Category: Jeanne’s Barefoot Heart (Page 72 of 99)

Jeanne’s personal creative pursuits of stories stitched, written, and spoken

drawing near, bending close

November 4, 2011 / jeanne / 4 Comments

Dahlia1

this year
i discovered
dahlias.
discovered,
more specifically,
that i can grow them.

Dahlia2

i also discovered
instagr.am
and fell flat out
in love
with photography,
realizing
what a visual
person i am.
and how i take
pictures
the way i present
myself in life:
only a wee little
bit at a time.
perceived safety and all.
we’ll talk more about that
later.

Sunflower1

Sunflower2

i discovered
sunflowers this year, too.
oh, i knew sunflowers
from way back.
in graduate school,
i’d trek up to stowe
for some good wine,
good chocolate,
and roadside
sunflowers,
sold on the
honor system.

Sunflower3

but this year,
thanks to the
help of my
camera
(iphone 4, no less)
i came to
know both
dahlias and sunflowers
in a different,
more intimate way,
much as jane kenyon
came to know
peonies . . .

Dahlia3

In the darkening June evening
I draw a blossom near, and bending close
search it as a woman searches
a loved one’s face.

Sunflowerdying1

sunflowers,
like so many people i’ve been honored to know,
age
and eventually die
with grace.
something you’re
bound to see
if you don’t just gaze
or look
or glimpse
but see,
deeply,
lovingly
see.

Sunflowerdying7

acquainted

November 3, 2011 / jeanne / 6 Comments

Sunflowerfamily

at first glance,
it’s obvious she belongs to
the Sunflower family.
the family resemblance is obvious.

Sunflowerpetals1

those yellow petals
shining brightly
from the dark center
of seeds.
future generations of Sunflowers.

Sunflower3

but sit with her,

Sunflower8

take a while to get to know her,

Sunflower7

and you’ll see that
while yes,
she is a Sunflower,

Sunflower10

she is more
than who she’s related to,
more than the
geography
from which she
comes.

Sunflower6

so much more.

Sunflower2

and maybe
not at all
what you
thought she was
when you knew her
only as a Sunflower.

amused by the muse

November 1, 2011 / jeanne / 5 Comments

“The muse is the muse in our life. It’s the very creative spirit that we ourselves are. As if our soul came here for a purpose, in order to manifest something on this earth. The muse is that thing wanting to be manifest. The muse is that creative spirit, that voice that’s eager to be spoken through us. The sound that’s eager to be heard through our creations. That’s the muse. Often what we get as a gift from the muse is the little seed to the bigger thing. The muse will not present us with the whole piece. The muse gives us the beginning – a phrase, a line, a title, a chord. So to be open to the gifts of the muse is to be open to the creative voice that’s trying to speak itself through us. Once we open ourselves to that creative voice, we open ourselves to vast amounts of light. To vast and profound reflections, to amazing healing because that’s us making contact with our own soul. With universal mind. With the oneness we’re all part of.” ~ Jan Phillips

cloth is my muse.
thread
needle
knots
softly raveled
unfinished edges.
i love them each.
i love them all.

maybe it’s inherited, my love for cloth.

Dolldress1

Dolldress4

my great grandmother took in sewing to put food on her table. and when she wasn’t sewing for money, she sewed for love, making me a dress for my baby doll.

GMBquilt1

Dollquilt3

GMBquiltJeanne2

my grandmother made quilts, piecing together any scraps of fabric she could save, swap, or barter for.

Patterns1

my mother sewed, too. her patterns are some of my most treasured possessions. i remember her wooden thread box filled with colorful tangles. i remember her sitting at the sewing machine on october 30, frantically finishing up our halloween costumes. i remember the green wrap-around dress with big pockets, big buttons, and white trim.

Smockedsundress

Smockedpink1

Smockedcowboys2

Smockedtrikes1

Tray2

i’ve sewn and quilted and smocked for my daughter and yes, for my son, too. i’ve embroidered and embellished, done needlepoint and cross stitch and a host of other things involving needle and thread. i’ve marked special occasions with cloth, turned milestones with cloth, committed special events to memory with cloth.

when i stitch, i entertain a host of visitors: thoughts, ideas, conjurings i wish would become permanent residents. several years ago, i hatched this idea for a book as i stitched, then like the cloth i was working on at the time, i set the idea aside, thinking i’d get back to it one day.

well, one day has arrived.

