The UU Lent word for today is creativity. It didn’t require much creativity for them to think of that word, did it? I hope I can make my thoughts on this not only creative, but interesting, since only eleven people looked at yesterday’s masterpiece on sanctuary. I enjoyed writing it, anyway.
This is the Instagram post for creativity, with comment.
First, yes, I think creativity is important, and I have no doubt that I am a creative person. That’s probably why I like brainstorming so much. The ideas just keep coming.
This thing I knitted was actually done completely by a set of instructions. Even the yarn is the type called for in the pattern, though I chose the colors and the beads.I have been told many, many times how creative it was.
However, most of my life I’ve always viewed creativity through a narrow lens. My personal definition of creativity seemed to be to think of something new and different and bring it to fruition. Originality has been important to me. In other words, it’s sorta like how some people define art versus craft. Art is original and craft is creating something based on a pattern. I’ve always been crafty, but not artistic (in my own mind).
Because of this mindset, I would always bristle when someone would look at something I knitted, needlepointed, or otherwise “made,” and said, “Oh, you are just SO creative!” I would uncomfortably respond with, “I just followed a pattern, though I guess choosing a color was creative.” Or, I’d get told a newsletter I made was creative, and I’d think, “No, I just arranged what people gave me and put it in a template. Whoever made the template was creative!”
Whoever designed this triple goddess in iron was creative.
I was wrong, so don’t waste your time shooting holes in those arguments. I’ve come to a much wider view of creativity, where I think we all get to join the Creativity Club. Any time we put things together in a new way, tweak a recipe, put together a new outfit, etc., we’re exercising our creative talents. We’re making something new and interesting out of whatever is at hand. I like this viewpoint better.
I’m glad I get to arrange furniture, select lighting and paint, and plan uses for rooms in renovated houses. I’m glad I get to arrange objects on my shelves and tables in ways that please me. It’s great to do crafty things and follow the directions OR branch off. Our minds need to be able to take chances and do new things. It keeps us fresh and alive!
Taking a hideous room with no windows and no ceiling and making it into a workable office…I guess that’s creative.
The Word of the Day in UU Lent is “risk.” Now, there’s a word I’m familiar and even mostly comfortable with. The photo I put on Instagram was this one, taken from the top of the stairs at the Pope Residence, and looking down, somewhat queasily.
I’m not a big fan of heights, but you’re not going to be able to get a shiny new roof without climbing up there.
Risk can be messy, or create messes. Like all the construction debris in the photo, you often have to make a path through a lot of crap when you’re taking risks in life. And there are often metaphorical nails and sharp pieces of metal to wade through.
Easton’s like me. Not a big fan of being on the roof. He and Randy can help from the sturdy floor of the sunroom.
I’ve never been a risk taker. You know how people are divided into the ones who like roller coasters, parachuting, and thrill-seeking activities, versus the ones who prefer their novelty to be more of the “shall I try a new variety of apple?” kind? Well, I have the apple personality.
But as I have gotten older, there are certain types of risks I am more comfortable with taking, like joining groups to make friends, speaking up in work meetings, starting new businesses (talk about RISK – this is WAY beyond my comfort zone for earlier in my life). I think becoming less of a worrier and more of an observer in life helps me be comfortable with this kind of risk taking. You can’t know what’s going to happen in the future, so do what you can do to mitigate risk, then wait and see what happens and deal with what comes up.
This Blog Is a Risk
Today, putting yourself out there in public, warts and all, can be quite a risk. I’m honest about my “stuff” here on this blog, and am not out to make myself look good, be an “influencer,” or make money. I’m here to share experiences that might help others look at things in new ways, or feel less alone in their own experiences.
I’ve received some comments about how that might be risky. Last night, a reader said something about some of the posts being a bit “out there.” And since I have a lot of readers of different backgrounds from mine, I can really see that. I’m not your standard ranch girl, but more of a New Agey hippie trying to fit into a rural culture that has a lot of appeal to me, even if most people aren’t like me.
Another risk
Spring spring. Texas Mountain Laurel to thank Hermits’ Rest readers.
It’s freeing, though, that I’m no longer trying to make everyone like me or please everyone I know. If the stuff I write bothers anyone, they don’t have to read it. There’s certainly plenty of other content out there.
