Leisa A. Hammett

THE LIBERALS R BACK IN TOWN!

   Photo: Sky News

President Obama signs into law his first bill, The Lilly Ledbetter Act.  His remarks: "[...] equal pay is by no means just a women's issue - it's a family issue. It's about parents who find themselves with less money for tuition or child care; couples who wind up with less to retire on; households where, when one breadwinner is paid less than she deserves, that's the difference between affording the mortgage - or not; between keeping the heat on, or paying the doctor's bills - or not. And in this economy, when so many folks are already working harder for less and struggling to get by, the last thing they can afford is losing part of each month's paycheck to simple discrimination.

So in signing this bill today, I intend to send a clear message: That making our economy work means making sure it works for everyone. That there are no second class citizens in our workplaces, and that it's not just unfair and illegal - but bad for business - to pay someone less because of their gender, age, race, ethnicity, religion or disability. The Washington Post [Italics, bold facing and underline, mine]

Leisa's extra commentary:  

   "NA-NA-NA-NA. NA-NA-NA-NA. HEY-HEY-HEY, GO-OD BYE!"

Photo: MotherJones.com

Family's Old Covered Bridge Dedicated

The old covered bridge no longer stands. It was the last of its kind in my hometown of Greenville, S.C. Dismantled in 1940. I grew up hearing my father and his siblings tell tall tales of the old bridge. Two weeks ago, the state of South Carolina dedicated the bridge and named it for my uncle, Harold Hammett. The road that runs over the Enoree River is already named Hammett Bridge Road and now the newly built and dedicated bridge is named: "Harold Hammett Memorial Bridge."

And that's because the bridge is beside the old Hammett homeplace. My family settled the area in 1791 and has lived in the area since. I grew up on Hammett Road, across the pasture and through the woods. Our road was so named because, before my own immediate family built there, it had been a wagon trail to the home of the relatives who willed my father the land.

My father, Gene Hammett, creeping toward his ninth decade of life, spoke at the bridge dedication. I was not there. I only have the news account, two of them I located online, below. As in the era of a bygone day, so are these stories and these memories, such as what my father reportedly told the dedication crowd: "I have a lot of memories of that old bridge....When I was young, my daddy made me work in the cotton field until 5:30. Then I would go fish near the bridge."

http://greercitizen.com/main.asp?Search=1&ArticleID=166&SectionID=5&SubSectionID=5&S=1

http://www.greenvilleonline.com/article/20090110/NEWS01/901100323/1001/ARCHIVE

The Frozen Winter of My Soul

Winter blues. Winter blahs. Dark, dreary, sunless January.

  Photo: raejan13

Naked trees striving toward a gray sky. There is a stark beauty in the barren landscape...Something I am gifted each morning as I drive by the large urban forest on my end of town. I am able to see into the wooded hillsides. The brown leaves bury a host of dark and active decay awaiting New Life. New Creation. New Spring. New Joy.

And, I think that's a lot like our souls. Our inner journey this time of year. If we are open to exploring it. Like this dark, quiet season, we, too, have an opportunity to go within and then reap the rewards.

Winter took on a personal-internal meaning for me these last five years. It was five, going on six years ago that I weathered my first winter of the soul post divorce. I am a Grief Warrior. I have weathered job loss, quarter-life crisis, depression, my only child's diagnosis of autism and recently, my mother's death. Divorce was a special biggie. But I had garnered so much experience at Grief, done it "poorly," done it well, that come Divorce, I knew to stock the tool box and keep her handy.

My tools include a bedside journal for dumping feelings. A book of meditations. Arising for the morning ritual of yoga and meditation. Many days this is difficult for this bird who likes the sedation of heavy warm covers. But, as I saunter to the kitchen, sleepy-eyed and sporting squirrel's nest hair, I begin to give thanks. I squeeze half a lemon into cold water and proceed to the gift awaiting me behind the blinds. Light. That light seeks out and kisses my sleepy and sometimes battered-feeling soul.

True, sometimes the scene behind the blinds is so bleak that there is no sunshine to kiss. But therein lies the gift. Through all these winters of my soul...I know. I know that again the sun will shine. I know that spring will come again. I know that the mulching of cold and wet, the dank and the dark, like Mother Earth, has fertilized my spirit. And for that, I am blessed. With the gift of Winter. I. Am. Rich.

"Lost & Found: Lessons in Loss"

 by Meaghan Mundy Patterson and Christopher J. Mundy

 

Take nothing for granted.                       

Give thanks everyday.

Appreciate simple pleasures.

Live in the moment.

Laugh with a child.

Love an animal.

Find solace in beauty.

Accept goodwill.

Know what love is.

