Nature rarer uses yellow
Than another hue;
Saves she all of that for sunsets,–
Prodigal of blue,Spending scarlet like a woman,
Yellow she affords
Only scantly and selectly,
Like a lover’s words.
Category Archives: Nature
Looking Forward with Hope
Today is Groundhog Day. Today, millions of people in the Northern Hemisphere start thinking about spring if they haven’t been already.
I certainly don’t trust a rodent to predict the weather, but I’m certainly thinking about spring. It’s February. We’re well on the downhill. That means that next month is March. I’ll see daffodils next month. Even though the seasons seems to have been pushed back a month off schedule over the last few years, the days are getting longer and even though March will most likely be wintry, the flower beds will show signs of life. That special smell might even be in the air. You know the smell, that special excitement that you can’t really put your finger on. I’ve been able to trick myself into feeling that for a moment a few times this winter, when I’m high in my office at work and I can’t see the ground, only the blue sky.
I remember feeling that feeling, smelling that small for the first time after a particularly nasty winter when I was 19. I’d just moved out of my parents’ house and I was living alone. If I’d been thinking straight, I never would have done that in February. I was lonely, depressed, and stressed out about school and my upcoming wedding. There was so much snow that I couldn’t really walk around my new neighborhood because the plows had piled the snow up over the sidewalks.
Then one day in March, the sun came out. By that time, the mounds of snow on the sidewalk had melted quite a bit and I could actually walk in sneakers instead of snowboots. Mothers threw their antsy kids outside to play. Kids playing outside always sounds like summer to me. I walked outside for hours that day. I even walked to the grocery store and bought green peppers to make chicken fajitas for dinner. It was a day of hopeful joy to interrupt a winter of sliding all over icy roads and taking five classes a day in a building with no windows.
It won’t be long before that special electricity starts to spark in the air again. Six weeks, according to the rat. That isn’t long. We’ll still have snow, or at least rain for awhile. It’ll still be cold, but at least the light will come back, and the flowers will come up.
We’re on the home stretch.
Beautiful Winter
If you’ve been reading Handprint Soul for more than a day or two, you know that I’m not the biggest fan of winter. In fact, this is the time of year when I usually begin my annual “daffodil mope,” where I feel dead and gray inside until the first daffodils pop up and fill me with hope.
I have to admit though, winter can be pretty sometimes. Though I much prefer sunshine, flowers, and green grass, it’s hard not to appreciate the silver and blue palette of winter.
I woke up to the first decent snowfall we’ve had all year, and I decided to get outside for a tromp through our famous Utah powder before it melted off the tree branches.
I love the way snow looks when it clings to the branches. It makes my neighborhood look like Narnia.
It just goes to show that there’s beauty in everything, even and especially the uncomfortable things.
First Snow
As much as I dislike winter, I’ll admit that this one has been pretty sweet so far. We finally got some of the white stuff after a bone-dry Christmas and lots of glorious sunshine. I can’t complain. January blizzards bring May flowers right?
I wouldn’t call this a blanket of snow though. More like a poorly-knitted afghan of snow. Still, it’s moisture and a beautiful part of nature’s cycle. I got out for a walk to enjoy this little dusting of snow while it’s still here. Maybe winter has finally kicked in…
Though I don’t mind the sunshine.
I love to see blue sky after a storm. It reminds me that nature is optimistic.
Winter Solstice and Winter Self-Care
Although it’s been freezing and frosty for weeks, today is the first official day of winter, or the day the Winter Solstice occurs. Those of us in the Northern Hemisphere are the furthest we’ll ever be from the sun, that life-giving source of heat and light. Today, the gradual shortening of the days ends and many cultures around the world celebrate rebirth. Today is the shortest and darkest day of the year, and time seems to stand still as nature lies dormant. The trees have shed their leaves, the sap has frozen, the birds have migrated. All is silent.
I was going to create a painting to celebrate this special day, but my spirit and body seems to have aligned with nature because I too have slowed down. I’m ok with this, because I think it’s what my body needs.
