"Leaf" by Jana

Thursday's Song: Nothing is Written (I'll Kneel Down), Mumford & Sons

2012-02-09T08:00:00.000-08:00

I came home
Like a stone
And I fell heavy into your arms
These days of dust
Which we've known
Will blow away with this new sun

And I'll kneel down
Wait for now
And I'll kneel down
Wait for now

So break my step
And relent
You forgave and I won't forget
Know what we've seen
And him with less
Now in some way
Shake the excess

And I'll kneel down
Wait for now
And I'll kneel down
Know my ground

Now I'll be bold
As well as strong
Use my head alongside my heart
So take my flesh
And fix my eyes
That tethered mind free from the lies

And I'll kneel down
Wait for now
And I'll kneel down
Know my ground
And I'll kneel down
Wait for now

Raise my hands
Paint my spirit gold
And bow my head
Keep my heart slow

And raise my hands
Paint my spirit gold
And bow my head
Keep my heart slow

Project: Britt and Dan's Guestbook

2012-02-08T08:00:00.000-08:00

A heavy-hearted post yesterday, but I am happy to share one of my happier moments today.

A friend from work, Britt, asked me early last summer if I would create a guestbook for her wedding in September. We tossed around ideas for a few weeks. She liked the thumbprint idea, but wanted something a little more original.

We decided to go with an UP-style balloon cloud, but Britt wanted a golf cart to anchor it, since she and Dan both like golf...well, Dan likes TO golf, and Britt enjoys a good book from the seat of the golf cart on a sunny day.

I went to work, and, sad to say, failed to photograph much of my process. My plan was to use a linoleum block stamp for the golf cart, so I spent a lot of my time designing a clean, print-friendly version (did you know there are not that many vintage-y golf cart designs out there? Apparently affording a golf cart is a relatively recent phenomenon.).

Dan also is a big fan of BMW's, so I eventually sketched up a wobbly design hybrid incorporating some BMW elements into a basic golf cart, transferred a reverse onto the linoleum block, and consequently ruined one of my (twelve-dollar Ikea) coffee tables with my enthusiastic carving.

I used a xylene transfer pen to carefully transfer a reverse image of their names and wedding date, and painstakingly stamped a centered print of the golf cart design. (Bonus: Britt got to keep the stamp!)

Since it's on a huge sheet of white rag paper, we did not want guests putting fingerprints where they should not go. I carefully cut out an oval shape of draft paper vellum to fit the basic area where the cloud of fingerprints would be. The vellum protected the rest of the paper...thank goodness, for many wedding guests had a heyday putting thumbprints all over the vellum layer!

The little instruction sheet says "Our friends and family lift us up. Please add your print to the party!"

Britt picked out a bright stamp pad, and I made a small sample image by way of instructions. After the wedding, she returned the guest book to me and I evened out the cloud of thumbprints and added the string lines. I found that adding a few delineating lines here and there also helped the overall definition of the image.

This was such a fun project with so many unique details to work out. I loved being a part of Britt and Dan's special day!

Maybe once Britt gets it framed, I'll get use a real camera and get a good photo!

Doubled by Wonder

2012-02-07T08:00:00.000-08:00

"I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought, and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder." - G. K. Chesterton

I suppose--no, I know--that everybody has times of feeling down, blue, lonely, alone, marginalized, paralyzed, unnecessary, discouraged, wasted, jaded, bored, and possibly completely unnecessary.

Here is where part of me would like to go into a litany of circumstances outlining why I have been going through just such a stage, and maintain that although I am healthy, wealthy, and have food, shelter, and clothing in abundance, I have some comparative right to feel so.

I could talk about the many younger friends I've helped, showered, and attended into marriage this year. I could mention the even more friends who seem to be in love all around me, forecasting yet another 'year'o' weddings', the complete unlikeliness that seems to be my reality that I have met or will ever meet That Best Friend, or the fact that I cannot seem to afford a vacation this year, when I feel so desperately at the end of myself and in need of rest. Myriad frustrations at home and work which I must deal with alone. I could also mention the facade of bitter withdrawal I've been building up as a form of protection, even against my closest friends.

The fact is happiness is unnecessary. Reasons to cry will always be there. Especially in the car, driving in to work in the dark and away from work in the dark, driving home alone from anything, really.

The fact is the best things are "unnecessary". Unexpected Delight. Delicious (and beautiful) food. Pretty clothes. Pretty shoes. Music. Movies. Jewelry. Wallpaper. Any beauty at all. Technically, we don't need the sun to set in a flood of gold over the Pacific below, under a rampart of rose and purple above. It is beyond need, it is beyond deserving, it is beyond necessity. It is something altogether different.

I don't need to be happy.

But maybe, if I can still wonder at a sunset, tear up at baptisms, delight at an adorable pair of shoes, dance at (yet another) wedding, revel in the scent of melting beeswax as I paint, laugh at a story, enjoy anything...If I can wonder, and be grateful for the chance to, then I can still be, unnecessarily, unnaccountably, happy.

PS: There is always hope.

Branch and Root

2012-02-06T08:00:00.000-08:00

Sere and fallow winter--

land lies at rest but not at peace

Even the black-branched trees

are dissatisfied with new, broad gap

between their branch-tips and the sky's roof

I imagine them dreaming

of reversing their roots, and

growing columned into the sky,

rooting into that atmosphere

A canopy of roots; then, bursting the chains of soil

with new leaves below the ground,

an outcry against the decomposition of

thousands of brother-leaves.

A murmuring rumor

of death's reversal

seems to whisper

through their tired and

waiting branches.

New Year

2012-02-03T08:00:00.000-08:00

Some holidays aren't difficult to figure out your social events as a Numero Uno. Some are. The two that always make things especially difficult for me are the Fourth of July and New Year's Eve.

There are always a few party invitations for New Year's Eve, but I've been feeling particularly claustrophobic, so I decided it was worth a drive to Seattle alone to trespass on the noted hospitality my dear friends Luz and Cole always extend to me. They are one of very few couples I can spend time with who make me feel very much less alone. I don't know how that works, but they should probably give lessons sometime.

We had a mellow, cosy time. Cole is a brewer, so he had a batch of cider ready to "pitch" on the stroke of midnight, and he even let me do the honors. Cole has been reading 'Watership Down', so he dubbed it 'Fiver Cider', and we'll get together to sample it in May.

We're developing a bit of a tradition. I spent New Years with Luz and Cole last year, as well, and thanks to Luz's amazing Sriracha Popcorn, started a year's journey of popcorn experimentation. We made two batches over New Year's Eve and New Year's Day, exchanging notes, strategies, flavoring ideas, and enjoying the results. I was also treated to more evidence of Luz's gourmet cooking...Chicken soup and bread for New Years evening dinner, popovers on New Year's day breakfast, and openface avocado and turkey sandwiches for lunch.

They are renting a big atrium of a house on Capitol Hill. It's full of gorgeous North and East light.

And this is the view from their back porch.

We took a walk on New Years Day, with Cole's tutorial on pipe-smoking to be the "Never tried this" New Year's Day tradition. Funnily enough, we ended up on a 2 hour ramble of a park, a water-tower, and a plant conservatory with nary a digital device between us, not even a watch. Time meant nothing. Now that's a tradition I'd like to continue.

Thursday Lyric: From This One Place, Sara Groves

2012-02-02T08:00:00.000-08:00

I was about to give up and that's no lie
cardinal landed outside my window
threw his head back and sang a song
so beautiful it made me cry

took me back to a childhood tree
full of birds and dreams

from this one place I can't see very far
in this one moment I'm square in the dark
these are the things I will trust in my heart
you can see something else
something else

I don't know what's making me so afraid
tiny cloud over my head
heavy and grey with a hint of dread
I don't like to feel this way

take me back to a window seat
with clouds beneath my feet

from this one place I can't see very far
in this one moment I'm square in the dark
these are the things I will trust in my heart
you can see something else
something else

count the ways

2012-02-01T08:00:00.000-08:00

Count the ways,

the paths we take to cross squares.

Move as many as you wish.

You, the Bishop

I, a Pawn.

Let me, let me

Count the ways

How do we love?

We move.

http://metmuseum.org/en/exhibitions/listings/2011/the-game-of-kings-medieval-ivory-chessmen-from-the-isle-of-lewis?exhshow=art&rpp=6&pg=2

We had a bit of snow out here

2012-01-31T13:29:00.000-08:00

A bit of a snow and ice storm came to town few weeks ago. I walked home and to work twice...over two miles in 15-degree weather, fully convincing myself that the reason I don't walk in regular weather is not the time involved, but the fact that the walk is boring.

In a snow-scape, there are delightful surprises everywhere. The structure of plants, buildings, roads, even sidewalks and other ugly and commonplace objects is changed. Of course, I'm saying nothing new...but isn't it funny how we notice it all differently with each first snow?

Before we got the main force of snow near my house (inconveniently, all on weekdays), I rambled out to the north side of our big lake to try and find some pictures. Out in the woods, there was plenty of our pacific green peeking through the snow still.

promises or reminders

2012-01-30T08:00:00.000-08:00

I saw the brightest shooting star near my birthday this year. I tried to pretend it was a promise, but I think it was just a reminder.

Just a reminder of how fast life goes, blindingly. Does it go faster if you shine brighter? Slower if you dully waste your time?

I didn't think I needed the reminder of how fast time passes.

(it feels like the past 30 years went by faster than that star.)

today, it was hard to breathe.

2012-01-28T17:06:00.001-08:00

Night Snows

2012-01-27T08:00:00.000-08:00

The snow that never drifts -
The transient, fragrant snow
That comes a single time a Year
Is softly driving now -

A night snow is so gentle and ghostly, muffling every noise and every twig. I stayed up late, sitting blanketed on my front steps with sketchbook and snow music playing softly, getting up to snap pictures of the coated branches in the orange streetlights' glow.

