Pearl's spot on the deck while I write
It has been nearly a month since Pearl and I arrived in Oakland. The first two weeks were consumed with setting up my cottage and organizing work to be done on the main house. This included getting bids from contractors and multiple trips to Lowe’s, Home Depot, Target, Macys, Home Goods, and Ace Hardware. Shopping is not my favorite thing to do but I was determined to make this cottage home for us, and a space where I can write and paint. With nearly 400 square feet, every inch counts. I am pleased with the results. I don’t feel cramped or wish the cottage were bigger. The high ceilings help give a sense of it being bigger than it actually is; however, it is liberating to realize how little space we actually need. It is drummed into our hearts and minds early on that bigger is better, and we must achieve and obtain more--and then more again. When we don't meet every bar, it can cause us to feel inadequate or constantly compare ourselves to others who on surface seem to be more successful professionally and personally. Consequently, I have been thinking a lot about scaling back on space, stuff, and not being in the daily work grind. And I write this as I sit on my back deck with Pearl at my feet, pausing to watch the flower petals from the plum tree cascade to the ground.
Kitchen
Small Spaces.
I lived in a small room in Israel in the late 1970s, setting up a studio in an old bomb shelter, which I shared with many mice. During my 28 years going to the Greek island of Folegandros I lived in a room and painted on any terrace I could wrangle. I often painted on the street. One of the reasons I work on paper is it is portable and can be made to fit any size space. The freedom of having and managing less allowed time for painting and writing. Stepping out of my day to day life of work and parenting gave me the mental space to think deeply, be quiet, and feel the world around me. I painted prolifically, filled notebooks, and later wrote on a laptop for hours. I didn’t miss having more space or stuff, rather, I felt unburdened. Don’t get me wrong, I love my house in Portland, a 1930s Colonial with lots of light, space, and character; however, I also realize I could do with less if needed, or if I choose to change my lifestyle and expectations. And that’s a good thing to be reminded of.
I lived in a small room in Israel in the late 1970s, setting up a studio in an old bomb shelter, which I shared with many mice. During my 28 years going to the Greek island of Folegandros I lived in a room and painted on any terrace I could wrangle. I often painted on the street. One of the reasons I work on paper is it is portable and can be made to fit any size space. The freedom of having and managing less allowed time for painting and writing. Stepping out of my day to day life of work and parenting gave me the mental space to think deeply, be quiet, and feel the world around me. I painted prolifically, filled notebooks, and later wrote on a laptop for hours. I didn’t miss having more space or stuff, rather, I felt unburdened. Don’t get me wrong, I love my house in Portland, a 1930s Colonial with lots of light, space, and character; however, I also realize I could do with less if needed, or if I choose to change my lifestyle and expectations. And that’s a good thing to be reminded of.
Art space
Cozy bedroom
Time.
It’s a mystery concept. We equate time with money, productivity, self-value--how efficient we are. We wrestle with time, try to get more if it, stop it, apportion it, and outsmart it with planners, calendars, and apps. I think about the line, If there were only more hours in the day. And then what? More work? More spinning plates orbiting our existence? Stepping out of the game with my sabbatical to work on what matters to me is something I worked hard for, yet I know it is a function of my privilege as an academic. I especially realize this because I worked 9-5 jobs for over 25 years before going back to school at age 52 for my PhD. I am fortunate to have this cottage, though I worked hard for it too; however, lots of people work hard their whole lives and face obstacles that are not a reflection of their worth, smarts, or effort. I am in a position of having time for lots of reasons, mostly my own doing but I had help and luck along the way. Once you step out of the game, you get perspective to reconsider what you can and can’t live without, and how you want to live moving forward.
It’s a mystery concept. We equate time with money, productivity, self-value--how efficient we are. We wrestle with time, try to get more if it, stop it, apportion it, and outsmart it with planners, calendars, and apps. I think about the line, If there were only more hours in the day. And then what? More work? More spinning plates orbiting our existence? Stepping out of the game with my sabbatical to work on what matters to me is something I worked hard for, yet I know it is a function of my privilege as an academic. I especially realize this because I worked 9-5 jobs for over 25 years before going back to school at age 52 for my PhD. I am fortunate to have this cottage, though I worked hard for it too; however, lots of people work hard their whole lives and face obstacles that are not a reflection of their worth, smarts, or effort. I am in a position of having time for lots of reasons, mostly my own doing but I had help and luck along the way. Once you step out of the game, you get perspective to reconsider what you can and can’t live without, and how you want to live moving forward.
View of San Francisco on my neighborhood walk
Ambition.
The years have changed me. As a young woman I saw a million and one things possible, with energy to match. I wanted to be an accomplished singer, actress, artist, writer, justice warrior. I wanted to soar to the top. I moved fast and furious, racing against time, certain I could beat it. I still have dreams and ambitions; however, age tempers and redefines. I see my role differently, not just climbing a ladder of my own accomplishments. As a teacher it is to inspire my students to be the leaders and pioneers of new practice and knowledge. As an artist and a writer, I want to produce and experience a meaning in my work that provokes me to take risks without worry of outcome. As a scholar, I am interested in deeper meaning and stories that reveal complexity and nuance of the human experience. As a mother, friend, and person in the world I want to cheer others on while making room for my own growth and development. I want to reman curious and willing.
