On Extending Grace

I heard this yesterday, as part of a liturgy from a congregation to new church members:

"We will not act as though you have to earn your way in."

Beautiful... it touched my heart in a significant way regarding a situation I’m currently going through, that I am not at liberty to talk about here, but this got me thinking…

How hard do you make it for people to earn their way into your company, your organization, your circle of friends, your family, your life, your heart?

What if grace came first, followed closely by support and trust?

How judgmental are you of the actions, attitudes, emotions, situations, history, and words of others?

How would it feel to engage the world with more grace, more love, more openness?

These are things that a single statement made me think about. I have come to realize that I’ve been judgmental of a close friend of mine, for some mistakes and bad choices he has made in the past. I’ve been working hard to make him earn his way back into my life, and it hit me yesterday that he deserves my grace.

I’ve screwed up, I’ve made mistakes, I’ve done a bad job at some things, but that doesn’t make me a bad person, a bad woman, a bad volunteer, a bad employee, a bad human.

It just means I am not a robot, and I don’t have it all figured out, and that’s kind of what living is all about, isn’t it?

So, I ask you… on this, Martin Luther King, Jr. day of celebration and reflection: where can you extend more grace?

Who do you feel least deserves grace?

Chances are, that’s the person who needs it most.

Slaying the Grief Beast

So, based on my last post, where I said I was going to be more real and authentic in my blog—all I can say is… here I go. Melissa helped give me the courage, because she is so honest and real in her writing… she doesn’t hide, and, you know… I think that’s a good policy.

The reality of my life is that I’m getting divorced.

At the moment, I actually feel okay about it. It’s not like these things happen overnight… the decision came after years of serious consideration. And I don’t want to go into details, because that isn’t fair to him, or to me. But, suffice it to say, this year has been a rough one in countless ways.

Grieving my marriage also caused a lot of other things to spring up and slap me in the face… things I’d never dealt with. A litany of choices, events, and traumatic experiences have come back to haunt me in ways I never expected.

Big things, like the death of my grandmother.

I thought I had grieved her death, but what I’d actually done is shut out all feelings I had associated with her: the good, the bad, the indifferent. I hadn’t actually grieved her passing, though.

She was a special woman in my life. A beacon of light, a pillar of strength, and the tallest five-foot-two-inch woman I’ve ever known.

And by denying all of my feelings about her death, I also denied her importance in my life.

I’ve been through a lot over the past six months, but I’ve turned a corner, and I’m on my way up. Looking at my life, and all the choices I’ve made that have led me to where I am right now, I realized that my grandmother is not only with me in spirit—she’s in my blood. The decisive, action- and results-oriented parts of me, the bold woman who travels by herself without giving it a second thought, the fearlessness I’ve recently re-discovered… those parts all come straight from Bessie Pauline Freeman Johnson.

Realizing this gave me a breath of new life. I don’t worry about missing her anymore, because I know she is within me. She is here whenever I need her, in my heart, in my veins, in my very cell structure, helping me make tough decisions and get on with living my life.

But it’s not just about moving on.

Grief is about honoring the pain, and allowing feelings to rise to the surface and be. And somehow, I have found the courage to do just that.

I’ve cried in more places than I ever thought possible: on the public benches of Kennebunkport, Maine; in Rockefeller Center, New York City; in Starbucks; on the subway; in a bead shop; in Times Square; in the privacy of my own home; in so many other places…

The tears have come,

in the most unexpected moments,

in the most unexpected ways,

the tears have come,

and they’ve shocked me into submission every time.

And I’ve written every day. I’ve written in a paper journal since I was 9 years old, but this is different—in September, I committed to write in my paper journal every single day through the end of 2010.

I’m on my fourth journal since making that commitment. Apparently I have a lot to say!

But, doing that writing has helped me so much. Sometimes, it’s helped me shake something lose that I’d been picking at in my mind for ages, but until I wrote it down, it didn’t quite make sense.

Sometimes, writing has helped me capture memories, and other times, it’s just a daily record.

And it’s all been part of my bizarre, lonely, twisted path of grief. I have been walking through it, for the first time in my entire life, actually dealing with all the things I’ve never grieved.

Grief is a strange thing, and I don’t really understand it. It is an odd and shocking beast. The only way to slay it, it seems, is with a tiny, inadequate sword, one slice at a time. It takes too long, it’s arduous, the beast keeps coming back for another round, mutating in places where you’ve made progress… it’s elusive, hiding in dark shadows and broad daylight.

