Athena Dreams Design

A Week in a Life

How do you sum up a week of celebrations: Of life, and love and our journeys? 

• Arrive a week before the event, and spend lots of time in the pool
• Experience summer rain (the locals are sick of it, but we from the dry west coast were loving it)
• oh, and order in a booming sky flashing thunderstorm for a little more entertainment
• Hang with family and old family friends 
• Await the arrival of a pop-up trailer bearing a niece and a nephew and a brother and a sister in law 
• Be surprised and overwhelmed by the arrival of a "suum" made by the Thai monks that live next door to your mother 
• Build forts with wooden blocks and knock them down with lots of loud noise  

  
 

• Show up with your Play face on
• Have too much fun and fall asleep on the floor or on the grass (beds are for sissies) 
• Get dressed up and wear funny moustaches for the photo op
• Remember those we love that could not be with us in person but were certainly there in spirit 
• Be always grateful and extremely thankful for the friends and family who helped to pull this week off
• Be just as extremely thankful for the friends and family that made the journey east to be with us 
• Swim in the pool some more and get cannon-balled by your brothers and husband and nephew, over and over (that just never gets old, does it guys)

  
 

• Sing and dance with wild abandon
• Let some happy tears fall, while under a tent, on a balmy summer night 
• Stay up way too late every night playing music and singing in the living room (note: with the rain come many mosquitos)   
• Remember to hug your mother, a lot 
• Take some time to sit back and drink in the moments, the days go by so quickly 
• Be overwhelmed by the ways in which everyone truly showed up for this week
• Know in your heart that this life has ever more moments along the journey, just waiting for you to turn another corner and meet what is awaiting you
• Swim in the pool some more 
• Walk through your mother's house and remember all the parties and all the celebrations that have taken place under this roof and out in the garden, for many many years, and reacquaint yourself with that touchstone  
• Fly home and leave your suitcases all over the bedroom floor for 3 days, but open them to forage for shampoo and moisturizer
• Kiss the week adieu, and hold the memories close  

A Little Renovation Goes a Long Way

More often than not a little cleaning up, dusting off, some furniture rearranged, maybe some new curtains and a different throw rug make you feel completely different about a room that you spend lots of time in. It always makes me feel happier and, lighter. But then this is coming from a girl who as a kid rearranged her bedroom every Sunday morning for many many years.

I have now discovered that blog renovations have the same happy effect on my disposition. And so, in honour of the blog re-design, and the addition of my soon to be new Monthly Newsletter (see button over there to the left), for the month of June I am offering discounts on all the product in my Etsy shop. Sign up for the newsletter, and you will receive a coupon by e-mail, easy!

Hope you all are having a happy start to June!

 

Word for the Year .:. Resilient

Flying in Spite of Everything, 2008

re-sil-ient   [ri-zil-yuhnt, -zil-ee-uhnt]   adjective 

1. springing back; rebounding.

2. returning to the original form or position after being bent, compressed, or stretched. 

3. recovering readily from illness, depression, adversity, or the like; buoyant.

I went through quite a list of words this week, wrote some down, said a bunch out loud with my husband, laughed at more, and had fun with all of them. There were several, that I thought were going to be The One and then I got up this morning and was making coffee, looking out at the soft, misty rain, and it came to me: resilience, resilient.

This year I want to be all about making art, creating new connections, deepening the ones that exist, and opening up to brand new adventures, as well as resurrecting some of the old ones that still need a chance to be completed. 

I want this year to be about taking the chances I need to with my art and with my life, and going out a little further on the limb. Letting go a little more of my need for validation and affirmation from outside. Validation and kudos are awesome, but one can't live on them, they are not total nourishment, they will not feed the soul that creates, they will buoy, but the fire needs to be stoked from within.

Yeah, resilient:

airy

buoyant

effervescent

elastic

expansive

hardy

irrepressible

plastic

pliable

quick to recover

rebounding

rolling with punches

rubbery

snapping back

springy

stretchy

strong

supple

tough

volatile

OK, here comes 2009....

And So We Begin, Again

And so, the last of the views in December 2008, and on we move to a new year.

Here's to more beauty and more joy

more gatherings of friends

more bright moments

in a winter landscape.

Here's to giving and receiving

and to holding close, all the hearts 

that we care for.

Here's to honest and authentic communication

and conversation

and the sharing and realising our dreams.

Here's to building and contributing and collaborating and joining and growing 

and becoming and caring for our souls and caring for each other

and carrying ourselves and each other into this brand new moment:

2009.

Happy New Year to you all!

Presence, or Presents and Some Other Homophones*

A friend of mine's youngest son is at that stage in school where they are learning about words: synonyms, antonyms, and homophones, oh! and onomatopoeias and the ever popular palindrome. [I actually couldn't remember exactly what a palindrome was until he gave me an example: racecar] and, it brought me back to being 6, almost 7, when fun with words, was truly and amazingly and totally Fun [with a capital F]. 