WritingClothBanner

i’ve started a new blog. it’s called Writing Cloth and there, with the help of my cloth, i’m writing that story. i see these images – sometimes they just appear in a whoosh, a flash – then i stitch them into being. and as i stitch (or sometimes after they’re completed) they tell me about the story, about the people who live in the story, about where to go next with the story.

Enigma

Stitches

the cloth tells the story.

and sometimes when i get stuck, i ask for help, turning parts of the journey into collaborative creativity for those interested in participating. prefer to just watch and read along? that’s fine – no pressure, just an invitation you’re free to accept or decline.

because i do so adore tales of women’s creative process – it’s magic, isn’t it. no other word will do – i’m including a backstage pass to my creative process. i’m profiling the cloth pieces, their progress and their revelations. i’m documenting the difficulties encountered, the roadblocks and stumbling blocks as well as the moments of glory when the words flow like warm syrup. when i know it, i’ll tell you where the inspiration comes from, the meaning and symbolism behind certain names, the layers of metaphor (most of which just appear, becoming obvious only as i look over my shoulder.) i’m telling – oh yes, i’m telling all about how the story is coming to life. i am blogumenting my creative journey, i guess you could say, sharing with you the product and the process behind the product. if, like me, you’re the kind of person who likes watching the machines pour sugar onto hot krispy kreme doughnuts that you’ll soon devour or standing close enough to feel the heat as the glassblower twirls melted goo into a glass piece that will eventually grace your walls or watching the potters spin the wheel and shape the clay into a bowl you will eventually eat cereal from, you might wanna’ snag yourself a seat. consider it an ongoing studio tour where the light is always on. or maybe you’d just like to stop by nightly for a bedtime story.

i hope you’ll join me over at my new playground. because it makes me feel safer, i’ve made it a membership site with various bundles of membership goodies to suit your mood. maybe you want to become an affiliate and generate funds to support your own creative habit. and if you want to help some lovely, talented, deserving women in their creative pursuits, join via one of my existing affiliates: my writing partner and friend, julie daley or my friend and lunchmate, angela kelsey.

scoot on over and poke around. and if you have any questions, you know where to find me.

the way we were . . . are

October 28, 2011 / jeanne / 4 Comments

Reunion2

i am honored to have been the entertainment for my high school class reunion last saturday night. now, almost a week later, i’m still enjoying the afterglow. there’s something downright magical about standing before your true peers, leading them on a trek down memory lane – a trek you know from the outset won’t be finished that night. i’ve got enough stuff and enough stories to last at least two more treks, a.k.a. reunions. there’s simply never enough time, is there?

my mother had her class reunion that same day – class of 1945. they get together every october – every single october. their love and support for each other is strong. maybe they cleared the path for us. maybe they set the stage, the example.

Reunion1

a surprisingly large number of us went through all 12 years of school together – that’s really something, isn’t it? we knew each other’s parents and fought with each other’s siblings like they were our own. though we knew there was a mother round every corner making it downright impossible to get away with anything, we still tried. occasionally. the entire village raised us, and i don’t remember one parent ever turning on another with that how-dare-you attitude. they simply thanked each other for caring enough, then resumed the badminton game.

such a satisfying sense of groundedness to be with people you bore witness to and who bore witness to you throughout years of major evolutionary and developmental changes. people who you spent 6-7 hours a day with in class, then several more hours in after school activities, then church and other community events. spending the nights together, partying, talking on the phone. learning, knowing, realizing, grappling, struggling, celebrating together. it was fun to reconnect. to remember. to leave the years and any unpleasant memories far, far away from this gathering. to laugh nostalgically. to note countless times we’ve amazed and astounded ourselves and each other.

only one person asked me the dreaded question “what do you do?” maybe it’s cause nobody’s interested, but i prefer to attribute it to a deeper level of togetherness and acceptance that connects us. a knowing that what we do isn’t who we are, and who we are is what’s most important. there is space in our togetherness. there is love in our togetherness. the kind of space that just happens. the kind of love you can’t buy.