My big goal with winter and winter blues this year is to make peace, while giving my body and spirit the best support I can. Dark days are hard for me. I’ve been fatigued and melancholy lately. Not depressed, just less enthusiastic.
I’ve also been reading all I can about the effects of winter on the body and spirit. Though it seemed a little “woo woo” at first, I’ve really come to understand the concept of yin and yang, the two complementary energies that govern the universe. Yin is slow, cool, wet, feminine energy while yang is fast, hot, dry, masculine energy. Winter is yin, while summer is yang. These two energies exist within us and we feel better when they’re balanced. Makes sense.
Today is the slowest, most yin day of the year. During the winter, we have very little yang energy to spare and quite a bit of yin energy. This can look like we have no energy, but yin energy is just slower and more contemplative.
In the winter, we can balance these energies by building and conserving what yang we have, and releasing excess yin. Do yin exercise, like restorative yoga and walking while avoiding strenuous yang activity like running and aerobics. Eat yang foods (warming spices like ginger, garlic, cayenne, cinnamon and tumeric) and avoid cold yin foods like cucumbers, lettuce, and mango (i.e. “summery” foods).
This concept was galvanized for me yesterday when I felt kinda bla and attempted my favorite exercise DVD, hoping to gain some energy. I made it about ten minutes in before feeling like I was going to keel over. However, I was all warmed up for a walk, so I bundled up and took a stroll around the block instead. It felt great, then I for a yummy, yang-building lunch I had eggs scrambled with onions, tumeric and garlic salt.
So instead of burning yang energy that you don’t have today, try slowing down. Trade your kickboxing class for some gentle yoga, have a spicy stir-fry for dinner, and enjoy a quiet evening rather than running around Christmas shopping, preparing for parties, or doing chores.
Take the hint from nature. This is a time to slow down, focus inward, and renew.
Inspiration Field Trips
Sometimes the best thing to get inspired is to take a walk or a drive with a camera and a sketchbook.
Last week we drove to a family Christmas party two hours away to Redmond, a tiny town in central Utah near where my mom grew up, and where I spent quite a bit of my childhood. It’s in the middle of nowhere and probably has more horses and chickens than people. I love the rolling hills and wide open fields.
Recently I realized the the surreal landscapes I often draw and paint are my own versions of this landscape, so I made sure to take a camera and sketchbook to hopefully catch some inspiration as we drove.
Winter and I aren’t the best of friends, but I love the way trees look without leaves, and I love this landscape any time of year. I watched these same hills in the car growing up as we drove down to Redmond to visit family, go to parties, or to camp.
It’s hard to get good pictures at 50 miles an hour (don’t worry, I wasn’t the one driving) but I did manage to get some decent ones. Please excuse the blurriness. I hope you can see what I see in these tangled trees and speckled hills.
I think I need to drive down to visit my aunt, and this time actually get out of the car to take pictures.
New Painting: Ribbon Dancer
I actually started this one in late September, but I just finished it last week. Sometimes it just works out that way, and that’s fun. I have a few other unfinished pieces floating around, but the time will come.
The inspiration for this one came when I took a drive through the mountains with my husband and two of our good friends. I couldn’t believe how gorgeous it was, so of course my artist brain was going nuts. I was so enthralled by the yellow leaves and glowing sunset that I forgot to take pictures or sketch anything, which is fine too. Sometimes it’s better to look and soak in the moment than waste it by trying to capture it.
I spend the week after that reading nature poetry and taking lots of walks, try to process what I’d taken in. Finally, I painted this. I usually use references as loose guides when I paint trees, but this time I wanted them to look less realistic and more cartoonish, like story book trees. I collaged red tissue paper and string, scraped the paint on with an old library card and built up the texture by adding layers of bright color. Finally, I added a poem by my favorite poet, Emily Dickinson in the red sky, written in sumi ink:
It just fit so perfectly.
It wasn’t quite finished, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to add. There was no figure yet, so it didn’t feel complete to me without the juxtaposition of humans and nature.
Then last week, I was going through one of my pinterest boards (by the way, if you really want a thorough look at my brain, follow me on Pinterest) and I found a picture of a woman dancing with a ribbon. Something clicked in my brain, and I knew I wanted to paint a ribbon dancer celebrating her own joy and the beauty of nature.
