Gift From The Sea; Eleventh Reading

I think that Anne Morrow Lindbergh's book Gift From the Sea has influenced me more than any other. It's the only book that I've read so many times; eleven to be exact! With each reading I find new tidbits of wisdom or some part of her life which I can relate to mine at this moment. This is what makes it so timeless.

This present reading, I enjoyed her description of a perfect beach day (spent with her sister) which she will take home with her and try to imitate in her everyday life. "One perfect day can give clues for a more perfect life." Her day went like this: A morning swim in the sea followed by breakfast on the back porch. A few morning chores then the rest of the morning is spent in writing. Lunch and chores and errands are followed by an afternoon on the beach letting thoughts run where they will. At dusk, she returns to the cottage and sips sherry before the open fire. Supper and talk while washing up the dishes and a last walk on the beach before retiring finish out the night.

This is the daily rhythm Anne prefers: Morning is for mental work, afternoon is for physical tasks and out-of-door jobs, and evening is for sharing. I like this daily order myself. One thing I need to change to line up more with this ideal is to do less work after breakfast. I get started on cleaning right after breakfast, and before I know it it's 10:30 with the most mentally productive part of the morning eaten up by physical work. Then I'm too tired to do much deep thinking, so this will be a goal of mine this school year.

And as I find it hard to sit down and write or blog with a dirty house, I'll try and do a tidy-up at night before bed so most of that work will be done then and not in the morning.

I've read quite a few books about artists and their habits. Many of them choose Anne's pattern of work. Some go back in the afternoon for another long writing session. These are men who have wives to do the housework, so they don't have to bother with domestic tasks too much, or else they can write in the midst of chaos.

What patterns of work have you readers established for yourselves? I'm especially interested in writers/artists and your schedules. What works best for you? I'd love to hear!

Snow Day by Billy Coffey

Snow had always been one of the wider gulfs between grown-ups and children. Adults wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible and so get on with their lives; children wanted to keep it around for as long as possible and so enjoy theirs more.

This quote is from Snow Day by Billy Coffey. I first heard of him when I was reading his blog http://www.billycoffey.com/ He's one insightful man, so I was glad to see his book in my local library.

I mostly enjoyed it but felt that at times he was too didactic; trying to cram in way too many lessons learned in a short amount of time. One day actually. I'd recommend it, though. It made me think.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Most of the time, I find poetry too hard to read. I know it's laziness on my part. I WANT to like poetry. So I've determined to stretch myself and read some poems. I have several books collected through the years; some left over from college English classes and some bought for the beauty of their covers.

This book falls into the latter category. Found in an antique shop a long time ago, I recently opened it to find the original giver's artwork decorating almost all the pages.

The inscription says, "To My Dear Roderick, Christmas 1935, From Jane.

Since it was a Christmas gift, she decorated quite a few pages with holly leaves and berries and underlined special words in red. I particularly love the sweet face she drew of Mrs. Browning, the author. Reginald must have been a pretty special fellow to warrant so much time and detail. Now I'm going to read a few. I don't think they'll take too much mental taxation.

Art and Simplicity

I took these photos this past weekend at my parents' house in East Tennessee. There are two spiders somewhere in the five photos. Can you find them?



"When the light fell, like a wash of truth, every corner that held obscurity also held the potential for beauty." Deborah DeWit Marchant in Traveling Light, A Photographer's Journey

I'm rereading this book for inspiration. Mrs. Marchant's photos are so much like my own. Our writing is very different, though. Her prose is very poetical and sometimes difficult to understand. I'm tempted to say, "Just say it in plain English!" I really don't like to try and wade through words. It frustrates me. I like forthrightness and simplicity in writing; except for Pat Conroy. He's absolutely hypnotic.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't like pretentious writing. It especially irritates me in an artist bio. You know when you go to an art exhibition and you read what the artist says about his/her art. Sometimes I think you need a doctorate just to understand what they're saying. I think they believe that the more obtuse they are the better. It's so annoying.

