I love this story from NPR. It talks about a recently released study of artists over the age of 62. It's about the passion these artists have for life, and how they never plan to give up making their art no matter how old they are.
My favorite part of the story is from artist Pat Dillard, 81, living on $29,000 a year in New York City. She says, "The first thing I do when I go out of my building, I look at the sky, white clouds and a blue sky, my heart goes pitter-pat."
My favorite part of the story is from artist Pat Dillard, 81, living on $29,000 a year in New York City. She says, "The first thing I do when I go out of my building, I look at the sky, white clouds and a blue sky, my heart goes pitter-pat."
This is how I personally would like to feel every day. Noticing beautiful things like the sky, or new vocabulary words in my four year old's repertoire. In the moment.
The story also reminds me of Beatrice Wood, the "mama of dada," ceramic genius, and overall rabble rouser (pictured above). She is really who I would like to emulate as an old woman.
She died when she was 105, always saying that she owed her longevity to chocolate and young men.
The story also reminds me of Beatrice Wood, the "mama of dada," ceramic genius, and overall rabble rouser (pictured above). She is really who I would like to emulate as an old woman.
She died when she was 105, always saying that she owed her longevity to chocolate and young men.
Similarly, here is one of my Mom's favorite poems by Jenny Joseph. It is good to re-read it every once in a while. Just so you can recall who you are now, and who you want to become.
When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and a pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We will have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old and start to wear purple.
When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and a pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We will have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old and start to wear purple.
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1 comments:
shannon, i can't tell you how perfect this post is! It really hit home for me...thanks, deary!
I sent you an email about the artist trade we had talked about.. Still interested?
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