I think that if you’re exhausted, all the time, then you’re probably slaying the Grief Beast properly. That is to say, you’re creating room in your heart for the good things that come after.

And that’s important, because there are many good things that come after a time of grief… and they deserve to be received with an open heart.

And my heart is open wide, for the first time in many, many years.

You know… it really is a remarkable thing to be human. The capacity to laugh, to cry, to feel such deep and intense emotions—and, when sunk at the bottom of the pit of despair, something simple and honest and real can be just the impetus for a hearty laugh that instantly transports you back to normalcy.

Being human is a treasure. Not always a pleasure, but always a very special privilege.

I am privileged to be me, right here, in this moment.

I am right where I need to be.

The Only Constant in Life? Change...

I have a few things to talk about today, and a few pictures to show you. Ready?


First... my sale is still going strong. I've even posted a few new things... so please do check it out. At 20% off everything in the shop, it's really hard to go wrong. 


Second... I've made a necklace for myself. Yup, another one. It features some of the most gorgeous rainbow moonstone I've ever seen, including a really large teardrop briolette that I've coveted for myself for ages, now. I finally made the necklace that's been sitting in my head for a long time.

What do you think? I like that I can remove the pendant at the bottom easily enough and put something else there, or, depending on the neckline of what I'm wearing, leave the hook empty. I could see some yummy larimar hanging from that hook, though... mmm...

I'm really getting into hammering wire and texturing the heck out of it. I love the look. And it's really fun! 


Now... the next thing is that my friend Sarah has opened a new Etsy shop for her jewelry. I can't say I'm surprised, since she's been making jewelry for a little while now. But have you seen her latest jewelry? It rivals any of the best jewelry I've seen. She's really upped the ante on her work by learning to work with wire. She's really making it work for her... in very cool ways. 


To say I'm a little intimidated would be an understatement. I mean, why would anyone want to buy anything from me anymore... when you can buy Sarah's amazing beads in her own amazing jewelry? C'mon, now, go check it out!


I'm going through some changes right now, and change is hard. My confidence has been knocked around a bit, and I'm trying to find my footing. 


One of the things I'm changing is my jewelry. I'm pushing myself to come up with more and more unique designs... because, let's face it. A few years ago, nobody was making jewelry that was quite like mine. Now, I see jewelry just like mine everywhere I go... except that now I consistently see jewelry that's far more inventive, clever, amazing, and beautiful than mine.


Part of the reason? Those jewelry artists have more time than I do. 


I work full time, so any time I get to devote to creating is at night, when I'm already tired from the day, or during the weekend, when I'm also trying to cram in errands, time with friends, and chores like laundry. There isn't much I can do about it at this point, but it really leaves me feeling a bit lost as an artist. 


I almost feel like there's nothing original anymore... so what's the point in even trying to be different? 


That's not a good place to be in when you're an artist.


I'm working through that, and also working through all the other crap I'm going through (because losing my identity as an artist just isn't enough), so that's one of the reasons why I've been so quiet.


I'll end on a good note, though.


I've managed to lose 31 pounds, and if I keep it going at the pace I've established over the last few months, I'll reach my original goal weight by the end of January 2011. That's very encouraging!


Here's a photo I snapped this morning. 

I can see how my face is thinner... and though I still have a long way to go, I'm very, very motivated. It's one of the best things in my life at the moment, and I'm clinging very tightly to that...

What's In A Name?

I love getting gifts. I love to give them even more, but that isn’t the point of this post.

At the top of my list of Things I’d Like to Receive is a priceless gift that everyone I speak to can give me. It’s so simple, you may not believe it. Better yet? It doesn’t cost you a dime!

I’d really just like everyone to call me by name: Linda Lee.

You see, for the first half of my life, I was called by my first name—Linda.

It’s a fine name. I have a friend named Linda. I’ve known many people named Linda.

The thing is... I've never really liked it for me. I never felt it suited me.

Growing up, I often considered changing my name altogether. I always wanted my name to be Elizabeth. I would use the name Elizabeth anytime I wrote a novel. (Yes, I wrote novels in elementary school. One of them even got up to 11 or 12 chapters before I abandoned it.) Even in some of my writings today, I often revert to the name Elizabeth, whether or not I'm in the story. At this point it's just habit.

But back to my first name: Linda. When I left home for college, I considered adding my middle name, Lee.