When I wrote my artist statement, I tried to keep it simple and understandable. I didn't start out this post with the intention of posting my artist bio, but I think I will. Do you think it's understandable? Is it too simple?

THE ART BIO

OF

DEBBIE BAILEY

Having grown up in the mountains of East Tennessee, I have a heightened awareness of the beauty of the great outdoors. I’ve always been happiest listening to wind whispering through the pines or lying in a field watching clouds float by. As a photographer, I now capture those pieces of the everyday and hold them as images of things remembered and cherished. If you look at one of my photographs, smile, and say, “I know that place…” or “That reminds me of…” then I’ve done a good thing.

Since early childhood I’ve been interested in many different art forms; especially music and photography. I’m proficient in piano but mainly piddle around with the lap dulcimer, recorder, and guitar. The hammered dulcimer is next on my list of things to try.

I became passionate about photography after a trip to Italy in 2001 with one of my sons. Since then I’ve tried different photographic techniques such as handtinting with translucent oil paints on black and white photos, copying my photos onto watercolor paper and painting over them, bleaching them, using many different film speeds to see what will happen, taking Polaroids with a 1970’s camera and then manipulating the images using different instruments while the emulsion is still wet, and attaching a photo to the back of an antique mirror after some of the silvering has been removed.

I believe in THE CREATOR who made all from nothing. I also believe all people feel the need to express their uniqueness in some way. As image-bearers of God, we can only re-create what is His. I want my art to show the goodness and beauty of creation. I affirm with the Psalmist David who said, “The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament shows his handiwork.”

Never content to do the same thing day after day, my art is always changing into something hopefully better. And just like life, that requires patience and perseverance. So I keep pushing onward and hope that my art will bless you as we go along.

The Advantages of Aging

"The great thing about getting older is that you don't lose all the other ages you've been." Madeleine L'Engle

It's true that we accumulate decades like charms on a bracelet and can remember where we were and what we were doing and how we felt. Hopefully all the experiences will make us wise. I want to be a wisewoman. Not just a woman who is wise but a Wisewoman. It sounds more romantic anyway!

I love reading L'Engle's non-fiction. If you've never read her, try her. She also writes sci-fi, but I'm not into that AT ALL.

Pat Conroy's My Reading Life

Pat Conroy's done it again; written an engaging, heart-wrenching book chronicling his life as a reader and writer.

I adore books about books and the reading life and he doesn't disappoint. He gives much more than a list of books, although he does do that.

Flowing through his life like a discordant melody is his father's influence, The Great Santini. Larger than life and scary as all get out, Pat still deals with the demons caused by this sadistic fighter pilot.

Also present is his gentle mother who would read along with her son every book assigned to him in school. Embarrassed by her lack of education, she was driven to improve herself through books. This mutual love of the written word was in many ways a saving grace for them both.

One chapter is called The Old New York Book Shop. Pat frequented this shop in Atlanta for many years and became best friends with its owner. While keeping the store one afternoon for his friend, he had a most unusual customer.

Mr. Conroy writes: Though I was reading O'Neill's most accomplished play, he wore me down in gloomy rain forests of dialogue that seemed both exhausting and fruitless. But the moment froze when the front door opened and three large, muscle-bound men walked into the store like an offensive line breaking out of a huddle. The largest man signaled someone outside in a limousine and a lithe, watchful young man with a terrific hat and expensive sunglasses entered the store. When he asked me a question, he appeared shy as a mollusk.

"Do you have any books on freaks?" he asked.

"We specialize in freaks here," I answered. "You ever met the owner?"

"Cliff, isn't it?" the man said, looking at me sidelong. "I bought some books from him last time I was in Atlanta."

"First room on the right after the bathroom," I said, pointing. "I know he bought a collection of circus books last week."

"Circus freaks?" the man asked.

"I haven't checked them out. He's got a couple of books on the Elephant Man."

