I didn't know how often it would come into play. I had no idea what my mind and soul were capable of building. Nor did I realize how deeply it would impact me. I suppose that everyone does it from time to time. Some on a more conscious level than others.
I notice it when I am painting, and working with stained glass. Or when I garden and smell the vegetables growing under my care. Or when my daughters and I are singing at the top of our lungs. Even when I am cursing and saying things a bit to plainly I feel Them. But it took someone saying to me "That is where you get it" to realize what I have at my disposal.
My first passion (artistically speaking) is stained glass. It was a neighbor who turned me on to this beautiful form of transparent art. I fell in love pretty fast and knew it was something I would do for the rest of my life. What I didn't know was that I wasn't the only person in my family to see this challenging art form as something to pursue. I remember mentioning it to my mother and she told me to talk to Granny. So I did, and soon after she came to my house with an astonishing revelation and a box full of tools and patterns. Granny, (who gives NOTHING away) wanted me to have these things. They belonged to my grandfather.
Painting is a more recently acquired passion. My home is full of original art. Paintings, drawings, sculpture. It has been my good fortune to know many gifted artists who share their talents with me and my family. Due to the nature and depth of their talent I have always been hesitant to try my hand at those mediums. All the art in my home means something to me, but one or two pieces have a higher place in my heart. In my bedroom I have a painting hanging that is the first thing I see in the morning and the last at night. It is a sunset on calm water with small waves breaking against rocks. And in the sky are two birds, one of which was slightly smeared. This is one of my dearest treasures. It was painted by my Nanna. She found this passion late in life and painted until she died.
The girls and I sing, a lot. Loudly. We sing everything from The Dixie Chicks and GLEE to Disney tunes and Blue Oyster Cult. In the morning the ipod comes on and is on all day. We sing in the car and the shower. My Dark Hair got several smiles when we went to a pool and she laid in the shallow end singing quietly to herself. (She is the one with that fantastic alto voice) Ocasionally a song will come on and the girls will start to sing, they will harmonize and groove and I will start to cry. As I watch them dance and listen to the sweetness of their voices I see my little sister smiling and dancing with them. She had a voice from heaven. She died before they were born.
In so many ways every day I channel the spirits of my loved ones. When I pick up a brush and glance at Nanna's painting, when I break glass and use my grandfathers tools, when my daughters sing and dance. I feel them, I hear them, I smell them. They come to life again.
This is true immortality.