Over time, I integrated the use of my first and middle name, Linda Lee, into my life—first, through work, then through friends, then through acquaintances, etc.

Finally, I told my family that I'd started using my middle name.

Oddly enough, my sister had also started using her full name. Her name is Wendilyn. Actually, it's Jill Wendilyn, following a naming pattern for the women in my family. She's always gone by Wendy... but within the past several years she's started using her full name, Wendilyn.

I wonder if we both felt like we grew into our names.

Now, of course, I go by Linda Lee exclusively—except for a few errant doctor’s offices and some members of my family, on whom I’ve given up the prospect of ever being called by the name I’d like to hear. (Especially regarding family—it’s about picking your battles, and some battles aren’t worth fighting, ya know?)

I feel that Linda Lee suits me perfectly. Many people shorten it to “LL”, and I've also been called "Double L" Or "Luhluh" or other endearing shortenings of my name.

I think that going by Linda Lee serves several purposes.

Not only does it speak to me tonally, and "fit" who I am, but it fits who I've become as a woman, and who I will be, throughout the years of my hopefully long and healthy life.

Linda Lee signifies the changes I've already worked so hard to make, and the development I have yet to traverse.

(For example, my name gives me permission to be playful and light-hearted, which is a personality trait that’s natural to me, and yet—it’s one I’m working on developing. I’ve kept my inner Entertainer under wraps for far too long, and now she’s coming out to have some fun! See that little girl? That's me... she lives inside me every day, but now she likes to come out to play relatively often.)

I am proud of my name.

Now, most conversations with someone new start off with me introducing myself, and correcting the other person when they call me Linda. I don’t mind, but I do wish people wouldn’t assume that because Linda is a common name, that the “Lee” part doesn’t matter and can be left by the wayside.

Oddly enough (to me), many folks assume that Lee is my last name.

And about 90% of those folks assume I’m Chinese! Until they see me in person, that is. And then—well, there’s absolutely no way anyone could possibly mistake this pasty-white-freckled-green-eyed-blond-haired-big-boned-in-addition-to-overweight-British/Irish chick as Chinese.

Still more people assume that after they call me Linda Lee a few times, they can call me Linda and that’s okay.

It’s not okay, y’all.

That’s like… meeting someone named Robert and assuming he goes by Bob.

Or Richard is Dick.

Or Samantha is Sam.

Or Mary Jane is Mary, or Jane.

(This horse is dead, and yet I’m still beating him…)

I’ve started doing various things to help people understand that I really, truly, do go by Linda Lee. On Facebook and a few other places, I’ve started typing my name as one word: Lindalee. Sometimes it’s LindaLee, sometimes it’s lindalee… in reality, it’s Linda Lee, but that so often trips people up, so I figured writing it as one word offers clarity.

My name is more than just a moniker. It’s a significant part of the identity I present to the world.

So, I ask you—what's in a name?

Do you like your name?
Have you ever considered changing your name?
Any other thoughts you'd like to share?

What happens to jewelry after it leaves my hands?

What happens after a piece of jewelry leaves my hands and ends up in the hands of the recipient? I often wonder exactly this!

Whether it’s someone who purchased the jewelry for themselves, or someone who I gave the jewelry to, or someone who bought the jewelry as a gift for someone else, I always hope the jewelry is enjoyed and treasured. I’m no fool, though. In fact, I’m not afraid to admit that I have full knowledge that my jewelry doesn’t always stay the way I intended it.

I even have a couple of examples. I was in a show last year where I showcased some jewelry designed with beads I’d made. One woman kept eyeing a necklace, stating openly that she didn’t like the way I’d finished it (with a silk ribbon), but that she loved the focal bead so much that she might buy it anyway, and do something else with it.

While part of me wanted to impulsively grab the necklace right out of her hands and stash it in my pocket, another part of me thought, “Well, why not?”

And you know what? She did buy the necklace. I saw the look of absolute glee on her face when she gazed at that bead that I had made. How could I refuse that sale? She got something out of it. It made her happy.

And I’m sure she ripped the necklace apart as soon as she got home and re-did it however she wanted to.

I once put together a necklace made with leather and raku beads (not just beads that had been painted with raku glaze, but beads that had been fired using the raku method), as a gift for a friend. I took care to consider her favorite style and colors. I was still pretty new to making jewelry at this point, and I was really proud of the finished product. It was one of the best things I’d made at that time.

Several months after I’d given the set to my friend, I saw the exact beads I’d used in a completely different necklace on her website.

