Deanne Fitzpatrick » Diary, Favourites » heartwarmingly honest letters
heartwarmingly honest letters
Dear Diary, I asked if I could post her (names don’t matter) letter on the blog when she sent it to me during the red bloodstones contest and she said of course. Some how though I couldn’t post it. I decided instead to tell you about it. When I read her letter I felt, in a way, that it was a letter I might have written myself to some one else.
She said, that she had read my blog for years, and learned from me, and had a part time craft business herself but that sometimes she could not understand why she could never be a full time artist. She had struggled with this off and on. Sometimes she resented it a little that she was not living her dream. She was telling me this story. laughingly, but with a reverberating honesty, because she had watched me pursue my dream and was left wondering at times why it was not working for her. Â Upon entering the red bloodstone contest, she said I already have a pair because I said” If Deanne can have them so I can I” and she went to town and bought herself some.
Then one day upon seeing a small child she had taught, she understood why she was not running her dream business, it was because she had dedicated so much of her life to teaching. She came to realization that to have followed one thing would have meant that she had lost another. She would not have had that impact on so many young lives had she pursued her other love full time.
Her letter really got me thinking about what it is to look at other’s lives as we look at our own. I too look at the lives of others and feel tinges of resentment . Like my letter writing friend above I try to counter it with good sense, but still there are times when we want more. We want more gifts ( not the material kind), more talent, more joy, more happiness, more of ourselves, more from ourselves. Â Sometimes when I pick up a book, or see a piece of art, I wish I had made that. I wish that I could be more, do more. I look at others who have become very well known for their art or their writing and I wonder why this art of mine is not more mainstream. Then almost immediately I am thankful it is what it is. That it is small and rich and kind and real and honest. And then I don’t wonder about that foolishness for awhile.
I believe it is the human condition to want. Whether it is a little renovation of the house, or a makeover of the soul. We are a needy bunch, every last one of us. We desire to have more, and we desire to be more. Some of us rest awhile from either of these pursuits, and feel satisfied and comfortable for awhile but then we crave a change, or a desire to learn emerges. Only a few of us are able to forget completely about the outside world, about refining our hearts and minds, about the new refrigerator, or the new coat. Â I know that I want, that I admire, that at times I wonder, and at times I resent.
There is so much pressure these days to live “the dream” , to find the “secret”, to be “it”, to discover “it”, to refine mind body and soul. There is pressure for these things now that never existed before. All I expected from life was a family, a house, a car, and a job, It seemed to be when I was young that that in itself was a lot to expect. I felt that if I could have these things and good health, of course, that I could make my way in the world. That if these things fell into place, I would become myself.
I doubt that my mother ever though much about fulfilling her potential when she was cleaning the Ambrose Shea, a ferry that ran from Argentia to North Sydney. She never wasted a scrap nickel on such thoughts. I just know she didn’t. If her mind started to wander, then she’d let it wander right to Ste. Anne, patron saint of mothers. She was firm in her world, always practical, always grounded. My father on the other hand wondered what he missed. I know he did. He wondered what life would have been like if choices had of been different, if he had been educated, if he had been more. He was a wonderer. My mother was all about  making bread and frying meat. I have a bit of each of them in me, as we do with our parents.
I hate the constant clamouring for the pursuit of happiness, for the best of life, yet I am a clamourer of the highest order. I am what I love, and I am what I dislike. Another sweet taste of the human condition. Â So back to the letter writer, I told her, what I just told you, sweet diary, that we all need and want, and that it is our responsibility to distinguish between the two.
It is our responsibility to love others for what they can do, and to respect ourselves for what we can do. We are all our sweet little selves and it is our job to remain so, to be kind, and to know that even if we are enough, we’ll question it sometimes.
Filed under: Diary, Favourites · Tags: community, friendship, goodness, learning, life
15 Responses to "heartwarmingly honest letters"
Leave a Reply
Online Shop
Good Ideas
Slideshow
Deanne – On your art “small and rich and kind and real and honest”. Not mainstream? Oh but it is for every one of us who has been part of your all encompassing web and that is all that matters.
How did I miss this post? Brilliant!
Your description of your parents and their different life views so much mirrors my own parents. Yes, my dad was the dreamer one–something he also accused me of! I’m afraid it’s true–I love the present, but always wonder “what if” I had done this or gone there.
As quoted by Doris Eaton in her new book, A Lifetime of Rug Hooking…
“When all of religion and philosphy and indeed life itself comes together, the most we can hope for is to become the best that we possibly can, each in our space here on earth, in our age and time of life. In all humility, I have tried to do my best with whatever talents I posses. I aspire to no great heights, just to do my best in my time and place.”
Insightful words to live by I must say.
