The Terracotta Army

March 20, 2018 By

As I mentioned in my last post, I declare one day a week, MY DAY. A few of weeks ago I took myself on a date to see The Terracotta Army on exhibit at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, in Richmond, about an hour away from my home. It’s a great museum and I’ve been fortunate to have seen several great exhibitions there, including Chihuly’s exquisite work in glass. Bill came along and after we roamed through the exhibition halls, we had lunch with a friend we haven’t seen in a while at the museum’s fantastic restaurant, Amuse. The food is always superb and most often reflects on the theme of the major exhibition going on. This time was no exception with a menu filled with delicious sounding Chinese dishes.

The exhibition itself is a small sampling of “terracotta sculptures depicting the armies of Qin Shi Hung, the first Emporer of China.” Life size, the beautifully restored figures of warriors, horses and chariots, were buried in 209-210 BCE near the Emporer’s mausolium to protect him in the Afterlife. Discovered in 1974 by farmers digging a well, were the figures of some 8,000 soldiers, 130 Chariots, and over 500 horses. Made by government workers and local craftsmen, the originals were put together from individual pieces built seperately. Then the torsos, heads, arms, and legs and were put together with more clay in a process called luting. The faces were made in molds and then more clay was added and sculpted to provide individual facial features.

It was a great experience to see theses phenominal sculptures and to imagine how they must have looked when discovered in the pits in which they were buried. I am fascinated by this army of clay figures, how they were made, and the ancient funerary practices of so many past civilizations as they prepared for death. I am left to wonder if we should be disturbing and taking the art from these sacred burial sights or should we leave them out of respect for those who created them.

I am also curious about what humans in the very distant future will discover about our current civilization when they dig deep into the earth looking for hints about who came before them. What will our landfills tell them when they uncover the remains of our Golden Arches or the bits and pieces of what might be considered primitive robotic intelligence. Or will all bits and pieces of us disspear into the dust of centuries?

What do you think?

Filed Under: Art, wonderings Tagged With: ,

What? Me Retired?

June 27, 2017 By

Last week when a friend asked me if I was making visual art or writing, I caught myself saying, “No, I’m retired.” Even though I haven’t been painting or writing much these days, I haven’t considered myself retired. I’m still busy as a bee and can’t seem to tell you where the days go. Since then I’ve found myself using that word more often, especially when it’s time to get up in the morning and I tell myself, “Oh, there’s plenty of time. After all, you are retired.”

Interestingly, I’ve recently talked to two artist friends my age or a bit older, and they tell me they aren’t making art either. They, like me are simply letting the days unfold before them and are enjoying things they haven’t done in a long while, like sleep in, travel, and not worry about tomorrow.

So I’m beginning to think that maybe I really am retired. I’m taking it easy, working on getting the kinks worked out of my stiff body, and enjoying extra sleep time. It’s time for lots of reading, writing in my journal, and eating foods grown on the lush farms all around me. Virginia Peaches are just coming in and their sweet juiciness is what summer is all about. Our farmer’s market is the place to go early on Saturday mornings if you want to fill your frig with the best veggies. It’s also where I often catch up with friends I haven’t seen in a while.

As a way of testing whether or not I’m retired, I’m taking some time off here and blogging only when I have something important or inspiring to say. Though we’re mostly at home this summer, we’re eyeing a lovely cruise up the New England and Canadian coast, then down the St. Lawrence Seaway in the fall. And who knows what else will present itself? I’m opening up my life and my days by leaning into the breeze and seeing where it takes me. I’m not giving up the visual art and writing ghosts at all. I’m simply allowing my muse the extra time and space she needs to fly.

See you next time! And have a wonderful summer!

Filed Under: Healthy Living, wonderings Tagged With: , ,

Why In The World??

February 23, 2016 By

 

DSC02421Over the past few weeks I’ve heard and participated in various conversations about the dilemma of asking for help. If we’re sick and need to take time off from work and are our only means of financial support what do we do? If we’re living from paycheck to paycheck and have been working for someone for years and still aren’t getting paid vacations, why can’t we broach the subject with our employer? If we live alone and can no longer climb a ladder to change a lightbulb, do we live in the dark?

Being needy is a very embarrassing place to be. It brings out our shame. We should be able to take care of ourselves, right?

When I was a child I learned not to ask for help. My father trusted no one and wouldn’t even loan a hammer out to a neighbor. I was supposed to figure out how to solve my own difficulties. If I couldn’t find my own way, I felt like a loser in my parent’s eyes. One of the biggest elephants in my room is asking for help as well as accepting it when it arrives.

I know I’m not alone. I watch friends struggle with the same problem, hoping they’ll show me a magical way to get help without feeling like a failure. But they are no better at it than I am. We all sit together and ask, why can’t we do this one simple thing?  Especially when the help is there to be given with such generosity.

I’ve often blamed it on being a woman because most of us have been caregivers to our kids, husbands, needy relatives, or aging parents. I thought men never struggled with that kind of thing. In the old traditional way of thinking, before feminism came along, men were the superheroes who could do everything. They went to work to put food on the table, pay for the kid’s new shoes and the root canal his spouse needed.

But have you ever wondered why men don’t ask for directions if they are lost? Why don’t most of them cry openly? Women do not own shame. It belongs to everyone. Men, Women, the  young,the old and even the dog who just peed on that fine oriental carpet in the living room.