The necklace was for sale.

At first I was upset and my feelings were really hurt. I mean, how could she? This was a gift I’d crafted especially for her.

And then? I got over it.

Once I gave her the gift, it was out of my control. It was her gift to do with as she pleased. In the grand scheme of things, she could have turned around and sold the necklace as her own. She could have tossed it in a drawer and never looked at it again. She could have re-gifted it. She may have loved it but never saw herself wearing it. I have no clue, and the reality is—it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I had the thought to give her the gift.

I think this works for any form of art.

What about a visual artist who sells paintings? She would expect you to frame her painting, but what if it’s more important to you have that you have that piece of art… not so much that it’s in a nice frame? So, it sits on the mantel unframed, so at least you can look at it while other things bump their way up the priority list and you never quite get around to framing the thing.

Do you think that, if the artist knew, she’d refuse sell me another of her paintings?

Well, I can’t speak for all visual artists, but we have four paintings in total from that artist… and only one of them is framed—with a store-bought frame, no less. We fully intend to have the other three framed, at some point. (What can I say? It’s been a rough few years financially.)

Beethoven wrote the famous 5^th symphony. Most people only know and love the first movement. But what if the last movement is my favorite, and often the only one I ever listen to from that symphony?

If Beethoven were alive, do you think he’d really give a shit?

Of course not! He’d be thrilled that I found something in his music that touched my soul. It moved me in some way.

Or, perhaps a more relevant example—if a DJ cuts in a few samples of Beethoven’s 5^th, thereby modifying his composition and indeed turning it into something completely new and different, is that a bad thing? Is it harmful? My take—it’s actually a good thing. It exposes new listeners to a tidbid of classical music, and they may inquire about the original piece. It modernizes something that many would automatically recognize, and it gives the new artist immediate credibility (which admittedly isn’t necessarily a good thing).

The point is, no matter what, as an artist you cannot have control over what happens to a piece of your art once it leaves your hands. It may be altered, destroyed, broken, painted over, re-sold, etc… and in cases where the action is done out of disrespect, perhaps it’s better that the artist doesn’t know.

I, for one, would stop creating altogether if I was ultimately so concerned about *how* my art was used by the recipient.

Life teaches us that we’re supposed to look for approval and care what others think. But what I’m learning is that what others think of me is none of my business, and in fact, it can be a serious hindrance if I get too wrapped around the axle about it.

Sure, I could have refused to sell that necklace to the woman who wanted to rip it apart—and I’ve seen that happen, too… but when I saw how much she loved the bead, it just didn’t matter anymore.

The point is… once you release your art out into the world, you truly have to let go. That’s part of the beauty of creating.

Honestly, I’d rather that my customers were upfront about wanting a piece altered in some way, so that I could do it for them. It’s something I genuinely try not to take personally. I once sold a necklace to a woman who didn’t like that it was two strands. She only wanted the one strand. I happily snipped off the second strand, and we both got what we wanted—I gained a new customer, I made a sale, and she walked away with a beautiful carnelian necklace.

At that same show last year, a woman showed me a two-strand necklace that she loved. She didn’t want the main strand that actually had the focal on it, she only wanted the secondary accent strand.

Now the interesting thing is, I’d been contemplating making that necklace into a single-strand necklace anyway, so not only did it not bother me that she wanted the second strand… it was actually just what I needed to make the change.

And that’s really what it’s about, isn’t it? Change. Acceptance and rejection. Fear of being “not good enough”.

Well, you know… I say leave all that baggage in the dirt, where it belongs.

There are necklaces I’ve had in my inventory for years, and it feels like something just isn’t quite right with them… I’ll take them out of my display inventory and put them in a bag, waiting for inspiration to redo the necklace. Yes. This happens. I have a pretty full bag of necklaces I’d like to redo, and bracelets I’d like to convert to necklaces, and other various unfinished (un-started, really) projects.

And if a customer wants something altered before buying it… I’m all too happy to do it. I want my customers to be happy with their purchases. I want them to think of me as someone who’s not afraid to push myself and make myself better… I’m only one woman—sometimes I get sick of looking at my own stuff, and if I get a fresh eye on it and someone says “Hey, I think X-Y-Z could hang this way instead of that way”, then once in a while, I may not only learn something new, but I can expand my horizons.

And as you might guess by now, I’m all for that.

Overwhelmed...

First... let me say that I have extended my sale through at least June 15th.

