rise

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‘You may encounter many defeats,
but you must not be defeated.
In fact, it may be necessary
to encounter the defeats, so you
can know who you are,
what you can rise from,
how you can still
come out of it’
~Maya Angelou

This is from a high school football game. Giving up wasn’t an option.

Oconomowoc High School
Oconomowoc, WI
11-0 season

Photo: MacKenzie Valley

the artist

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Creativity is not the finding
of a thing,
but the making something
out of it
after it is found.
~James Russell Lowell

Months ago I had a vision & a dream to heal my sad heart.
I hoped I would find an artist who had a creative mind and a sense of history. Someone who saw new life in the wood of a old barn.

One evening, I had come across a beautiful barn holding onto its last breath. By sunrise the next morning I was wading through knee-high grass with my camera in full creative mode and in love with the moment.

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I passed the same location soon afterward, a big pile of rubble was all that remained. I was devastated and wondered what would happen with the barn wood that had been harvested? My imagination ran wild with endless possiblities: barn wood flooring? dining tables? rustic walls inside a city studio? bonfires? My heart was heavy as I wrote a blog. *

You see, I have a ‘thing’ for barns, especially really old barns. I feel a quiet energy in the history of what remains after years and years of snow, rain, sun, sweat, heart aches and celebrations. I feel the same about old doorways and window frames with ancient paint peeling off and rusted hinges trying to hold them together. I love to have my camera with me when I come upon a barn – it’s usually the perfect model, well lit and full of emotion.

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So, back to my search for an artist.

The rain was just starting and we were still a 20 minute walk back to the car. It was my first visit to the Cranberry Festival–a mixture of creativity and humanity. We were taking in just one more aisle of craft booths when I came around a corner and saw barn wood. Actually, a rustic booth of barnwood trays on display. I did a double-take. I evesdropped on a conversation already underway and couldn’t believe my ears…barn wood trays…made from reclaimed…barn wood!

In my soul I was so content – I found someone who has masterfully crafted beautiful and functional art work. Someone understands the beauty & energy of the wood and is preserving it’s history.

In my excitement, I tried to explain to the artist how happy I was to see Barnwood Trays and tried to tell him that I just wrote a blog, yadda-yadda–was looking for an artist…and you are it! I’m certain my words were just a jumble of incoherent thoughts as the rain fell more steadily and I attempted to find the perfect tray to purchase.

The tray selection process was tough because there were so many sizes and styles to choose from. Each tray seemed to have a unique personality of grain and knots and each one was simply beautiful. The best part? On the bottom of every BarnwoodTray is a photograph of the original barn with a story of it’s history. A birth certificate, of sorts.

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Finally I made my selection, and carried it under my raincoat to protect it…giddy with the thrill of finally finding the artist. My heart smiled for days.

I look back and laugh at myself…wouldn’t the barnwood survive a little rain?

*http://wp.me/p3rHYI-2Y (link to ‘second time’ my original post)

Dan and his family are the barnwood artists who create beautiful trays, coffee tables, wine racks and preserve history. You can find BarnwoodTrays at shows in the mid-west (USA), Midwest Living Magazine, facebook & Pinterest. Please visit www.Barnwoodtrays.com to read their story &
to see their work!

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book club

A book club isn’t about the books.
Sure, sure. We read, we gather, we discuss.wavphotobooks.jpg

We’ve been known to open a bottle of wine.

Things that really happen at our book club? Sharing ideas, challenging our own view of the world, listening to each other’s stories–the struggles, the celebrations and everything in between, laughing that kind of wet-your-pants, tears-streaming-from-your-eyes, can’t-stand-up laughter, and crying when no words are needed – only hugs, and bonds of friendship begin to take hold.
Oh yes, and we eat.

All this doesn’t happen in one night, but over time.
Except for the eating part. That part happens each time.

