Seven

Two corals, pen and ink, 1976

On Saturday, the 20th, this blog will turn seven, which is rather hard to believe. I'll be in New York City, with friends from Montreal, visiting museums and friends from that place as well. And I'm strongly considering not taking my computer along, though I'll certainly have my camera and the recorder that runs in my head most of the time...

 Lately I've been reflecting on the changes in my daily life since moving up here for good last summer. We've settled into a routine of rising at 7:30 or so, dressing quickly, and coming to our studio -- by bike, now -- where we make coffee and a light breakfast - steel-cut oats for me, with some fruit or yogurt. I spend the first hour checking email and the social networks, and then begin the day's work, which is sometimes professional design work, sometimes writing, and more often these days, various tasks for qarrtsiluni and Phoenicia Publishing. We make lunch here around noon, and then are back at it, often until 7:00 pm or even later. I usually break up my day with a walk and am trying to spend a couple of hours doing artwork of some sort, and if I can I play the piano for half an hour. You might think that working at home, as we did for 30 years, would be more productive but it's just the opposite. I miss being at home sometimes - it's easier to start dinner in the middle of the afternoon, and easier to take a walk and do the day's shopping - but in general this situation feels better. Home feels quiet and calm and slow; it's a meditative atmosphere for cooking, bathing, reading, and seeing friends.

Our upstairs neighbor, noticing our new routine and late hours, admonished me recently: "Don't work too hard!" I laughed and he said, "Yes, I know you love it." "A lot of it doesn't feel like work, I said. "This is just what I do."

Being involved with art again has made me think about a time in my life, long ago, when I had my first job after college. I was working as a naturalist in one of New York State's environmental education centers, and was in charge of their exhibits and trail guides. In the evenings I'd come home, make myself some dinner, and spend the next four hours drawing, painting, and doing calligraphy. It would be more accurate to say that I was teaching myself to paint illustrations from the natural world in watercolors, and practicing calligraphy so that I might be able to do it professionally. All that winter of 1975-76 I worked hard, night after night, listening to the public radio station from Syracuse, which is when I also learned to love opera. I remember it as a time of deep, quiet satisfaction. I enjoyed my daytime work and my colleagues there, who were every social people, but I knew I wouldn't stay indefinitely, and felt I was preparing for the future. My whole life stretched ahead of me, a bright ribbon of possibilities, and instead of feeling scared or lonely I looked forward to the solitude of those evenings with my paints and pens and music, searching for something beneath my fingers that I hoped would eventually take shape.

 
Self-portrait, ~1990

Did it? Not the way I expected, of course. I met a man and moved to New England, became a self-employed graphic designer and calligrapher, became a much more serious painter and left music behind for a long time. Then work and business and community became the primary focus, along with a long happy marriage to a very different man. Computers came along. Spiritual matters became a much greater focus, as did politics; painting was laid aside, music re-entered my life, and twenty years after those long nights in that makeshift studio I became, working each morning instead, the writer I had wanted to be all along.

So what's happening now, after nearly another twenty years? It feels like a weaving together of the many threads of my life, but in a different form: I'm no longer interested in doing skillful realistic drawings or paintings, for instance, and most of my attention has shifted from the finished product to the process itself. But once again, I don't know what will take shape or how I'll be changed. I do know that blogging has played, and will continue to play, a major part in that evolution, not only because it encourages my practice of writing, forming a space of solitude and concentration where the writing can take place, but because it takes me out of my own world into yours.

Comments

[Jean]

The self-portrait is sitting on my screen right next to your sidebar photo - your face in characteristic expression twice over - showing what a very skilled artist and capturer of likeness you are. It's amazing, not to say incredibly impresssive, to discover that friends one identifies with one set of skills and talents have others you're not used to seeing them exercise.

Have a wonderful time in New York.

[Kim]

Congratulations on seven years of blogging!

I always love hearing about earlier parts of your life and your artistic endeavors. I find it quite interesting how your interests have shifted. How lucky you are to have such wide ranging talents. I'm glad you began writing; otherwise I never would have had the opportunity to "know" you.

Have a wonderful trip.

[Marja-Leena]

How exciting to see some of your early artworks, especially the portrait. I too enjoyed reading about your life in a new context with the various shifts, now to doing art again. Seven years blogging is worthy of a toast and wish for many more! Wishing you a happy time in New York.

[dale]

You are a polymath, aren't you? No telling what you might not take up next. Whatever it is, I'll be delighted by it.

[Vivian]

Happy birthday, Cassandrapages. Felicitations, Beth. Safe home! (I think this is a canadian expression) Vivian

[Pica]

I love this, Beth, this meandering through your past and present. Love the self-portrait. And excited to hear about how your new routine is energizing you.

[maria]

It's wonderful to read about your past and see the incredible work you put forth back then -- which is not surprising, given all the wonderful and exciting work you do now on so many levels.

[mary]

I always marvel at all you do in a day as well as the variety of talents you've managed to master. Seven years, what a wonderful milestone!

[Mouse]

" I enjoyed my daytime work and my colleagues there, who were every social people, but I knew I wouldn't stay indefinitely, and felt I was preparing for the future."

That struck a cord

Thank you for giving me something upon which to reflect today

[Jan]

Congratulations on seven marvelous years of blogging, Beth. I always look forward to reading Cassandra Pages. Life should get better each year, expanding as we take in experience and let the insight work magic on our souls. Keep it up. May the future bring you wondrous new adventures (which you hopefully will continue sharing).

[leslee]

Happy blogday, Beth! Seven years is a major turn in the cycle, a good time to reflect. It's interesting how life turns out, and certain chords continue to play in one way or another. Glad to hear so much fulfillment in your life these days. I'm sure it will feel even more so as spring comes and life opens out up there!

[Allan Peterson]

Happy Seventh to you and one of the most thoughtful blogs out there

[language hat]

Congratulations, and keep it up!

[Martine]

Joyeux bloganniversaire! We missed you both at the 10th Yulblog anniversary last night. We'll have to have our own little celebration VERY soon.

Your self-portrait is amazing. Not only is it technically impressive, but it captures your expression better than the most realistic photograph (sorry J.!). Can I borrow some of your talent please?

[hal lewis]

congratulations! as I said before your blog is a must each day and where you take us is a wonder. May you have many more years and may we have the pleasure of waiting and reading.

hal lewis

[Loretta]

Congratulations on your blogaversary! I always enjoy stopping by and I always leave thinking more deeply than I was beforehand. Your artwork is lovely - I didn't realize that you were a graphic designer.

[Natalie]

Dear Beth, a very happy seventh blogiversary - we are the veterans! But I haven't been as faitful and prolific and consistent as you. It's wonderful to see some of your artwork now also emerging from these pages. That self-portrait drawing is beautifully expressive - I love the rather fierce eyes! Please post more from your portfolio, past and present. Have a great time in New York. XXX

[Robb]

Kia ora Beth,
Happy 7th blogoversary. You are a real inspiration. Have a lovely time in New York. Kia kaha.
Aroha,
Robb

[io cassandra]

I thought you might get a kick fron knowing there is a person in this world who was baptised io cassandra. I came across your blog looking for images of io, the moon. How beautiful she is, and so luminescent like a bright opal, my favorte stone. So much of your writing takes me into my own past and and also the present. Siracusa is very close to my heart, especially Ortigia. In a strange way I feel I know you, our paths must have crossed...somewhere, but you would surely remember me by my unusual name.