ing. For me, it was as if a new
energy in me had burst onto
the stage and auditioned for a
lead role.
Years later, I was able to say
that my left brain finally met
my right brain. I was also able
to say that, if I’d only known at
eighteen what I knew at fiftyseven, I would have gone to
art school. The creative journey had seized me and shaken
me with the same delight my
sweet dog shakes her favorite
toy.
Oh, I continued in my counseling practice, where I am to this
day, although now very much
part-time. But then my creative impulse broke wide open
with ideas for how to put these
beads with that set, and make
something beautiful. I had so
many glorious ideas.
I should also say here that it’s
always been part of my life to
create beauty. I’ve always cre-
ated gardens wherever I lived,
nurtured and expanded them,
and encouraged others to garden through dividing plants
from my own beds. My homes
are always warm, colorful, welcoming places. Beauty is an old
and dear friend.
But, this time, I was full of her,
and spilling over. I couldn’t
make new pieces fast enough.
What I didn’t fully understand
was that this was my practice stage, my apprenticeship,
my early, fumbling attempts
to design and create jewelry.
That understanding would
only come later, and with some
humility, when I looked up
from my own efforts to see how
exquisite the work of other
designers actually was.
I encouraged myself to be honest and acknowledge the limits
of my skills while I simultaneously strove to move beyond
them.
What I did do, much to my
Shop at wildwomanbeads
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