Perfectly Imperfect

It's funny how time seasons you. I'm so thankful I know what I know now, and I'm sure there are so many more lessons ahead of me.

When I was younger, I felt very driven to be perfect. I was extremely self-critical, especially of my artwork...but on many other, deeper levels too. I'm sure many things contributed to this mindset. My abusive father and stepmother, the strict religious upbringing I was raised in, and my own desire to prove my worth...to prove that the words hurled at me in angry abandon were wrong. I needed to prove it to them, and to prove it to myself.

But time passes, wounds heal and scar over...and thank goodness if we are open to it, we find growth and change. I can find amusement in some of my silly perfectionism from younger years. For instance, one time I remember getting a new set of watercolor paints. I painted flowers all over a piece of watercolor paper. I hated them and tossed them in the trash. My middle sister objected, fished them out of the trash and kept them. About a year later, as I was visiting my mom and sisters, I went into my middle sisters room. She had the prettiest flowers cut out and sprinkled across her walls. I told her..."Oh, I love those! They are beautiful!" Her eyes flew wide open and her mouth dropped. She started laughing out loud at me. "Those are the ones you painted last year and threw away!" I couldn't believe it. I'd forgotten about them, and seeing them with fresh, unbiased eyes had completely changed my mind.

We are so often our own worst critics. I frequently get upset with myself and will cry myself to sleep when I've had a bad day with my kids. If I raise my voice or say something cross, I feel absolutely horrible and like the worst mom ever. But then I'll read about some truly horrible parent in the paper - someone who neglects or abuses a child...and I realize that I'm just imperfect, not horrible. Or I'll be in public and hear a parent say something harsh like I heard the other day, "Son, you have the smallest heart." (overhearing that comment absolutely BROKE my heart. How could you say that to a little boy???) Times like that remind me that I'm not perfect...but I'm careful...and I love my kids and they are happy children.

Other times, I'll make a mistake while torching...grab the wrong color of glass, or a design won't go the way I want it to. In the past, I'd have tossed my work away immediately...considering it ruined. But I've learned something along the way...PERFECTION IS OVERRATED! ;)

Sometimes the best ideas come from mistakes, sometimes the most beautiful art was a failed version of something else, and definitely the most beautiful people in my life are the most humbly imperfect ones.

So go out there and celebrate your perfect imperfection! I know I am!

Dana :)

Coffee Hair and Sunshine...

When I create, I often find that my artistic time is also a time for reflection. Yesterday, as I sat twirling glass in the flame, I found my mind wandering back to my childhood. When my parents married, my great aunt and great grandmother gave them an acre of land in Indiana on which to build their home. My parent's land connected to their land...about 40 acres or so...and as a young child, I spent endless hours exploring the woods, meadows and creek surrounding our property.

I remember vividly sitting for hours on the sandy bank of the creek that wound it's way through my aunt's land. My coffee colored hair would get so warm from the sunlight as I would sit so very still, thinking about the world around me. After awhile, my stillness made the animals less wary, and I would watch them with quiet curiosity as they skittered around me. Birds, squirrels, chipmunks and even a raccoon and weasel graced my presence on those silent afternoons.

I remember listening to the sound of the water; singing stories of its journeys, and the sound of the wind soughing through the branches of the ancient trees. I'd glance up through the leaves and breathe in deeply as I watched the patterns of deep green leaves against blue sky. The world was a peaceful, gentle place on that sand bar...and I recollect a feeling of oneness with everything around me. I felt as though I were a part of the trees and they a part of me - both of us swaying together in the breeze and rooted in earth. Water surged inside my body and sang in harmony with the creek. The animals and I, we were old friends...brothers and sisters.

I marvel now to think that I was ever such a still child. I look at my own beautiful children...so full of energy and almost never still...and I wonder how it was that I sat for so long...content to just breathe in the beauty of nature. The beauty of life.

As I reminisced about my solitary moments, I realized how very important that stillness was to my inner strength...and how very important it remains. Our worlds, our lives, are so very busy. Always we rush from one obligation to another...and I can't help but feel we are missing it. As I thought about this, I realized that it's time for me, personally, to take back that stillness. To make the time to just breathe in life...to reconnect with this earth...to replenish the strength of my soul.

Dana :)