My life is FILLED with “Collage”. I love surrounding myself with collections in categories.
The are each a Collage I made for someone else (top to bottom). A jewelry box filled with the jewelry pieces from a dear friend’s Mom, Memory Boxes for my Grandsons containing tiny symbols and souvenirs from their adventures, and photo cards.
My dear friend who gave me her mother’s jewelry pieces and old jewelry box above inspired me to facilitate a Collaging for Grief Workshop. My participants would collect the small things they couldn’t part with after a death. We would gather together to put all the trinkets in collage shadow boxes, all the while telling each other the stories behind the pieces. It was a wonderful way to let go of the large piles of things we can be left with when a loved one dies, but still end up with a lovely memorial piece of art in their honor.
I have posted before the embarrassing proof that most of the walls in my home are giant Collages
This is a series I called “Toy Baskets”. Trinkets from my own childhood. If you are of a similar age you might recognize Monopoly, Pick up Stix, Tiddly Winks, etc.
More Wall Collages from my home and Office
I could never stand to throw away the beautiful cards my clients have given me over 40 years in private practice, so I would always turn them into collages and display them. They so enjoyed spotting a piece of a card I had saved from them.
And many of my clients have been artists so I have many beautiful handmade pieces.
This one below is my favorite. It was when my practice was HUGE. I had 8 groups of 10 people each (5 therapy, 1 couples’ group, a Graduate Group, and a training group). The artist who did this mixed media sort of collage told me it represented the path of my heart through my professional life, with many, many connections shooting off into the world, like stars. I was so moved by this. The piece always remains a focal point of my current Wall Collage display. Hand done painting, stitching, gluing, etc. (I especially love this piece since my current practice is only 3 clients.) It’s so sweet to remember that I used to have a larger impact on my world…..
She told me this central line was my heart path….connected to and spreading out to the world, each star and sequin representing a life I had touched. It’s taken me years to accept (not my focus at the time) that I really did get to love a lot of people!!
Author note: Sorry for bad photos and for lack of editing. I wanted to get this in before the new challenge happens today!
I just can’t write about my mother(s) today. I will sometime. I know I need to.
And since I didn’t get a single card or call or flower and I even had to make my own coffee, I’m feeling pretty forlorn.
So I will write about myself.
I have been a mother since I was 5 years old. I knew how to change diapers and handle baby food and bottle basics before I started school. I mothered my little sisters (and I must have done a lousy job because they resent the hell out of me.)
Don’t get me wrong. I love mothering. I live for it. My favorite movie as a child was not some Disney Princess thing. Nope, for me it was “Cheaper by the Dozen”.
All I ever wanted was a huge family, a bunch of kids to mother!
I even mothered my mother, trying so hard to convince her life was worth living…but I failed…well, that’s how it felt to my broken teenage heart when she finally chose the permanent “check-out”.
I mothered, in the following order, myself, my sisters, my mother, my babysitting kids, my pets, my friends, my foster sisters, my boyfriends, my fellow students, my co-workers, my husbands, my neighbors, my BUGS, broken birds, and my hundreds of my clients…this last is a whole separate story of amazing “motherhood”.
I mothered myself when my own mother escaped her pain by shooting herself. How oxymoronic is that?
And I had to make the excruciating decision to NOT mother the child I was carrying at the time my mother died, leaving my sisters in my real charge this time.
Blissfully, I finally got to mother my son Michael, the light of my life, and eventually, a pile of step-children. And now, though I am their grandmother, I even get to mother my grandsons a little bit.
It’s still my favorite thing to do.
So here is my choice for Song Lyric Sunday, today, Mother’s Day, 2017. It’s the song I used to play for my most injured and damaged clients, in the hope that somehow, a little mother’s love really can heal. I know it has healed me.
And I know my “daughter” Pamela has received exactly this from her Mother.
And just so I don’t end on a pitiful note,
I’m off to Mother my CATS!!! They won’t know what hit them!
I have none. I am so content to “bloom where I am planted”, a lesson learned early from my father. It has served me so well throughout my life…I am never bored and there is never nothing to see or do wherever I am!
I say that, but also have to confess, I “live” in several different places: a suburb of Seattle, in the mountains outside Spokane, in the San Juan Islands, San Diego, and in my car…no, not that way, but I do love a road trip with car-camping involved.
Even in my own 100 year old house (which people call a maze due to all the weird rooms and additions over the years), I get the bug to travel, to “live” in other parts of it. After 43 years here, I have lived in every square inch of it. There are 5 or 6 bedrooms (depending on how you define the space), 2 or 3 living rooms (again depending), 3 bathrooms, laundry room, 2 and 1/2 kitchens, a large bonus room, a huge deck, a patio with table and chairs for outside dining, Oh, and a fruit tree orchard! (apples, cherries, pears, and plums!)
Back to Wanderlust, I have been recently bit by the Road Trip bug. In August of this year we will travel down the West coast, then across the Southern States until we reach Mississippi. I lived there with family for a few years when I was younger and James grew up there. We met in high school in Natchez.
It’s time for a “Roots” trip so we are taking my son and grandsons on a road trip adventure, to Louisiana, Alabama, Florida and Mississippi. We’ll travel in style for most of it in a spectacular RV. And we will get to see wonderful friends and relatives we never get to hang out with, including a wonderful new Blogging Friend!
The slideshow is of some of the places in Mississippi I want to share with my grandsons!
I guess this is Wanderlust!!!
Ahh, to be thirteen again…and to be given complete freedom to decorate my own room. My Dad did that for me so I painted my room white and then, with a pencil, traced circles around plates, cups, and saucers all over my walls. I filled them in with pastel pink, yellow and blue enamel paint. (I also made striped curtains in the same colors.) I loved my room. It was such a peaceful haven in an otherwise tumultuous household. I could shift my mood by closing my door and immersing myself in the ambience I had been allowed to create.
When my son and grandsons moved back in with me I really wanted the boys to feel at home and so of course, passed on the traditional “freedom” to decorate their space.
Here’s a slideshow of how the oldest (13) chose to set up his room. It is filled with the dichotomies of his age and individual personality. I LOVE it! Enjoy the song below while viewing the show. (It reminds me of my Junior High/High school boyfriend, David Taylor!)
My first reaction to some of his belongings was apprehension. His Dad (my son) was never allowed weapons of any kind, not even toy guns. That really backfired as a parenting stance. But I am not too worried about my grandson. His “weapons” are mostly decorative, and are nicely balanced with his other collections (Pez dispensers, sports stuff, art, guitars, etc.)
Oh and his “stuffies”, many from his babyhood.
My grandson posed in this photo…can you see him?