Some time ago, in a galaxy long ago and far away, I had a passion for carousel pieces, old carvings and remnants of the beautiful carousels that were once found in American cities and towns. And I had the money to seek them out and buy some of them. There is more beauty and craftsmanship in the old carousels than in many towns and cities now, when I could, I looked everywhere for old carousel horses and wooden carvings.
I had to sell most of these treasures off in recent years, it does pain me to think of it. But there are some remnants of that love left, Maria dug one out of my study and hung it in the Frieda Kahlo bathroom, it is great to see it there every day.
Maria put a number of additional touches on the Frieda Kahlo bathroom in our home, including a candle, a carousel piece, and asmall portrait of Kahlo herself. Frieda Kahlo was a Mexicon self-portrait artist and a feminist icon. She was married to the artist Diego Rivera, and she led a brilliant and tragic life, filled with betrayal, pain and great suffering.
She has inspired countless artists to be strong and fearless in their work, including Maria. Her spirit definitely infused the work on our bathroom, full of rich and strong colors and hangings. It is right that her photo hangs in our bathroom. How great for any artist or writer to live on long after they leave the world.
The barn cats are mystical creatures to me, sliding in and out of the night, hunting, dancing in the hay barn. This week, as the Solstice approached, the barn cats suddenly came to the door and asked to come in, rather simply presented themselves to come in. Barn cats ask for nothing, seek no favors, live to please no human.
It has been cold and wet and icy, first Minnie, then Flo. They appear at dusk, they sit by the door. The command us to open it, they gather around me and Maria as we read. I don’t permit the cats in my chair, they understand this, Maria accepts them, as if they were part of the furniture. The settle in around her, it is a powerful thing to see the three of them, gathered by a warm fire, the silent reader, Minnie curled up on one side, Flo nearby, watching and setting.
Flo makes Fate nervous, she avoids her, Red pays them no mind. In the morning, when we get up, the cats are at the door, ready to go out, to hunt, to vanish into the big barn. The cats understand these short dark days, they want to come in for the night.
We are done for the moment with our Frieda Kahlo bathroom touch-up. Maria (finally) settled on the colors, she went with orange/yellow and blue for the upper walls. She finished this morning in a final burst, cleaned up and wrapped it up. Last year, we put some Mexican tiles around the bathroom.
In a way, this bathroom is a model of creativity and ingenuity. It cost little, changed much, and we had great fun doing it together. This time, I just painted the door and some walls and trim. I decided it best to stay out of the way, the artist was not happy the first day or so.
It is a lot of work in a way, but not so much in others. Maria loves applying to her creativity to our farmhouse, especially now that we know we are keeping it. We love working on it, and I recall this bathroom when we moved in, it was smelly, greasy, depressing. We have re-done the floors, the walls, stripped the wallpaper and drawn loosely on Kahlo’s love of strong and bright colors. it does have a tropical feel, and we are in no rush to get rid of the 50’s sink and cabinet, they give it the room a particular touch.
I love watching Maria apply her artistry to a room like this, it is like watching a good witch with a magic wand (a grumpy witch sometimes, don’t mess with the artist) spin and whirl through a room. I’m bugging her a bit to think about how to brighten up the dining room, a central that has no natural light, and is sometimes dark.
She keeps muttering that she is done with restoration for awhile, but the bug is in the ear, and if history is a clue, she will one day announce that we are heading to the hardware for supplies. Thanks for joining in, it was a pleasure to take a shower today. Fate, the Project Dog, oversaw every stroke, she seems to approve. Red could care less.
I wrote a piece this morning about New Year’s Eve, and what it means to me. In the course of writing it, as often happens to me, I realized what it was that I really wanted for myself and for all of the people I love in the New Year of 2016 (or the wonderful name of Hogmagog in the ancient world) was this:
What I most want for myself in 2016 is to make mistakes.
Mistakes are the cobblestones of life for me, the foundation of spirituality and learning. They have defined, shaped, altered, threatened and enriched my life at every turn. They have humbled me and torn open my eyes.
If mistakes were gold, I would be wealthy beyond imagination. There has been nothing more valuable, liberating and important for me than the mistakes I have made. And I could not begin to even count or list them – things I’ve said, done, people I’ve hurt, left behind, misunderstood, bad things I’ve written, poor decisions, awful impulses and foolish rationales, mistakes of blindness, denial and loss of perspective.
Mistakes made in rage and anger, in confusion and hurt. A river of mistakes for one lifetime, a Tsunami of mistakes.
I am sorry for the people who never make mistakes, acknowledge them, or admit them. They are the hollow men of T.S. Eliot’s wonderful poem.
We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! Our dried voices, when We whisper together Are quiet and meaningless As wind in dry grass Or rats’ feet over broken glass In our dry cellar
If I am making mistakes, then I am alive. I am doing something, trying something, risking something. I have never respected the people who never make mistakes, they are the hollow men and women. They know nothing, they will go nowhere. Anyone who has never made a mistake, said Albert Einstein, has never tried anything new.
If I am making mistakes, then I am making new things. I am trying new things.
If I am making mistakes, then I am learning, pushing myself, changing yourself, bettering myself, growing and changing the world around me.
If I am making mistakes, I am changing, doing things I’ve never done before. Doing things, answering the call to life, the call to adventure.
If I am making mistakes, then I am creative, I am creating.
If I am making mistakes, then I am learning about love and opening my life to it, because there is no love without mistakes. If I am making mistakes, I am healing.
I was talking to a friend recently who was angry with me, telling me of the mistakes I have made. I know, I said, I admit them, have written about them. I can only let them go.
We are taught to deny our mistakes, hide them and apologize for them. I have done a lot of apologizing in my life, but I think I am done with that. Mistakes are as natural to human beings as breathing, and every one that I have made has made me wiser and stronger and better. Mistakes don’t make me evil or stupid, they mean that I am human.
There is hope for me yet. There is no shame in conceding mistakes, there is great reward. The world would be a vastly better place of the powerful men and women who run it could admit their mistakes and learn from them.
So I hope to make many mistakes in the coming year. That is how you will know I am alive and working hard.
The great thing about setting the making of mistakes a goal for New Year’s is that this is a goal I can achieve without worry.
I have one friend who wants to give up drinking for 2016, another who wants to drop 25 pounds, one more who wants to make peace with his siblings and stop fighting with them. Many people seek fame and fortune.
I think of all of them, I am the lucky one.
I will have achieved my New Year’s Resolution by lunchtime tomorrow.