Thanks to you who read this and comment (some in the blog, some on Facebook, and some in person), since learning what you think helps me to get to know you. I know commenting can be a risk, too, but it seems like my community is a supportive one that embraces all perspectives. Take a chance! Participate more, folks!
Past and the Future
When I was in my twenties, big risks were just not my thing. For many years, I tried to stick to a career path I’d set out on at age 18, even when I really needed to get out. I didn’t even DARE do what I wanted to do in my heart, which was perform music with others. By the time I was ready to risk rejection that way, I was much too old for it to be anything other than a hobby. That was the past.
Here they are, live from an iPhone.
The future is bright though. Last week, Anita, neighbor Ruth, and I went to see my son’s band, Big Dallas. It was their first gig, though they have been working on songs a long time. We had low expectations, since they were the first band of the night. But, there were lots of people there, and not just relatives and friends!
And they blew everyone away. Neighbor Ruth said they sound like a country Frank Zappa. The musicianship is so high, and the songs are tongue-in-cheek urban country that has you chuckling the whole time you listen.
It’s Big Dallas, sideways.
Now, this band is a big risk, as all bands are. It’s a bigger risk for my son, who had a huge musical setback last year and nearly gave up his passion. I am really proud of his friends Austin and Russell for taking the risk of sticking with him and working on this amazing music. In my mind, they’ve already succeeded (though I hope to see them again soon).
What risks are you taking now? Are you extra risk-averse, or a go-for-it kind of person?
Hmm, I don’t think I’m referring to being institutionalized. I’ll let you know if I get to that point, though I sure hope I don’t. I know that is hard on everyone involved.
One commitment is to my precious little circle of a doggie.
No, today’s UULent word was “commitment,” and I surprised myself at where my mind went when I read that. At first, I just thought of things I had a strong commitment to, like meditating, walking (i.e., making the Darned Watch happy), my spouse and family, and me.
The Darned Watch. Remnider of so many things I’m committed to. And grackles. Not committed to them.
Then I thought about how very serious I am about commitments. If I say I am going to do something and really commit internally, I go to a lot of lengths to meet those commitments. That’s good, right? I know some non-profit organizations and a boss who are glad I made commitments to them. I once beat myself up if I missed any meeting of anything (wow, I went to a LOT of La Leche League meetings when my kids were little). I’m doing better with that.
Traditional wedding ring. It’s not very me-like, but it reminds me I have committed to a partnership with Lee. He ain’t perfect. Neither am I. Suna ring! What does it spell backwards! Ha ha!
And that’s the thing. As I’ve mentioned before, I tend to over-commit myself. Oh look, here’s another link. It does fill my days up so I can’t ruminate or dwell on things I can’t do anything about, but I do need to rest and recover. As my Suna ring* is supposed to remind me, I am also committed to myself (my physical health, my mental health, my needs).
Sometimes, too, commitments need to be broken, because they aren’t good for you. I know I have held on to more than one relationship too long, because I didn’t want to break a commitment. (A conversation with friends I had last night reminded me vividly that I stuck with people who were not good for my mental health to my detriment.)
Two other examples leap to mind: I broke my commitment to my church when I realized it was not a source of inspiration for me, but a reminder of what’s negative about institutions. I ended my commitment to La Leche League when I realized that the bickering and in-fighting was not going to end and we were never going o be able to just concentrate on our mission. These things were draining me. I’m better now where I can admire these institutions’ admirable qualities, but not be deeply involved in the parts that aren’t good for me.
I’m committed to trying to get 700 minutes of watch-approved exercise this month.
Plus, some of my “commitments” have devolved into habits. I finally stopped subscribing to knitting magazines when I realized I was never going to actually knit anything from them, and I could buy individual patterns when I need them. I was just in the habit of buying things to support a hobby that was no longer bringing me joy. I realized I was knitting because I thought I was supposed to be, not because I enjoyed it. Now I ONLY do it when I feel a real desire.
