Sunshine in a Jar

Posts Tagged ‘sunshine’

Ben Harper feeds my soul. Take some time today to listen to a musical genius.

 

She’s Only Happy in the Sun and With My Own Two Hands are my favourite songs from the album “Diamonds on the Inside.” Visit Harper’s website to learn more about his music.

Seven geese swim in the tall weeds in front of our cottage. A band of clouds hover in a ring around the baby blue sky, just above the horizon line. The birch trees by the outhouse barely waver in the light breeze. Lake Magnetewan lies flat, but moves north with the current.

I sit in the sunroom. Ten windows enclose me, each one framing a piece of the lake or the bush or the island.  I look out for hours, every day. I watch a crow hop along the grass, a goose fly away, a chipmunk scurry past the Inuksuk. Or I might see a bear stroll by, or the wind force the trees to bend, or a rattlesnake coiled on the rocks, or the rain sweep across the lake and the land from the bay. 

I count the boats going in toward the marinas and the boats going out toward the bay. Cabin cruisers, house boats, inboards, outboards, barges, pontoon boats, canoes, kayaks, cigarette boats, sail boats, jet skis, maybe an oil tanker.  I can twist to see the road and count the cars going to the end of the road by the “Big Rock” or returning to town—

Simplicity, decadence, and stillness settle in my bones. Sometimes my mind is quiet too. Wiped blank. 

I can forget about oil-slicked ducks in Michigan, laid-off workers in Windsor, a bear attack near Yellowstone, a soldier dying in Afghanistan, another child drowning in Toronto, a starving teenager in Whitby, and violence, poverty, injustice, oppression, prejudice, capitalism, financial meltdowns, environmental catastrophe, and the need to exercise, save money, find love, have children, work hard, and to make things better.

And then, when the unthinking is done, I blaze with desire to ignite change and I burst with energy to burn far and wide.

Once upon a time there was a boy named Sabastian. He dreamed of becoming a writer. From the time he learned the Alphabet song, he recognized the power of letters. While other children played with blocks, Sabastian played with letters, building words and phrases and sentences until he was writing whole stories. From lost snowflakes and found puppy dogs to ferocious dinosaurs and sleeping turtles, he wrote.

Sabastian’s mother called his gift sunshine because whenever Sabastian was lost in the thrill of a story, sunshine radiated out of him. He glowed. ‘The sun always shines for Sabastian,’ she chimed.

One day it rained. It rained so heavily that Sabastian didn’t write for days. Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Sabastian, now a forty-year-old man, had a family of his own. He ached to write. At nights, after his family was asleep, he would sneak into the kitchen with his yellow pad of paper and stare at it. After an hour, he sadly put the paper away, writing nothing. For years he couldn’t figure out how to recapture his sunshine.

Something drastic needed to be done. A month later, Sabastian kissed his wife on the forehead, squished his children close to his heart, and set out on a pilgrimage to find his sunshine, using the money he had saved for a rainy day.

His first stop was London, England. When he arrived at the theatre, his heart skipped a beat. The whispers of great playwrights danced on his shoulders.

“What brings you to the Globe, love?” A woman wrapped in a turquoise shawl slipped beside him as he admired the grand stage.

“Shakespeare. You?”

“I’m not visiting, love.” Her brown eyes were electric and piercing.

As she turned her lips up to smile, he knew. It was the great Dame–the most illustrious actress in

London.

“Where do you find it? How can you capture magic onstage every night without fail?”

“It’s all right here.” She tapped her heart.

His next stop: Florence. From statues to architecture to paintings in the Uffizi, sunshine greeted him at every turn.

“How did you do it?” He whispered while relishing the glory of Michaelangelo’s David. “How did you create so much? How could you hold onto your passion and vision?”

In the quiet of the gallery, the answer came to him. Diligence.

Finally, Sabastian journeyed to Greece. Sunshine blanketed him as he reread his favourite myths from the top of Mount Olympus.