So I did.
This piece is available for purchase here.
Making Peace with Winter Blues
“Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each.”
It’s that time of year again. Since I was a child, I’ve had winter blues. I’ve never been officially diagnosed with SAD (seasonal affective disorder) but I know that my moods, energy levels, appetites, and creativity are very seasonal. Even my art is seasonal.
I usually dread this time of year and pretend it isn’t happening. I curse the snowfalls, the darkness and the cold and I retreat into my little turtle shell until spring. I always pretend that this year will be different. I will eat the right foods, exercise a ton to keep my serotonin up, take all the supplements I need, somehow find the money for a light box, etcetera etcetera etcetera. Has it ever worked? Nope.
This year though, I’ve decided to stop fighting it. Call a truce. Make peace with winter. I’ve accepted that I’m entering my low-key, quiet, contemplative time of year. I need to allow myself to be slower, quieter, and to even…enjoy the change of pace.
I know I’m not the only one who feels like a slug all winter, so I wanted to share some ideas of how we can embrace this time and stay healthy.
- Do what you can to stay healthy, but don’t be militant. Simple carbs like sugar and white flour can raise serotonin levels briefly, but often leave you craving more. Get enough protein to keep your blood sugar stable. Exercise helps boost your mood, but be compassionate on the days where you really need a rest. Make it easy to stay healthy. Stock up on healthy staples and if you have a freezer, try preparing a bunch of healthy meals in advance like soups, casserole or stir-fry and crock-pot meal ingredients that you just have to open and dump into the cooking apparatus. Pick up some fun exercise videos. I’m a fan of belly dance, kundalini yoga and kickboxing videos.
- Keep warm. I’m a frugal person, but I’ve found that one of the nicest things I can do for myself during the winter is to shell out the extra money on the gas bill to keep my apartment warm and to take lots of hot baths. Also, I notice that I’m a lot more likely to exercise if I’m not freezing. Invest in an electric blanket and cute, warm clothes to layer. Get some warm exercise clothes if you plan on trying to exercise outside.
- Remove as many stressors as possible before your energy starts to sink. Do your holiday shopping early and/or online. Do a deep “Fall cleaning” so you don’t have to be as vigilant with housekeeping in the winter. Prepare Christmas cards early. Take on less responsibility if possible so you can create “white space” in your schedule, and give yourself plenty of “transition time” instead of rushing from obligation to obligation. Take care of as many nasty chores as you can before the temperature drops. For me, this means car maintenance. Blegh.
- Take advantage of sunny days. Get as much sun as you can. Decorate your home with candles and lights. The lack of light is a huge factor of winter blues. It’s no accident that many winter celebrations that take place at the darkest time of year include light as a major part of their traditions. Think Hanukah candles and Christmas lights.
- Make your home beautiful all winter. I hate taking down Christmas decorations, because then my home looks so drab and depressing after a month of lights and glittering ornaments and beautiful colors. This year after I take down my little tree, I want to put up some other beautiful winter decorations so I won’t have to look around at the newly dreary walls and feel sad after I put the Christmas décor back in the closet.
- Find things to celebrate, but don’t try to overdo it.My November Gratitude Project is a good example. Perhaps you could spend the evening of the winter solstice taking a candle lit bath, or read a special book. This gives you things to look forward to and ways to make peace with the season rather than fighting it.
- Acceptance, compassion, and gentleness. You probably won’t be the Energizer Bunny during the winter. It’s ok. There is a season for everything. I get some good thinking done in the winter. Read good books, think, write in your journal, learn to knit. This is the season for slowness. Nature takes a rest, and you can too. You will have rough days, but this is also a time to exercise patience. Spring will come. It always does.
Happy winter!
