Another installment for the My Moon, Your Moon series is up and ready for your reading enjoyment. With the last moon posting and this month's moon posting, it seems that the planet is a restless place. North Carolina recently experienced one of the most devastating tornadoes that I have ever seen in my lifetime -- and it only happened a few miles from my own home. And most recently, it seems that the same devastation was repeated in Alabama and its surrounding areas several days later. In a matter of moments, lives were changed. Some people are feeling blessed to be spared from the destruction; others are mourning over so much lost. And still yet, others are unaffected and going on with daily life, with tragedy's arm only reaching so far.
I remember observing the moon on its full moon night, a couple of days after the tornado hit the Raleigh area, and noticed how still and quite the sky was. Next to the moon, I noticed a criss-crossing of clouds, illuminated by the moon's brilliance. Were the clouds serving as a tribute to those who recently lost their lives? Whatever their purpose, I paused for a moment to reflect... Sometimes there really is no rhyme or reason for how the events in our lives unfold; however, how we respond in those moments of great happiness or sadness can define us. I only hope that when faced with such circumstances, ambivalence is not an acceptable option.
If you'd like to learn how you can help those who have been tragically affected by the recent tornado in North Carolina, please visit the North Carolina Disaster Relief Fund website. You can also visit the American Red Cross website to help with all disaster relief efforts.
"No one can confidently say that he will still be living tomorrow."
A new moon post is up for March. This moon was reported by NASA as being a super moon, the biggest seen from Earth in 20 years. Although this should have been an inspiration to paint, this phenomenon was overshadowed for me by recent world events. The world feels a little darker and restless with the devastation Japan is facing every day as a result of the most recent earthquake and tsunami destruction as well as and the very real threat of nuclear meltdown permeating throughout the country. Even in the face of such unthinkable disasters, I have hope for Japan and for the people who have lost so much. It is my hope for Japan to heal and rebuild that has inspired my recent contribution to the My Moon, Your Moon project.
Please enjoy this month's post -- and, in the words of the great Jim Penny, "here's to hoping that someone somewhere remembers what it's like to be tired and scared and hungry too."
"Dare to reach out your hand into the darkness, to pull another hand into the light."
My father-in-law passed away in January. Our family learned last year in September that he was diagnosed with stage IV bladder cancer. As you can imagine, the news was devastating to our family. But despite this daunting news, our family really came together in those last months to show him our support and to give him our love. He was a wonderful man -- caring and loving -- and though the time we had left with him went by way too fast, we were able to create some wonderful memories that we will carry with us for life.
One thing that I learned about my father-in-law, Larry Dale, in the time that I knew him was that he was an artist. I learned this one spring when my husband and I went to Florida to spend Easter with his parents. One corner of the sun room in their home housed an easel with paints. Surrounding his work station were his finished paintings.
"I didn't know you painted," I told him, surprised. He told me that it was something he really enjoyed and wanted to explore more often. An artist in my midst; I was intrigued.
Even in his last days, my father-in-law had art on his mind. He told us that Moses had come to him and told him to paint again -- but this time, he should put the voice of God in his paintings. Although Larry Dale did not get a chance to create more art before he passed away, I think my husband's brother explained it best at Larry's funeral. He said that we, his family, were his works of art. And through us, he leaves a legacy that is a reflection of his faith.
I agree. With our own child on the way, I like the idea of art imitating life and life imitating art. Larry Dale was not only able to apply a paint brush to canvas to create the beauty that he saw within his artist's mind, but he was able to extend that idea of beauty and share it with the world in the family that he created.
"Your talent is God's gift to you. What you do with it is your gift back to God."
The day has arrived... I've finally opened my Etsy store for Inochi Designs.
This plan has been in the works for LONG time. After the October craft show, I had lots of inventory left over that I planned on immediately featuring on my Etsy store, but I learned that life had other plans for me. Now with a new year starting and my energy levels shooting up in my second trimester, what better time to take advantage of this renewed sense of motivation and refocus my efforts on my art?
Although there are just a few items featured on the online store now, I plan on posting prints and original art this weekend as well. Don't forget to check the Etsy mini to the right of my blog posts to easily access the online store, too.
I have not started this year off with a list of resolutions as I often do. The end of 2010 and the beginning of 2011 have been sad ones, leaving little motivation to imagine new and exciting possibilities for the new year. But as time passes, I realize that continuing with life is the only way to truly heal with the loss of loved ones. Life is beautiful and precious, even with the sadness it can bring. And with a new little life on the way, I believe this more than ever.