The past few months have been incredibly stressful. I don't want to get too far into it, but we've been struggling financially. It's a likely story, and I know a lot of you are probably feeling the same crunch, but it really wears on you after a while. I keep thinking, "When will we get a break?"

And then, I feel ashamed for feeling that way. I have so many blessings in my life-- so many things to be grateful for. And, truth be told-- I am grateful. Incredibly! But I often wonder what's in store for us, when it feels like everyday life is an uphill battle. When it feels like we just can't get ahead, no matter what we do or how creative we get.

The real truth is that I have learned the value of asking for help. Help in finding work, help in keeping us going, help in the form of emotional support, prayers, or just positive thoughts. Help comes in all sizes and shapes, and when I dare to ask for it, it often shows itself in the most needed and often the most unexpected of ways.

I feel so beautifully blessed by all of the friends who have extended a hand to us over the past few months. Whether it's sending us job postings, or even just a thoughtful email-- the words have meant so much, and the sentiment has meant even more.

I used to pride myself on "never needing help". Years ago, I realized this was a silly notion. Everyone needs help. Of course I needed help! And yet, making myslef vulnerable enough to allow others to help me was something so foreign, I could never see myself doing it.

Fast forward to today, when it's still difficult for me to ask for help-- but the difference is, I care enough about myself, and I do trust in the process that is... life. I can put myself out there. I can allow myself to be vulnerable. I can admit when I need help.

Things are finally starting to glance up for us... and we're hoping the light at the end of the tunnel soon becomes brighter, bigger, and better over the next month. 

I've been quiet here, because I have everything and nothing to say. I have thought about sharing more of myself here, but then-- I know that blogs are a dime a dozen... who has time to read everything I put out there?

But... I figure-- I won't know until I try. So, here I am... 

Strongest in the Broken Places

“Formulate and stamp indelibly on your mind a mental picture of yourself as succeeding. Hold this picture tenaciously. Never permit it to fade. Your mind will seek to develop the picture… Do not build up obstacles in your imagination.” -- Norman Vincent Peale

A year ago today, I left for the trip of a lifetime.

For some people, a trip to Italy where one stays in the same city for two weeks may not be ideal. It may even feel wrong to travel all that way and not get to explore the whole country or even multiple countries in that time. It may seem like “no big deal” for many others who are used to frequent international trips, or even trips to the more exotic lands of Indonesia, Thailand, or Tasmania.

For me, though… traveling to Venice by myself was the start of a turning point in my life. It opened my eyes and heart to new possibilities. It opened me up in ways I never expected and in many ways, I felt awake and alive for the first time in years.

I didn’t realize at the time that I’d lost the artist inside. I didn’t realize that she’d been sleeping since high school art class, where I practiced for two hours a day three times a week. I played with glass—but we didn’t have a torch other than a Bunsen Burner. Still—it was enough. I loved melting glass and twisting it. I even pulled stringers—not realizing that I’d revisit that experience years later. I have a fused glass plate and even some jewelry I made back then, too. The earrings are crappy and I’m pretty sure I’ve lost the rest of the jewelry I made—I clearly remember wire-wrapping a crystal with copper, and it’s nowhere to be found.

I didn’t have much money to spend in Italy. And let me tell you… you need money in Venice. If for nothing else, you need it for food.

So… I took pictures. Lots and lots of them, actually. It became another outlet for me—another way to awaken the snoozing artist within and allow her to stretch her legs. I took pictures of gondolas, because I couldn’t bring myself to pay the money to ride in one  (although now I kind of wish I had). 

I took pictures of buildings that interested me… which yielded me a lot of pictures of buildings, by the way.

I took pictures of laundry, too. With a flighty, artistic idea that I’d have a series of laundry prints available for sale. 

Some people made fun of me, some kept their amusement to themselves, but for the first time in years—I had a clear artistic vision. No matter how silly it seemed, or even how mundane… the vision was mine.

The same thing happened in the classroom, too. Only, it was messier because I’m not exactly prolific in lampwork bead making. It happened on a smaller scale—I envisioned pink and orange together, and this bead was born (left). 

(Right) I needed to make a bead that felt like night time… and this was the result.

I wasn’t entirely sure of the outcome, but I knew I had the tools to see it through. I wasn’t sure I’d even like the result, but if I didn’t—someone else might, and if they did, they could have it. And if I failed… I could throw it into the canal.

In every sense, let it go.

