sculptor

Discovered my inspiration this week. I’ve admired this piece for a few days now.

bowl
art-it’s what’s for dinner

Perhaps I love it because Sprout #3 made it on his lathe and gifted it to me. Plenty reason enough!

 

lathe
the wood chips are a-flyin’

 

Maybe I love it because it’s simply beautiful. Each of the bowls’ perfect imperfections combines to make it singularly unique. I’m mesmerized by the yin of the smooth wood and the yang of the rugged, rough-bark edge.

The Sprout explained each block of wood is called a blank. He mounts the blank, sets the lathe to spinning and patiently applies his trusty bowl gouge-and voila!….a bowl is born. Although the bowl has entered existence, it must undergo certain time-consuming steps to becoming its best bowl-self. It must dry and cure in wood shavings. The wood needs to cure, but not too rapidly, to prevent future cracking. After it has dried for some time (months), the woodworker must diligently sand, apply sealer, sand, apply sealer, sand and….well, you get it. This entire process reminds me of the Michelangelo quote:

michelangelo1

My life spins like that wood block on the lathe lately. Events happen and I don’t comprehend. Enough with applying the bowl gouge already, ok? It’s painful and I’m not privy to the intricacies of the process. I didn’t attend woodworking school. The wood chips are swirling. Some days I want to jump off that lathe and return to my previous carefree tree-self. Is this my drying out phase so I don’t split later, or is this the sanding and re-sanding part? I don’t know.

I do know these struggles are not unique to me. We ALL have ’em. For me right now it’s health issues but your struggle might be your broken relationship with your parents or children, your spouse’s alcoholism, your sexuality, a cancer diagnosis, your depression, your lonely empty nest, your dead-end job, your failing marriage, your barely making it from paycheck to paycheck, your PTSD, or the unexpected death of someone dear to you. It could be a crisis of faith.

I adore this bowl because it reminds me of the Master Sculptor. I’ve put my life in the hands of the Wise Woodworker. The Brilliant Bowl Maker. The Lord of the Lathe….enough alliteration…I can’t stop myself! However clumsily I phrase it, I trust the process of becoming and I’m assured my life is in loving hands. One day I’m going to be a gorgeous, one-of-a-kind bowl! Yessir! A bowl with rings closely spaced to indicate I stood proudly during the tough, drought-y years. A bowl with widely-spaced rings to testify I raised a glass to the wet and bountiful years. A bowl large enough to hold a lot of cool things.

bowl4

Today I’ve been looking up.

 

bird_in_flight
photo-public-domain.com

 

Here’s a reminder on my desk. Do you ever feel like you need Cliffs Notes for daily life??

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You are becoming quite a handsome bowl, in my opinion. Yes….you’re looking more and more like ART to me. I like that.

The bowl with the rough edges? Yeah….it’s me. How’d you guess?!

Lumber-y love to all.

 

 

 

 

 

down time

I’ve been away from the blog for a while.

One day I’m blogging my chipped fingernails to the quick. The next day…week…month...BAM... I’m sick.

Sick people don’t care one whit about fashion, blogs, amusement parks, horned toads, changing seasons or wiener dogs. OK..maybe they still care about dogs, but not much else.

thermometer

I’ll spare you all the feverish details and the ensuing poking, prodding and radiating of the ol’ bod. So far, I’m getting better and I’m profoundly grateful. Anything major changes and I’ll let you know. I need to get busy-there’s important stuff coming up!

One evening, during a dark nadir in my illness, I couldn’t sleep. I shuffled into the living room and collapsed on the sofa to play the endlessly fun, yet wildly unproductive ‘What If...’ game. What if this is cancer, what if this illness costs tons of $$, what will happen to my family if something happens to me? blah, blah. You know the story. Deep in the midst of my fun pity party, I hear the clickety-click of doggy toenails on the floor tile and the bump of the dachshund’s front feet on the sofa’s edge.

Roxy-Doxy, (whiny voice) there’s no room for you. Go back to bed with the Texan!

She was having none of it as she waited for me to pick her up. She promptly dug her way under the blanket and wedged herself between my leg and the sofa cushion.

The warmth of the little dog was reassuring. Made me feel not so alone and her presence lightened my thinking. Even in the dark of a feverish night, Roxy sniffed me out and came to me. I was too preoccupied and anxious to simply turn on the light, but she found me in the darkness. Even after I scolded her and told her there wasn’t room, she waited patiently ’til I picked her up. Could this aging sausage dog be teaching me a lesson about someone who comes along side me when I am weak, pitiful and afraid? Someone who is always there, even when I turn Him away?

And the dyslexic atheist says there is no d-o-g.

He hasn’t met Roxy Doxy.

robanddoxy
The wiener (l) and the Texan (r). My loves.

You’re-never-alone love to all.

gracias Senor!

All of you witnessed it.  The capsule being hoisted out of the ground with a previously entombed miner.  Thirty-three times (plus the rescue workers) we witnessed a miraculous rebirth.  Another chance at life.  Miners pointing to the sky, or making the sign of the cross, or kissing Mother Earth.  Some miners fell to their knees in humble, thankful prayer.  Made me think I should spend more time there….not in Chile, but on my knees.

The shirts with the word Gracias Senor! (thank the Lord, or thank God) emblazened across the front seemed appropros.

Lots of dedicated folks deserve a big Gracias shout-out.  No doubt about it.  Thanking El Senor is a good place to start.

I haven’t been lifted out of a dark, hot mine into the blinding light….not literally.  But most days I recognize the blessing of warm sunshine in my life.

So…today….Friday….is Gracias Senor! Day.  I’m giving the Big Man a shout out for those miners.  I’m giving Him an extra shout out for the love of my family.  I’m even shoutin’ out for the opportunity to blog.  Yup….and for you, too.

You got a gracias for El Senor?   Don’t be shy….leave your shout out in the comments and we’ll all be grateful together.

Have a glorious weekend.

sunset windmill