I guess what I’m trying to convince myself of here is that, while it is good to be committed to a practice, a cause, a person, it’s not necessarily a character flaw to de-commit. I think the result of this UU Lent prompt has reminded me at just the right time that I need to periodically re-evaluate my commitments of all kinds to be sure they are still benefiting me, my family, my community, and my world.
I will not give up the commitment to healthy eating. Thank you, volunteer kale.
Do you have commitments that you may want to move away from? What kind? Why?
*The Suna ring was hand made, and purchased at Silver Dollar City in Branson, Missouri, a place I thought I’d hate but ended up providing a wonderful vacation and a happy time for my sons and me right after that commitment to their dad broke. I still miss the people we went with every day, though I lost them when the La Leche League commitment went bad, big time. It’s hard when your best friends fire you. But, I’ve been wearing that ring nearly 20 years now.
Time for another good ole rant. It’s about names. Names seem to have a magical quality to them. People become very attached to their given names, or they change them to show they have created a patriarchal family unit for tax and procreational purposes (just kidding, marriage). Other people go right out and choose all-new names when the one they started out with doesn’t seem to fit (I chose Suna at some point as a young woman, for long-obscure but spiritual reasons).
Here I am, not happy with the carwash people, who call me Sue.
Throughout the history of the people I mostly descend from (ye olde English, Scots, Irish people) many names have shortened or informal versions, which we are all aware of: Bob for Robert, Bill for William, Meg for Margaret, Kate/Kathy for Katherine, etc. This is just dandy for anyone who likes to use these time-honored naming conventions.
Now, naming conventions do change, even among us English-American types. There are many people whose parents name them the shortened version of a name. I know folks named “Bill” who aren’t Williams, for example. Other people do NOT like the shortened versions, like my late friend Robert, who only let immediate family and close friends call him “Bobby.”
What to Do?
Really, Herbie. Really Danny Boy. Really Johann Sebastian. Get my name right and maybe I will connect with you.
Well, my general guiding principle is to call people by the name by which they are introduced to me. I’m gonna call Pamela that, not Pam (which will make IRL friend Pamela-not-Pam very happy). If someone introduces themselves as Robert, I’m not gonna gush, “Hi Rob, nice to meet you!” I met a Burton a while back, and there was no way I was gonna Burt him until I found out it was okay with him.
This shouldn’t be controversial. People deserve the respect to be called the name they prefer to go by. This has been true for years and years, and is not some new-fangled concept like asking people their pronouns. (I’m she/her.)
What’s Bothering You, Susie?*
Well, what’s common sense to me, and what’s worked most of my life has recently stopped working well. Normally, I introduce myself as “Sue Ann” and depending on the context, I’d say, I also go by Suna. Lately, more and more, the response to that it, “Great! Nice to meet you, Sue!”
DID I SAY MY NAME WAS SUE?
No. I did not.
I do not identify as a “Sue.” When someone calls for Sue in a crowd, I never think it might be me. Or Susan. Or Susie. I am just a non-Sue. I think I’m a little different, and so is my name, I guess.
Nonetheless, every single new coworker that’s shown up in the last couple of months has begun calling me Sue. Master Naturalist Students? 50% Sue. Folks around Cameron? Yep.
Hey, bot., my name’s not Sue and you screwed up my car wash.
And woe is me, even when I fill out my whole name in online forms, it’s Sue Sue Sue Sue. All these texts trying to be all chummy with me from a certain annoying presidential candidate, as well as the car wash people who screwed up so badly that they should literally be groveling…greet me with a chipper, “Hi Sue!”
By the way, for people I meet in person, I do say, when I can get a word in, “I go by Sue Ann.” I sign every blasted email I send with Sue Ann. If someone did that to me when I called them the wrong thing, I’d notice that signature and fix it.
I know others who have it worse, like my husband Lee whose real first name is Ernest (of Earnest as the local newspaper calls him). But he knows to expect that, as did my whole family of origin, who went by their middle name, except for me, the two-word outlier. Once they explained it, people called them the right thing.
It used to be that I knew a phone call or email was from someone who didn’t know me if they addressed me as Sue. But now people who do know me keep doing it. And I hate to say it, but it makes me like a person less when they do that, even when they are otherwise fine.
Nope. Not gonna chat with you, cold emailer.