So what does 2011 have in store for me?
Well, on Jan. 15th, I submitted my sketchbook for the Sketchbook Project of 2011. I went back and forth all year on whether or not I was even going to participate in the project, but at the last moment, I chose to go for it. I completed my sketchbook in less than 24 hours and shipped it off on the deadline. It was the hardest, most exhausting artistic effort I've ever undertaken, but I was glad that I committed to doing it. The end product may not have been what I had hoped for, but the fact that I finished it was satisfying enough for me. The only regret that I have is that I have no photographic evidence of my efforts -- good thing I paid the extra fee for the Brooklyn Museum of Art to digitally archive it for me!
Beginning in February, my sketchbook will go on tour across the country with 28,837 other artists from 94 countries. I hope to check it once the tour reaches DC or Atlanta. If you'd like to check out my artist profile on the project site, please click here:
Another project I'm participating in this year is one with an esteemed colleague from work, Jim Penny. He approached me last year and told me about his idea of using the full moons of 2011 as the inspiration for a collection of essays and artwork. Each month on the full moon, he would write and I would paint or draw. Then, the next day, we would share what we created and post them on a blog. To see our first efforts, please visit our blog affectionately named My Moon, Your Moon. I feel honored to be a part of such special project and to have my work presented next to Jim's writing. He has a style that is truly his own; his words have the ability to pull you in instantly and expose the experience or memory he is sharing as if it were your own to bear. To read Jim's take on the project, go here.
I do have aspirations for a wonderful 2011. I am currently working my way through Goddess Leonie's Goddess Guidebook to help me sort out and envision what those aspirations are. In the short term, I know I want good health for myself and for my family, a continued desire to learn and grow as an artist, and the ability to recognize and appreciate the blessings that life has to offer. How those wants get translated are the surprises I wait for with the passing of each new moon. Here's to a wonderful 2011.
"For the happiest life, rigorously plan your days, leave your nights open to chance."
I know I have been absent for a while here. After the craft fair, life just seemed to get crazy for me. The happiest and most life altering event that has happened so far was learning that my husband and I are expecting. Our first child is due on June 24, 2011, and we couldn't be happier. As you can imagine, I've been going through all the things one goes through with pregnancy - fatigue, nausea, weird pregnancy cravings, etc. And as I enter into my second trimester, I can already tell that I am starting to feel like my old self again (with the exception of my growing belly). With this renewed energy I am hoping to get back into my studio to create some new pieces for the New Year.
But even with happiness, sometimes sadness comes, too. Perhaps the most devastating event that has happened was the recent passing of my nephew Brady. After five months of being treated for his congenital heart condition, he passed away on December 10th. As you can imagine, my family is heart broken. But despite our great loss, we gained so much from Brady. I think the pastor at Brady's funeral summed it up best. He said, "I counted the days. Brady was here on this earth for 145 days. And in those 145 days, he accomplished more than most people do in their entire lives. He made us all better people. He brought us together as a community, and he showed us the power of love."
At Brady's funeral, most of the nurses from the PICU unit where Brady received a majority of his care came to pay their condolences and read a poem that they dedicated to Brady. They called him their Little Superman. This may have been because my sister dressed him up as Superman for Halloween, but I think it was mostly because he was a fighter and endured a lot during his short time with us.
After the funeral, the nurses came to my sister's home, bearing red and blue helium balloons (Superman's colors). They planned on releasing the balloons in memory of Brady. As we all stood in the cold, one of the nurses sang a song she often sang to the children in her life - "A Bushel and Peck."
It was sweet. When the song was over, we released our balloons into the night sky. They traveled together in a cluster up to heaven, and up to Brady. It was a beautiful moment.
The beautiful staff from the PICU unit
A few days after the funeral, I heard the song "One Last Christmas" by Matthew West on the radio. Not only did it bring tears to my eyes, it really struck a chord with me. It reminded me of Brady and how much he has changed our lives. I think my sister-in-law said it best in responding to the song: "That is beautiful. There is such goodness in the world even in the face of tragedy. Proof that every person no matter how small can touch the world in an amazing way. Brady did just that!"
Thank you Brady for blessing us with your love. You'll live forever in our hearts.
