One, two, three, four...

Sometimes it's hard to remember to count my blessings; sometimes troubles, annoyances, problems, fears and worries multiply and simply crowd them out. Sometimes I don't look inside my mug and see the reminder; sometimes I hold it with my left hand and the reminder is hidden from me. And, other times, I'm drinking my coffee too fast to see what's right under my nose.

Blessing number one: work I love.

Blessing number two: pretty things to work with.

Blessing number three: a quiet place in which to work; a place that has been arranged by me to suit me.

Blessing number four: A sweet friend who always reminds me to look for what's good in life instead of letting the bad overwhelm me - even when she's not actually trying to remind me, she does it by example.

Thank you, Nancy.

When the student is ready

And the lessons are often not what I'm expecting:

• Control.
• Responsibility.
• Consideration.
• Good work.
• Patience.
• Planning.
• Expectations.
• Promises.

The new year is only two days old; I don't feel quite as ready to learn as the universe seems to think I am.

The 365 Project

I've decided to join an interesting project; the participants have committed to taking a photo every day and sharing it. It's one of those projects that I can't decide if it's too ambitious, or just fun.

I'm seriously hoping it will be fun.

Anyway, in the interest of at least starting it fun and easy, I took a photo of the orchid that sits between my computer and my beading area; to take the pressure off, I used my cell phone, and balanced it on the edge of the pot, looking up.

It's a start.

New year, new word

And so it begins.

Tomorrow is a new year, full of new possibilities and new opportunities. A time for starting over, for making new promises, for doing things better; for making changes.

For the past several years, I've been picking a word at the end of the previous year that resonates with me; a word that I hope to keep in my mind throughout the coming year.

It's a good intention, but I can't say that I've really succeeded all that well yet. I tend to lose my focus and fall away from my inspirational word as the days go on. I blush to say that I don't even remember  what last year's word was; I can't tell you if I managed to use it or not. I hope I did; I'm sure it was a good one.

But hope springs eternal, and perhaps I will do better with this year's word. As you can see, it's joy. It came to me suddenly; I hadn't even starting thinking about what my word would be when it arrived. I'm hoping that's a good portent. I would like to have more joy in my life; it's one of those resolutions that is hard to argue against.

Unlike resolving to lose weight and exercise, resolving to be joyful is, well, a joyous thing. I'm aware that I will, no doubt, find more joy in my life if I continue to be healthy, so eating right and exercising aren't going off the table. Neither is work or play; both of those bring joy into my life. I'd like to add more music; it's one of those things that both scares and delights me. I'd like to lose some of my fears and enjoy it more.

So that's about it for now; with luck, I will remember to add joy to my life this year.

Contests

I"m working on another contest piece; this time it's one for Good Quill Hunting's Birds of a Feather contest. See the feathers in this sneak peek? That's the requirement for this contest; every entry must have at least a few feathers in it.

My feathers came from our parakeet who has been graciously bestowing them on us all summer; it's his first molt, and I think he's enjoying it. I like to say that I've collected enough feathers to make a whole new bird; but, instead, I'm using them to make a contest entry.

Why do I enter contests?

It's a good question. I have lots of friends on both sides of this issue, and it's one that many people have very strong feelings about. For some, contests are a very negative experience; there are those who believe that they stifle creativity and are in direct opposition to what art is all about. Others say that competition stimulates creativity, and raises artists to the next level. Some hold that losing a competition is devastating; I've heard it described as a loss that is not unlike a death. Others say that artists must develop a thick skin, and competition is a good way to learn how to deal with rejection.

It's simpler than that for me; I like contests because they give me permission to make whatever I want to make; they give me a reason to get wild and crazy and make something that I will never, ever be able to write up as a pattern. Contests bring out the daredevil in me; while I'm working on a contest entry, I'm not thinking about using supplies that can be found all over the world, I'm not thinking about how to draw an illustration of what I've just done, and I'm not thinking about how I will explain it.

I'm just beading. I'm breaking all the rules I know, and inventing new ones. And then I break them, too. I make something fun; something that speaks just to me. It's not about winning; winning is an extra, and not the reason I enter contests at all. It's about flying. Flying without a net. Beading on the edge. Giving myself permission to not remember what I did; giving myself permission to play.

It's me time.