Clear Your Space...Clear Your Mind #2

Part 1 - It's Personal

Chapter 1 ~ The Beginning

“It is never too late to be what you

might have become.”  George Eliot

     It was 1981 and Chicago was a hub for commercial, narration and broadcast work.  My husband Jim was gainfully employed as the “Voice-over Kat” which allowed me to stay home with our kids.  While most of my peers were out in the world traveling and exploring, establishing their careers, I was a stay-at-home-mom.  I didn’t see myself as anything else or even grasp who that other person might be, so I made no plans to include her in my life.  Like my mother before me, I was a housewife and mother - end of story. 

     There were moments of questioning, like,  “What will I do when I grow up?”  Or  “What will I do when my kids grow up?”  But I was in no hurry to discover myself or answer the big question.  I just wasn’t inspired. 

     You see, that’s what it’s really all about:  inspiration.  I’m convinced that is true for everyone.  Inspiration is the spark driving us onward, from one place to the next.  That muse of provocation is what keeps the juices flowing, and through that vision we create.  If not for expressive creation, then what is this physical experience about?

     My inspiration was wrapped up in my husband’s success, and it provided me with time for the children and the occasion to play in my personal playground, an old Victorian house.  I now had my own furniture to move around and I did it over and over again.  I never realized I was educating and preparing myself for a job that would eventually become my career, my livelihood.  As our kids got older and their lives expanded beyond me, the urge to fill a growing void developed.  I began to acknowledge that I needed more than Legos in my life, so I explored my artistic longings.  Periodically I took on a part time job, sometimes out of boredom, sometimes for the money, and often for the perks - but I was marking time.

     In 1996, motivated by a struggling economy not only in the outside world but in my private one, I applied for a position at a folk art gallery in my neighborhood.  I was driven by the chance to work on displays, because through all the variety of creative endeavors I had explored, my inclination to rearrange stuff was still intact.  The store owner hired me, explaining that my chief responsibility would be to sell the merchandise - certainly not an unreasonable request for someone in retail. 

     She did agree, however, that during slow times or off hours I could try my hand at arranging the store.  I wasn’t terribly keen about being a salesgirl, but I accepted the position for a chance to play the “Clean and Decorate” game.  In my gut I knew it wasn’t a perfect fit, but I was hungry for something to do. Okay, I felt desperate. 

     Customers would come through the store and drool over a piece of jewelry or an African bowl.  They were eager to purchase it, they wanted it, but often complained they couldn’t afford it.  My chief responsibility (sell sell sell) was to convince them, regardless of their budget, to take it home.  I grappled with this, feeling an ethical dilemma in my belly.  But then there were those quiet times, after hours, when I could move things around and play to my heart’s content. 

     I created sweet little vignettes; I must admit I was a pig in you-know-what.  When there were no customers I would run to the basement to sort through the stock.  I was happy, but not as a salesgirl.  I practiced saying “I quit” many times but had made a commitment to remain through the holiday season, so I hung in there. I went about convincing myself that this was a good spot for me.  I made up reasons like: it’s convenient, there’s a steady income, and I love decorating the store.  I stayed silent.  

to be continued...