So thorough in the Tree
At night beneath the star
That it was Febuary's Foot
Experience would swear -

Like Winter as a Face
We stern and former knew
Repaired of all but Loneliness
By Nature's Alibi

Next day, the snow turned tapioca, as my grandma used to say.

Downtown from the fourth-floor office windows.

Were every Storm so spice
The Value could not be -
We buy with contrast - Pang is good
As near as memory -

--Emily Dickinson

Thursday Lyric: The New Pornographers, Adventures in Solitude

2012-01-26T08:00:00.000-08:00

Adventures In Solitude
Artist: The New Pornographers
Album: Challengers (2007)

Balancing on
One wounded wing
Circling the edge
Of the neverending
The best of the vanished marvels have gathered inside your door

More than begin
But less than forget
But spirits born
From the not happened yet
Gathering there to pay off a debt brought back from the wars

We thought we lost you
We thought we lost you
We thought we lost you
Welcome back

Sleeping for years
Pick through what is left
Through the pieces that fell and rose from the depth
From the rainwater well
Deep as a secret nobody knows

Less than forget
But more than begun
These adventures in solitude never done
To the names of our wounds
We send the same blood back from the wars

We thought we lost you
We thought we lost you
We thought we lost you
It will all come back

I know you want to
Work for
Wait for
Want more
And that it's comin' at a bad time
Some cold place
Heartless ways
For all we know

I know you need to
Breathe through
Come back
Come to
But it's comin' at a bad time
Some hard dark
Tangled day
For all we know

I know you want to
Work for
Wait for
Want more
And that it's comin' at a bad time
Some cold race
Heartless ways
For all we know

I know you want to
Breathe through
Come back
Come too
But it's comin' at a bad time
Old scarred face
Survivors guilt
For all we know

The other half

2012-01-25T08:00:00.000-08:00

I love the need in me

the hungers of peace.

the appetites for hope, joy, rest, love (still, love. always, love.)

and cheese.

I love the things withheld, that make me dream

for more.

I love the broken spirit raging at injustice.

I love the restlessness, the looking for a home.

I love the need in me, the need I have, for

I am not a slave to television, lazy evenings,

naptimes, tee times, family time, long division,

game nights, white nights, teething nights, christmas presents.

No, my schedule's open.

Fill it with your emptinesses,
your gaping holes,
your needs,
your messes.

I am half; give me busyness;
fill me up. Let me carry your extra load,
teach your children,
tend your gardens.

I am half of one; the other half you're taking.

My White Nights

2012-01-24T08:00:00.000-08:00

When I wake, startled, from dreams of despair,
failures, fears, creditors, dictators,
homelessness, broken bones,
and useless living
I have to remind myself
that it's just a dream
If I can remember that much.

Skitchin': Kind of how I picture myself when processing e-mail

2012-01-23T08:00:00.000-08:00

I am e-mail magician! Fly little paper airplanes of information!

A little more about hope

2012-01-22T11:01:00.000-08:00

There are a few narrative ideas that thread through the perspectives of most artists. For me, as for many creators, hope is one of those threads. Maybe because creating in itself speaks to a form of hope.

I'd had this idea in mind for a while, but it took news of my cousin Melodie's plan to create an annual holiday gala to raise funds for researching a cure SMA (Spinal-Muscular Atrophy), the genetic condition that affects her son and my second cousin Taysen to push me into actually creating the three-part set of small encaustic paintings.

The main idea centered on the chaotic circumstances and patterns, whether tragic or simply nonsensical, that don't seem to make sense from my small perspective. And I wanted to set that up together with some of the patterns we see in nature which reveal an amazing degree of pattern, logic, design...sometimes, it seems, to no real purpose.

I wanted the piece to read left to right, chaotic to peaceful. The black is all photo transfers layered with natural beeswax. They are small, 6x6 inch boards.

The first painting was still in progress when I took the picture, and I somehow missed getting a close up shot of the finished painting. I added several more layers of wax and photo transfers of feathers, which always seem to me to be an element of hope, as well as being a natural pattern. Is it only thanks to Emily Dickinson?

The second painting is layers of photo-transferred branches and imprints stamped into the top layer from the beautiful pattern at the bottom of a poppy seed pod.

The heart of my idea rested as it often does in words. Here finally the patterns of nature are captured as designs, not photo-real elements, of layers of architectural drawings of trees in different seasons. and of course, some silver leaf.

Somehow the tone changed while uploading the picture. In real life, I don't think they look quite this yellow, but with the natural beeswax there is definitely a golden tint. The left-hand one is particularly indistinguishable, but you can get an idea of the whole set from here. These pieces were donated as a silent auction item at the gala.

Weather Channels

2012-01-21T11:10:00.000-08:00

We live on clouds

Our continent-clouds, shifting

weather-patterns in a slower orbit

How many weather-generations live and die

in a single moment of our slow-crunching, rock-moving time?

Ice ages come and gone in a winter,

Global warming forgotten in half a summer's time.

Long darknesses, prophecies told by stars and moon

foretold and come to pass in a day's worth of a kingdom's rise and rule and fall.

{My} Top Albums of 2011

2012-01-10T19:54:00.000-08:00

Caveats:

The unity of the collection of songs within an album and the themes explored is more important than my love for one track (or several), and this affects my ranking. I think this is why Fleet Foxes ends up higher on my list, and why Mat Kearney, The Civil Wars, and Laura Marling got bumped from the list even though I might have given them more listening time over the year. I liked many songs, but I didn't think their "collections" of songs felt as cohesive. Being able to listen all the way through an album and get a feeling for both the ideas and the music the artist is exploring will put it up higher on my list.

* attended a concert

1. Over the Rhine, The Long Surrender*

Source: Direct (I pre-bought this album before they made it via the band's website)

Thoughts:

Over the Rhine is whiskey music. You need to pay attention to them, and if you mix them up with a lot of other stuff, then you will never really get the value. They are breaking rules quietly and beautifully. Many people who prebought the album got it in November 2010, but the official release date is 2011, so I'm going with that. I can't say too much about the album, but if you choose not to bother with it, at least get the song 'All My Favorite People Are Broken', a song years in the writing and one that every person should listen to.

2. Paul Simon, So Beautiful or So What

Source: NPR’s First Listen

Thoughts:

Comparisons with Graceland are unnecessary and unhelpful, but...it does sound a bit closer to Graceland than anything else, and that makes me smile.

3. Gungor, Ghosts Upon the Earth

Source: Just about everyone I know posted about this one on the day of its release.

Thoughts:

"Don't use words too big for the subject. Don't say "infinitely" when you mean "very"; otherwise you'll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite."--C.S. Lewis. This album is the musical expression of that, a clear and gorgeous expression of a clear and gorgeous idea: the desire for God's love to be made known on earth. No kitsch and no obscuring. It doesn't scrimp on beauty, but it is never heavy-handed in a world where we are used to Christian musical expressions either oversimplifying or overglorifying everything at all times forever and ever and always, amen.

4. Fleet Foxes, Helplessness Blues*

Source: NPR’s First Listen

Thoughts:

Never mind how put off I was at first by the dissonant horn cacaphony at the end of the 8-freakin' minute track "The Shrine/An Argument". They had me at the line: "If to borrow is to take and not return/I have borrowed all my lonesome life/ and I can't, no I can't get through/the borrower's debt is the only regret of my youth"(Bedouin Dress). I still don't understand most of it , and somehow I don't mind at all. It asks questions beautifully.

5. The Head and the Heart, The Head and the Heart*

Source: Local fans, AmazonMP3

Thoughts:

A pack of Seattle kids begin playing local venues, and have a lot of fun. Release an album, have more fun. Tour, more fun. I got to see them play from the edge of the stage at Vancouver's Commodore Ballroom. If you have a chance, seem them live. Simple but thoughtful, and pre-eminently singable modern folk music.

6. Joe Henry, Reverie

Source: NPR's First Listen

Thoughts:

Joe Henry is the Seattle producer/collaborator of Over the Rhine's recent albums. I loved his previous album Death to the Storm, and this one is definitely no step back. Jazzy, smoky, classy tracks filled with fantastic instrumentation.

7. Sleeping at Last, Yearbook

Source: Artist's website

Thoughts:

The Chicago band released three songs each month in 2011, and then packed the 36 tracks onto a beautiful album. Though it's not an official release, it's one of my favorite things about 2011.

8. The Joy Formidable, The Big Roar

Source: Relevant, Amazon MP3, The Peak radio play.

Thoughts:

Over the top atmospheric sound and energy made their album a spring and summer hit, but it's become one of my favorites in rotation.

9. Dan Mangan, Oh Fortune

Source: Friend's recommendation, The Peak radio play.

Thoughts:

I was introduced to Canadian Dan Mangan's song "Road Regrets" (2010, Nice, Nice, Very Nice) late this summer when the local Vancouver radio station was promoting Oh Fortune. It was just one of those road songs that makes it onto any road trip playlist...forever. Looking for more songs like that one, I bought the album based on the single of the same name and found an album full of heart and questions...an album full of road songs.

10. Aaron Strumpel, Birds

Source: Artist

Thoughts:

Aaron Strumpel started out with Enter the Worship Circle. His latest work, in collaboration with Todd and Angie Fadel of Portland band 'Agents of the Future', is eclectic, to say the least. Had I not heard them live first, I might have been put off by it. But as it is I love the uniqueness of the (admittedly bizarre and dissonant at times) juxtaposition of soundscape and Old Testament lyricism. This is "joyful noise".

Honorable Mention:

Death Cab for Cutie, Codes and Keys

Source: NPR's first listen, Artist website

Thoughts:

Nothing overly new here. A few lovely tracks, a few brilliant moments, a few rainy weeks distilled into music. Welcome to Bellingham...er, Seattle. Sorry, Ben.

