use of drawn patterns I studied the way shadow and light as well as tints, tones and shades of color could create objects with dimension. Occasionally I would even try to draw something myself, although my inner critic rarely approved. After several years of honing my skills in classes, my friends asked me to teach them and my passion for teaghing was once again fueled as I loved watching people discover joy and satisfaction in the painting process.
Dolls occupied much of my life and imagination from the time I was a tiny girl. Learning to stitch simple blankets and doll clothes with my mother, ignited my love of sewing. Time simply evaporated when I sewed and dressed my collection of dolls. As my sewing skills developed, I sewed evermore elaborate dresses, including an entire wedding scene, for my fashion doll. All the hours of designing and pretending filled some of the emptiness left behind by my sisters. When they came home to visit, my sisters thought my creations were pretty silly until they saw how I designed and stitched my own wedding dress and those of my attendants, saving lots of money!
Many years later while perusing a catalog, I stumbled upon a book about making cloth dolls and a new idea was born: I could create dolls myself! I knew I could sew the clothing and accessories, but could I design the actual doll’s body, too? Seeking inspiration, my discovery of the new phenomena of online communities connected me to doll makers all over the world. I found limitless resources, as well as answers for my questions without ever leaving my desk.
Doll making evolved easily into teaching, first on the local level and then into a classroom without walls—the Internet. What a transforming experience—students all over the world learning from me without a physical classroom! My passion for teaching exploded and I built a thriving design business that further supported my classes. With help and encouragement from my husband, I created my own line of patterns and rubber stamps, and expanded my business from retail into wholesale. In early 1999, one year after developing my new business, in a casual conversation with an associate, she remarked that someone needed to write a book about a specific doll making technique. Intrigued, I began exploring the possibility of writing just such a book, enabling me to teach in a whole new way.
…
Reflection
Passion
Take a moment and look back. Do you notice a recurring theme in your life? What has fueled your existence so far? What has made life worth living? What adds color to your life?
The color… life-fuel I call it, is Passion. Without it, life fades into shades of gray and becomes little more than an act of wandering from one day to the next. If you are lucky enough to have discovered more than one Passion, be ever so grateful, as one may sustain you during a difficult period when another has been extinguished.
What happens when your Passion has been stomped out by overwhelming responsibilities?
When the crescendo of stress threatens to crush you, how can you go on?
Begin with one simple choice. So much in life begins with a choice. We never lose the power to choose, even if the only choice you have is your attitude about something or someone. So, here's a chance to do just that. Choose to kindle an ember of Passion. Even if you choose to try for only a few minutes today, the ember may glow a bit. Tomorrow, vow to fan that tiny ember again. And, the next day choose to give it more attention.
And then a discovery! Passion is not lost, but rather waiting, patiently. It was there all the time.
Today, you can not only hang on, you can remember your passion and embrace it again.
…
Chapter 2
A Full Heart
After spending the summer months absorbed by the writing process, the doll making book became a reality. Putting my energy into writing helped diffuse my overpowering emotions as I anticipated our son, now grown, preparing to leave the safety and familiarity of home.
Simultaneously, my aging parents were needing additional attention which resulted in them absorbing larger and larger blocks of my time. Within me I could feel a dormant rebellion stirring. I loved and respected my parents, but I couldn’t help recalling their disdain from long ago when I married. They vehemently disagreed with my choice of husbands who was, “too old and only wanted me to take care of his daughter.” They were so opposed to him, that my father refused to escort me down the aisle and made certain that I understood their disapproval with his conversation and letters. When my parents finally appeared at our wedding, I saw their choice of seats—the back pew. I was their last child to marry, but they chose the back row in the church to put an exclamation point on their aversion to my action.
Reflecting on my parents’ appearance that day, I suppose that I should have been able to give them the benefit of the doubt as they had buried their second-born daughter, killed in a car accident, only a few months before my wedding. Their grief convinced them that when I married someone other than their choice, they would be losing another daughter. Our marriage was still strong after more than thirty years, but reliving my parents’ rejection of long ago still stung. Struggling with their increasing dependence, I experienced conflicting emotions every time they needed me. I wanted to reject them as they had rejected me, yet somehow I couldn’t. My conscience convinced me to set aside the old anger and wounds as best I could. I knew that none of us could go back to hit the re-do button, and I certainly didn’t want to spend the time I had left with my son swallowed up by resentment toward his grandparents.
In late October, 2000, our son began his journey from the Midwest to California. I rode with him in his classic Mustang as far as a friend’s home in Colorado and then through a flood of tears, bid him good-bye and Godspeed. To see him drive away was nearly more than my heart could bear. For my only son to find the courage and self-confidence to build his life in a place completely unknown to him, filled me with myriad emotions. I was elated by his courage to pursue his dream, followed quickly by my fear of the future and a longing for those years when his tiny hand always found its way into mine. I could barely take it in. All the years… all the feelings… all the love… Everything was acute and unfocused in the same instant, punctuated by the searing pain in my heart as I watched him leave.
But, the clock never turns back and watching my best launch into adulthood, without looking back at me, happened whether I was ready or not.
In a full heart there is room
for everything…
− Antonio Porchia
…
Reflection
Mixed Emotions
Emotions are funny things. It’s possible to feel something so strongly that you can’t imagine its intensity will ever lessen. The feeling rolls over and over in your heart, demanding all of your attention. And it’s possible to feel nothing at all. Empty… void… blank… Amazingly, it’s also possible to feel opposites at the very same time!
Well-meaning people may try to convince you that only certain emotions have value. Sometimes they even label the way you feel as good or bad. And you may even do that to yourself. If you’re not alert to the danger of emotion-labeling, you may succumb to an illusion that tricks you into thinking you cannot identify or trust what you feel.
The Truth is that every emotion is absolutely valid