Reunion3

Rhonda Update

October 22, 2011 / jeanne / 6 Comments

Lotus

Thank you all for continuing to embrace Rhonda. I haven’t spoken with her since I posted her journal pieces, but finally this comes in. This entire experience of being in different states (and I mean “states” in oh so many ways) is a proving ground for trust, faith, and love. I will continue to post updates as I receive them, and I continue to thank you for continuing to hold a space for Rhonda . . .

FROM RHONDA:

S.O.S.
(Slinking out of Silence)

I alarm an emergency call because I am silenced. This is an unnatural, even painful state.

I am getting hit by multiple UTIs. My Urologist does not want me to take antibiotics, fearing my later immunity to the large doses. I am now only treating UTIs with large amounts of liquid.

My inability to write is also due to the voice to text new software that I have still not learned to use adequately. And also my voice when I have infections is not loud enough to register type.

The third whammy against me was my recent “oops” of dropping my drinking water on to the keyboard. Needless to say, it was dead.

I am not directly composing this journal entry. Dorothy, Mike’s mom, is typing it for me. “I’m glad to do it” she says.

happy, happy

October 17, 2011 / jeanne / 9 Comments

My friend, Angela, is one amazing woman, and if you don’t know her, you should. A voracious reader, a tenacious seeker, a sensitive, thoughtful woman who coined the term “theel” to bring together thinking and feeling as a way of being in the world, Angela is intensely loyal to her friends, her family, her causes. Having survived an abusive marriage, Angela is now putting the final spit polish on her memoir, and let me tell you: it is truthful and it is captivating. Thoroughly dedicated to ridding the world of domestic violence, Angela and her cohorts have just launched In Real Life, a web site dedicated to providing information, support, resources, and a safe place for vitally important discussion and equally important hope for those in abusive relationships. It’s the kind of thing she does, the kind of thing she puts her heart and whole self into.

Three weeks ago her beloved Gracie died, and Angela goes through grief as she goes through life: with grace and humility, and frankly, an inquisitiveness that is simultaneously admirable and touching. Like the ancient Greeks, Angela dedicates herself to becoming the best person she can be. Despite her advanced degrees, when it comes to learning, she’s a sponge. When it comes to living, she is fearless. When it comes to loving, she is indefatigable.

So here I am, using capital letters and squeaking in at the very last minute of her birthday 2011, mere minutes before I turn into a pumpkin to say:

Happy, birthday,

Acurtains1

Lclock

Atree

I love you, my friend.

autoblueography

October 13, 2011 / jeanne / 8 Comments

i am

Vintage

vintage

i am

Vast

vast.

i am

Hot

the hottest
part of the flame
with plenty
of wick
remaining.

i am

Cloth1

strips of fabric
torn to find the
true grain
then
woven together
into a
whole cloth.

Bluewave1

bloom

Birds

soar

Reflect

reflect

Rainbow

refract.

Mountains

stand tall –
majestic, even –
but am learning
to let things
crumble
and fall
when it’s time.

i am

Layers

layers

and

Light

light

and

Gifts

gifts
yet unwrapped.

i am
at one with
the world of

Blue

so many ways

October 6, 2011 / jeanne / 9 Comments

All things are symbolic by their very nature
and all talk of something beyond themselves.
~Thomas Merton

There are

Riviera1

so many ways

Sangria1

to see

Sangria8

a dahlia,

Sangria10

each of them

Sangria11

beautiful

Sangria14

in their own

Sangria15

unique

Sangria

way

Sangria16

if you ask me.