Hannah and Maggie, Fine Being Here

Source: I think this one was a facebook friend recommendation via Amazon MP3

Thoughts:

I love and relate to lyrics throughout this album, and the simple singer/songwriter vibe doesn't try to be more than it is--sweet, thoughtful, and simply told stories.

Josh Garrels, Love & War & The Sea In Between

Source: Relevant Podcast

Thoughts:

There is just so much to recommend idea-wise, but the album overreaches...in too many directions. A little restraint (a la Gungor) might have put this album among the best of the year.

The Decemberists, The King is Dead*

Source: NPR’s First Listen

Thoughts:

If I'd created this list in the first half of the year, this album was on the top half. I listened to it a lot, but it tarnished a bit with time. I find myself skipping a few tracks, although 'January Hymn' and 'June Hymn' are still transcendent.

The Civil Wars, Barton Hollow

Source: Relevant Podcast and Magazine

Thoughts:

Everyone who talks about this band talks first about the "matching" voices of Joy Williams and John Paul White, and it's all true. I love this album on the right kind of day.

Mat Kearney, Young Love

Source: Artist

Thoughts:

Mostly Because of two tracks, "She's Got the Honey" and "Hey, Mama", in spite of my love for Mat's previous work, (I used to go to tiny concerts in San Francisco before he released any albums) I just couldn't put it up there with my best of the year. Bless the oft-mentioned purple boots. My favorite songs ("Learning to Love Again", "Ships In The Night", "Down") on this album sounded like overflow from his 2008 album 'City of Black and White' or even 2005's 'Nothing Left to Lose'; catchy, romantic, and pop-ethereal. (If I could count "Nothing Left to Lose" again, I'd put it on my best-of list any day. I'm glad Nashville's been good for Mat, but I think he could use a little more Portland rain to add some edge!)

Givers, In Light

William Fitzsimmons, Gold in the Shadow

Laura Marling, A Creature I Don’t Know

Brianna Gaither, Love is Patient

Eddie Vedder, Ukelele Songs

The Cave Singers, No Witch

**Edit**

I forgot one of my favorite albums of the year! I completely forgot that Nick Flora's Hello Stranger was a 2011 release. A very fun collection of songs full of wry humor and authentic heart, produced by Andy Osenga. Here's a live version of my favorite song from the album:

It's a rainy day in Bellingham...

2012-01-04T17:15:00.000-08:00

and I have discovered Evernote and the Skitch app on my Kindle Fire.

Today I got the stylus I ordered in. Much more effective for digital drawing than my index finger.

Let This Darkness Be a Bell Tower

2011-12-30T17:49:00.000-08:00

Let This Darkness Be a Bell Tower

Quiet friend who has come so far,

feel how your breathing makes more spacearound you.

Let this darkness be a bell tower

and you the bell. As you ring,

what batters you becomes your strength.

Move back and forth into the change.

What is it like, such intensity of pain?

If the drink is bitter, turn yourself towine.

In this uncontainable night,

be the mystery at the crossroads of yoursenses,

the meaning discovered there.

And if the world has ceased to hear you,

say to the silent earth: I flow.

To the rushing water, speak: I am.

- Rainer Maria Rilke

Leigh Kramer posted this poem over at her site, but I wanted to re-post it here, in the dark of the year. I love Rilke, but had not read or remembered this poem. I keep coming back to it this week.

Remind

2011-12-08T00:14:00.001-08:00

Remind us how to pray
for we have forgotten the lament,
the praise, the triumph, the song
of the lost and the redeemed
the in-between

Remind us to sing, for we have forgotten
all manner of things we never knew
The songs of rejoicing, of trial and tear
The songs of pain and birth and fire
The songs that ever arc beyond understanding
oh, we have forgotten more
than we ever knew before

Readers and prophets! Writers and teachers!
Singers and speakers and makers and reachers!
Hold out the hope you hold inside
the small, the wide, the deep hope inside
let it go; it will return.
The in-between, we still must learn.

Thursday Lyric: Too Many Miracles, Badly Drawn Boy

2011-12-01T11:14:00.001-08:00

I wrote a post elsewhere a couple of years ago and included a few thoughts on the movie 'About a Boy', and its soundtrack which was entirely created by the British band Badly Drawn Boy.

Last year the band released a new single in December. I love to find Christmas-themed songs that explore the hopeful, powerful, patient ideas of Christmas in new words and ways, and this song is no exception. I put it on my Christmas mix last year, but I've been listening to it again recently and loving the story of hope and brokenness it tells.

Miracle rain makes snowballs falling slowly out of the sky

All you people wandering by

Make sure you don’t get one in the eye

There’s a new world forming out of the way

Future mothers born every day

Too many miracles happening here

It’s the same old story, different year

Oh I’m glad you were here

Been this way since the day I was born

I’m ready to be in love again

I know we could be in love

Photographing snowflakes lately I’m slowly losing my mind

There’s so many different kinds

Falling all the time

There’s a rainbow forming without any rain

A new dimension again

There’s too many miracles happening here

It’s the same old story, different year

Oh I’m glad you are here

Been this way since the day you were born

The age of romance is dead and gone

Maybe a chance I’m wrong

People falling out of love, I don’t know whose side you wereon

Got to call these people along

And tell them where they’ve been going wrong

There’s no shame in changing and being alone

Just pull yourself one for the road

Hasn’t it been a strange old year

Well too many miracles happening here

I’m so glad you are here

Been this way since the day we were born

Are you ready to be in love again

I’m ready to be in love.

Thursday's Lyric: All My Favorite People, Over The Rhine

2011-11-24T08:00:00.000-08:00

Over the Rhine has been a sleeper favorite band for me for a long time. I had known about them peripherally for a while, but I first connected with their music when I was in charge of ordering books and music for a church bookstore and coffeeshop. In search of more than spit-shined Nashville CCM (no offense) I ordered in their two albums, Ohio and Drunkard's Prayer. We played those two albums often until a ladies' book club was enjoying a moment of silence one day and noticed an F-bomb in one of the songs, after which we were commanded not to play them in the store. But I still had plenty of time for the rich, honest lyrics to sink into my mind.

Three years ago, I went to the Calvin Festival of Faith and Music with my sister and our good friends Naomi and Justin. Over the Rhine (Linford Detweiler and Karin Bergquist) were the headliners for the Saturday night wrap up concert, but they also taught a small breakout session on songwriting. It was scheduled at 8:00 am on Friday morning, and we got there early to get good seats for the sold-out class, clutching cups of coffee. Linford and Karin arrived about 5 minutes before class, wrapped in sweatshirts and scarves, clutching cups of coffee and grinning a little ruefully about early mornings.

Casually, they simply answered questions and extemporized about songwriting, Linford often from behind the piano playing bits and pieces of songs to illustrate points.

To the question, "What are some elements that make up a great song for you?" Linford answered "The first eight to ten words are a critical element. They should draw you in, like a great opening line in a story or poem."

On Saturday night, I went with friends to the Triple Door in Seattle for a dinner-concert. Over the Rhine has played here at the end of November for the past few years, and it's the perfect time of year to listen to them. Introducing this song, Linford said that it had been in the works for about 5 years. "I'm glad it's finally arrived in time for this album," he said, "because I think it's something I have to remember every day."

All my favorite people are broken
Believe me
My heart should know
Some prayers are better left unspoken
I just wanna hold you
And let the rest go

All my friends are part saint and part sinner
We lean on each other
Try to rise above
We’re not afraid to admit we’re all still beginners
We’re all late bloomers
When it comes to love

All my favorite people are broken
Believe me
My heart should know

Orphaned believers, skeptical dreamers
Step forward
You can stay right here
You don’t have to go

Is each wound you’ve received
Just a burdensome gift?
It gets so hard to lift
Yourself up off the ground

But the poet says,
We must praise the mutilated world
We’re all workin’ the graveyard shift
You might as well sing along

All my favorite people are broken
Believe me
My heart should know

(As for) your tender heart—
This world’s gonna rip it wide open
It ain’t gonna be pretty
But you’re not alone

‘Cause all my favorite people are broken
Believe me
My heart should know

Orphaned believers, skeptical dreamers
You’re welcome
Yeah, you’re safe right here
You don’t have to go

‘Cause all my favorite people are broken
Believe meI should know
Some prayers are better left unspoken
I just wanna hold you
And let the rest go

*the video is not an official music video, but was put

together for a church service in Knoxville, TN.

What a great song for the church to hear.

2011-11-20T21:26:00.001-08:00

Everybody has a dream that they will never own.
--The Laugh of Recognition, Over the Rhine

2011-11-10T17:21:00.001-08:00

Sara and I were roommates for over 3 years. We have worked on many a project, hosted many a party, cooked up many a feast together.

This week I get to visit, meet her brand-new daughter and enjoy a few days of assorted fun with her family.

A few years ago, I went to visit her on my birthday, right after she was engaged, and we held an art night in the garage, just like we used to. This photo makes me smile.

Mutual Influence

2011-11-07T21:20:00.000-08:00

“I’m about to tell you something that will BLOW YOUR MIND.”I typed to my sister the other day.

“Proceed with mind-blowing.” She typed back.

“Mindy Kaling is following me on twitter.” I typed.

“DUDE. How did youget so famous?”

“I feel my existence on this planet is justified becauseMindy Kaling follows me on twitter.”

There’s a slight pause as I look at the tiny “Friend”accompanied by a tiny, positive green check mark in Mindy Kaling’s feed in myTweetDeck screen. A particle of doubt enters my mind. I click on @rarariot, andthe “Friend” along with the green check mark appears. I click on a sure-fireone who wouldn’t follow me, @MichaelHyatt (he wrote a blog post to thiseffect), and I see the little “Friend” with that blasted little green checkmark.

I am considerably deflated.

“oh. Wait.” I type. At the same time, she types:

“I do not think that means what you think it means?”

“huh. I thought it meant a mutual follow. Dang it.”

“So” she types. “How is your existence.”

“Unjustified.”

“lol.”

