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7/6 Creativity Challenge and New Prompt

Some wonderful Fourth of July entries!  I think the one that will all take our breath away is the beautiful poem and accompanying photo from our lovely Miranda Helin Hersey, below.

Independence Day

On Friday morning, July the third
Liam nursed for the last time.
I did not know in the moment,
and so I did not say goodbye
to my little nursling
and the many years of my life
— six? —
that I have spent nursing my five children.
I did not imprint the memory, did not
photograph the image behind my eyes
the feel of him in my arms, the scent of his
warm hair against my arm and the pillow,
the pale blue sheets.
It was just another morning.

But that was three days ago.
I was ready, I thought.
And he was ready, for the most part.
But now that it has ended
(he isn’t asking, and
doesn’t seem to mind)
I find myself awash in grief
as if I have lost something,
or someone.

A part of my life has ended
as it should, naturally —
there is no more giving of new life,
sustaining that life, inside and out.
My body is mine now, forever.
No more sharing.

This strange milestone hits me
hard, and I reach for Liam,
burying my nose in his soft hair,
trying to remember.

miranda babyboy


From Cathy Coley: Baby C spent the morning of July 4th out harvesting beans and tomatoes.

Chloe '09 4th of July 004


From me (Kelly) : More in the mood for small-town goodness than big city traffic, we went to Fernandina Beach for the July 4th festivities…..parade, band and chorale, and fireworks. I had all intentions of capturing some great photos until I reached to capture a shot of the funky painted van outside the Green Turtle only to realize my camera card was still stuck in my computer at home.  Sigh…  I actually took this festive picture on another recent patriotic day: Memorial Day.  She’s a grand old flag.

kelly-glory


This week’s prompt: “ethereal”
Use the prompt however you like – literally, or a tangential theme. All media are welcome. Please e-mail your entries to creativereality@live.com by midnight eastern time on Sunday, July 12, 2009. Writers should include their submission directly in the body text of their e-mail. Visual artists and photographers should attach an image of their work as a jpeg. Enter as often as you like; multiple submissions for a single prompt are welcome. There is no limit to how many times you can win the weekly challenge, either. (You do not have to be a contributor to this blog in order to enter. All are invited to participate.) All submissions are acknowledged when received; if you do not receive e-mail confirmation of receipt within 48 hours, please post a comment here. Remember, the point is to stimulate your output, not to create a masterpiece. Keep the bar low and see what happens. Dusting off work you created previously is OK too. For more info, read the original contest blog post.

Brittany: Early Work

The other day I was going through some old boxes, when I found these:

britttany

I have no idea how old I was when I made these, but it was probably during elementary school. I would guess second or third grade. During that time, my great-grandmother babysat me in the afternoons after school. She spent her afternoons sewing, and often I joined her. I always loved dollmaking, and Mama (pronounced mamaw) gave me full reign over her fabric scraps, yarns, buttons, etc.

Sometimes, I would make the doll pattern, cut out the fabric, and sew the doll together myself. Other times, she helped. I’m sure she embroidered the face on the pink doll, and probably helped me make her long-lost clothes as well. I’m pretty certain I made the sock Pickaninny on my own, probably inspired by the episodes of Our Gang I watched with my grandmother. I made dozens and dozens of dolls with my great-grandmother.  I can still hear her voice in my head right now. “Honey, you just use whatever… You do whatever you want.”

It was around this time that I started writing, too. I’ve enjoyed books my entire life, and in second grade it dawned on me that I could write books for myself. I remember cutting out pictures from a magazine, pasting them to construction paper, and then writing a simple story (having to do with Mary’s little lamb) to fit the pictures. In third grade, a reporter from the Asheville Citizen Times came to speak to my class about being a journalist and writing for a living. I thought to myself, “You can get paid for this stuff???” and remember knowing, with complete certainty, that writing was what I’d been born to do.

When I was eight or nine, it seemed like the grown-up thing to do to know my own mind. But now that I’m an adult, I marvel at my elementary-aged self, and my ability to zero in so early on two of the three creative pursuits that would bring me most joy.  (At eighteen, I discovered embroidery.)

I look at my boys in wonder as their interests begin to unravel. John is extremely tactile and loves to manipulate small objects. Sam loves nature–waterfalls, rain, trees, animals, insects. He loves trains. He loves music and dancing. He has plenty of time to discover his passion in life, but I try to encourage him whenever he finds a new love. I know how important a little encouragement was to me and how it has sustained me all my life. I hope I can do the same for my children.