"I bet I own them,' the young man said. "I tried to buy the skeleton of the Elephant Man last year in England. They refused to do business with me. It upset me very much."

"Those uptight limey bastards," I said.

I then went back to reading O'Neill, thus missing any further opportunity to meet Michael Jackson. When Cliff told me who had just bought several hundred dollars' worth of books from me, I remembered the man's hauntedness but also his innate sweetness. Michael Jackson was simply another celebrity who proved that fame could damage a human soul without even breaking a sweat.

Can you imagine selling books to Michael Jackson and not knowing who he is?

Pat Conroy's writing makes me want to swoon and cry at the same time. I've never met an author that moved me so. If I ever do meet him on Fripp Island, heaven help me! If two old people are seen running down the beach, one chasing the other, it'll probably be us!

Henry Miller on Light

The writer Henry Miller, who made his home in Big Sur, California, had this to say about light: "There are two magic hours of the day which I have only really come to know and wait for, bathe in, I might say, since living here. One is dawn, the other sunset. In both we have what I like to think of as 'the true light': the one cold, the other warm, but both creating an ambiance of super-reality, or the reality behind reality....Everything is brush and cones, umbrellas of light-the leaves, bought, stalks, trunks standing out separate and defined, as if etched by the Creator himself."

Since so many of my photographs are taken at these two magical times, I most assuredly agree with him. I love the warm nature of the slanted sunlight. It makes everything delineated and magical; sharper and softer at the same time.

A Wise Quote from Samuel Rutherford

"When I find myself in the cellar of affliction, I always look about for the wine."

A little history on Samuel Rutherford. He was born around 1600 near the borders area of Scotland. He was a Scottish Presbyterian theologian and author.

His most famous work is Lex, Rex, a political book presenting a theory of limited government and constitutionalism.

After the Restoration of Charles II of England, the authorities burned Lex, Rex and cited Rutherford for high treason, but his death intervened before the charge could be tried, lucky for him!

He was also one of the Scottish commissioners to the Westminster Assembly. This group of righteous men was appointed by England's Long Parliament in order to restructure the Church of England. They met for six years from 1643-1649. Out of this assembly came the Westminster Larger and Shorter Catechisms, the Directory of Public Worship, and the Confession of Faith. These are the major confessional standards of the Presbyterian faith, of which I am an adherent.

Andrew Bonar, a minister of the Free Church of Scotland, edited Samuel Rutherford's letters. Andrew was the youngest brother of Horatius Bonar, the great hymnist, whose songs we sing including Blessing and Honor, Here Oh My Lord I See Thee Face to Face, Not What My Hands Have Done, No Not Despairingly, Thy Works Not Mine O Christ, When The Weary Seeking Rest, and Yes, For Me He Careth and many, many more.

So the next time life gives you sour grapes, remember Samuel Rutherford and look for the vintage bottle of wine

Finding Your Sweet Spot

I'm reading Max Lucado's book Cure for the Common Life-Living in your Sweet Spot. In chapter 3 he invites us to READ OUR LIFE BACKWARD. He says to think back and remember what you loved doing as a child; what entranced you.

I made a list of things I could remember. Here they are: 1. Reading 2. Writing 3. Playing the piano 4. Painting 5. Solitude 6. Photography 7. Gardening 8. Being outdoors 9. Decorating 10. Sewing

The thing that amazed me is that these are EXACTLY the same things I love to do today.

He also says, "The oak indwells the acorn. Read your life backward and check your supplies. Rerelish your moments of success and satisfaction. For in the merger of the two, you find your uniqueness."

I've spent too much time trying to be what I'm not. I'll never be a public speaker or know much about how things work, but I could take a photo of both and love it. Not that trying these things hasn't been beneficial for me. I have learned things along the way; mostly I've learned what I never want to try again!

