are no longer the enemy. They do not have to be "mastered". Instead I am looking for the connection. Letting a piece show me the way. And getting out of my own way. If all of this sounds a bit too esoteric or philosophical, it probably is. I was the "accidental tourist" on this trip. But it has changed my life as an artist and it has started to spill over into the rest of my life as well. See if you can let go of some aspect of your life that you hold too dearly. Don't expect too much too fast. But someday, you may look around at your life, as I did, and see that the ground beneath you has shifted.