The Zen of Dishwashing

I grew up in a house that did not have a dishwasher. It was my chore to wash dishes after dinner. Sometimes I resented not being able to run from the table and start school work or watch TV, but mostly, I felt it was just part of daily existence. I had a portable record player and must have listened to Joni Mitchell’s Blue a thousand times as I washed and dried dishes.

I left that house at seventeen, went to college two thousand miles from home, had a family, and lived in a variety of residences throughout the United States- apartments, condo, townhouse, and houses - all with dishwashers. My children never had to wash dishes after any meal as the microwave, iPod, computers, and dishwasher were just part of their daily existence.

A few years ago, after decades of living with modern household electronics, I moved to an old house, without gadgets.  My renovation started with the necessities – a new septic system and heat pump - but when it came time to redo the kitchen, I hesitated. I loved the mellow wood floors that I found beneath the linoleum flooring and the green glass knobs on the old floor to ceiling cabinets. I bought a new stove and refrigerator but when it came time to redo plumbing, I chose to forego a dishwasher. The dishwasher would have taken up valuable real estate in the old farm kitchen, my children were grown, and I figured it wasn't a big deal to wash a few dishes.

Now, I wash dishes every day. The window above the sink faces west toward the river overseeing birdhouses that attract a variety of birds, squirrels, chipmunks, and even deer. Washing the dishes provides an opportunity to watch the antics of aggressive blue jays, or the comical woodpecker hanging upside down. If it is late in the day, I watch the sunset over the river and hills, creating a backdrop of beautiful colors. I witness the changing of the seasons, the position of the sun as it sets each day. At this time of year, I feel the warm, sudsy water caress my cold hands, the dish cloth gliding over the smoothness of plates, the rough landscape of food stuck on dishes. It is a sensual experience to feel the soap, the water, the sleek glimmer of clean glass, smell of the soap, the sound of dishes clanging and the floor creaking as my body weight shifts on the old floors. It is a dance of the senses, of body and mind in togetherness. 

Every so often, as I did last evening, when darkness came early, I pull out my old iPod, attach some speakers, and listen to Joni Mitchell’s Blue, as she sings River:

It's coming on Christmas

They're cutting down trees

They're putting up reindeer

And singing songs of joy and peace

Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on

It is indeed coming on Christmas - I have skates and a river that I could skate away on – but now I also have a sense of stillness, as a million stars illuminate the night sky, of calmness, peace. There is in this moment a connection with God, with the silence that allows us to touch souls, and an understanding that we can, in stillness and intention, find ourselves in very ordinary acts.

Norah Jones - Creepin' In - Dolly Parton

The Tree

I live along a river, next to woods, with trees of all types; some planted, but most there by natures design. When I first moved to this location in the country – after the deaths of my parents and both siblings - I chose a favorite; a large solitary tree in a grassy area, which from old photographs, appears to have been there prior to the building of any structures in the 1930’s.  It is huge, with branches reaching out and upward. It too, is dead. I have watched the tree now for four years, as the last small branches have finished trying to cling to life. Each storm takes a little more of it, as branches break and fall to the ground.

In the spring of this year, a local electrician working on my house, who heats his home with wood, asked to cut the tree down. I could not let it go. I told him that I take photos of it, and that it somehow belongs where it is.  He suggested that he would be doing me a favor by clearing the land. I declined again, politely telling him that I would call him, should I change my mind. He looked slightly bewildered upon hearing this, and looked at me as if I was an eccentric outsider.  He shook his head, smiling slightly, got into his truck and left.  I let his judgment fall upon me, and acknowledged, if only to myself, that tree or not, I would not be living alone, an artist, with a penchant for deep thinking, living in the present, and appreciating the solitude and beauty of the land, if I were not, to some extent, eccentric.

So summer has now passed into fall, and the tree remains where it has been for decades. I watch while the solitary eagle lands on its bare branches, as it rests before circling on its route for food. Branches continue to fall. I continue to take photographs of the tree in the rain, in the sunlight, as sand cranes fly beside it, and in the light of the setting sun. I am reminded on a daily basis, that the tree, perhaps all living things, continue to provide for the living, long after their own life ceases.

Annandale Art Crawl

"Bee" smart - Join me at the Annandale Art Crawl on Thursday, October 2nd.  I'll be there with original paintings and photography from Crow River North Photography!

New Painting - Print Available Now!

Purchase Prints, Frames, and Mats Here: http://fineartamerica.com/featured/untitled-linda-l-brobeck.htmlhttp://fineartamerica.com/featured/untitled-linda-l-brobeck.html

Opening Reception

Two of my paintings, including Always on My Mind , are included in the exhibit "Art of Darkness: Inspired by the Paranormal" at Banfill- Locke Center for the Arts

Opening reception is on Saturday, September 6th, from 6-9 PM

Banfill-Locke Center for the Arts

An Ordinary Life

The whole world is a series of miracles, but we're so used to seeing them that we call them ordinary things.

 Hans Christian Anderson

I spend a lot of time observing nature at Crow River North and the surrounding

lakes and rivers.  I find the time spent to be calming and balancing in an otherwise busy life. Today was no exception. 

I had just arrived at my local library when one of my daughters called.  Rather than go inside, I sat on some steps that lead down to the shoreline of Buffalo Lake. We chatted for awhile and I enjoyed both the conversation and the breeze blowing off the lake.  Shortly after ending our conversation, an eagle worked its way toward shore. I hadn't ever seen an eagle swimming, so I lingered by to watch. It raised its wings, and with each stroke drew closer to the shore.  Upon reaching the shore, it stepped out of the water carrying a large fish in one talon.  It carefully carried its prey a little further up the shoreline. It wasn't an extraordinary event, like seeing a UFO, or watching your favorite team win a championship, instead it was a bird catching a fish,  a tiny spark, a daily reminder, of all that is beautiful, and ordinary, in life

Last evening, shortly before the sunset, I watched a doe, or as I would rather call her, Mama Dear, cross the field in front of my windows, with her two growing fawns.  I've been watching the trio since the fawns could barely stand. They have grown throughout the summer but still have remaining spots on their coats. They graze, and then look up, to observe me, observing them. 

Earlier in the day, a gang of turkeys grazed in front of my deck  - there were probably five or six adults and many young ones - eating and following one another across the grassy area.  Another ordinary day for them.

The cycle of life continues for many creatures, while I observe. There are the ducklings in the pond, swimming close to their mother - always one, moving a little too far away. 

There is the bee going about the business of pollination or whatever it is that bees do, while I silently observe.

I left another career to live and work at Crow River North, knowing that I needed to change my life. I chose to pursue a life in art. I have found art in life.

Wishing you all that is good,

L

When an ordinary man attains knowledge, he is a sage; when a sage attains understanding, he is an ordinary man. 

- A Zen Saying-