Hello World

The thing that always shows up of great importance throughout my life is cutting. Not just cutting out a lousy attitude or cutting ties with bad habits, I have had to cut my losses before, learned from cutting corners, definitely cut class, a lot, and have felt like I just maybe wasn’t cut out for life so many times yet so many times I was shown that maybe I was a cut above and even though I do have my work cut out for me, I should cut myself some slack. There are times when I find others that are cut from the same cloth, reminding me to not forget to cut a rug and that I am cut out for this and it is time to cut through the red tape and cut loose!

Jose Barrios Elementary. Silver City, New Mexico. 1989.

The day my kindergarten teacher asked me to return scissors to the classroom across the hall is one of my favorite days.

“Make sure the handles are closed tight, like this. You hold them with your fingers here.”

Mrs. Griswold’s hands, palms facing up, closed her fingers around the handles edge and closed blades.

“and you hold them facing down, right by your side.” Eyes wide, nodding my head yes.

“You walk, slowly. You got that? Here let me see.”

When she knew I understood clearly the importance of this process, of this moment, she placed the oversized scissors, with their orange handle in my palm, and the weight of them was powerful, the responsibility of holding scissors was palpable. I followed her instructions carefully, made it across the hall, placed them on the desk and returned to my seat with my chest filled of excitement and delight.

Abbott Kinney Blvd. Venice, Ca, about 8 years ago.

“I know, you want to hear about love, but we should talk about your career, about doing what you love.”

The palm reader spoke as her hand hovered over mine. Eyes down, knowing full well that I very desperately was curious about love and me. Feeling a little deflated hearing her speak about a career, those $10 spent would probably be put to better use discussing career paths since I was in between, in between a lot. Watching her reading my palm as if it were brail, I was only aware of where my life line sat, I felt exposed.

“Use your hands, use them every day. Work with your hands.”

With a furrowed brow, I took my hand back. As quickly as the portal of the future opened, it had closed, and I was ushered away back out onto the busy street full of art walkers, my time was up. Walking away from my brief exposure had me feeling more ripped off then enlightened. I was the same exact person as before only with $10 less. What was she even talking about anyway? I already use my hands every day! I’ve been sewing since I was 11, fastest typist around, love braiding hair, fixing bikes and I have even been a hand model before. That was no career insight whatsoever.

Craft Store, Ashland, Oregon. 2004

Walking through the aisles, adding up the cost of the X-large cutting mat vs the smaller one, along with the rotary cutter and new blades, I wasn’t sure if the 20% off coupon would be sufficient. I was still not the best at holding on to jobs, yet alone money, but I needed these supplies. The boutique downtown was selling my patch work bags on consignment and I wanted the next batch to look more professional. I scrapped by at the register, opting for the smaller narrow cutting mat, I would just have to make it work.

The following week, after pressing snooze five times on my 5 a.m. alarm, I headed to my newish job. I had just finished setting up the continental breakfast, when a group of students visiting town for the Shakespeare Festival walked in and one of the girls was carrying one of my bags. It was a cotton quilted keyboard, with small handles, and black with white polka dot lining, almost like a clutch. I couldn’t believe it. I made that, and this girl from another state is now the proud owner of my work of art.

“You made this?! I love it, it’s so punk but cute.” She exclaimed pressing her purse to her chest.

The rest of that morning preparing the next day’s scones I was floating.

The alley behind Spanish Trails Inn, Durango, Colorado. May 9th, 2020.

I pulled into the alley, after several days of hunting down the perfect overgrown Lilac bush to procure some branches off of. I put my car into park, reached into the car door pocket and felt the plastic loops and grabbed. Several weeks into lock down and these Lilacs are exactly what I need to make this Mother’s Day special. With my scissors, carefully cutting the juicy blooms that were pressed against the back of the building, gently thinning out the outgrown parts, than I placed the branches into my trunk.

Sogetsu School, Tokyo Japan. April 2, 2015

As my sensei went around critiquing the classes Ikebana arrangements, I grabbed my muslin cloth and began drying the blades to my scissors, waiting my turn. After visiting Tokyo Hands, one of the most amazing stores for makers, I had acquired several new varieties of scissors and cutting utensils. Among my traditional Ikebana scissors were my micro tip trimmers from home which had been a favorite since working on a friends farm a few years before. Placing the lock on, and the rubber protector over the tip of the blades, Sensei called me up to critique my work.

My furnished room rental, the edge of Oakland, California. January 2012.

Midwinter, but it doesn’t feel like it. Far removed from everyone, and I can’t afford the bus right now, luckily, I am equipped with card stock paper, a glue stick and several scissors. I begin my self portrait. I cut out ribs from the textured bone colored card stock and make anime hands holding up a peace sign. The blunt bang and black long swooping hair shown through the bones is exactly me. Walking to the last bus ride I had taken in a week, I came across an antique wooden frame, not in the best condition. I found my favorite Tiffany Blue spray paint can and covered it. The self portrait fits perfectly, showing the layers of white on black, and touches of glitter paper.

Mountain Belle Flower Farm, Colorado. June 9, 2021

“I got you some new snips!” Elaine called out from the van.

Growing flowers in high elevation means a shorter growing season than most. New Snips means its harvest time. After a few months of prep, planting, maintenance, and dreading a late frost, harvest time is finally among us. Of course we will be continuing to plant so we can have a few successions of flowers, but our favorite time has begun. Cutting!

Everywhere, Every day. Forever.

Daily I use about 6 different kinds of scissors, and that is not counting my garden sheers. I often think of my palm reading. I think of my hands, and what they did that day. At some of the most precious times in my life, even if I didn’t have a job to go to, my hands worked for me each day. Each day I notice just how many times I pick up a pair of scissors. I cut, trim, nip, slit, prune and snip, everyday creating happiness with my hands and scissors. I often say to myself, “Thank You, Hands, thank you scissors.” If you know me well, you have heard me explaim "I love scissors!"

I know how important it is to cut things back to help them grow, to make room for more, to reimagine growth. Growth for me means cutting, which means scissors. I hope every day I remember, “thank you hands and thank you scissors”, as I continue on in life cutting the ribbon and cutting the checks.