Be that love.

Nurture your spirit.

Feed your soul.

Say I love you.                                                 

Practice forgiveness.                                         photo: Rankle_Hiway

Resolve conflicts.

Let others in.

Breathe deeply.

Spend time in nature.

Let solitude speak.

Be still.

Release judgment.

Let go of control.

Seek out symbols.

Watch for signs.

Trust in miracles.

Explore your spirituality.

Find your faith.

Find something to believe in.

________________________

Buried beneath a stack of mail, I found a card from a friend/acquaintance at the spiritual center I attend. Not only was it a gift for her to think of me, sending compassion to me due to the loss of my mother nearly two months ago, the card, in itself, was a gift. The card line, Singing Heart Press, was co-created by another friend/acquaintance I also met in a class at Nashville Center for Spiritual Living. I knew the plans for the card line, but other than some prototypes, this is the first I had seen the line. What a beautiful poem. I opened the card, read it and knew it had to be shared here. Enjoy.  

We Chose Love Instead of Hate

Today I am proud to call Nashville home.

Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/brent_nashville/

For the last six months, I feared I might be ashamed to do so: http://www.tennessean.com/article/20090123/NEWS0202/901230395

Be Okay

Be okay in the not knowing and let life unfold.

A year or more ago, these words came to me, seemingly in stereosound...inside my head. Sometimes the Universe speaks that way. As I stood in front of my bulletin board just now, I looked up and saw a pink Post-it with these very words. And, funny, I think I may be learning to do just this. As I face many changes in my life this coming year, I am trusting. I am at peace. Not knowing. The details. And. I am. Okay. With that. Amazing.

Let's Hear It for the Artsie Fartsies!

Three's a Charm. So it's said.Three, for me, means: Wake-up, Leisa! The Universe has presented this information, book, person, thing, whatever, to you three times now. PAY ATTENTION! And so it is with Daniel Pink and his new book A Whole New Mind: Why Right Brainers Will Rule the Future. http://www.amazon.com/Whole-New-Mind-Information-Conceptual/dp/1573223085

Oprah, my all-time favorite guru, (Hey! Oprah, psst: I want to be on your show when my book's published. It's different, really. Like, I don't believe autism is bad)...umm, where was I? Oh, yeah, in her December issue of O, The Oprah Magazine -- which never fails to serve up a meaty, mental-fork-sinking books-worth of good writing on timely topics -- she has a lengthy interview with Pink. Toward the end, I pulled out the bedside yellow highlighter and starting coloring the page and then the next one. And the thought so resonated with yrs truly, I thought I'd put them up here for you, too, just in case you missed the issue. As for Pink's book, it's on order from the public library. Can't wait. So, what struck me:

Daniel: Empathy is about standing in someone else's shoes, feeling with his or her heart, seeing with his or her eyes.... [During Thanksgiving week, I wrote about the need for empathy of my autistic life. http://leisahammett.typepad.com/the_journey_with_grace/2008/11/can-u-help-.html and http://leisahammett.typepad.com/the_journey_with_grace/2008/11/thanks-to-all-those-who-get-it.html 

Oprah: [...] And finally, there's the capacity you call "meaning." Isn't meaning the common denominator of human experience? Over the years while doing my show, I've learned that we all want to be validated, to know that what we say matters, that it means something. We all want to feel as if our lives have been significant and purposeful.

Daniel:This is why I think baby boomers are going to do something quite spectacular. They say, "Sixty's not old. Oh, I've got 25 years left." Then they look back 25 years and say, "Holy smokes, that sure happened fast. Are the next 25 years going to happen as fast? And if they are, what's my legacy going to be? When am I going to live my best life? What kind of imprint am I going to leave on the world?" Roughly 100 baby boomers turn 60 every 18 minutes in this country. Imagine the collective force of that. So I think that this widespread search for meaning is one of the most important things going on in American life today.

Oprah: Do you believe that we all have souls?

Daniel: Sure.

Oprah: So does the soul live in the right brain?

Daniel:I'll answer with my left brain: There's scientific evidence that shows that it does. [Wow. Never heard that before.] There are experiments during which scientists have quieted the left brain that have allowed a person to have ecstatic or divine experiences. [Earlier interview references neuroscientist Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor, Harvard-trained brain researcher who wrote about her stroke in Stroke of Insight. http://www.ted.com/index.php/speakers/jill_bolte_taylor.html]

Oprah: So does this mean that if you're left-brain oriented, you're less spiritual?

Daniel: Not necessarily. Right-brain abilities are fundamentally human abilities. Some of us exercise these muscles repeatedly over our lives; others don't use them at all. Regardless, it's encoded into our DNA to wonder what life is about. [...]