Sharing is growing, growing is learning and learning is knowledge. P
yup- really enjoyed this post
Could have been me writing that letter too
Such a risk it is to be the artist and give it the time and energy to let it come through…much easier to get distracted… and give in to the pressure to work for $ not passion, dreams, fulfillment… I’m a big fan of balance- a little of this and a little of that…part time work in a helping profession might be the compromise I’m seeking… adding 3 kiddos into the equation though, can take cut right into that artist time with schedules, laundry, meals…cleaning… distractions again…
I’m doing some per diem work right now just a little here and there but feel I’m right at that point where I could go back to work in my field or I could be a starving artist for awhile and I’m not sure what I’ll do. I could work full time in a nursing home right now in my town but think I might be miserable though, financially secure… Hmm
I love this little blog community…I love reading your posts and the posts of others…thank you for this
Ahh Gwen keep hook those mats, they resound
I have read it on your recommendation and passed it on Martie, thanks. I am glad you feel the way you do.
I think that tree rug you drew at the workshop here last fall showed me a lot about you actually Ann. Sometimes we know enough…..that rug was stunning
Oh Deanne, what a great post! You hit it on the nail – we are always wanting and I don’t care who you are it is part of human nature.. it is the degree of wanting and how far we will go to achieve it – that is what makes us all different. When I get to wanting too much – i think of those who have so little, who are suffering and who go to bed hungry – that calms my wanting right down and it goes on the back burner. Yesterday I had a deep want to be younger so I could hook all the rugs that are in my head.. but then I would not want to give up the experiences I have gained over the years. I think people need to stop more often and think about what they have and be grateful for what they have.
Joni
This entry is one example of why I read your blog and books: the honest unveiling of the human condition in our striving for artistic and personal success. I fight this all the time and I hate it. I just want to be me. One of the best tidbits of advice I have heard from you, that I recite to myself all the time: “Do what I do best and do it the best that I can.” That is enough.
Even tho you do not know me, I feel that I know you through your writings and art. I rarely post, but I read regularly. Thanks for including all of us in your life.
I love your posting, as always. I must say that age has helped me get over some of these hurdles, the ones we put in front of ourselves, often needlessly. I try now to be really happy that there are people out there who have the great, creative, ideas I don’t, and be grateful that I can enjoy my crafts in their shadows. I no longer feel the pressure to be the smartest kid in the class, if you will, or always wanting just that one more thing that is surely going to make my life complete. Have you read “Plain and Simple” by Sue Bender? I may have asked you this before. The author spent time living with two distinctly different Amish families, and witnessed their belief that you should enjoy each task, in that moment, and not always be wishing for that moment to be passed so you can get to the next thing (and feel the same). Really, all we have is this moment, and maybe lots more if we’re fortunate; why not spend them being happy?
As usual, Deanne, you are right on.
A few months ago, I was ready to give up rug hooking. I had come to it as a novice a year earlier, during my first visit to the Maritimes. I fell in love, bought a kit and a cheap frame, and joined a group back home. Then I worked at it half-heartedly for awhile, finally finishing my little Jolly Roger mat a year later, thinking “That’s it, I’m done!”
But the enthusiastic response from my new friends, and from the grandson who received my little rug as a gift, had me questioning my waning interest. Meanwhile, a fellow hooker gifted me with some beautiful dyed wool pieces, and I borrowed my group’s collection of dvd’s, including yours. Your approach and technique reawakened the artist in me. I found an old painting I’d done and began reinventing it as a rug. My stash of knitting yarns took on new life in my “painting”. I began to rummage in thrift stores for treasures to add to my palette.
I registered in your online course, ordered one of your frames and a texture pack, decisions which would normally result in some buyer’s remorse. But instead, I play at my new pastime and read your blog every day, and look forward to what’s coming in the mail and on the computer. And I thank my lucky stars that this path presented itself to me and that I stuck with it long enough to experience such satisfaction and fulfillment.
Thank you, Deanne. For your skill as a hooker, and as a writer and a human being. “Inspired Rug-Hooking” indeed.
It is a amazing how we come from so many different places and experiences but somehow our thoughts and struggles are so similar. I relate to so many of your blogs . This one really spoke to me thank you for putting into words thoughts I have difficulty expressing.
Very good post for me to start my day…… I related to every bit of it! I was watching a painter demonstrate her work yesterday where my mother is living. I had just done a pastel the day before and had brought it over to show mom. I was so awed and a intimidated by her abilities to quickly paint these little wonderful pictures as though it were nothing. I had worked all afternoon to get my pastel done, and she is so much better. But…… once I got my pastel out of there, and back to it’s home on the mantel I loved it again. Out of context I guess. The same thing happens when I look at these fabulous hooked rugs I see on-line and in mags. and books. Will these feeling of envy every stop? Most likely not, but maybe that’s part of the process that keeps me learning and creating. I hope THAT never stops!!
beautiful and insightful, on her part and your part.
What a great letter Deanne. You hit the nail right on the head.
I was thinking this morning as I was putting order in my house that we have so much stuff that I have to find a place for everything and we always crave more. I thought of my greed.
When we have nothing we crave and when we have too much we still crave. Happy Friday the 13th. JB