Kelly: The Purple Cottage

“Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we might oft win, by fearing to attempt.”
–William Shakespeare

That quote is included in a gift book sitting on my desk called “The Strangest Secret,” by Earl Nightingale. Nightingale talks about the very same message shared in the book “The Secret,” but here’s the kicker:  Nightingale wrote his message in 1956.  I’ve had the book on my desk since my friend Ken Whitener gave it to me, but I must admit today was the first day I really looked at it. Ken used the book as the background for a leadership program he’s presented for me several times. Nightingale’s basic premise and his “strangest secret”? We become what we think about.

I’ve kept the book on my desk not necessarily for the subject matter but more for a reminder of the person who gave it to me. Ken and I worked together on programs ever since I started with the college, and he became more than just a guest speaker for me; he became a dear friend, a dear friend who passed away suddenly of a heart attack just a few weeks after he gave me the book earlier this year. Ken did live his life becoming what he thought about.  Whether he was presenting one of his leadership programs or his stock and trade comedy hypnotist shows, he exuded confidence and self-fulfillment and always had the same message: “YOU CAN DO IT!”  I can still hear him say it. (I just pulled up his website and saw that it’s still active; it was nice to see his smiling face.)

I can’t say it all started 15 years ago, but maybe it was just further cemented 15 years ago. I started working in Student Life in January of 1994. That fall, my supervisor at the time facilitated a college-wide retreat of our area. B.J. is a creative type herself, so I knew we were off to a good start. As part of the retreat, she gave us all big sheets of paper and put a pile of markers and crayons in the center of the table. Our instructions: draw your dream. She gave no further instruction; it could be a personal dream, a work dream, whatever you wanted to share. It was really done more as a group get-to-know-you activity rather than a departmental goal activity. Took me no time at all to get started because I already knew exactly what I wanted. I drew a funky little purple cottage with the name “The Happy Shack” emblazoned across the front. I remember the exact set up of the room and exactly where I was at the table. I even remember what I was wearing and how I did my hair that day. Fifteen years ago. I was reminded of that through an e-mail conversation I had with Miranda this week about the stressful time I’ve been having at work the past two weeks (she’s damn good at making you focus on your dreams, in case you haven’t already figured that out :-)).

Though many people consider my house to be the proverbial “Happy Shack,” and I guess in some ways it is, it’s not the Happy Shack I envision in my dream. That Happy Shack is a funky little art gallery/studio, filled with my creations and the creations of other creative souls. It’s a place where those creative souls come together and share their creativity, whether it’s teaching skills or swapping stories or just creating art together. Over the years it’s had a bed and breakfast attached to it at times, and my DH particularly likes that part of the dream. And it has lots of furry friends…dogs, cats, maybe even a chirpy little canary named Ladybird Lulu. But whatever manifestation it’s taken, it’s always been purple.

While the family and I were in St. George Island for our vacation, we visited the island art gallery, called the Sea Oats Gallery. Guess what was right next door to the Sea Oats gallery…a little cottage, once called the Book Nook, but now out of business. The sign on the door said, “Out of Business. Retired!” Guess what color that little cottage was. Yep, purple. It was surrounded by a bunch of stray cats, including a black and white one which was particularly friendly. Serendipity? A little reminder of a dream? The little yellow and orange flowers peeking up around the front porch certainly seemed to be saying so.

So what am I to learn from this? It definitely has been an incredibly stressful time at work, and as I’ve shared with you here before, I’ve been looking at different options here and there for quite some time now. Is it time to make a change? Yep, I do agree that it’s definitely time to make a change, yet in the short run I’m hopeful that change involves just a change in position, my first preference being a new position soon to be advertised at the college, still in Student Affairs but a little broader reaching than just Student Life. I’d love the opportunity to give it a shot because I think I’d enjoy the challenge that comes with a newly created position. Keep your fingers crossed for me. But in the long run…I keep going back to that little purple cottage, maybe with a bed and breakfast attached, and a chirpy canary named Ladybird Lulu…being circled by a friendly little black and white cat…who is great pals with a big goofy brown dog. It’s in a quaint little town that people like to visit for the sheer charm of it. It’s near the water, since along with art, water is what feeds my soul. And it’s a happy place, a happy little shack. It’ll happen. Maybe five or ten years down the road, but it’ll happen. Thanks, Ken. I CAN do it. I will become what I think about.

“Live this new way and the floodgates of abundance will open and pour over you more riches than you may have dreamed existed. Money? Yes, lots of it. But what’s more important, you’ll have peace…you’ll be in that wonderful minority who lead calm, cheerful successful lives…you have nothing to lose—but you have a whole life to win.” –Earl Nightingale