“Lame, Twitter, lame. ‘friend’ and ‘follower’ are way notthe same thing. Mutual followers are friends.”

That got me thinking. Of course, asking “How is Twitterfollowing like real relationships?” is something like asking “How is a raven likea writing desk?”

Still though, among various christian Leadership activities,it's a common theme to discuss how every person should seek to have the influence of a Paul (a mentor),a Timothy(a disciple), and a Barnabas (an encourager) in their lives. I suppose you don’t need just one ofeach, but basically Twitter works the same way. Among many others, I follow@MindyKaling. I think she’s funny, and I respect her interests and work as oneof the head writers and actors in NBC’s The Office. I think she’s a woman ofinfluence in culture, and I want to keep up with things she’s recommending andthinking. I also follow cultural influencers @cornelwest, @makotofujimura, and @funnyordie.

Thanks to a talk from @jasonboyett at a writer’s conference,I usually follow back the people who follow me, with the necessary exception ofan oddball or annoying person, bots, or someone who uses hacky socialnetworking “solutions” to hack through to my feed and my followers. (side note:if you need a solution to fix your social networking #youredoingitwrong). However, it’s curious to follow how we end up getting connected. Sometimes it's a sort of growing into a mutual-interest based acquaintanceship. This happened withmany of the artists from last year’s Sketchbook Project. I joined fan pages,added blogs to my Google Reader roll, favorited Etsy items, and followed manyan artist on twitter. I won a facebook drawing for a T-shirt designed by@RobJelinski, and discussed a potential jewelry comission with@Carijanehakes (I've got to get back to that...). I got hooked on Pinterest and gained followers from curatingsome fun, pretty “pinboards.” I can't be sure, but I think maybe artists thrive on encouragement.

I follow more people than follow me at the moment, but if Ican narrow it down, people follow me because:
1. They know me in real life.
2. They’re interested in something I talk about often (or they are interested in the smart things I RT from the people I follow!); Art, pop-culture, food, travel, gospel, (weddings, according to Klout.com) and others.
3. They found me through a common interest. We may have commented on the same blog, or connected on Pinterest or Etsy, or listened to the same podcast. Sometimes a small comment or connection will inspire a follow, just to see what happens; sometimes a life-giving conversation grows out of it, but sometimes nothing happens to foster the initial connection.

At least, that's why I follow people.

but it's not the followers or the follow-ees that really get the full benefit of conversation, relationship. It's the mutual followers. According to vizify.com, my "top followers" are my sister @JessiGering, my friend @petiteartichoke, (which friendship has been conducted almost entirely online), and friends-of-a-feather @luzbonita, @janisecookston, and @sknep (all three artist/designer and in-real-life friends), @teenbug, an old friend first from college and rather secondarily but possibly more significantly,the post-college blogosphere, and @akimoku, my lovely writer/co-worker friend. These are the people I talk to most, these are the ones who foster mutual influence.

It takes a mutual followership to create a true conversation.

For those of you who don't have Twitter accounts for the reason that it's simply another stream of cluttery data clogging up your already-too-absorbing online life...well, you're probably missing out on a lot of clutter and a few great conversations.

Thursday's Lyric: On Your Side, Susan Enan

2011-11-03T07:00:00.000-07:00

I've enjoyed being a part of a group of friends who have co-erced our friend James, who has a large house, to host a few house shows over the past year. So far, we've helped him host David Bazan and most recently, British-born singer-songwriter Susan Enan.

I first heard of Susan through a Paste Magazine music sampler, where her song 'Bird' became a staple song on my favorite mix ever, the Run Away Album.

When her album 'Plainsong' came out, I bought it the day it released. It's an album of quiet, sweet, intimately honest and hopeful lyrics paired with a uniquely passionate voice.

Susan arrived early for the show, (incidentally, almost as early as David Bazan was late) and stood around in James' kitchen, casually chatting with us about the area, the drive, and her current tour, in which she had covered 18 countries, almost exclusively doing house shows. She was headed to Folsom Prison in a few weeks. Be sure to view her blog about the experience there.

She set up a few t-shirts, cds, and a baby onesie with a lyric from one of her songs, 'Bring On the Wonder,' on James' kitchen table. When I bought a t-shirt, she pulled the size I needed out of a backpack.

What I love about live music in general, is that it's nearly impossible to multi-task. I know people do it, and I usually snap a picture or two myself. But to truly enjoy is to really enter in to a several-hour 'moment' where all you have to do is be present, enter in, and enjoy (because, opposed to a book or a movie experience, a response is required). I know this is what conversation with God should be like, and really, live music sometimes is the closest you get in our busy lives. Perhaps a reason why worship music is such a phenomenon in recent...centuries, I suppose.

With the house concert in particular, I was sitting about a dozen feet directly in front of Susan until she pulled the chair a few feet forward, like a pre-school teacher during 'circle time.'

In her soft speaking voice, she said that even though she was expecting a friend from Vancouver to show up at any time, she supposed we should begin, and simply started with the song below. I knew the song from her album, but her soulful voice as well as the points of tension affecting my soul at the time brought my attention to the beauty of, and the innate need we all feel, a friend who sticks 'closer than a brother.' That friend who believes you're all right in spite of failures, who is truly there, who is alibi, light, and refuge. Who knows the worst and yet believes the best.

"On Your Side"

from the album Plainsong by Susan Enan

If your lights are ever broken

And your vision’s less than calm

In the midst of the unspoken

I’m on your side.

If your guns are ever smokin’

I will be your alibi

I’ll be the drink to stop your chokin’

I’m on your side.

‘round the corner may be hills to climb

But you’re doin’ all right

If your morning brings a black sun

I will be your neon light

Drop your nets into the ocean

I’m on your side.

‘round the corner may be hills to climb

But you’re doin’ all right

If you’re feeling tired and weary

Let me carry you away

If you only do this, hear me

Singing, I’m on your side.

If you struggle for the finish

Across the great divide

If we’re all made in the image

Be on my side.

‘round the corner may be hills to climb

But we’re doin’ all right.

I’m on your side, yeah, I’m on your side

I’m on your side

I’m on your side

And just like that, first song, listening to every clear word expressing hope and belief in relationship, I was in tears. Because how often do we stop and listen to needs like this? We roar endlessly and almost thoughtlessly about feeling empty, alone, busy, tired, marginalized, constantly put-upon. But to stop and listen to the need and also the hope it means for ourselves, our communities...that is a rare kindness.

reassemble

2011-11-02T23:18:00.000-07:00

It's a good thing I've never had my heart shattered like crystal
Never carried its precious burden out to share with a guest
and had it beaten from my hands
and handed back to me in pieces.
Never.

No, I am built of different stuff, of clay, not crystal. Lucky
to be so unfragile, so dependable, something to use
Every day.

The Blight

2011-10-31T14:00:00.000-07:00

Farewell summer.
but not a blithe kiss from fingertips,
speaking mercy within mercy.
a pinch instead,
the bite of frost,
'good-bye' belies itself.

The blight
ruins, wrecks, rots.
Final fruits of goodwill
left on black stems
to fall instead of ripen.

will we meet again
next year, the ground
restored by that same fall
to bear new fruit?

or the blight grow
into the marrow of the soil
a garden no more
but a barren patch, a scar,
an ugly memorial.

Sea change

2011-10-29T00:18:00.000-07:00

See change?
It's like the wind
You only see where it has been.

Sea change.
Remember, then,
it was not love, but abandonment.

Happy all the time

2011-10-27T23:23:00.000-07:00

Two ways to be happy
Have everything you want
Want everything you have

I have what I need.
I love what I have.

Metamorphosis.

2011-10-20T14:00:00.000-07:00

Cue the metaphor

Like water into wine

Like water into coffee, more like,

heat and pressure,

stressful transubstantiation.

Pressed down

shaken together

Cup running over.

Process

2011-10-19T14:16:00.000-07:00

Good Faith, part 2

2011-10-18T20:53:00.000-07:00

To these I have a debt of love, continual:
the ones before me,
and the love is not mine, that small love,
easily overwhelmed, panicked, and sticky
with my messy fingerprints.
The perfect giving; out of love, more love.
comes only from the river unending,
the only good giving is not my own gift.

Good Faith

2011-10-17T20:24:00.000-07:00

To these I have a debt of love; continual

As the rhythm of wave on rocky shore.

Those who begin with ebb and flow, who try, who remember,

“There is no fear inlove. But perfect love

drives out fear,”and sigh, relax the shoulders

and pitch away the fear, the mistrust, the terror

of obligation far, entering with good faith

to share loving work and joy in small things.

The Business of Celebration

2011-10-16T11:12:00.000-07:00

We are sold on celebration
It's Fall! It's Spring! It's Halloween!
The seasons march by, unaffected, and yet
unpromised, which is why we welcome them, I think,
with ritual, with Pumpkin Spice, with Easter Dress, with ice cream,
We consecrate the slow return of old friends we were not certain to see again.

We are bold with celebration
Bridal showers, baby showers, luncheons, old friends in town,
Birthday parties, extravagant foods and uncounted calories.
I tire sometimes of the wild expectations of serving up such luxuries,
But I cannot quell that voice that says no celebration is void.
How boring it would be to reject these rejoicings;
how glad it is to celebrate friends.

2011-10-11T22:38:00.000-07:00

I'm busy this week with a fundraising event I help to coordinate every fall and spring. Taking a break from regular work even if it's not a real vacation always helps center me and remind me why I do what I do.

The events--chaotic as they are because they involve youth and food--have built into a sort of liturgical calendar year of stress and success, a practice of giving up me for chaotic, messy, busy, joyful days that are all about service.

I teach teens to make and serve espresso drinks and food. I help them learn to watch for empty containers, messy tables, old ladies with trays too heavy. I make it a practice to walk around the building and see if any vendors look especially tired or down and bring them a free cup of coffee. I delegate students to do this every now and then, too, and they look at me, surprised, and then smile as they get it, that success isn't only about sales.

