[some pretty scenes from around here, these past few days]
I’ve been meaning to tell you how I begin my mornings in the studio, if it is a work day for me. Here’s what I do. I walk in, turn on all my machines and lights, crank the heater up to full blast and if it’s cold enough, I light the propane heater as well and huddle around it for a moment (like a member of a bison herd in a blizzard) because the heat is sheer ecstasy on my hands and face which, at this point, have already started to turn a little blue.
I step up to the long work bench against the West wall of the building, the wall that holds an enormous window that looks out into my sleeping rose garden, a field of sage, and eventually the rise of the mountains, white and brutal with winter. The sun is pouring in the window, bucketfuls of the stuff, I squint in the brightness. While I stand there, I reach my arms out wide, as though those scrawny things are awkward wings. I reach my arms out wide, lift my face to the light and I pray. I pray to be filled to overflowing with pure joy. I pray for the wounds of my heart to be healed. I pray with compassion and love for the people who would seek to hurt me, and in praying for them, my own faults are revealed to me, and I acknowledge those faults one by one, and do my human best to turn away from them. I pray to be breathed into, to be inspired, that everything I see and touch would register in my mind and heart in a sort of rich, fourth dimension, that my work would have motion and direction, that my pen would be filled with wisdom and joy, that the things I create will hold peace and that my efforts would encourage and lift the spirits of others. I spend some time in silence, basking in the light, being filled with peace, having my very self wiped clean, refreshed, revived.
I imagine myself in a forest where it is cold and snowy. I trudge through the white and the timber, foot after foot, until I find a place in the trees I like. I bend down, kick the snow from the ground and make a small bald spot in the dirt. I pick handfuls of dry grasses, crumple them in my hands, lay them in the space I have made in the snow. I collect small twigs, fallen branches, perhaps bits of lichen that drip down from the arms of the fir trees. I build a little pile of tinder that leaves space for air, for motion of breath, a gap for the flames to eat at oxygen. I reach into my pocket and draw out a book of matches. I rip one away, scrape it across the matchbook, and hear the snap and hiss of a flame come to life. I hold the match up to the kindling I have gathered and watch the flame devour, in small gulps, the offering I have made it. The orange light of my tiny fire disappears for a moment, only to reappear larger and brighter and stronger, tinged with blue tips. White smoke is rising. I nurse the fire, stick by stick, tend it kindly and gently with soft hands, I add to it slowly, larger and larger pieces of wood. When the time comes, I put my face as close to the flames as I dare, and I gently blow into my fire, to support it with more oxygen as it eats away at wood and air. The flames leap higher, the fire is sustained, growing, consuming. I think about the quiet flicker of the sacred heart in my chest, the small heart of mine, that delicate thing. I think of it beating away there, melded with my spirit, woven and blended with my soul. I think about how the tiny flame, the pilot light of my soul, yearns to burn brightly and ferociously, it yearns to be breathed into, to be tended, to be fed. It crys out for inspiration, the very divine breath of God, the whisper of the wind in the fir stands, the holy language of the rolling creeks, the mystery of roots as they wend deep and devour stone.
That’s what I hope for, in the mornings when I stand at the window in my studio, about to begin work — I hope for vitality of spirit, a quickening of intuition, to be breathed into, to have the tiny flame of my sacred heart fanned into a roaring fire.
Then, I work.
Love your prayers…love your wisdom…the scenery took my breath away for a moment…good monday to you xx
Amen.
Very beautiful, and it shows in your work.
Good gravy…how you make going to work and lighting a fire so sweetly enchanting! 🙂 You are amazing. Can’t WAIT to see you! xx
This is why you are so gifted and blessed!! Thank you so much for sharing this. It is a necessary reminder for me. When I was childless, I walked so closely with God. Now I am tired, distracted, overwhelmed at times, cranky at times. Missing that communion so very much.
I really need to start getting up before everyone else. I miss who I was, but mostly I just miss Him.
Enjoy your day – those rings you made were utterly gorgeous!!
I see beauty growing……yes I do!
Jillian, the raw beauty and tenderness to which you describe your day and your intentions is exactly what a fire needs to grow. Your energy and grace is your kindling and your soul is the log that keeps the fire going. Thank you for sharing friend. XX
amen: to all the words, all the photos.
i count myself quite blessed to be your friend.
xx
[i steal your prayers quite often. i know you say it is silly, one cannot “steal” prayers, but i take them and make them my own, because you are so much wiser and more in tune with the Almighty than anyone i know….]
but OF COURSE you do!!!!!
I love your process sister
everything unfolding to open the creative heart
beautiful….
that is why your work is birthed in such authenticity
love the rings
love the blouse
love you
love and light
THE perfect way to start the day!
(Such a pretty blouse too)
xx
Nature is a holy thing, I endeavor to carry her lessons through my days as well. Inspiration, intuition, honesty, beauty and a steadfast carrying-forth. My meditation, and the only church I desire to know.
XX
This is why you shine so bright – reflecting God’s light! What a beautiful tribute to where real beauty/truth can be found…. stilling the raging waters in our own heart… until they smooth out, becoming a mirror, reflecting our Maker. You beaut. Thanks for sharing this glorious approach to your work/life/being!
xx
mel
needle and nest design
You lift my spirits with your creations, process, humor, genuine compassion and words of wisdom.
Beautiful girl, beautiful soul.
XX
Hi JSL! i love you, the pic of you at your desk with all the plants is my fave. thinking of ya – spring feels closeby up here, it was +2 today. xoxo
My spirit lifted reading this and my heart warmed with thoughts of creating my own ritual. You are tapping the divine, my dear. When can I expect to read your book? 🙂
Holy cow. And here I thought I was doing amazingly well if I make it downstairs without stubbing my toe and manage to find a pen that works! (Maybe I can come visit your forest.)
xxx
you are a shining spirit; a bright, bright soul and I am so happy to have met you.
✯K
You are all so kind and lovely.
Thank you for being here.
happiest birthday to you! i always love looking into your world~as a montana and little bit of idaho girl now living in san francisco, it’s heartening to see that the north carries on. ~even