New Ways of Being
This week, I’ve learned:
1) How to peel wallpaper (and scrub away residual wallpaper glue)
2) How to patch and/or replace drywall
3) How to butter, space, edge, and grout tile
4) Buying a new house means selling the old one (aka, all those projects we never quite got to? The time is NOW!!)
Being a carpenter’s daughter, I feel like I should have known all of these things already. I mean, I guess I’ve seen them all done, watched from the sidelines - but it’s different when you’re driving the crazy train.
When we put in our offer at the end of December, my mom asked if we were going to work full time while also juggling all the projects here and the paperwork there. I, of course, was POSITIVE that it’d be no big deal. I’m not sure if I just don’t remember doing this the last time around or if it just wasn’t as stressful, but I literally fall into bed every night and am asleep before my head hits the pillow.
The plan is to move into the new place as soon as we close and then put our teal-colored haven on the market as soon as we’re out - but we also have some neighbors who have some friends who’d like to take a peek before then. If they want it, then we can skip the realtor fees etc. (which would be amazing). The tradeoff is that we’re busting our butts to have everything fully spruced in time for them to visit in a couple weeks.
My mantra is, “it will all get done, it will all get done, itwillallgetdone.” And it will.
On a completely different (and yet completely related - stick with me) note, back in December I decided it was time to begin addressing some of the weird muscular imbalances that exist in my body from a lifetime of making. Discomfort, tension, and pain are all things that I’ve just worked through, thinking they were part of the deal. But I finally drew the line.
After copious hours of research, my self diagnosis was that I was dealing with upper and lower crossed syndrome (along with some winged scapulas thrown in for good measure). Feel free to look up pictures and definitions if that’s your thing but, simply put, I was locked in the jaws of chronic tension from my nose to my toes and, over time, it had eroded my ability to move in the way my muscles and bones were intended. Yikes.
It’s not normal to wake up in the morning and be unable to fully close my hand into a fist. It’s not normal to be unable to lift my arms without feeling like I have to contort myself, twisting ever inwards like some sort of human pretzel.
Enter Hanna Somatics - basically just simple movements that release tension. All the wild women at our barn in California used it for themselves and their horses, and I found out that THEIR teacher had put together a digital course. The “flavor” of the course is definitely horsey, but I decided to try it for the sake of my making.
In the first week, I learned to let go the tension in my back which left me perpetually hunched forwards (pulled by a tight core). In week two, I let go the tension in my core which brought me upright but also revealed a pronounced rotation to the left. When I worked through the rotation? I realized how the tightness in my hips made it impossible to fully stand up straight. And so on, and so on. I am unwinding years and years and years of tension and it’s changing everything.
The process is so simple - and yet so very difficult for me. Gently contract the tight muscle, but only so far as not to stretch or pull any other muscles, and then return to a neutral place. Repeat. Done right, it feels easy - almost TOO easy - like breathing or blinking your eyes.
As it turns out, I don’t really know how to move that way. Or live that way. Or EXIST that way. There are places in my body where my true range of motion (that is, the amount I can move without yanking something else around) is less than an inch. Less than half an inch. I have moved through the world for SO LONG relying on tension to hold me up that in some ways I feel lost having to let it go.
But what I’m loving most about the course and about the movements I’m learning is that, if you trust the process, magic happens. So those places where I’m most locked up? If I’m really honest, REALLY gentle, and stay within my range the first time I do a movement, the next time there is more space. I can go farther, move with more fluidity, without trying - it just…happens. The less I push, the easier things become. Somewhere in me there’s a deeply rooted belief that if something is easy, I’m cheating - but that belief becomes weaker by the day. I’m SO CLOSE to letting it go altogether.
So there’s my big conundrum because, six weeks into this eight week course, I’ve realized that I need to change the way I live to truly integrate what I’ve learned. All that craziness at the top of this post? All that hustle and bustle and working to my limits? I’ve got to stop living like that. I’ve got to STOP driving myself into the ground. Relinquish the old idea that success springs from brute force. My strength is in softness. In making space for growth through gentle awareness and intention. I won’t be able to get there in a day - just like I won’t be able to regain the motion in my wonky shoulders in a day - but that’s my new practice. In all things.
At the bench, this has meant a sloooow start to making this year. I’m having to relearn how to sit and hold my tools and do the motions that once relied on layers of tension to work. In some ways, I feel like I’m learning to smith all over again. It’s like brushing your teeth with the other hand. Very weird. But also very fun. And for the first time, there’s absolutely no pain.
Another real hitch in the making giddy-up struck me at the end of last week while I was busily working away on a trio of new earring pairs.
They’re all green turquoise and a stepped southwestern-y shape and I was feeling QUITE proud of how they were coming out…until I wasn’t. I’m not entirely sure where the thought came from but, as I was working, I started wondering if I was appropriating the shape from the native cultures that have called this land home for thousands of years. And that felt…well, honestly it just felt icky.
See, when I say “southwestern,” for the most part I’m referring to something that draws stylistic inspiration from Native American art. It’s as simple as that. For me personally, when I use those shapes and motifs in my work, I’m not speaking to MY relationship with the land or telling MY story - I’m just sort of piggybacking off of the imagery belonging to the native cultures because I know that others will immediately recognize it as relating to this part of the world. Maybe I’m crazy, but framing things in this new way has my moral compass pointing straight towards “don’t go there!”
It’s tricky and complicated and very much in a grey area - but I pretty much decided that I won’t be using these shapes anymore unless I have a VERY strong personal connection that can’t be illustrated in any other way. I might end up finishing one earring pair of the three (which would have an added horsehair tassel that does feel VERY much like me), but the other two are definitely being put aside. On one hand, I feel the disappointment that springs from spending many hours on a project only to have that effort come to nothing in the end. But on the other, I feel hopeful and excited because now I’m free to ask the question : what does the art of MY people look like?
What shapes and colors are the Czech drawn to? What does German folk art look like? Do the people of Luxembourg have any traditional patterns? And the biggest of all - how will knowing the art of my ancestors inform the way I see the world? There is so much yet to explore.