I get annoyed at the student who made up the sinks wrong or forgets to wear gloves or over-rings the cash register by double-digits, too.

This world is small, but I know the students walk away feeling good about what they have gained, and most of the people we serve walk away with a good meal at a good price.* My three-day world of hands-on service. It does me good.

And I'm leaving this here as a reminder so that on Saturday evening, feet aching, I'll come and remind myself of that very fact.

*one of the most valuable things I have learned by doing this is that it's really true that you can't please everybody. Someone WILL complain about the salad dressing or coffee. Last spring I had one woman insist that our coffee brewer wasn't drip coffee, could not be drip coffee, we had given her something strange and bitter. I brewed a new pot and she pointed at it as it was dripping through the filter. "see there? that is not reg'lar old coffee." she insisted. She wanted no money back. She wanted no replacement. She wanted plain old reg'lar coffee. At my wits end, I walked back to the breakroom in the building where the event planners left a percolator of lukewarm coffee going for the workers and poured a cup and brought it out to her. She still insisted that I was somehow purposely giving her something different from reg'lar coffee. I never did find out what she wanted. For some people, you never will.

Lavish

2011-10-11T00:54:00.000-07:00

Share a cup with me

sweet heirlooms, onions,

basil leaves, garlic and sage,

A drizzle of vinegar, the drop of bitter

only sweetens this cup of thanks, a health to

summer and sun and green

growing things giving

unreservedly.

Awake Now

2011-10-10T00:28:00.000-07:00

Make me awake;
Opportunities to bless
often look like impositions, obligations,
and impossibilities.

Make me awake;
A chance to delight
A day to put off laundry and
put on a party.

Make me awake now
to do the laundry after all
have left; now with a smile
return to my burdens.

Love Will Best Judge

2011-10-07T19:00:00.000-07:00

By plan and deed and word and time

I tell you “I love”, I LOVE!

The word echoes, trembles, grows,

And lives and carries on

Returning kinder, greater and more infinite love,

Abundance of the loaves and fishes.

I have seen it, that joy-driven response

Not diseased obligation, but

Fair, redolent of all thanksgiving.

Deed follows heart; mouth echoes mind, so

the heart and mind of fear withdraws, silent.

But Love will best judge how I have been loved

By my people, by my God.

Still must I love and begin the song

Let me love my friends,

Love in deed, love with time,

love in word, love to ring the echoed joy,

And all manner of things shall be well.

The Open Door

2011-10-07T00:38:00.000-07:00

Appetizers, thank you cards,
hostess tips and recipes,
napkin rings, water glasses,
salad forks and centerpieces

All the alphabets we've built
to break down welcome's meaning,
turning Hospitality into rules, warnings
that Gratefulness must be constrained.

For Hospitality is only a gratefulness
for what I have been given,overflowing;
and what could I do, but welcome close
the people I love to catch the spill?

Transformation: What is essential, part 2

2011-09-29T23:27:00.000-07:00

I was able to get the photos of this project loaded to my computer tonight while watching Sense and Sensibility with 3 girls-o-my-heart, always a treat.

This is what the big deal was. I may be weird here, but sometimes I hold this small sculpture in my hand and think to myself, This is the SURFACE of a painting. And I'm HOLDING it in my HAND.

It astonishes me every time. It reminds me to wonder.

Here's a close-up of the surface. Once I peeled the surface up from the board, I had to gradually heat and fuse it together to keep the layers from splitting. the layers of colors were still underneath, so after I got it into a sort of solid shape it was time to start using the pottery tools to scrape away some of the layers and find the inherent colors and shape.

to scale on the windowsill.

It was a nervous business, sometimes, deciding what to remove and what should stay. Some pieces of the sculpture lost their structure and I had to continually re-fuse when that happened to reinforce the integrity of the piece. I lost some of my favorite parts during the constant restructuring and discovered new beauties that I couldn't have foreseen.

The high lighting reveals some of the color striations.

There are so many layers beneath the surface, such complexity and such beauty that is buried. But all of that history behind the surface, lifted up and discovered in a new dimension, transforms.

Interim

2011-09-28T17:45:00.000-07:00

I intended, from my last post to put up the pictures of what that thick surface of wax became. I will post those pictures soon, but my sister absconded with the usb compaqflash reader for a few days.

In the interim, for anyone who still reads this blog in spite of my fitful participation, just want to remind you all of the upcoming deadline for a project that I love very much, The Sketchbook Project, from Arthouse Cooperative and the Brooklyn Art Library!

This collaborative project is so much fun to participate in...something like creating an elaborate message in a bottle that is then archived and made available in Brooklyn's art library should you ever want to visit!

I can't recommend participating strongly enough...if you are interested in exploring art, drawing, collaging, or any form of exploring visually (for heaven's sake you could stick a piece of gum on each page and call it "all used up" if you want to!), sign up! you have until January 31 to complete your book and mail it in. Then it goes on tour, and eventually is archived into the library!

You don't have to be any kind of professional artist to participate, and you can even sign up with a group of people, a class, a small group or just pass the book around to a bunch of friends!

Like any good collaboration, it's the community that makes it fun. Check out the arthouse website link and explore many of the wonderful artists and their work featured there.

Last year, having never completed a sketchbook in my life, I realized the very valuable lesson that the inspiration more often comes while I'm working than before, kicking off a journey of writing and working more regularly, slowly reclaiming discipline in my life about artistic habits.

Try it out and let me know what you learn!

"What is essential is invisible to the eye." (Part 1)

2011-09-23T20:00:00.000-07:00

I may have posted this video, called "The Way Paintings Go" a few posts back. And on Pinterest. And on Twitter. and I may have contributed significant views to it ever since Shannon Newby showed it at the Wax and Wane retreat this spring.

It is fascinating to see the layers build, and to think this happens in all forms of painting. Surface is built, obscured, rebuilt, pulled away, rediscovered. It is layers of material that transform into something different--a 2-D image that communicates ideas. But to go one step further and turn that painting into a 3-D sculpture...laughable. Fascinating. Brilliant, but simple. Fun!

It makes you want to play, to discover. So I had to try it. Here is the painting after I finished building the layers, perhaps 30 layers of colored and fused wax on a plywood board. Tomorrow, I'll show you what became of it! Suspense!

Playing with light

2011-09-20T08:00:00.000-07:00

Though the poetry is dark right now,

there are beautiful moments, too.

I am exploring what beeswax can do. I play with silver-leafing a lot these days, and ashes, and fabric. These poppy pods are beautiful to begin with, dried and bone-colored. But dipped in golden wax and silver leafed, they look otherworldly.

The cheesecloth netting I found for 50 cents on sale as the end of a roll also transforms when dipped in the wax, becoming malleable, stretchable. I molded it gently into this little cocoon basket, like a nest with the poppy pods nestled like fragile eggs.

Living circumstances have allowed for a new work space. A large, light room, instead of the old, dark room-too-small-to-be-a-legal-bedroom. I feel lucky beyond words, slightly guilty about it, and somewhat determined to make it worthwhile.

unmoored

2011-09-19T15:01:00.000-07:00

I rest unanchored to any body
The little rootlets of my heart
reach like strawberry plants,
long vines extended,
sprouting small blind white roots
a visible faith in home.
I cannot stop them, but
hostile is the soil they reach for, so
rejected, they are left to air
an unfamiliar atmosphere,
surviving only on trace
minerals for nourishment,
Existing
but starved for home.

Sanctions

2011-09-18T18:08:00.000-07:00

This is no gift economy.
You live in a tyranny of equality.
The dictator--you--deals
in judgment, payment,
enforced retribution:

an eye for a lie
a tooth for a truth, damage
in exchange for pain.

(except where the pain is penance
for a debt only you can see.)

Any generosity exacts payment, with interest.
There is only being even.

Imagine a government
Where a gift is a gift and not
an obligation, where retribution
is subject to the government of grace
How would you then give?

Meet Mountain

2011-09-15T18:26:00.000-07:00

Troubled is the atmosphere

And wild are the currents here

Restless the wind and broken the water

When the weather meets the mountains

Everlasting granite walls, the Rocks of ages stand

To question the tradewinds’ direction.

Offended clouds boil, stopped in their transgressions

When the weather meets the mountains

The rain falls

The Weather meets the Mountains.

Needs Seasoning

2011-09-14T19:41:00.000-07:00

:: winter ::

I am trying not to need

Anybody but God

But, god, it’s hard

To not need anybody

::spring::

I'm not trying to need

Any one more than God

But, god, it's hard

To need less than one.

::summer::

I need someone

Anybody can see it

But, God! it's hard

To need anybody

::fall::

I need for nothing
Obliquely, I can see it.
But, God...it's hard
To know I need nothing more.

2011-09-13T19:31:00.000-07:00

Manna must have been like strawberries

So perfect for so brief a time

But no one was allergic

Some days, I feel like a garden

untended. Bounty wasted,

rotting on stems

Or harvested and refrigerated,

a slower decay, encouraging

the vines to go on bearing

their useless fruit.

Response

2011-08-06T14:53:00.000-07:00

Two months ago, my partner in crime at the office, Jana 2.0 (yes, we have the same name) was looking for ideas for her wedding guestbook. She's a scrapbooker, sewer, and crafter herself, and loves to try fun, crafty things. She was hoping for a guestbook that was more than just a list of names. I came across this idea and pinned it to my Pinterest wall. I shared the photo with her and she fell in love.

Jana and her mom and sister did all the planning, buying of stamp pads and pens like the ones above, and rather than using a pre-bound book, they taped a dozen square scrapbook-format pages divided into grids of 9 squares to two tables covered with brown craft paper. Hand wipes, bright markers, and stamp pads completed the setup. So simple and fun, and it actually took LESS time than the standard guestbook, since people gathered around the tables and "signed" with their whole families. I liked the feel of it, how people gathered and looked at the previous signatures and laughed together. Everyone's favorite was a blotchy green one with a cowboy hat drawn on over a smiley face and signed "GRAMPS".