How is that a mirror to the rest of my life?

Today I am incredibly worried about not having work, and my husband has been unemployed for over a year. Can we pay next month’s bills? Well, right now, the answer to that question is no. We’re in a worse place, financially, than we’ve been in a long time.

I feel helpless and out of control over a lot of aspects of life right now. And yet—I have a vision. A vision of getting work, a vision of selling more jewelry, a vision of paying bills and getting back on our feet.

I have tools to get there. I have a support system, intelligence, and I’m resourceful. I’m determined to get through this period. I’m ambitious—I always want something better for myself and my husband. I know that we’ll get through this.

And, at the end of the day, I can still make a mile-long list of things I’m grateful for. I’ve enjoyed so many things that I never thought I’d experience… like a life changing trip to Italy.

When I got back from Italy, I went through an intense growth period as I examined some things in my life that just weren’t working—but because it had been such a slow decline, it took stepping out of it (and into pure bliss, might I add) for a couple of weeks for me to see the picture with the clarity I needed.

I nearly broke. Irreparably.

But, you know what?

I didn’t.

I somehow managed to make it through one of the hardest trials of my life (and please forgive my vagueness here—I don’t want to discuss it publicly), and I emerged so much stronger and more whole than I imagined.

"Life breaks us all, but afterwards, many of us are strongest at the broken places." -- Ernest Hemingway

I’ve faced many trials in my life—as so many of us have. I think the experiences we have and how we deal with them define who we are. And who I want to be defined as, is an artist, a good wife, a good friend, a hard worker, and a soft yet strong heart.

One year ago, my artistic vision opened itself up inside of me and crawled out of its box, woke me up, and shook my soul.

I realized—on the most basic level—that fearing the outcome causes paralysis.

Construct a vision, grab your tools, and go to work.

The outcome?

Is life.

On Rejection...

Well, I didn't get in to Etsy Dallas.

It didn't matter that I have a 'connection' in the group.

Granted, they only allowed 60 new members in for the entire year of 2009. 

And, granted, jewelry is a very competitive category. Everybody makes jewelry. 

I thought my jewelry was special.

Well, I still think it is.

But in a world where everyone thinks their jewelry is special... sometimes people are going to be kicked to the curb.

It's no fun when it's me.

I was also rejected from the Peddler show in Arlington.

Again-- too much jewelry.

Rejection abounds. It doesn't matter that my jewelry is unique. People just glance and think, "Oh-- jewelry. A dime a dozen. Everyone does it. Whatever." And that's that. It's difficult to make people look twice.

It's terribly discouraging. Immensely disappointing. I can't even tell you how bummed I am, but let me assure you-- I am bummed.

I just have to remember to have faith.  

And I do want my loyal customers to know something... you're all very special to me. This may sound silly, but it makes my heart pitter-patter with gratefulness every time one of my you touts my jewelry. It means so much to me that you "get" that I pour my heart and soul into what I create, and that a handful of people in this world appreciate it. It gives me the type of validation that I otherwise cannot manifest.

So, I continue to concentrate on the customers I *do* have. I am slowly trying to build that customer base. It's a tedious and never-ending process. At times I feel like everything in the world is working against me wanting to be an artist-- and the smirks and raised eyebrows I get when I call myself an artist becuase I design jewelry is not only disheartening, but added to things like the two hefty rejections I mentioned above, it sort of beats the horse dead.

One thing's for sure, though. I never, ever get a big head. 

Humility is a good thing, yes?

Yes...

Feelings of Inadequacy Abound

I’ve been battling quite a bit with feelings of inadequacy over the past few days. Work has certainly been plentiful—for which I am grateful. We need the income, and I’m thankful that I’ve been blessed with grace on more than one occasion. But there was an incident this week that shook me more than I expected, and it really made me question just how valuable I am to the group of great people I work with and for.

(Although I suppose a bit of humbling once in a while is good for the soul.)

To top it all off, I got a rejection letter in the mail this week—a show I was really hoping to get into rejected my jewelry. The excuse was, of course, that they already have too many jewelry vendors.

Rejection in its many forms is a tough pill to swallow on the best of days. But when I already feel weak, rejection can be almost unbearable.

I struggle with inferiority on a regular basis—I never accomplish enough, I never get enough done within the span of an hour, a day, a week, a year—and then, I beat myself up about feeling that way.

Did you catch that?

I beat myself up about beating myself up.