Daniel: Everything big begins with a conversation. Those assembling the conversation are the ones who shape our experiences. One conversation turns into another and another. That contagious conversation is what changes the world.

Oprah: Is that why you wrote this book—to start a conversation?

Daniel:Yes. In our hyperconnected world, authors get the first word—but they definitely don't get the last one. For me, a great day is when I get an e-mail from someone who says, "I've never felt like I was taken seriously, but after reading this, I think I'll be alright." And in the book, there's an exercise in which I ask the reader to picture himself or herself at age 90—what are your regrets? What did you do right? [...]

Oprah: Daniel, what do you know for sure?

Daniel: These right-brain abilities are more than a way to get ahead in today's economy. They're part of what it means to be human. Everybody has the capacity to develop them. And if we encourage people to tap the right side of their brains, we have the potential to transform our world—to make ourselves not just better off but just plain better. [END QUOTE. Entire interview: http://www.oprah.com/article/omagazine/200812_omag_ocut_pink/1]

Leisa: Wow!

 

The End. And the Beginning.

1.20.09 !!!

Photo graphic image by my1ene

 

 

Me, ObamaMama, Fall, Warner Park, photo by Bill Bangham

Bears Repeating

  photo by JayMccullum

"Rosa sat so Martin could march. Martin marched so Obama could run."*

Twelve days post election, I wrote in "A White Girl's Pride About a Black US President,"  http://leisahammett.typepad.com/the_journey_with_grace/2008/11/a-white-girls-pride-about-a-black-us-president.html, that I was still crying. The Boyfriend called Saturday as I was scurrying about town and relayed the CNN footage he was viewing of the inauguration train. As I listened to him and the subsequent NPR reports, the tears returned, washing lines down my face.

I am grateful that many (not all, obviously) have put partisanship aside to honor the significance of this historic election. I was touched upon reading Conde Rice's comments about having to pause at the news and cry herself. And George W. (1.20.09!) himself was most gracious. Many things though he be called, I believed Bush was not a racist and demonstrated the true equal-opportunity ideology of his faith.  

My. How far we have come. And. Much farther have we yet to go.

********************************

I ran the quote, at top, three days after the election. Other blog-related and similarly timed blog posts include: "A Consciousness Rising" --http://leisahammett.typepad.com/the_journey_with_grace/2008/11/a-consciousness-rising.html

*About the quote: *http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=96735174

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Ode to Andrew

 Beautiful art. Symphonic music. Landscapes. These are the things make my soul soar....At a work-related party, my former husband overheard me saying this to a few colleagues who also appreciated these things. "Wait a minute," he added, his dry humor kicking in. "Where do I stand in this picture?" We all laughed. I blushed. And stammered.

But beautiful art does resonate with something visceral inside of me and one of the earliest memories I have of connecting with art was as I prepared to graduate from the Greenville Fine Arts Center, venture on to college and loudly slam the door to my own art for the next 30 years. I stood, nearly 18 years old, and alternately gasped and inhaled deeply as I first saw the work of Andrew Wyeth.

The iconic American realist painter died Friday. For 10 years, The Greenville Museum of Art, in my home town, a small upstate South Carolinian city, housed 26 of the master's works. On loan from the private collection of textile magnet Arthur Magill and wife, Holly, the paintings were sold to a Japanese collector. The couple endowed the museum $6 million from the sale.

The small but architecturally striking modern and structurally open museum later purchased 23 of Wyeth's paintings, in addition to one already owned. The collection has grown to 34 and is considered one of the most important collections of Wyeth's work. Early March, the museum will unveil a new installation of 34 paintings, including several recent works Wyeth finished this millennium. http://www.greenvilleonline.com/article/20090117/NEWS01/901170314/1004/NEWS01 

In my now-hometown of Nashville, Cheekwood Museum of Art has twice hosted Wyeth shows in the 15 years I've lived back here since college graduation. The museum also owns a Jamie Wyeth -- Andrew's son -- which is a depiction of Andy Warhol.  Additionally, Cheekwood owns a painting of Jamie Wyeth by Warhol.

Back to the resonance. The light. The dark. The detail. The sometimes mournful sadness -- Christina's World-- the ordinary of a cracked china tea pot, and the not-so-ordinary of Quaker coats hanging before a mantle. Ahh. Wyeth. And to think that art snobs didn't like him because of his detail when all else with abstract.

Perhaps that is why people like me related so much to the Pennsylvania-based artist. He defined life. In watercolor. In egg-tempera. In emotion. In ever the greatest detail.

Goodbye Andrew Wyeth. Like your father, illustrator N.C. Wyeth, you will live on through the legacy of your art.