Stagnation and Creativity
I grew up in Ogden, Utah. More specifically, on the outskirts in a little town called West Haven. 17 years I lived here, from when we moved from Pasedena when I was five, to when I moved away at 22. I miss it every day. I miss the monthly gallery stroll on 25th street, the wide-open fields of cows and horses, the canal behind my parents’ house where I probably spent half of my childhood. The foothills trails and the duck park where I used to walk, my favorite restaurant that serves the most amazing stuffed pastas and infused oils with dippy bread, the salvage grocery store where I shopped in college, and the university campus where I struggled and thrived.
I visit my family here at least once a month, and I try to visit my old haunts as well. I miss Ogden every day, (especially in the height of Orem rush hour) but this weekend I realized that I don’t belong here anymore. My creativity feels stagnant. It’s too comfortable, too familiar, too loaded with memories, old patterns and energy that clouds my creativity now. I know that there are plenty of places around here that I haven’t been. There’s always more to explore, but I know these streets too well. I’ve tried every restaurant around here that I care to try. I can walk down any of the main streets like a tour guide.
“That’s where I had my first date with my ex-boyfriend who now hates my guts. I showed my first collage at that gallery. I used to think that building was haunted. That burger joint has the most amazing fry sauce. My car spun into that yard when they didn’t plow the roads one day.” On and on and on.
I’m a nostalgic person. I love reminiscing and mining my memories for inspiration, but I feel like my hometown has reached a saturation point. I can’t look at it with fresh, curious eyes anymore. My current town is still new to me. I’m in the sweet spot, where I have my favorite places, a close friend and I can find my way around, but I’m still exploring. The landscape is still different. I couldn’t draw the shapes of the mountains in my sleep. My new town has just the right balance of memory and mystery.
I can’t be stagnant. I’ve always suspected that I’d move around a lot once I grew up, but now I realize why. I need fresh places and things to explore. I need new trees to look at; a blank canvas, an empty page. Staying in the same place for too long is like trying to draw in a full sketchbook, erasing the old drawings or drawing right over the top of them. There’s a saturation point where you can’t make any new marks because they get lost in the old ones.
That’s when it’s time to get a new sketchbook, a new landscape, a new mindset.
If y0u feel stagnant, find something new.
Allowing Inspiration
Most of my blog post start out as journal entries. Unfortunately, this means a lot of them end up sitting on paper for awhile until I get around to typing them up and polishing them to show you.
I just found this entry, and even though it’s a little out of season, I really wanted to share it with you. I wrote this on my trip to Lake Powell this last summer.
One of my greatest struggles in life is allowing things; letting things happen naturally instead of forcing them, being taught instead of plowing through experiences with a machete as if they were tangled jungles.
I’m an artist and a writer, and I used to think that everything should inspire me to write or create art. Too often I wouldn’t even do that because I was too busy waiting for the urge to strike instead of accepting what the situation gifted to me.
This trip to Lake Powell for instance. Most of the time I sit on the deck and read. I expected to write here, to be moved to sketch the beauty of the landscape or capture its grace in a poem. Instead, I’ve been hiking and swimming and kayaking, paddle surfing and wave running and cliff jumping. Neglecting my body’s hunger and fullness cues a little but sleeping like the dead at night. I feel alive. Amazing. Despite the sore shoulders and arms floppy with exhaustion, I’m invigorated.
This landscape inspires me to connect with my body, to physically explore the space around me and my own body and mind. I’m connected to my child-self, to uncover the long-buried imagination like an ancient artifact from a place I lived in another life. Were I here as a child I would have climbed rocks pretending I was a Native American, swam like a mermaid in my magical realm, that this houseboat is a ship taking us to a magical place to search for an unknown treasure, something I’d recognize once I found it. I build on this story each day I’m here.
I know this will inspire me to write or make art later, but now, in the moment of being here it inspires me to be and explore, and that’s just as beautiful and creative as art and poetry. I don’t think I’ll ever be the type of artist who’s inspired to draw every beautiful thing I see, or to write an essay about every sunset as it happens, but I’d rather watch them, be there with them and store those feelings and images in my treasure box, the well deep inside my soul that I dip into each time I create. The feelings will come out eventually in some form. They’re never lost.
I promise I’ll try to be more prompt with turning my journal entries into posts. The summery post is kind of nice while it’s cold outside though.