I just don't want to spend any more time trying to do things I hate or things that other people want me to try or to be. I want to focus on culivating what I'm already good at and what makes me happy. That's my sweet spot and where God will use me to His glory and my bliss. The two merge and make me the most effective I can be for His kingdom on this earth.

Comments on my Blog

I've been thinking for some time about responding to comments left on my blog. I've always felt rude for not commenting but wasn't sure of the best way to respond; do I e-mail the commenters or comment on my blog directly below the comments?

I've finally decided that the easiest and best way is to just comment below each of your comments. If anyone knows of a better way, please let me know.

So look below your comment if you want to hear my response. Libbyquilter, you said I have my settings at 'no reply'. What does that mean? If it's not a good thing, how do I change it?

Take This Fun Test

I found a new blog called The English Muse that had this blog post "I write like...Kurt Vonnegut??"

I took a five-second test to see whose writing mine most closely matched. The results were Cory Doctorow. I don't know who he/she is but will definitely have to find out. I was hoping for Jane Austen. Maybe I'll be surprised after reading some of Mr./Ms. Doctorow.

Take the test and let me know who you write like. It's fun!

I write like
Cory Doctorow

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Grandma's Letters

If our house was burning and I could rescue three things, this stack of letters would definitely be one of the three.

They were written to me by my maternal grandmother after I left home in 1973. They cover my college years, my marriage and move to California, our move to Georgia, and go through the birth of our second child in 1983.

Grandma was a letter writer. She kept in contact with all of her siblings, her daughter-in-law, her children who lived away, and her grandchildren. She also wrote a few friends, too.

My favorite memory of her is when I would walk into her house and see her sitting in her chair listening to the local radio station with pen and pad in hand writing to some lucky someone. She would smile sweetly, say hello, gaze out the window, and continue writing. It was enough for me to just be with her.

She was the most influential person in my life growing up. She showed me what a godly woman looked like. Her life was simple. She took care of her home and family. She took in strangers and helped out the sick and needy. That's why her letters are so precious to me. I want to be just like her.

The Last Messy Place

Well, I've done it. I've gotten rid of ALL superfluous papers in the house. All that's left to organize is my writing desk. And that'll be fun.

I feel like such a weight has been lifted off me. I hate paper clutter with a vengeance. We get so much junk mail. It seems that I'm on everybody's mailing list for catalogs and religious fundraising. I'm thinking about not opening the letters and marking RETURN TO SENDER on the outside of the envelopes. Would that take care of the problem, do you think?

Now I can start on some of my big projects, but first I had to get through the slog of paper. I've spent the last two weeks making schedules and planning Darcie's schoolwork. I'm almost finished with that, and then I can begin painting the kitchen.

Every ten years I repaint the kitchen. When we built the house the kitchen walls were white with green trim. After ten years, I painted the trim blue. Another ten years have gone by, and I've decided to paint the walls yellow and the trim white. I painted one wall and have been living with it for about two months. I don't like it. I don't know what I'm going to do now. I'm thinking about going back to white walls and paint the trim white, too; or maybe light blue.

My kitchen is a combination 1920's-1940's kitchen. I think I need to go to the library and look at books with vintage kitchens. I need inspiration. When I see it, I'll know it.

Expressing My Heart Through Another's Writings

Even though I consider myself a writer, there are plenty of times when I can't put into words what I'm feeling in my heart.

I'm reading Living Prayer by Robert Benson. This man can definitely write down in words what's in my heart. This is what I read this morning: "We look for saints and for mystics whose words speak to us. We seek out the poets and preachers and pilgrims whose language seems somehow our own, in the hope they will explain what we know we have heard in the depths of our hearts."

When I read something that's in my heart that's written by another person, I have an 'Ah ha!' moment. This was one of those times.

Thank God for the written word and for people who have the gift of expression.

Quote of the Day

"We write to taste life twice," Anais Nin wrote, "in the moment and in retrospection."