I’m attached to my name. I like it. It’s been me over 60 years (other than two years in my first marriage). When I get postal mail addressed to my spouse and me, I get an irrational response when I see something like “Suna and Lee Bruns, Jr.” as I got just last week. Who are those people?
Concluding Remarks
I guess everyone has their hot buttons, and now you know one of mine. I’m not like the great poet, the unwashed phenomenon, who once said,
You may call me Terry, you may call me Timmy You may call me Bobby, you may call me Zimmy You may call me R.J., you may call me Ray You may call me anything but no matter what you say Still, you’re gonna have to serve somebody…
Gotta Serve Somebody, by Bob Dylan
Call me Sue Ann or Suna. I’ll call you whatever you would like to be called. I think that’s respectful. Names matter. We all deserve the respect to be called the name we want to be called.
You got any stories?
*There are about three people who can call me Susie. Dad could, but he’s not available to talk anymore.
I used to be a member of a Unitarian Universalist church. This is a religious denomination known for being extra-open to spiritual paths of all sorts. I still like a lot of the things UUs do, and one of them is the idea of “UU Lent,” which is a chance to do some intentional thought about a word per day leading up to the time when many faiths celebrate Easter. And you’re supposed to do a photo each day to show what represents that word to you, as described below (check out the honorifics on the designers; UUs are extra woke).
Here are all the words. They HAD to start with the hard one. Thanks to Robin Slaw for inspiring me.
I’ll post mine on Instagram/Facebook, but also here at the end of each blog post, so you can read ’em or skip ’em, as you see fit. Let’s get reflecting, shall we?
(Note for y’all who don’t know me well: I encourage you to practice your religion however you wish! I respect all of you who take the time out to think about something bigger than you. Yes, even those of you who think I’m on the short path to Hell. We’ll see.)
UU Lent for February 26: Prayer
This has never been my favorite concept, because I just never liked how so many people I was around did it. They tell some Daddy in the Sky to get to blessing them and the people they like right now. I have never been comfortable telling a deity what to do or asking for special favors. And when I eventually realized that my “deity” was good ole Ma Earth, I just felt like I should let Earth deal with things.
I have this collection of objects in my living room that remind me of who I am and who my spiritual role models are. Both the St. Bridget/Goddess Brighid and the white invoking goddess a friend look like they are praying, so that’s my image for “prayer.” All the nature things, even the candle wax that looks like a triple moon, help me focus on taking care of all of our planet.
On the other hand, I’ve never had a problem putting out intentions into the world, but I guess it felt more like I was making an effort to make change happen, not passively waiting on some other entity to do it. And I do occasionally meditate on a topic, which is prayer-ish.
On the third hand, you know, the invisible one, I’ve seen many people perform “prayers” that I found quite moving and comfortable to me. I’m glad I got old enough to really understand that everyone’s ideas about God(dess) and their spiritual paths are their own and not my problem (well, until I get punished for not participating in the dominant paradigm, which can happen…).
It’s such a sunny, clear morning that the fog and gloom of the last week or so seems a distant memory. It’s got me thinking.
Bobcat Run at sunset.
Tenpetal anemone, which is named after another Greek myth, but is a welcome early sign of spring at the ranch.
I’m thinking and hoping the glorious sunset that I got to enjoy with the Austin neighbors seems to signal that maybe I and all my associates can start to crawl out of their holes, and rise, like Persephone, from the darkness. It’s a little late, but I have hope today. If kale can grow in the middle of the messy garden at the ranch, I can deal with the mess in my life.
Free food! Carlton inspects the volunteer kale I found. You just never know what’s going to come up, from the ground, or in these weird-ass times we live in.
I’m thinking of the sad person on my friends’s blog yesterday. We’ll probably never know how much help we were, but I was touched by the kind words fellow blog readers sent their way. At least a whole lot of positive energy came that person’s way…and I think energy like that can’t hurt.
I think a lot of the energy around me that is so sad has to do with being tired: me, my family, my friends, my cuber-community. I’m a lot better after my day off on Sunday. My poor friend at work was so exhausted from traveling to the other side of the world and getting flu that she turned blue and started shaking. ARGH. “Just exhaustion” is still exhaustion!