Jana had asked me to help out at the tables and help direct people to how to create their signatures. I noticed that I got 3 standard responses from guests.

1) "Oh no! I am not creative!" (usually accompanied by a helpless hand gesture usually known as the "no touchy!")

Most people in this situation either tried their hand at it, but sourly regarded their results, comparing their work with everyone else's, or called out to spouses or children who were "the creative one" to work out the signature. Some, after initial dismay joined in as encouraged by their families or friends.

2) "ugh! This looks complicated!"

One woman refused to do even a basic fingerprint. Instead, she signed her name stubbornly with a bold black marker and marched away, shaking her head at the presumption of the married couple at wishing their guests to do more. She probably complained about the food, too.

3) "oh! We get to PLAY!"

These people, though far in the minority, were like children told they could have as much candy as they wanted. They ran between the two tables looking for just the right color marker. They turned their fingers every color of the rainbow. They spent 10 minutes cartooning tiny faces on each thumbprint person. The created scenes in their small box, they turned thumbprints into balloons, butterflies, heart shapes, and small animals. Some were satisfied with their "work", some less so, but they all enjoyed the process.

gifts.

2011-07-19T22:24:00.000-07:00

been playing with some encaustic boards lately and making some gifts for friends. I love to make gift artwork. I can see and discover much more clearly the heart of the idea when there's a face to it.

this one was for a wedding shower gift.

I did a drawing on paper withe pencil first, and then buried the drawing in a couple of layers of unbleached wax medium, thus the yellow tone. then I added the colors in for the top, and incised lines around the edges of the cherries to fill in with oil color later to get clear lines on top. the letters are verses from I Corinthians 13, and were image-transferred from a toner-based printout in a cool typewriter font I found.

2011-07-08T22:57:00.000-07:00

Hope goes by another name

She’s called “Fear who still takes another step”

at the breaking point

Desperation, who reaches out in her pain for a hand to hold

She’s called the sister of Faith and Love, but she’s her own person

She goes for each by a different name

And usually she follows the storm of her own absence.

Thursday's Lyric: The Head and The Heart

2011-06-23T08:00:00.000-07:00

Lost In My Mind :
Put your dreams away for now
I won’t see you for some time
I am lost in my mind

I get lost in my mind

Momma once told me
You’re already home where you feel love
I am lost in my mind
I get lost in my mind

Oh my brother
Your wisdom is all that I need
Oh my brother
Don’t you worry ‘bout me
Don’t you worry
Don’t you worry
Don’t worry about me

How’s that bricklayin’ coming
How’s your engine running
Is that bridge getting built
Are your hands getting filled

Won’t you tell me my brother
Cause there are stars up above
We can start moving forward

How’s that bricklayin’ coming
How’s your engine running
Is that bridge getting built
Are your hands getting filled

Won’t you tell me my brother
Cause there are stars up above
We can start moving forward

Lost in my mind
Lost in my mind
Oh I get Lost in my mind
Lost, I get lost, I get lost in my mind
Lost in my mind
Yes I get lost in my mind
Lost, I get lost, I get lost
Oh I get lost

-The Head and the Heart, self-titled

2011-06-05T23:55:00.000-07:00

I died for Beauty - but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb
when One who died for Truth, was lain
In an adjoining Room -

He questioned softly "Why I failed" ?
"For Beauty", I replied -
"And I - for Truth - Themself are One
We Brethren, are", He said -

And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night -
We talked between the Rooms -
Until the Moss had reached our lips -
And covered up - Our names -

--Emily Dickinson

Railroad Revival Tour moment of joy

2011-06-02T08:27:00.000-07:00

In these bodies we will live
In these bodies, we will die
And where you invest your love
That’s where you invest your life

“and that’s what we believe.” The words were spoken in a soft but unmistakably definite tone-the kind of statement that is gentle on the surface but indicates bedrock somewhere below. A faint cheer was drawn from the portion of the crowd listening “with all their ears” (as my children’s choir instructor used to say) in the almost-warm darkness of Marine Harbor Park in Oakland, CA (the rest were listening through ears dulled with drink and semi-legal-in-California substances). Hands went up all through the crowd, some fists, some palms-up or palms forward, some index fingers pointed fiercely to the sky. It was one of those moments, so rare, where an atmosphere takes that small but significant step over the line of beauty into the transcendent.

Rather than pull away from that moment too fast, Marcus Mumford stepped back from the mic, watching Ketch Secor’s fiddle (Old Crow Medicine Show) and bandmate Winston Marshall’s banjo lead an instrumental section of the bridge. Throughout the song, his eyes had been searching the crowd, displaying the characteristic that always impresses me most about Mumford and Sons—being fully present, smiling when he heard the thousands-strong voices with him.

Infectious grins began to spread over the faces of the band as they built the tempo up to pull out all the stops from the contemplative bridge of the song to the joyful strains of the chorus. Marcus stepped back up to the mic and gave a shout. Now, hands in the air wasn’t enough—dancing, leaping, jumping, waving, fist-pumping, singing, and flat-out hollering. The music demanded response, translated through motion and expression. Taking a brief moment to look around, as natural observers tend to do, I saw big, sloppy, foolish grins all around me.

My generation happily hands over their dignity to couch-potatoism, to reality tv, to drugs, to alcohol, to video games, to junk food, to gluttony and lust and ridiculous fashions. But in church worship, you’ll rarely see a more ‘dignified’ group. Yet here was a crowd positively shouting out the cry Awake my soul! Awake my soul! For you were made to meet your Maker!

It is strange, and sometimes I feel the beat of that pulse, that this generation cries out for the beauty of a soul’s awakening without really knowing what we’re asking for. Half-drugged, half-drunk, packed like sardines, snapping pictures when we should be being present, suspicious of everyone around us, clinging to our few belongings and living for those few and far between moments of transcendence where we can grin, shout, dance and be a part of something beautiful, and not knowing what we’re really missing.

Railroad Revival Tour Set List for Mumford and Sons:

Sigh No More
Roll Away Your Stone
Winter Winds
White Blank Page
Timshel
Hopeless Wanderer
Little Lion Man
Lover of the Light
Lover's Eyes
Awake My Soul
The Cave

To Be or Not

2011-05-30T11:56:00.000-07:00

Silence is speaking

Stillness is traveling

Indecision is choosing
Staying is moving

Thursday Lyric- Mumford & Sons

2011-05-25T08:00:00.000-07:00

Sister
There's a chip on your shoulder, girl
And by God it'll make you fall
If you let it take a part of your soul

I see the love in your brother's eyes
And the love in your mother's cries
Sister, don't test the ones you love

Sister, don't let go
Sister, don't let go of us
[x2]

Cause your roots will rot away
And your fruit, it wont grow
Your bark will wear thin, body hollow

I see the love in your brother's eyes
And the love in your mother's cries
Sister, don't test the ones you love

Sister, don't let go
Sister, don't let go of us
[x4]

Don't test the ones you love
It'll only tear us down
If you want to feel alive
Then learn to love your ground
[x2]

Love your ground

Sister, don't let go
Sister, don't let go of us
[x4]

Maps and me

2011-05-24T11:53:00.001-07:00

I love travel. From my first airplane flights (age 6, a company trip to Mexico from Burbank), to my most recent trip (Oakland, Berkeley, and San Francisco for 3 days with my sister), I love packing late at night and early morning coffee and driving to the airport and the moment when the plane’s wheels leave the ground and you can relax entirely because you did it, you got away.

I love planning the trip, planning long travel days on Mondays because those are the days that the museums are closed. I like finding out the best ways to use the Roman subway and finding out how long people generally spend in Florence’s Uffizi museum, and where the nearest great lunch spot is, the one where local workmen line the curb outside with a glass of wine or beer in the left hand and a delicious sandwich in the right.

And I love the maps. There is something a little compulsive in me about knowing where we are. Maybe it was my dad who, on long road trips when I was little make me find out where we were on the map using the highway signs and the name of the last town we passed as clues, who passed on the love of seeing that (now-familiar, thanks to GPS technology) imaginary moving dot traverse the highway lines.

When my sister and I and two dear friends planned a trip to Italy, I pored over the maps, trying to get a mental image of Florence, my especial planning assignment. The Arno River and its bridges, splitting the city into the main old town and the OltreArno district became real entities in my mind, the coffee shops and restaurants we would try, the Uffizi Museum, the Medici Chapel, the ‘Cathedral in Pajamas’, the cloisters of Santa Maria Novello, the train station, and the Monastery of San Marco where Fra Angelico frescoed the walls of the monks’ cells with his masterpieces, and where Savonarola’s name seems to float through the halls like the ash of books burning.

The problem though, is that I found myself on my first big international travel expedition, often living in the map instead of the moment. The burden of knowing where we were and where we were going and all of the surrounding details pressed in on me. You can even see it in the pictures:

Recently, in San Francisco

Poring over road maps in Lucca

Il Campo di Miracoli, Pisa, sitting on the steps of the Baptistry with the guidebook.

me and my guidebook in Siena

Lap full of maps in Florence

planning out the next day in Florence.

Being in the map instead of the moment in Florence

Figuring out directions in the background

Florence was kind of confusing, map wise...

Guidebook firmly in hand.

Il Campo in Siena

map queens in Florence.

This would have been a better moment if I had actually
been reading something other than my guidebook.

Keeping map close at the Pantheon in Rome

In between wings of the Vatican

keeping the guidebook close in the Egyptian wing of the Vatican

I'm not so sure why I cling so much to my own knowledge when on the road. I know there are times for perspective and planning and thinking about where my little dot is on the road map. But I'm finding it ever more important to, as Mumford and Sons sings it, 'love my ground'. I need to learn more of that, and how to ask the wondering questions instead of the factual ones.