When I saw him last week, we discussed the importance and relevance of pretty vs. beautiful, fat vs. thin, and then went on to such topics as pair, pare and pear*, and words like tweet, bang and whoosh, and back to racecar a bunch of times (he is a boy, after all).

I remembered that homophones were my absolute favourite as a kid, and then as trains of thought go [or should I say, as my often meandering trains of thought go], I got to thinking about this time of year, and the stress that can come up around picking out or making that perfect present for that special someone. How so much meaning and energy and importance is often placed on this gift that will be given to that someone, and the hope that this gift will say so many of the things that want to be said to and about this person, this giftee. 

Feelings like: How much this person is loved, or valued, or counted on. Confusing emotions like: I am not sure how I feel about this person right now, but I want them to feel special because it is the holidays. And then the oft-felt: I have to get present(s) because it is expected, or because they will likely get me something, and I have to have something for them. So much can be tied up in a package . . . 

Presents Mosaic - see details on Flickr

When I think about all my various and different relationships with friends and family, I think about our moments together. I think about time spent together: communicating, experiencing, relating, sharing thoughts and feelings. It is the moments that we are present for each other that can mean so much more to me than that gift wrapped something. Though, I will say parenthetically, that presents given and received can also be wonderful surprises, full of beautiful heartfelt giving, and are certainly valued, i.e: I have never turned a present down. 

But it's presence of mind, staying present in a moment, listening with my full self to that person that means so much to me, and feeling that I am heard when I need to say my piece. The true miracle of sharing a light hearted or laughter-filled moment with one person, or a group of people, and re-living that moment, those moments, during other harder or more difficult times. Those times when deep truths are told and heard, when it feels like time spent with someone I care about - deep in conversation - actually feels like some hurt has been healed, some confusion totally cleared up, or some twisty issue has been straightened out.

Presence Mosaic - see details on Flickr

Being there for each other and with each other. How much value can be put on that? Sometimes it might feel easier to give a present to someone, instead of our time and our attention, but which is worth more to us? For me, I think it's the time we give to each other, the attention to the details in the lives of those we love, our practice of listening and speaking up, holding a hand in need, being free with our hugs, and looking deep into anothers eyes, saying loud and clear: I am here, you are here, and isn't it amazing and wonderful that we are here together, in this moment.

So, in the spirit of my favourite homophone* "pair, pear and pare", this holiday season, I am thinking about presence and presents, and trying to remember that more often than not, the giving is in the acknowledging of our presence in each others lives, our connections to each other, our care for each other, and the endless gifts we receive through that presence.

May your holidays be filled with the presence of those you love and care for . . .  and may abundant flowers bloom for you all!

The most precious gift we can offer others is our presence. When mindfulness embraces those we love, they will bloom like flowers. - Thich Nhat Hanh

Some Things to be Happy About and a Sale

On the Way to Apple Picking

This painting has a story. But don't they all? It's a story about my nephew at age 3, it's a story about one summer in south western NH, a story about the rhythms of life, and a story about the twists and turns of the road as we travel this life. 

And so, as stories go, this painting, and some others, made it's way from California, all the way back to NH, to stay for a time at a lovely gallery near the sea, called Artstream. My work is hanging in the Equinox Gallery along with the work of Sarah Ahearn - I know, I love her work too  -  we will be there through the end of January.

And so, I thought because my pieces being in this show make me happy, I would enlarge the happy, and have a sale on the  prints in my Etsy shop. Buy any print and get another 8 x 10 print free, from now until the end of the year. There are prints of new pieces awaiting you!

AND here are some other things to be happy about:

Swirly is selling 3x3 artwork mounted on canvas panels, AND is hosting specials everyday until 17 December.

Jess Gonacha is hosting 2, yes 2! Holiday specials in her shop, and you have to check out the most wonderful patterns she's been designing, oh, and alphabets too. 

Sarah Ahearn has some art for your Fridge.

Gypsy Girl has an amazing sale on, AND some new work in her shop!

The Little Room has new scarves, aprons and jewels.

And for some moments of beauty and reflection, check in with December Views.

The Gift of an Hour

Many people's favourite day is June 21st, the longest day of light, or Thanksgiving when family and friends gather, or their birthday (oh, that's one of my faves too) or any number of other holidays or special moment kind of days, but I have to say that my favourite all around good-times day is the first day after the clocks have been turned back in the fall. I mean, a whole hour, for free. 

I hear myself and others say all the time that they wish there were more hours in a day, we need more time, more days in a week. The plea is always for: More. Time. So, this one day when we are gifted with an extra hour is just the best of all worlds for me.

When I was a kid, I would get up and rearrange my room. No kidding. Actually rearranging my room was a once or twice a month routine for me, but on this longest-of-hours-in-a-day day, it always felt like the perfect activity to start the day off. I don't remember exactly what else would fill my favourite day, probably some reading and some drawing, and playing with friends, I mostly remember that rearranging the room was the highlight.