In a total aside, guess who was really thrilled to get to Austin? This dapper guy, along with his photo-bombing buddy in the corner. He later got to destroy the squeaker in his tuxedo.
Think!
I think I can!
Keep thinking and wondering. New life and new adventures always await. Look at the very early Indian Paintbrush blossom I found on my walk last Sunday. It’s a little bedraggled, since its brethren are still sprouting up, but the little bursts of orange on the side of the road were just what I needed to see.
Maybe the colors will keep getting brighter as the sun and rain wake up all the wildflowers and bring the middle of Texas back to its yearly celebration of pollination and abundance. I think so.
May the pansy fairy remind you of cheerful faces, even in the darkness.
My old friend Kathy D. reminded me that the pansies of winter always keep me going (even though I didn’t have any real ones this year). I just have to look to see that magic is everywhere and it’s not all bad. That’s just me, though, after all my years of positive thinking training.
Yep, I get it that it’s sometimes harder than others, and for people dealing with depression it’s worse. I do NOT want to be one of those people spewing forth platitudes like “just smile” or whatever. If it’s not in you, don’t. But DO keep putting one foot in front of the other and at least nod to the beauty you pass by, so you can enjoy it later.
Let’s stick together and see what we think about this spring. Change is in the air. We may NEED to stick together!
Here in Blogland, one of my friends has had an upsetting experience. She has a frequent commenter who leaves unusual comments, which she always reads and accepts. We all know some “nonstandard” people we care for deeply, or are nonstandard people who are glad people care for us. And we are all challenged by life from time to time, if not often.
This morning’s fog has been with me all day.
Today, out of the blue, the frequent commenter on my friend’s blog posted that they were going to commit suicide. Wow, that cry for help went to someone who didn’t know who or where it originated. What to do?
My fellow blogger is pretty smart, and she also contacted WordPress for advice. Then, she gave the commenter the number for the national suicide hotline and the URL to hotlines outside the US:
All of us fans of the blog also reached out to let the commenter know that we do care. I think we have all been touched by suicide and feel empathy and love for people in crisis. We all hope this blog reader has found help.
I hope the fog has cleared for the person who reached out.
These are hard times for many of us. But we need each other. If you need help, use these resources, reach out to a real-life friend by phone, text, or in person, and remember you are valuable, just as you are.
Hear ye, hear ye! I’m taking today off. I am not doing regular work, volunteer work, or family stuff. I’m having a self care day!
I even gave the Bitmoji new glasses and shirt.
Much of my day will be spent looking at these guys.
A symphony in earth tones.
Or this guy.
It’s my scarred-up white haid!
Vlassic is out visiting Jim again so no picture, but I got all emotional about losing him last night and got all weepy. Harvey immediately ran to my side and started licking me. Then Penney came. Vlassic licked me, too. That was the first time I really cried in ages. I don’t think it was actually about Vlassic, but about losing all my lost loved ones.
So that made me decide to take the day off. The rest of the family went on a trip, so it’s just me and Lee until dinner, which will be pizza with the Sunday dinner gang. I’m gonna take a bath and do my hair, read, and knit! Yes, knit!
Yarn from Blue Mule, near Round Top.
It’s going to be a cowl you can also wear like a shawl someday. It’s called Nomad. It’s on Ravelry.
It’s not too hard, not too easy.
The most strenuous thing I’ve done today is go look at the chickens and the young cows who are currently behind the house. They just love the chickens and the dogs.
Y’all don’t scare us.
They are such friendly young ladies. I think they were the first ones born here after the pink mamas showed up. They are all named 18. Or they’re new. I don’t know. I just enjoy how friendly they are.
Got any food?
I enjoyed taking some portraits, and hope you like them, too.
Everybody wants to sniff the culvert
Number 1 is very friendly
Number 9 has a black nose
The black ones are smaller and fuzzier
Reverse Oreo sandwich
These white sweeties got double photobombed
The Cows at Hermits’ Rest
I hope your day is peaceful, or that it’s fun, whichever you need. How are you doing self care today?
Cameron, Texas is a town full of holes. Part of its fading small-town charm is that very few things are in tip-top shape, so holes are everywhere.