Mark Twain

I found this quote yesterday by Mark Twain. I've heard parts of it before but never the whole thing. It goes: "Dance like no one is watching. Sing like no one is listening. Love like you've never been hurt and live like it's heaven on Earth."

Wouldn't this world be a better place if we followed his advice?

The Two Faces of Debbie

Laurel and I were talking late into the night ( her baby wouldn't sleep) about how different we are. She's a minimalist; I like English Country. She's more of a gourmet cook; I'm definitely Southern. She hates to sew; I love to sew. And on and on...

These two quotes sum up the difference well. She has this one posted on her blog http://athomelaurel.blogspot.com/: "Then do not grasp at the stars, but do life's plain, common work as it comes, certain that daily duties and daily bread are the sweetest things in life." Robert Lewis Stevenson I agree with that mostly except the part about not grasping at the stars.

This is a summation of a quote I had on this blog at one time. "Aim for the moon. If you miss at least you'll be among the stars." Or something to that effect. Two different ways of looking at life.

I've always thought I could do just about anything I set my mind to. I've always aimed for the stars and hit them most of the time. I finished my first bucket list in my thirties. I'm a dreamer and an implementer.

I don't dream impossible dreams. I know I'll never be a Martha Graham, a Bach, or a Monet. That's fine. I just want to do what I do well and not half way. My theory is that if you don't at least give it a shot, how will you know what you're good at or what you like?

Here's the conflict. I've been going through a crisis of sorts for the last five years. I feel dissastified; like I'm not living up to my potential. Sickness and depression are my almost constant companions. I'm not content to do the little things even though I enjoy them. I feel like there's bigger things I should be doing.

I want to write a book. It's on my new bucket list. Whenever I hear of other people writing books and getting them published, I'm jealous and envious. I don't like feeling like that. I should be happy and proud of their accomplishments. I am, but other negative feelings are mixed in with the good.

My envy tells me that I'm not content with my own life. I love my life yet I'm not content. What a contradiction I am.

I'm in a holding pattern. I'm waiting on the Lord to show me what's next. This hymn just popped into my mind and says beautifully what I desire. I need to sing it to myself every day.

Father, I know that all my life is portioned out for me,

The changes that are sure to come, I do not fear to see:

I ask thee for a present mind, intent on pleasing thee.

I would not have the restless will that hurries to and fro,

Seeking for some great thing to do, or secret thing to know;

I would be treated as a child, and guided where I go.

I ask thee for the daily strength, to none that ask denied,

A mind to blend with outward life, while keeping at thy side,

Content to fill a little space, if Thou be glorified.

In service which thy will appoints there are no bonds for me,

My secret heart is taught the truth that makes thy children free,

A life of self-renouncing love is one of liberty.

Wow! That nails it, doesn't it? It makes all my whining about "finding myself" seem pretty pathetic. Yet we have to go through these seasons in order to grow and see what useless things need to be shed in order for Christ's light to shine more brightly through us. I'm done whining now. Please God, let me be through.

Like...Awesome, Dude!

This post will be a bit of a rant...a rant against the decline of the English language. Where to begin? This may have to be more than one post. I'll try not to rant too caustically.

Let's take the word LIKE. It used to only be used when making a comparison between two objects. "You're beginning to look just like your mother!" Or, it was used to indicate a preference. "I like blue better than orange."

Now, it's used every other word and has become almost useless. "Like...you know...like...yesterday at the store...like...I saw this little boy that was...like...acting really bad." I don't exaggerate.

I have a heart for young mothers and enjoy their company. I figure that as a mother of five and grandmother of four, I might have some insights that could help them on their own journeys. So I spend time with them whenever I can. But get a few of them together, and they immediately become a bunch of valley girls. Every other word is "like". It makes me crazy. I can't even have a decent conversation I get so discombobulated.

And how about awesome? That used to be a word that meant something much bigger than good or great. You used it to describe God. Now it just means "cool". I mean "totally cool". That's another one; totally.