I’m quite good at it. Sometimes I don’t even realize I’m doing it.

I think the important thing is to keep trying. Continue improving, admit my mistakes when I make them (which is often!), and move forward. 

Reflecting is one thing, and of course stagnating is bad. I do reflect on a regular basis—usually in the form of a private journal entry (in my paper journal, or in a locked journal I keep online), and then the important thing is to open myself up and try again. Put myself out there, over and over.

Sometimes, surrendering to the process is the most powerful step I can take. Usually, it's also the most difficult.

Look, I know I'm not a bad person. I’m a pretty good person, actually. Everything happens for a reason, and sometimes—sometimes, the things I really want are worth working hard for, and worth that wait.

How cliché, right? 

There’s a reason why clichés exist…

The Show...

The Mothers & Others show was-- simply put-- a minor success. I made my booth fee and some extra. Most of my sales came from other vendors, and I did have several small sales from passers-by. There wasn't much traffic at the show, and I'm undecided about doing this show again.

Here is my setup:

I'm very pleased with that setup! I think it's a win.

I am so thrilled that I've had several sales from my Etsy shop in the last week! I'm assuming they are Christmas (or other holiday) presents and I decided to quietly upgrade everyone's shipping to Priority. It's just the nice thing to do, this time of year, whether the gift is for you or a loved one. ;-)

I also had lunch with a friend this past week, and she bought quite a bit from me. I was honestly shocked, but in the best way possible. ;-) 

I find that it's best to never expect to sell anything. I am, in turn, grateful for each and every sale I make, because it allows me to splurge on more great supplies. I want to continue to nurture this attitude in all of my future jewelry endeavors. I think it keeps me humble and also it helps me keep things in perspective.

To that end... I had an offer recently to buy some of my jewelry for wholesale. However, the price offered was barely enough to cover the cost of supplies for most of the pieces, and it didn't even cover supply costs for other pieces. She was, of course, interested in my most beautiful, most special pieces.

In the end, I declined the sale. It felt like an insult to my intelligence for the person to offer so little for these pieces, knowing that she was going to turn around and mark them way up for her own profit. How is that fair to me? She also doesn't tell anyone where she gets the pieces, so it wouldn't help to get my name out there.

I feel a little strange about it, because this person was very interested in my pieces, but there was just something that felt "off" about the whole thing. I always try to balance following my gut with making smart business decisions, and in this case, I got a pretty strong "this is a no-go" feeling for both. 

I want to maintain integrity in my jewelry and designs, as well as the way I do business. In my quest for respecting myself as an artist, and hoping to garner the respect of others as well... there are times when I just have to say no. 

That doesn't make it any easier, though...

If I don't post again until the new year (which is probable at this point), I would like to wish anyone who might be reading this a Happy Holiday season.  

Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, and Happy New Year.  May you be blessed enough to enjoy time with those you love, and lucky enough to avoid those you don't love!

Wow... December??

I can't believe it's December, and Christmas is just around the corner. Where did November go? For that matter, where did October go??

I have been working quite a bit, which limits my jewelry design time. I'm definitely not complaining-- I am incredibly thankful to have a job, unlike so many (including my hubby). It's increasingly difficult for me to ask people to buy jewelry from me. The last craft show I had miraculously brought in enough money to cover the booth fee with a little bit extra. Considering the times, I am truly grateful.

Honestly, the only jewelry-related news is that I have made some Christmas tree earrings. I just wanted to show them off a little... I think they're cute!

More in my Etsy shop, of course! I have four different ones... crystal clear with a red top, crystal clear with a silver top, light green (pictured above), and emerald green. Take your pick! ;-)

As the year draws to a close, I have a few questions for you:

1. What are you grateful for?

2. Overall, was this a good year for you? Please share a couple of specifics if you don't mind.

3. Do you have any goals, or anything specific you're going to focus on in 2009? If so, what?

So, I suppose since I'm asking... I should answer. ;-)

1. I am grateful for so many things-- forgiveness and love being close to the top of the list. I am grateful for my husband, for making some significant changes in his life this year.

2. Overall this wasn't a good year at all. However, there were some very high highs... my trip to Italy, my husband's personal achievements, and holding my best friend's baby for the first time (and every time since!). Little miracles really do happen.

3. I will be working towards a better work/life balance in the new year, as well as getting re-acquainted with my spiritual side. I've drifted away from that part of me this year and it's time to do something about it. I've already made some strides towards that, which leave me feeling quite happy.