But why? Why aren’t we enough? Why do some of us jump in to rescue others who need a hand, but refuse to admit that we could use a helping hand ourselves? Are we all in competition of some sort that says we have to be the very best at everything? Do we expect too much from ourselves? There are various explanations for this phenomena.  I’m interested in hearing:

What you’re thoughts are about asking for help and the shame that often ensues?

I will be sending out another newsletter next Tuesday, the first of March.  If you haven’t already signed up to have it delivered to your inbox, go to the top of this page, on the right hand side to sign up.  It’s free and I never share your personal information.

Filed Under: Fear, Guilt, Kindness, Mindfulness, The Process, wonderings Tagged With: , , , , ,

Wishes For A Mindful New Year!

December 29, 2015 By

IMG_0009Once more the year has rolled into its final week. Like everyone else, I anticipate what’s to come as the New Year begins? Who will be our next President? Will the wars in the Middle East spread further and further? And what will our country’s role be in trying to find peace? Will cold weather finally arrive and bring with it snow or freezing rain destroying these tiny gems I photographed on the day after Christmas?

There are also very personal wonderings. How will Bill’s knee replacement surgery go? Will my daughter’s fight with lyme disease finally be over and will she return to perfect health? Will I sell tons of books when my retitled memoir, SCATTERING ASHES, A Memoir of Letting Go, is published on September 20th? Yes, you heard that right, a new title which I think works oh so much better. And yes, it will be available on September 20, 2016.

Every December I choose a word to carry me through the next year, as a reminder of what is most important as I travel down the path I’ve chosen. As this past year has slipped by, I’ve found myself falling back into an old pattern that makes me extremely uncomfortable when I allow it to take over my thoughts.

Its name is Worry. I’m afraid that my predisposition for getting worked up over things has taken over my thought process and kicked mindfulness out the door. As a result, I spend too much time imagining what might happen to me, my family, or the world. I’ve also found myself kicking myself in the butt for mistakes I’ve made in the past and my sometimes pissy behavior.

Worry and Regret are not things I want to  carry around with me. So I’m going back to a word that has never been on my list of New Year Words, but is most important in that it has helped me in the past and will help ease my way through the coming months with a bit of sanity.

If I can bring back being MINDFUL during the next 365 days, I will be very pleased with myself.

I think it will take some work to be present in each and every moment, so it won’t be particularly easy or happen over night. And perhaps it shouldn’t be a New Years Word at all. Maybe it’s a Rest Of My Life Word. But I think all New Year Words do that eventually anyway. Or so I hope.

In the last week, I’ve started rereading, When Things Fall Apart, by Pema Chodron. It’s one of her greatest, though all of her books are. It certainly is apt as I observe the state of our world right now. This particular book has helped me through some of the worst years of my life. Her encouraging words reach into my heart, helping to release my unease.

I want to be more appreciative of all of the good things, like those beautiful, little daffodils in the photo at the top of this page that don’t usually bloom here in December. Or these funny Halloween pumpkins that turned intoIMG_0006 something otherworldly by the end of November. They seem fossilized. Very out of season, they make me smile when I pass by them on my walks.

Today, I’m trying to be present NOW. It’s all I’ve really got. Those mistakes and bad behaviors I mentioned earlier happened in the past. Why run them through the wringer one more time?

As for the future, it hasn’t happened yet. For right now, I’ll concentrate on typing these words while I listen to robins singing happily outside in leafless trees. Later, on my way to lunch, I’ll notice the fine mist that is falling and how it gently settles on my hair.

What are your reflections on the coming year and what is it you want most to happen?

 

I’ll be taking a break from posting here for the next few weeks
so that I can be present for Bill as he begins recovering from his surgery 
scheduled on January 4th. 
Please send along prayers and healing thoughts.
They are greatly appreciated.

My monthly Newsletter will be published as usual on January 1st,
and is the story of how I became a writer.  Subscribe to it at the top
right hand side of this page to have it delivered to your email address.

I’ll be back here on my blog on January 19th.

Happy New Year to All!

Filed Under: A New Year, Halloween, Intentions, Mental Health, Publishing, Self-Care, The Garden, wonderings Tagged With: , ,

The Silence Of Snow

February 9, 2015 By

DSC01864I just returned from a writing retreat with four wonderful women. It was a week of hard writing, sharing, nurturing, and laughter. I’ll write more about it next week. But for now, with a good portion of our country sleeping beneath a heavy blanket of snow, I leave you with the following poem.

The Silence of Snow

I shift beneath blankets
warm from nightly wandering
the only sound my thoughts
percolating through misty dreams
unspoken words muffled by snow
pillowed on pines  plump sculptures
thick as feather beds conceal
the garden that yesterday lay
barren and scarred

No birds call  leaden geese in silhouette
glide the river thickening with winter chill
I slip back into dreams  a mummy wrapped
in sheets of white  the slow dance
of cranes in a sea of frozen fog
drift in and out numbing my bones
awake once more I wonder if death
is as still and pure as
the silent snow

JZR
12/2005

What questions do snow and silence raise for you?

Filed Under: Dreams, Poetry, wonderings Tagged With: ,
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