Down by the riverside, 2013

"I'm gonna lay down my burdens, down by the riverside; down by the riverside, down by the riverside."

 That tune has been running through my head today; not a surprise, it's the last day of 2013, and I'd like to start 2014 with a clean slate. I'd like to lay down the burdens of the old year, and wake up without them. I've not always been able to do that, though; some of the burdens I'm carrying have been with me for several years. I really want to lay them down; I've wanted to lay them down for a long time, but every time I set them down, I run back and pick them up again.

They are burdens of expectations.

Not mine entirely; these are expectations that someone else had of me; expectations that I either could not, or would not, fulfill; and I want the other person to take them back. I want them to to tell me that it's okay, that they understand that I could not do what they wanted me to do; I want them to tell me that they no longer need me to do those things, that they have forgiven me for not being what they wanted me to be.

And so, the circle revolves again. They are upset with me for not being who they wanted me to be, and I am upset with them for not being who I want them to be. Round and round we go; each needing the other to be what they are not in order to be okay with each other, in order to lay down our burdens of expectations. Each wanting more than the other can, or will, give. Each carrying burdens of hurt feelings, lost hopes, and uneasiness.

And then the second verse of the song kicks in:

"I'm gonna lay down my sword and shield, down by the riverside, down by the riverside, down by the riverside."

…and I realize that it's not enough to lay down my burdens. I must lay down my defenses, too.

Post-Encyclopedic Apocalypse

When I was a little girl, everything I wanted to know could be found in the World Book Encyclopedia, the newspaper, or by listening to Walter Cronkite. These were trusted sources, and I knew I could count on them to tell me the truth.

The encyclopedia had history, science, and all sorts of interesting things in it; if they made a mistake, or discovered something new to add to a selection, it was published in the yearbooks they sent to us every year. I loved putting the stickers on the appropriate pages and reading the new, or corrected, information; I liked knowing that even people who wrote encyclopedias learned new things and didn't hesitate to let the rest of us know.

When our newspaper found an inaccuracy in a story, it printed a retraction where people could easily see it. When Cronkite made a mistake, he corrected it with a sincere apology while looking right into our eyes.

I grew up, the world changed, and information became available at the click of a mouse. I taught my own children not to trust sources; I taught them to question, to compare, to narrow in on the truth and discount repetition as a propaganda tool. I think they've gotten pretty good at doubt, as have I.

It's a survival skill, and we are survivors.

I like the wide variety of fact and opinion available to me, and I wouldn't want to go back to those limited sources. But, often, I miss the scrutiny they were under; I miss the attention to detail, the drive on their part to get it right, the emphasis on providing factual information. They tried to eliminate bias; even though they didn't always succeed, it was their goal. If they fell short, their readers and listeners reminded them to try harder. Information runs the gamut now; some of it is very well researched, filled with facts, and as trustworthy as ever. Some of it is not, and it's becoming increasingly hard to know what to believe.

Sometimes, even doubt isn't enough.

Change, change, change

Every year about this time, I start thinking about the year that is nearly over and the nice fresh year coming up. I think about what I wanted to accomplish, what I did accomplish, and what I didn't accomplish.

I think about the things I didn't know I would want to do, but ended up doing; I think about the things I thought I wanted do, but didn't end up doing. And then I start auditioning words to use as a touchstone for next year.

Last year's word was Joy. It was a good word, and the very fact that I still remember it is a good thing. Sometimes the words I choose lose me along the way; I thought they were words that would mean something to me for a whole year, but they're not.

Joy turned out to be inspiring, but sometimes it was a tough act to live up to.

In those hours where it seemed like I would never know it again, it was still there; reminding me that it was a goal, not a given. Sometimes joy has to be worked for; sometimes it has to be waited for. Sometimes it has to be believed in, even when it can't be seen. After working with it for nearly a year, I'm not going to be letting go of it. But I am ready to choose a new word, and this year the word has come early.

Change.

Unlike joy, it's a given, but it can also be a goal. This year, I plan to make it a goal; to change the things I can, and to accept the changes that I don't plan. I want to be open to change, even when it seems confusing or strange. I want to let go and see what comes instead of hanging on to the old ways of doing things, and, most of all, I want to embrace change with joy.

A visit with beading friends

I am so excited about a new book that will be coming out this spring called Marcia DeCoster Presents: Interviews with 30 Beaders on Inspiration and Technique, and not just because I'm one of of the 30 beaders in it.

This book has the work of so many people I hold dear in it; owning it will give me the chance to visit vicariously with them whenever I like. I've already cleared a space for it on the table beside the futon in my studio; I've already imagined myself curling up with a cup of tea and dipping into it whenever I want a break from my own beading.

One of the things that this book brings home is how much the Internet has changed the way we socialize. Marcia has included people she met on-line in it, and that's how I first go to know her; later on, I met her in "real life" and am very happy to have her as one of my friends. Also in this book is my very dear friend Nancy Dale, whom I know only via the Internet, but who is as close as can be even though she lives on the other side of the country; Linda Jones, whose incredible courage and joy inspires me every day; and Beki Haley, a generous spirit whom I got to know on-line and recently met. But those are just three of the wonderful people who are profiled in this book; there are ever so many more on-line friends and, hopefully, future in-person friends.

I will be counting the days until this book ships!

Just a quick note to say:

It took me awhile, but I finally got it. 

I appreciate the lesson, even though it was a hard one.

I'm not afraid anymore.