I was in a book club and even after moving across the country, joined that group on a trip to celebrate our 100th book. Oprah started a wonderful trend both in getting people to read and in creating a special gathering to share thoughts. After I moved, I missed my girlfriends and book group and started to ask people I met about book clubs…”are you in one?” The responses I heard were across the board–some groups had a waiting list for entry (I was amazed), one woman told me she gets stressed-out a week prior to her meeting – each member was required to write a book report and present it to the group (no…no, thank you). Many groups limited their selections to one genre – historical fiction is very popular.

I was on my own — until I wasn’t. I met some interesting women and invited them. The requirements: you must be smart, fun and like to read. Pretty simple. Any one of us could invite others…most of us kept coming back. We share hosting in our homes and everyone brings “something small to nibble on” (but that’s it’s own story). And there’s wine.

Over the years the confines of book group expanded from just once a month to gathering as friends. We’ve celebrated graduations (not only the kids’), art shows, holiday sweaters, teen agers doing well and the home team winning it all. We’ve shared in sympathy the struggles of losing a parent. Together we learned new things like how thrilling it is to launch a potato into a crisp Fall evening, that watching a baseball game played in football weather can create lasting memories and that when magic happens on ice we share “good curling” and celebrate with the opponent.

Book club isn’t really about the books for me.

It’s about people who touch my soul and make me a better person.

I honor and celebrate one of those special people today. Ali came to book club highly recommended (and rightfully so!) with a wonderful sense of humor and a Scottish accent which made everything she said even more endearing. One Valentine’s Day, Ali shared with us her love and expertise of curling, coaching us onto (and off of) the ice. Her enthusiasm for hunting down the perfect prop for a high school drama performance was contagious. She helped us all learn a little more when she studied for and passed her USA citizenship test. Every time I color my hair at home I hear her voice in her beautiful accent, “you’re doing yourself a box job“. It always brings a smile to my face, and yet, a tug on my heart. Ali would smile all the time which just made her even more beautiful as a woman.

One year ago tonight we gathered again at book club. Everyone intuitively brought chocolate. Our hugs were longer, tears flowing gently. I have no idea what the book was. It didn’t matter. We were all numb. Ali’s struggle ended in the early morning hours, one year ago today.

Our book club gathered at her funeral. There were no words.
It wasn’t about the books.

Today I will celebrate all the good things that Ali brought into my world as I mourn the loss of a beautiful person. I will remember the happiness she brought wherever she went. I will remind her children of how much she talked about them and how proud she is of each of them as they find their way in the world. I know they miss her and I can’t imagine the void. For her husband, we will be there to share memories and try to help fill the empty day.

Good Curling, Ali~
xo

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namaste

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My soul honors your soul.
I honor the place in you where
the entire universe resides.
I honor the light, love, truth,
beauty & peace within you,
because it is also within me.
In sharing these things
we are united, we are the same,
we are one.

Emmons

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I’d rather be standing at the top of the hill I just dominated -unable to breathe, ready to puke, hair matted to my forehead, than at the bottom wondering what it would be like~

11 hours & 55 minutes into our hike we summited our fourth Adirondack mountaintop that day. The one word on the yellow disk on the tree, “Emmons”.

The rain started enroute to our second peak. Raincoats came out early and stayed on late into the night with hoods pulled tight for warmth against the cold night air.

Clearly there were other places to be instead of hiking a herd path with a flowing river surrounding each footstep. My cousin, Pam & I couldn’t think of any place we would rather be that day than in the Adirondack wilderness about to conquer ‘The Sewards’ – four remote mountains on a 21 mile hike.

We had done our preparation: research, planning and physical conditioning over the long winter. We were ready to hike and we were ready for The Sewards.

Pam & I made a commitment to each other that we would “finish our 46”. Translation: we would complete hiking & summiting the remainder of the 46 Adirondack Mountains (peaks). I already had climbed 15, Pam had 30. When originally measured, all peaks were over 4,000′ in elevation. Some are a lot closer to a parking lot than others.

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Why, you ask?
It’s kind of a long answer…let’s start hiking.

*for those who recognize their mountains, correct-this view is not from/of Emmons!
the photo on the bottom of the page you’ll recognize as Emmons!