“How have these stories lived for centuries?”A scrunched flyer tumbled to his feet. ‘Understand the mystery of life and humanity.’ He didn’t need to read further. Returning home, Sabastian felt inspired to write. Late that night, after everyone was asleep, he tiptoed to the kitchen with his yellow pad of paper. He sat. He stared. Nothing.

Then, he looked up beyond the page. The kitchen was bathed in a most peculiar light. He saw colourful letters dancing in the orange juice on the counter, stories swimming with the goldfish on the shelf, and beautiful phrases glowing in the artwork on the fridge.

Sabastian closed his eyes and listened to the words tumbling from the sunshine in his heart. He began to write, surrounded by the most valuable treasures in his life.

This story was first published in the Word Weaver in February/March 2004

How much of ourselves should we spill online? Why do I feel compelled to publish my work online?

I want my blog to mean something. I want to make a difference. But, I’m not sure how yet, so I collect stories, quotes, ideas, and random thoughts online.

I feel compelled to share my journey with you. I feel a need to connect with people.

I’ve started writing morning pages again in a journal while I have my tea. I write about my first thoughts of the morning. I write without censor. I write my heart out. But, should I blog my heart out?

A couple years ago I tried creating an annonymous blog. My pride derailed that project. My writing is too close to me. I didn’t like putting my writing out there into cyberspace without me. I wanted to stay connected to my work. I wanted to take responsibility for the words I was flinging out into the world with a push of a button. Writing under a pseudonym seemed reckless.

This morning in my journal I wrote about how much is too much to put online. Sharing online creates a sense of vulnerability. Am I prepared to take the lid off my jar and open myself up to the world?

And then I wonder, what is the point of publishing online? What am I looking for? Validation? Feedback? Commiseration? Maybe. Mostly, I want to begin a dialogue. I want to join the online conversation about meaning. I want to share my work because I feel I must. I hope to figure out why I feel I must soon. 

When I look at the way I’ve organized my blog, I can see the energy is divided into three major projects:

1. The Sunshine Project
2. From the Cottage Porch
3. Resources for Educators

The projects include my research, my love of family and the outdoors, and my work as educator. I feel like there’s something more, like I’ve missed something.

In some ways, sunshine in a jar is me. This site is my jar. Rather than blog my heart out, maybe I’m trying to blog more sunshine into our lives…

Books enter my life at precisely the time I need them. Last week, I picked up Gretchen Rubin’s inspiring book The Happiness Project.

My head nodded in agreement for much of the first chapter. Rubin is onto something here! She writes:

Contemporary research shows that happy people are more altruistic, more productive, more helpful, more likable, more creative, more resilient, more interested in others, friendlier, and healthier. Happy people make better friends, colleagues, and citizens.

My sunshine in a jar research resonates with this. I want to learn how educators can be happier.

I look forward to reading the rest of Rubin’s book and maybe start a happiness project of my own. I’ll keep you posted!

On the weekend I wanted to play around with my paints to see what sunshine in a jar might look in different phases.

The results were: Storm Cloud in a Jar, Sunshine in a Jar, and Taking the Lid Off

I came across this image today from the movie Sunshine. In some ways that’s how I feel right now looking at the vast size of this metaphor. There is so much work to be done (and alas the laundry is being ignored as a result.)

So excited. Today is the day I create a model of my metaphor. I want to bring it to life and see it before me.

 I began by going to the craft store and picking up supplies. I imagined texture, sparkles, metallic, orange, red, gold, yellow, and a giant foam ball.  As I filled my cart with delights, I realized I didn’t have a base. What was I going to use to keep the sun in the air?

Twenty minutes and lots of foam possibilities later, I knew. Duh? How could I miss it? I needed a jar. The sun will be exploding out of the jar. Ribbons everywhere. Colour. Sparkle. Shine.

I began by filling the jar and creating the base. It took several attempts to figure out what would work best. For some reason I started with purple foam to represent the creativity. But then I realized I was overcomplicating the project…it all needed to be sunshine.