Morning Coffee

2011-05-16T08:34:00.000-07:00

I love coffee.

When my sister and I bought our house, we moved in with my grandmother's old corelle-ware (in Harvest Gold) and three very good copper-bottomed pots inherited from her. With a gift card from our fantastic realtor, we were able to buy a set of really good knives. Other than that, we have cobbled together our kitchen with pieces from the likes of Ikea and a few key gifts from our parents. Roommates have filled in the gaps with their things.

So it was an absolutely lovely surprise when I won a prize drawing at a local store over Christmas last year. I went into the store on the day and was told to draw a number. I joined the crowd of lucky winners around a large, stainless steel rolling shelf piled with products, ranging in value from $20 to $120, but the first prize was a Kitchenaid mixer (which went to someone who already had one, as per usual with these things). I tried to settle on my order of preferences --If the wine glasses are gone, I'll take the big pan, if that's gone, maybe the knives--and so on. But really anything would have been a great addition.

Most of the big-ticket items were gone by the time my ticket was drawn, but I circled the cart and spotted a french press. Bodum, double-walled, 32-oz french press. Original price, $90.

Well, if I couldn't have something I absolutely needed, I thought this was a pretty usable luxury item. I would never have bought a $90 french press. EVER.

Jessi and I, and other friends, have shared much over cups of hot french press coffee, Stumptown or Tony's or Katz, a local favorite, and it's one of the items we use most.

A Windfall...something unexpected that has added joy to life. It reminds me to be grateful.

Something that makes me smile

2011-05-14T12:41:00.000-07:00

Do you have those friends that just make you smile?

The ones who are your 'constants', for whom

distance and time are just really a pause button

(only a little different because when you do meet again,

you are enriched and ready to share

the new things you discovered on your little detour.)

Jessi and Naomi in Grand Rapids, MI. Dancing to the music in their heads.

upon reflection, I know what I want

2011-05-13T10:01:00.000-07:00

Your eyes were so busy

Seeing something else

That there wasn’t even

The slight reflection of myself

To be seen

To be known

As we all must be known.

I want to have friends that I can trust

That love me for the man I've become, not the man that I was

I want to have friends that let me be

All alone when being alone is all that I need

I want to fit in to the perfect space

Feel natural and safe in a volatile place

and I want to grow old without the pain

give my body back to the earth and not complain

Will you understand when I am too old of a man?

Will you forget, when we have paid our debt

Who did we borrow from?

-from The Perfect Space, The Avett Brothers

Thursday Song: Bedouin Dress by Fleet Foxes (2011)

2011-05-12T08:00:00.000-07:00

If to borrow is to take and not return/I have borrowed all my lonesome life.
And I can't, no I can't get through/The borrower's debt is the only regret of my youth

Seattle band Fleet Foxes' self titled first album quietly became one of those albums that gets better with time. 5 years down the road, the new album Helplessness Blues follows up their ethereal folk sound very nicely, punctuated by simply gorgeous lines like the ones above.

2011-05-10T20:00:00.000-07:00

I'd always choose the real story.
It's darker, but so much better.
The best thing is, the real story
is inspired by invention, not ruined by competition.
is informed by good knowledge, not distracted by it.
is directed by that one small, overlooked talent which

in the end, makes all the difference.

*props to Lemony Snicket's Series of Unfortunate Events

benefactum

2011-05-09T19:53:00.000-07:00

I ask for one thing only.

Just a little thing, fragile,

and folded up in lace, white lace.

Pulling the ribbon I'll loose the wrapping to find

The most precious thing a friend can give a friend

When fear or failing has friendship tarnishéd:

The gift of doubt.

2011-05-07T00:27:00.000-07:00

"Here is my secret. It is very simple. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; What is essential is invisible to the eye."

-Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Thursday Lyric- Branches

2011-05-04T08:21:00.000-07:00

I've been enjoying two ep's released by a baby band out of California, 'Branches'. The first 'O Light' came out last fall, and the second, 'Cabin' was recently released. Their music is fun, alive, and whimsical, and if you follow their youtube channel, they've been releasing a 'cover of the month' video, covering the Beatles the Beach Boys, and more. Enjoy!

Wax and Wane Photos

2011-05-03T00:26:00.001-07:00

Wax and Wane, a set on Flickr.

I promised I would share some thoughts from my Encaustic Retreat weekend. I am still composing my series of posts, but here are some photos from the weekend. Also, a poetry-prose-process post recently went up on Silhouette as a sort of sensory description about what the encaustic process embodies for me. Rich in metaphor and sense, the technique is a precious as the final product. I've finished a few pieces I started at the retreat and worked on a few new ones to gain experience and control with the medium.

The Good Race(s)

2011-04-11T17:30:00.000-07:00

There’s a little sore spot on my heart that gets re-bruised every time I hear one of my married friends say things at a wedding like “Congrats! You've joined the club!” to the happy couple. It fulfills all my blackest fears about friends getting married, joining some club, and not being able to really be friends anymore.

This weekend I went to another wedding of a very happy couple…a wedding that has been long-anticipated and is a loving and wise union. I stood in the reception line, chatting with lots of different friends. I have known the groom since middle school, and the bride was a co-worker in my department at work for the past 3 years. In the reception line or when you are in the wedding party and sit near the bride and groom at “dinner” (where they never get to actually take a bite, due to the steady stream of well-wishers who keep approaching the table) is when you usually overhear these little barbs. This time though, I was near another old friend (going on 20 years now), and his wife. I hugged the bride and groom said congratulations-and-you-look-gorgeous-dear (as the reception line was already 30 minutes overtime) and started to walk away.

As I turned to join the line for cake, the old friend shook the groom’s hand and said “Congratulations! You made it to the starting line!” They laughed, and I found myself smiling as I walked away, because saying it that way put the idea in a very different light. Marriage shouldn’t be thought of as a club you join, but as a marathon…a race you prepare for and then consciously choose to enter into.

I think back to another friend who once told me I was giving singles a bad rep by making singleness sound like a disease, something to be avoided. The funny thing about that comment is that I--obviously--haven’t avoided single life. I have dated a small amount, and am all kinds of social, but I have not run from being alone. I’m honest when I say it’s not the life I expected or would have chosen off the shelf at the department store, but I’m doing my best to run “the course laid out for me,” as the author of Hebrews put it.

When I belonged to a health club (this was before the Wii fit), I would run on the elliptical machine. Being a person highly concerned with comfort, when I chose a “course” to run through on the machine’s digital screen, I would cycle through the options, looking for one that looked moderately challenging with no long hills, because the one time I did choose a course with a long hill, I nearly died. Ok, not really, but I hated the thing all the way through to the end, and hated my wimpy muscles for a few days afterward. Maybe people who actually run real marathons, like outdoors, can tell me that if they have certain courses or parts of courses that they hate while they are running them.

I think it’s ok to question or even hate parts of your circumstances while you are in them as long as you still trust that those parts of your race are there for a reason; that they are indeed part of the larger picture and that you may even be glad of them one day. I mean, it may seem weird when part of your racecourse seems to include a dry desert or a thorny forest or an impossible, stony mountain. You may question why YOUR course includes those elements. Hopefully you’re checking for the course markers so that you don’t get off track with the wrong choices, and you’re stopping for a cup of water and a bit of rest when you need it.

I can’t help but hope this particular long hill has an end in sight someday. Preferably it will lead me top of a hill town in Tuscany. But if it doesn’t, I’m still going to stay the course. I wouldn't want any other life.

Act of God

2011-04-06T17:23:00.000-07:00

Askew, it’s shaken,

A rag-doll temple

A permanent popsicle-stick

house, with foundations of

mud-slides held together by

my own hands,

security oozing between my very fingers.

This will stay. I will build here.

*thunder*

Avalanche, earthquake, rainfall...cancer

Tornado, hurricane, temper-driven child

*lightning*

I’m still here.

I’m still small.

I’m still lost within

the wreckage of my faith-step,

the ruin of my “it’ll be ok.”

I tried to pretend

But I still am

Homeless.

A Linchpin Weekend

2011-04-03T21:22:00.000-07:00

I've been absent from the blog, but inspired in the mind. Check out the Flickr Photos I posted from the Encaustic Painting workshop and retreat I attended at the Grunewald Guild last weekend. Shannon, who organized the retreat and who connected me to the whole thing through her blog, also had her husband Eric document the weekend with some beautiful Videography. See the Wax and Wane Video on vimeo...and watch me play with fire at about minute 1:50. For a snatch of life at the Grunewald Guild, catch a few of the other videos on the Vimeo channel. These are wonderful, hospitable, and simply gracious people and I hope to go back to the Guild someday.

In the meantime, I got some of the necessary tools to work on encaustic painting at home. The retreat was a chance to get my feet wet with a new technique...I'm now captivated by the possibilities of this sculptural, painterly, scientific process of painting with deliciously honey-scented natural beeswax. I feel like this medium is what I was looking for in all my dabbling experiments with Acrylic and Watercolors. I feel in some ways that I've come home to this beautiful and ancient method.

As I drove away from the Guild through the breathtaking Cascades...it could have been the snow-and-black-pine-tree dominated landscape, but every scene looked like wax etchings. I've woken up since in the middle of the night with ideas I just had to put down in my sketchbook and I've never done that before.

Inspired isn't the word for it. I'm in awe.

Fiction Friday: Goodbye Girl

2011-03-18T07:05:00.000-07:00

No one knew where the money had come from except for Hazel, her attorney, and the bank teller who opened the checking account and deposited the check into it.

Hazel signed the paper for the new Debit account activation and handed it to the teller, who was tall and had short wavy hair and was wearing a bright blue sweater. Hazel liked the spot of color among the other professional grays, whites, and browns of the other tellers' clothes.

"I'll be going out of the country soon, with this account. Do I need to do any paperwork for that?" She asked the teller.