So every year on this day, I awaken and think, what will I do with my longest day?

This year, I painted. All day. Painted joyously, all the day long and into the early arrival of evening. 

I know for many, it is the start of the darker and shorter days, and there are feelings of dread and sadness about the dark. Dusk seems to fall so very much earlier, and it is the pronouncement that summer is certainly over now. But that hour, that wonderful gift of an hour, still fills me with pure joy. 

Now, the dark, yes, sometimes the dark does get to me. But the dark of winter for me is that time to pull in, take stock, make lists and review. During all the sun and heat filled days, I find it hard to pull in and focus, there is too much to do, and the trails call to me, and the long light filled evenings are about gathering and playing and talking and experiencing. In the winter I get to experience more deeply, more closely, what is going on inside. 

And so I wonder... what did you all do with your gift of an hour this year? 

Painting with the Rain

It is 8pm on Friday night, there is rain pitter pattering outside, I am in my studio painting (where I have been all day long) and I just looked up and said to myself, "this: now this, is a perfect moment." Husband is out playing a gig, rain is falling, the house is totally silent except for the rain, and the sound of my brush swooshing, or the sound of my pen scratching, oh and then there is the sound of my voice, talking to myself.

We haven't had real rain here since near the end of February, the skies dried up early last winter, and I have been awaiting the return of cloudy skies and rainy days and rainy nights for quite a long long time. And I have not let myself have a whole entire day, and now an evening, in the studio creating, in longer than I can remember.

So the rain and I are having a little reunion of sorts: it is falling and I am painting. Oh some days, some days, are just so very good.

All You Dancing Lights that Shine

I love this photo for so many different reasons: It was the first night at Squam, Jonatha singing at the bonfire, and a group of people was gathering to celebrate a few days we all put aside from busy schedules:

to create,

to befriend,

to renew, 

to enrich, 

to experience. 

And just about anything was possible, anything could happen.

Now that I am already home and already a little too immersed 

in the day to day, 

in the rush of deadlines, 

in the give and take of a day 

and the phone ringing 

and all the things we do everyday, I look back at this photo, and remember:

there are so many things that I want to remember, to keep taking out of my treasure  box in the months to come and dust off, and smile, or maybe feel my eyes filling up.

I want to remember seeing and being seen: 

Not in the way of an off-handed nod while thinking about something else as you pass someone in a corridor 

or on the street, but in the full eye-to-eye contact, where the half smile or the nod is deeply acknowledged, 

and passed back and forth, like a gift.

I want to remember the laughter and the voices: 

in the woods, out on the docks, in the cabins, in the dining hall, everywhere. 

There was such a beautiful variety of sounds:  the animated talk of a group, the quiet, private voices 

coming from cabin porches and docks at the end of the day, the excited voices calling through the woods 

and along the paths, it's all like a song in my head now, a beautiful and spontaneous 

weaving of  voices, like some amazing piece of improv that Ella would be singing.

I want to remember the light through the trees and how each path through the woods  had it's own meander, 

and how each day the light was shifting and mysterious and familiar all at once as I walked to and fro, 

meeting others along the way, or walking  by myself.

I want to remember the dock that I spent many an hour on looking out at the lake, 

or up at the stars, it was my meditation spot, my resting spot, my touchstone.

And most of all, I want to remember all of you. 

All of you that danced and shone,  just like the sparks from the bonfire that first night.

 

All the beauty and the care for each other and the open hearts, 

and the hands held, and the arms that wrapped around,  

and the eyes that met and held, held each other, 

and the voices talking long into the night, 

and the stepping past our usual comfort levels and trying, 

just trying something different. 

Stretching and meeting each other. 

Leaping and finding our ground.

Transparent and fragile, and yet, strong enough to dance and shine.

I saw all your lights, and I saw mine too, and these are the memories I want to remember to take out every once in a while, on a particularly difficult day, or on a wonderfully brilliant day, or just a day that I hear the wind move through the trees and remember the woods, and all your shining lights moving through the buoyant air. 

Thank you Elizabeth 

for having this bold and beautiful vision, 

and for being a gorgeous and tempting muse for us all.

And thank you, all of you that gathered in the woods in NH, by the side of a lake, in early autumn, thank you, all of you dancing lights that shine, for showing up and being. 

A Moment from Squam

My hope note from Kelly Rae & Mati Rose's thursday eve talk at Squam.

So many thoughts and such a tired happy mind today so I will just start with one moment:  

I realised about half way into my time at Squam that one of the many things I was there for was to better learn to stay open. To stay open in the face of insecure feelings, in the face of fear, in the face of shyness. I think it was Thursday night, I was sitting with a group of people on a dock, and I looked up at the stars, and I heard my own internal voice say: You only need to stay open, no matter what.

Stay open. 

Stay brave. 

Show the world who I am: 

no apologies

no excuses.

Just stay open.

Open.