My next step was to cover a large foam ball with shiny gold foil. I was thrilled that it reflected so well in the light.  And, I was very surprised to see that it had a rose pattern. Roses are very important and symbolic in my life.  How fitting for them to appear now…

Once the ball was transformed into a shining sun, it was time to add it to the base. I used two small dowlings stuck into a floral block in the jar.

Next came more ribbon, lots of rays, and far too many glue gun burns.  And, ta da! Sunshine in a jar is created!

I need to wait until next week to finish this project. I want to use a super labeller to mark what each part of the sun represents.

Cheers!

Joy

Bliss

Passion

Spirit

Meaning

Purpose

Love

Happiness

Warmth

Heat

Intense

Smile

Optimist

Laugh

Shine

Light

Bright

Glow

Fully Alive

Being Present

Perspective

Goodness

Can burn

Effervescent

Hope

Energy

I’ve heard that twenty minutes of sunshine everyday is good for you.  Tonight I’m taking the lid off my jar. Twenty minutes of writing on my beloved metaphor sunshine in a jar in my journal, by hand.

There is an honesty and intimacy that comes from writing things out by hand. The truth spills onto the page. No cross-throughs. Then, I will  type this onto the site. A snapshot of my mind. Lines of thought. No editing.

I’m walking on sunshine. I remember this song from when I was young. 1980s I think. There was something about it that filled me with joy, with power, with the feeling that I could do and be anything in that moment.

Imagine if we could step onto a ray of sun and walk up it as if it were a long wheelchair ramp, up into the sky, among the clear blue. And then, with a fabulous pair of sunglasses and super thick sunscreen we could walk beyond Earth’s borders into the Solar System.

Sunshine can be a way of moving. But it can also be a way of seeing. A way of looking out into the world. It can be something we do with our eyes wide open, or by squinting for a better focus in the brightness.

Feels like a lot of rambling now, but I know there is a point to be made about our lives and how they would change if more of us walked on sunshine a little each day.

There is a point to be made about sunscreen and sunglasses.

There is a point to be made here too about the way the word sunshine connotes happiness, optimism, warmth, summers at the beach, and smiles.

As a child one of my favourite songs was Mister Sun…today I imagine the sun as a female force.

Oh Mister Sun, Sun,
Mister Golden Sun,
Please shine down on me

Oh Mister Sun, Sun,
Mister Golden Sun,
Hiding behind a tree…

Singing this song made me feel good. It gave me hope. Sunshine is hope. The anticipation of sunshine is hope. 

I remember my mother singing You are My Sunshine to me at bedtime. It was an emotional song for me, an expression of my mother’s love:

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy when skies are grey.
You’ll never know dear, how much I love you.
Please don’t take my sunshine away.

The other night dear, as I lay sleeping,
I dreamt I held you in my arms.
When I awoke dear, I was mistaken,
So I hung my head down and cried.

Back to feeling good…if singing this song made me feel good then it could be said that sunshine brings pleasure. But is sunshine a positive idea because of the pleasure it brings?  And then I wonder…does this make people with a sunny disposition pleasure seekers? Or are they people who are optimitists, who see the world and all the people and experiences in it as opportunities for joy?

I am looking at a small canvas on my living room wall:

You are today where your thoughts have brought you. You will be tomorrow where your thoughts take you.  –James Allen

This is sunshine: Attitude, Perspective, Inner Joy, Energy, Passion, Bliss, Being Present.

At a job interview I describe myself as energetic, enthusiastic, passionate. Also, I am an Aries. The fire sign. The qualities of the sun and elements of my personality weave together sometimes.

I can be intense like the sun. I like to go deeply into thinking about things. I like to burn through the surface and find truth apart from ego and expectation. Conversations with my friends are rarely about the weather…

I feel like I’m losing my grip on my thoughts. I’m very aware of the clock. Note to self: use a timer. Only one minute left. I feel like I’m just getting started. Lots to explore here.

And then a random thought…why Sunday? …Must look it up.  Sun  day…