It's been a while. A lot has happened.
I have been absent from Etsy, from Blogger, and from art, really, for a while. Though it has been such a home for me for many years, in the last few months various circumstances in life and down-in-the-dumps moods have kept me from wanting to pursue beauty.
Then, on July 14th, my father passed away unexpectedly.
So, how do you go back to art? How do you go home again?
I have tried writing and reading. I've tried seeking inspiration in nature, but as I watched rabbits bounce around the lawn every evening beyond the window where my father slept in hospice care, I turned away from the gentle and pervasive beauty of nature. Rabbits remind me of my broken heart, of many tears spilled, of my great loss.
How do I go back?
I want to honor him in some way. My father held a deep passion for the natural world. He was startled, mystified, inspired, humbled, and renewed by it. His long walks into the woods, his baths in cold streams, his peaceful floating upon lakes, all of the little things (acorns, sticks, rocks) he gathered and took home with him connected him to the natural world. To the cycle of all things. To life. And yes, to death.
I was comforted knowing he'd flee the binds of his body and join the spiritual world beyond the windows - a world he related to much better than the tangible and physical world. I know his soul joined with the trees, the rivers, the rabbits.
But in my sorrow, I feel left behind. I feel left out. I'm afraid to turn my heart out again to the pasture of the world and let beauty in. I'm afraid it will hurt.
My little creatures, my small wool friends, are so innocent and delightful. They come from a place within me that delights in the small, the soft, the lovely. A place that delights in the innocence of animals and the worlds I've created for them in my imagination.
In my art room, I have closed all evidence of this joyful world off. In boxes. In the closet. There are many, many unfinished wool friends. But I'm afraid to welcome them back into my life. I fear that by holding them, I will be reminded again of the great loss of innocence that happened as I lost my father.
So I am struggling. I am working towards finding joy. Finding beauty. Finding art.
I'm hoping that when I again turn something lovely in my hands, be it a river-worn stone or an animal of my own creation, that I can invoke the greatest gift my father gave to me: a true appreciation for the beauty of the world. Even if it hurts sometimes.
I hope to get back to it. I'm very sad, but I want to do something with my hands that's familiar. I want to create again. I want to go home.
So that's life for me for past little while. I have received many sweet notes from customers and people who follow my blog and Etsy shop. I'm touched and delighted by your kindness.
Blessings to all...