Now, the true banes of my existence are the holes in County Road 140, where the Hermits’ Rest is located. As a matter of fact, I even made a movie of the potholes last year. At the moment, there are a few places where no matter how hard you try, you ARE going to hit a pothole. A couple of them are so deep that I’m surprised people haven’t lost wheel covers.
Red stars are our ranch community houses. 140 is the land of the potholes.
And ARGH, never ride in a car with someone unfamiliar with the road who doesn’t know to weave right and left to avoid the Big Ones and slow WAY down on the humpy section at the hill! I thought I was gonna get sick when Mike was driving me on Sunday.
The pothole situation in the county is so bad that a couple of people have bought their own equipment and begged the city to let them maintain their own roads. I don’t think our front-end loader can cut it, though.
Ground Holes
Canova and me at the Bistro
My sister dropped by today to have lunch and see the progress on the Pope Residence, and she needs to be careful when she’s walking. There was NO way I’d lead her across the empty lot (AKA “The Old Rossen Place”), because there are so many depressions where there were once trees. I think I’ve talked about it before, but since we’ve been having so many elders and people dealing with mobility issues, these things just LOOM in my mind. Stay on the walkways, everyone! (We do have insurance, and we do plan to level that ground.)
Holes in Houses
I am much happier with some of the holes in our renovation project, though. Chris and Easton moved the back door over, to make room for the length of stairway we’ll need to give the bathroom a ceiling. He sent me this picture:
It’s a long way to the ground now!
I looked at it and said to myself, “Hmph, the door is in a good place but, why is it opening that way?”
Not five minutes later, I got a text from him saying, “It opens the wrong way, but it will open right once we move the front door to the back.” How’s that for anticipating my criticisms! Smart guy! In any case, the doorway hole is a good one.
There are lots of holes in the ground and in the floors right now, too. That’s because plumbing experts showed up to repair all the lines and install the ones for the break room area and the bathrooms. Once they are done, we can put in floors! Hooray!
The installation in progress.
Old pipes were replaced here.
Bad tree. Bad tree.
They made sure to get all the outside work done today, since it’s supposed to rain the rest of the week. I like it when people are careful like that. One of the guys told me he’d get rid of the annoying sapling/weed tree growing right next to the house and on top of where the plumbing goes in. I will be sure to kill its trunk to death, since it can’t be helping the house stay level.
Here’s the framing for the stairs and bathroom. The floor has holes, for plumbing.
This kind of stuff.
A final hole I’ve been thinking about is the ones caused by the tiles in the Hermit Haus cracking. We have decided to just pull them all up, remove the walls, and cover the entire flooring area with that nice stuff people put down in garages, with the little sprinkles. That should last forever, and if the ground shifts, it won’t be the end of the world.
More later. Gotta get more work done before the exciting Chamber of Commerce Banquet!
Today was all about light. I am staying at the ranch this week, for the first time in ages, so I got to wake up after sunrise, though it was so foggy. Nice, gentle light.
As the only bush at the Pope Residence, the nandina, shows, it was damp this morning.
When I got to the office, my first task was to check out the progress with the Pope Residence. Behold! There’s a new window where the laundry room door was, which will light up that room!
They recycled a lot of old siding to rebuild the wall.
Back at the office, the UPS dude showed up and brought a giant box. Was it my chandelier? Nope. It was a beautiful lamp I’d ordered for my desk. It’s called a turtle lamp, for the glass shape. The bottom lights up to be a night light, too. It will look so cool!
Quite red, isn’t it? But it casts white light for reading.
So, where is my chandelier? I finally called up Lamps Plus, and they looked into it. The customer service lady kept saying how gorgeous it is. It turns out the label had fallen off and it never shipped. They were appropriately apologetic and promised to ship the new one immediately! We will see.
However, more lights appeared this afternoon! Kathleen picked up some old hanging lamps she bought from some friends of ours. They are all dusty now, but we’re really looking forward to cleaning them up.
Dusty beauties. Two gold, one red.
I plan to hang one by the Grape Throne. By the way, here are the grapes.
The throne’s grapes
And finally, the day ended with a light show. I just can’t feel sad when Nature keeps reminding me of her glory.
The Hermits' Rest 