In the space where "countries traveling to" was the heading, she wrote in bold capital letters "WORLD TOUR--anything is possible". Beneath that, just to be safe, she listed the first 5 countries that came to mind.

-Morocco
-Switzerland
-Turkey
-Norway
-New Zealand

She thought about adding "Antarctica," but she didn't want to raise suspicion. The Teller raised her eyebrows and a delighted smile crossed her face.

"Sounds like quite a trip!"

"Yes, it does." said Hazel.

Her friend Jamie agreed to keep the cat for a year. After all, Ampersand was quite a young and appealing cat, just out of kittenhood. A prowling, playful, clean, and independent animal.

Hazel felt the slightest twinge of missing her pet as she handed Jamie the carrier and box of food, toys, and supplies. Jamie helped her pull the scratching post from the trunk and set it in the driveway. Jamie's eyes widened at the sight of a box of library-labeled travel books.

"Where are you going?"

"First?" said Hazel, "I thought I'd try Switzerland. Mountains sound nice. Mountains and snow and cheese and hot chocolate."

Monday, Monday

2011-03-14T08:45:00.000-07:00

So, I obviously stepped out of my recently-established blog format after one week. Which most people who know me would tell you actually IS the pattern. I make ample room in my life for the unexpected moments. Which is funny, because I've actually been told I am difficult when it comes to accepting changes.

For someone who so loves the unexpected, unplanned moments, gifts, and days it seems ironic that changes would so throw me. I suppose we all like to maintain control over different elements. What I like to control won't make sense to others, and what others like to control certainly doesn't make sense to me.

In any case, I find myself actually planning a bit ahead for the upcoming week, since the next few weeks are going to be bustliing. I'll share a few links below to let you know what I'm up to.

The youth group I was so influenced by as a teenager is now being directed by one of my own graduating 'classmates'. Since I moved home, I've been involved as a Bible Quiz team coach, and also helping to manage the 3 big fundraisers they have every year. Teens for Christ Northwest is a big part of my heart, and we'll be working to raise funds by catering the food and coffee for another great local organization, the Lynden Craft and Antique show.

Run almost entirely by the teenagers and aided and abetted by a team of fantastic adults and parents, the event is not only a way to raise funds for trips and events, but it's a practice time of training the students in excellent service. If you're local, stop by for the great local crafts and antiques. While you're there, enjoy my mom's homestyle soups, Tony's Espresso, and the antics of the greatest teens around.

The following weekend, I'll be heading to Leavenworth to attend Wax and Wane: an Encaustic Retreat. I've been painting and drawing for a long time, and studied art in college, but have always been interested in this incredible retreat. I never thought I'd be able to assemble the time and equipment to try it out, but I started following Shannon Newby's blog last year when she was blogging about a workshop at Regent College from a hugely influential artist, blogger, and instigator of the International Arts Movement, Makoto Fujimura. Shannon blogged earlier this year about a retreat she did, and when I commented on her post to ask about any other opportunities, graciously replied with the information about a spring Encaustic retreat that connected me to the Grunewald Guild in Leavenworth. I'm excited to try some new techniques, as well as to see what this organization is all about.

My sketchbook from the Sketchbook Project is on tour, but hasn't logged ANY views! If you happen to catch one of the upcoming tour dates, feel free to check it out. The project has connected me with a lot of fantastic artists and people from around the world. See Arthouse Co-Op, also, for other fun collaborative art projects!

Atlas

2011-02-24T12:02:00.001-08:00

Contend or continue--

The gap in the battle,

The eye of the storm lends

2 square feet of space and quiet

Look and see:

1) Follow and fight.
2) Fight and don’t follow.

The generations begin to march

Ghostly weapons crowd behind you

The whip cracks, leaves no mark

but you shudder, turn

Continue.

Follow the Piper of the past.

That’s how you roll

With the Piper’s punches.

Oh! I have no voice, still I shout:

Contend, I can see him!

the Piper’s but a shadow.

Stand. Turn. Be victorious.

HOW

2011-02-23T10:00:00.000-08:00

The difficult question

Interrogative conundrum

How—to move from here to there?

How—did it happen?

How—are you, really?

How to listen?

How to hear?

How to love?

How to build?

The question asked is hope in an answer;

Its absence is doubt that there is one.

Thursday's Lyrics for Thought: Frank Turner

2011-02-17T10:00:00.000-08:00

"I Knew Prufrock Before He Got Famous" Love, Ire & Song (2008)

Let’s begin at the beginning, we’re lovers and we’re losers

We’re heroes and we’re pioneers, and we’re beggars and we’re choosers

Skirting ‘round the edges of the ideal demographic

We’re almost on the guest list—but we’re always stuck in traffic.

We’ve watched our close associates up and play their parts

Chatting up the 'It' girls and they’re tearing up the charts

While we were paying with coppers to get our rounds in at the bar

We’re the C team, we’re the almost-famous old friends of the stars

Justin is the last great romantic poet

He’s the only one among us who is ever gonna make it

We’ve planned a revolution from a cheap Southampton bistro

I don’t remember details, but there were English boys with banjos

Jay is our St. George and he’s standing on a wooden chair

And he sings songs and he slays dragons and he’s losing all his hair

And Adam is the resurrected spirit of Graeme Parsons

In plaid instead of rhinestones and living in South London

And no one’s really clear about Tommy’s job description

But it’s pretty clear he’s vital to the whole dam’ operation

And Dave Danger smiles at strangers, Tre’s the safest girl I know

And sullen hearts will scamper up to victory in the city we call home

We won’t change our ways, we will proud remain

When the glory fades, when the glory fades

Yeah, I am sick and tired of people who are living on the B-list

They’re waiting to be famous, and they’re wondering why they do this

And I know I’m not the one who is habitually optimistic

But I’m the one who’s got the microphone here so just remember this:

Life is about love, last minutes and lost evenings

About fire in our bellies and about furtive little feelings

And the aching amplitudes that set our needles all a-flickering

They help us with remembering that the only thing that’s left to do is live

Yeah, the only thing that’s left to do is live
After all of the loving and the losing
The heroes and the pioneers
The only thing that's left to do is get another round in at the bar

Sketchbook Pages: Hope is a thing with feathers

2011-02-16T11:00:00.000-08:00

sketchbook.jana.02
Originally uploaded by - jaye -

My friend Sarah over at Skneposterous found out about the Sketchbook Project 2011 last October, and along with a few friends, we decided to try it.

We turned our books in in January, after scanning the pages in for posterity's sake. After spending so much time with the little moleskine, it was very hard to put the book in the mail, but I am excited to see it on tour, beginning in March. If it comes to a city near you, I hope you can go see the collection because so many of the artists involved, who I've begun following via twitter, facebook, and google reader, have shown so much delightful wit, delicious talent, and awe-inspiring insight that my life is deeply enriched by them.

Sketchbooks are ways of capturing our thoughts as we go along...More often than not, my sketchbooks remain incomplete. The get stuck on shelves, or I find a new one that is much cooler and will magically make me sketch more if I skip the old one and begin using a new one.

So I began sketching. In 2 months I completed more sketching than I had done in the last three years. Some of it was crummy; some of it was quickly done, and some of it was unplanned and didn't work out the way I expected. Some of it was simply the work of putting pencil to page and perhaps not even knowing where it would go until I had something--anything to work with.

The idea of the hummingbird came from my friend Beth, who gave me a book of Audubon's illustrations this year; I was tumbling around ideas of hope with ideas of brokenness and something about not being able to carry on for a time....and this series of sketches involving a hummingbird who does not fly came about. I just started with pencil, since that felt simple and less intimidating to begin with. The victorian dirigible, I think, came from Sarah's sketchbook with dirigible's and submersibles, but I liked the idea of the bird flying not under its own power. The ship's name, 'Hope', got me thinking about Emily Dickinson's poem, and I explored that in later pages.

Though the different illustrations are scattered throughout the book, I thought I'd discuss them in the context of the similar storylines together.

"Leaf" by Jana

Thursday's Song: Nothing is Written (I'll Kneel Down), Mumford & Sons

Project: Britt and Dan's Guestbook

Doubled by Wonder

Branch and Root

New Year

Thursday Lyric: From This One Place, Sara Groves

count the ways

We had a bit of snow out here

promises or reminders

today, it was hard to breathe.

Night Snows

Thursday Lyric: The New Pornographers, Adventures in Solitude

The other half

My White Nights

Skitchin': Kind of how I picture myself when processing e-mail

A little more about hope

Weather Channels

{My} Top Albums of 2011

It's a rainy day in Bellingham...

Let This Darkness Be a Bell Tower

Remind

Thursday Lyric: Too Many Miracles, Badly Drawn Boy

Thursday's Lyric: All My Favorite People, Over The Rhine

Mutual Influence

Thursday's Lyric: On Your Side, Susan Enan

reassemble

The Blight

Sea change

Happy all the time

Metamorphosis.

Process

Good Faith, part 2

Good Faith

The Business of Celebration

Lavish

Awake Now

Love Will Best Judge

The Open Door

Transformation: What is essential, part 2

Interim

"What is essential is invisible to the eye." (Part 1)

Playing with light

unmoored

Sanctions

Meet Mountain

Needs Seasoning

Response

gifts.

Thursday's Lyric: The Head and The Heart

Railroad Revival Tour moment of joy

To Be or Not

Thursday Lyric- Mumford & Sons

Maps and me

Recommended Reading: Iwrotethisforyou

Morning Coffee

Something that makes me smile

upon reflection, I know what I want

Thursday Song: Bedouin Dress by Fleet Foxes (2011)

benefactum

Thursday Lyric- Branches

Wax and Wane Photos

The Good Race(s)

Act of God

A Linchpin Weekend

Fiction Friday: Goodbye Girl

Monday, Monday

Atlas

HOW

Thursday's Lyrics for Thought: Frank Turner

Sketchbook Pages: Hope is a thing with feathers