Sangria21

and i can’t help

Sangria24

but wonder

Sangria20

how different things would be if

Sangria3

we could see

Sangria18

people

Sangria7

as dahlias.

he has a good heart

September 20, 2011 / jeanne / 14 Comments

blessings

it is his fourth
battery of tests
in less than a year,
there is no comfort in that.

they do not make eye contact
when we check in,
there is no comfort in that.

we are directed to go
across the hall
to sit and wait
in the waiting room
with taupe walls
and taupe baseboards
and taupe carpet.
with signs taped
to the wall
ordering us
to turn off cell phones
and demanding that we
ring the bell
only once.
there is no comfort in that.

we were not told
before our arrival
about all of the tests
to be run today.
that is not good
to hear,
but maybe,
just maybe,
not knowing
prevented much
anticipatory stress.

other patients
come and go
without so much as a
grunt about why he
is Back There
for hours
and hours.
there is no comfort in that.

finally the tests are done
and we are directed
to go to another waiting room.
this one as cold
as the other was
stuffy.
we wait
and we wait
and we wait,
more than
one-and-a-half hours
after the
appointment time
we’d agreed on
some eight months ago,
we wait.
there is no comfort in that.

eventually
we are escorted to
a taupe
exam room,
adorned with
a poster of a sailboat
in a cheap frame.
where the assistant
looks over his records
and seems quite
surprised
to hear that
his medications
changed over
six months ago.
there is no comfort in that.

finally
we are told
that he passed
all the tests –
every single one of them –
with flying colors.
blood pressure: excellent.
blood flow: excellent.
overall circulatory system: excellent.
and there’s great, huge,
tremendous
comfort in that.

a mosaic of updates and offerings

September 14, 2011 / jeanne / 5 Comments

Lotus

Well now I told you it’d be today or tomorrow, and the way it looks right now, if all goes according to plan, you’ll be back here tomorrow for my first Red Phone Story.

///

A Rhonda update: Rhonda continues to be silenced by a computer and talk-to-text software that refuses to play nicely. Her husband is tenaciously working on it, though, so stay tuned. And hey, thank y’all again for continuing to leave affirming comments for Rhonda.

///

You don’t want to miss these posts:

My friend and writing partner Julie Daley has written several thoughtful, elegant posts of late filled with beautiful, affirming, peaceful, healing words.

and

My friend Angela keeps us updated on her precious dogs while she pens her memoir behind the scenes. Whether you like dogs or not, you’ll want to visit and read about Max and Gracie.

///

And last but definitely not least, I want to be sure you know and help me spread the word about this:

Alana Sheeren and I met via the ethers a couple of years ago. She tweeted out a question about schooling young people, and being somewhat passionately opinionated about this, I tweeted a reply. We tweet-chatted a bit more, and a friendship was born. Since then, Alana has experienced the loss of a stillborn son named Benjamin, and she writes frankly and fearlessly about the unimaginable grief she’s lived in the past year at her blog, Life After Benjamin. Her words have fortified, comforted, assured, and amazed readers, and now she has more to offer those who are grieving their own particular loss.

Alana created a beautiful ebook called Picking up the Pieces. It’s filled with luminous stories of grief and growth penned by women you might know or have heard of. It is truly, as so many others have said, “a gift of musings and magic,” and I hope you’ll finish reading, then trot right on over and download a copy for yourself.

But that’s not all our Alana has been up to . . .

In her newest book, One Hundred Names for Love, Diane Ackerman writes:

“There is spread over everything a vague sense of wrongness, of something amiss.” Yes, that felt right. An atmosphere of wrongness. I was stirred by the power of Lewis’s grief. And yet, his experience, despite his referring to it as “mad midnight moments,” didn’t lead to madness. His was a mind that could cushion itself when faced with trauma, without becoming callous, neglectful, or numb to soften the pain. Despite not knowing if what he felt from moment to moment would pass or last forever, he entered fully into his shifting states of violent rage, self-pity, longing, heartbreak, cynicism, without losing the ability to think about what was happening to him. That took courage, I thought, living with the suffering in a mindful way, as an artifact of being, neither good nor bad.

Knowing firsthand that “vague sense of wrongness, of something amiss”, knowing firsthand about “living with the suffering in a mindful way,” Alana is hosting a Picking Up the Pieces Retreat Retreat in beautiful Ojai, California on September 25-29, 2011. She’s gathered an impressive group of resource folks, and a schedule to provide balm and healing for the bruised and grieving soul. If you are grieving, treat yourself to this special offering designed to support your body, mind, and spirit. If you know somebody who’s grieving, promise you’ll tell them about it and encourage them to go. If you have any questions or comments, if you’d like to contribute in some way, email AlanaSheeren (at) gmail (dot) com today.