The years have changed me. As a young woman I saw a million and one things possible, with energy to match. I wanted to be an accomplished singer, actress, artist, writer, justice warrior. I wanted to soar to the top. I moved fast and furious, racing against time, certain I could beat it. I still have dreams and ambitions; however, age tempers and redefines. I see my role differently, not just climbing a ladder of my own accomplishments. As a teacher it is to inspire my students to be the leaders and pioneers of new practice and knowledge. As an artist and a writer, I want to produce and experience a meaning in my work that provokes me to take risks without worry of outcome. As a scholar, I am interested in deeper meaning and stories that reveal complexity and nuance of the human experience. As a mother, friend, and person in the world I want to cheer others on while making room for my own growth and development. I want to reman curious and willing.
Stinson Beach Overlook
Stinson Beach Surf
Magic.
When my daughter lived in Paris, I visited for two weeks. While she was at university I walked the streets, sat at cafes, bought our food at small shops, and sat at her dining table writing chronicles of my journey, which I sent out in emails (pre-blog blogging). Her flat faced an inner courtyard. I paused writing listen to the sounds of people in their lives and trees rustle in the wind, watch the birds in flight, and ants creep along the outside window ledge. I thought about how important it was so pay attention to these small and common occurrences, which are often overlooked. Magic is everywhere if we open ourselves to the possibility. It shouldn’t take a sabbatical or some kind of pause in daily life to realize this; however, it often does. I am grateful for this time and space, for the release from work and maintaining a lovely and larger home. For waking up and going from my bed to my art table. For seeing my daughter daily, even if for a few minutes. For visiting with friends I haven't seen in years. For hours with Pearl to grieve for Pandy and adjust to life without her. All this takes time.
When my daughter lived in Paris, I visited for two weeks. While she was at university I walked the streets, sat at cafes, bought our food at small shops, and sat at her dining table writing chronicles of my journey, which I sent out in emails (pre-blog blogging). Her flat faced an inner courtyard. I paused writing listen to the sounds of people in their lives and trees rustle in the wind, watch the birds in flight, and ants creep along the outside window ledge. I thought about how important it was so pay attention to these small and common occurrences, which are often overlooked. Magic is everywhere if we open ourselves to the possibility. It shouldn’t take a sabbatical or some kind of pause in daily life to realize this; however, it often does. I am grateful for this time and space, for the release from work and maintaining a lovely and larger home. For waking up and going from my bed to my art table. For seeing my daughter daily, even if for a few minutes. For visiting with friends I haven't seen in years. For hours with Pearl to grieve for Pandy and adjust to life without her. All this takes time.
Pearl and I at Stinson Beach
At China Camp with Tom and my remaining CC family member Georgette
With Cally, 45 years of friendship.
Surprises.
I was sick for five days with a flu/cold, most of which I had to stay in bed. The universe has a way of stopping you in your tracks. My body hit a wall after three weeks of running around. I slept a lot. I worried about the time passing when I needed to get to work on my research and book proposal. I wanted to get out and take pictures for a series of paintings I am mulling over. I saw my friends on Facebook being productive while all I could do was cough and blow my nose between naps. Inadequacy starting creeping in, which is one of the reasons I went off Facebook for a year, to get comfortable in my own lane (as well as avoid depression from toxic politics). Mostly though, I am relieved to be out of the fray, particularly a break from replying to emails, course prep, being on in class, reading student work, and meetings. I gaze out at the green hills and the Oakland Zoo gondola from the backyard while Pearl naps in the sun. I read novels. I do little dances on my morning walk and revel in views of the San Francisco and Oakland skyline. Do I feel stripped of my identity because I am not a professor every day? Not really, I am elevating, floating with dreams and possibilities, hoping I can bring one or two to fruition, or that something completely unanticipated will unfold. Surprise me world, I’m counting on it.
I was sick for five days with a flu/cold, most of which I had to stay in bed. The universe has a way of stopping you in your tracks. My body hit a wall after three weeks of running around. I slept a lot. I worried about the time passing when I needed to get to work on my research and book proposal. I wanted to get out and take pictures for a series of paintings I am mulling over. I saw my friends on Facebook being productive while all I could do was cough and blow my nose between naps. Inadequacy starting creeping in, which is one of the reasons I went off Facebook for a year, to get comfortable in my own lane (as well as avoid depression from toxic politics). Mostly though, I am relieved to be out of the fray, particularly a break from replying to emails, course prep, being on in class, reading student work, and meetings. I gaze out at the green hills and the Oakland Zoo gondola from the backyard while Pearl naps in the sun. I read novels. I do little dances on my morning walk and revel in views of the San Francisco and Oakland skyline. Do I feel stripped of my identity because I am not a professor every day? Not really, I am elevating, floating with dreams and possibilities, hoping I can bring one or two to fruition, or that something completely unanticipated will unfold. Surprise me world, I’m counting on it.
Sick in bed with a view
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