Words are so important and should be chosen with care. The Bible speaks about words and their importance in many, many passages. That one word 'WORD' takes up four big pages in Strong's Exhaustive Concordance. Jesus is THE WORD. Words have power to heal or to destroy.

Reading this morning in Walking on Water by Madeleine L'Engle, I had many 'Aha!" moments. One thing I like is her ability to take all the unformed thoughts swirling around in my cauldron-like head and put them into words that make sense and help me understand myself better. There again, words have power.

Here's what she says about the power of language. "We cannot Name or be Named without language. If our vocabulary dwindles to a few shopworn words, we are setting ourselves up for takeover by a dictator. When language becomes exhausted, our freedom dwindles--we cannot think; we do not recognize danger; injustice strikes us as no more than "the way things are". I might even go to the extreme of declaring that the deliberate diminution of vocabulary by a dictator, or an advertising copywriter, is anti-Christian." Pretty strong words with which I happen to agree.

Along those same lines, she says, "In times of war language always dwindles, vocabulary is lost; and we live in a century of war. This diminution is worldwide. In Japan, after the Second World War, so many written characters were lost that it is difficult, if not impossible, for the present-day college student to read the words of the great classical masters." Russia has had the same problem. So it has always been. She gives Dante and others as examples of being preservers of language in times of war.

A few more words from the same book..."We think because we have words, not the other way around. The more words we have, the better able we are to think conceptually." She also talks about the changing of the Book of Common Prayer, hymns, Shakespeare, and the King James Bible. But don't get me started THERE!

Additions

Additions to last blog post: I'll tell you about Blog Award #1 when I do all I have to do in order to get it! Also, I'll highlight all the blog addresses when Laurel can teach me how. Yikes =-( ! Yeah, I'm pathetic.

One more thing; I didn't notice until the last post was put up that I was supposed to answer the questions with one word. Yeah, right!

Blog Award-Yeah!

My friend Katy @ http://kathrynestelle.blogspot.com/, awarded me with my second blog award! Thanks, Katy!

The way it works is that I answer the following questions in one word, and then pass the award on to five other bloggers.

Here are the questions:

1. Where is your cell phone? On my desk

2. Your hair? Dark brown with slivers of silver

3. Your mother? Amazing

4. Your father? Sweetest man in the whole world

5. Your favorite food? Southern

6. Your dream last night? Don't remember

7. Your favorite drink? Tea

8. Your dream/goal? Balance

9. What room are you in? Kitchen

10. Your hobby? Photography, etc.

11. Your fear? Loved ones dying

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Wiser

13. Where were you last night? Home

14. Something that you aren’t? Always content

15. Muffins? Like them if they're healthy

16. Wish list item? Digital SLR camera

17. Where did you grow up? Tennessee

18. Last thing you did? Ate cereal

19. What are you wearing? Cottage jeans, white tee, navy cardigan, houseshoes, scarf

20. Your TV? Off

21. Your Pets? One dog, three cats

22. Friends? Wouldn't want to live without 'em

23. Your life? Blessed

24. Your mood? Quiet

25. Missing Someone? Garrett

26. Vehicle? Yukon

27. Something you're not wearing? A hat

28. Your favorite store? Any used book store

29. Your favorite colour? Green

30. When was the last time you laughed? Today, a lot

31. Last time you cried? This week

32. Your best friend? Laurel

33. One place that I go to over and over? Laurel's house

34. Facebook? Yes

35. Favorite place to eat? Red Lobster (I know, I'm easy)

I'm passing this award on to:

Laurel @http://athomelaurel.blogspot.com/

Pom Pom @http://pompomsponderings.blogspot.com/

Frances @tp://lefthandedhousewife.blogspot.com/

Laura @http://morningsidefamily.blogspot.com/

Tonia @ http://www.studyinbrown.com/

If you don't already know (I didn't), copy and paste this post to your blog then erase my answers and put yours in. I really love all your blogs.