Welcome to Ione's Philosophical Blog
Where Skin, Soil, Nutrition, Spirituality, Science, Environment, Healing, and Human experience merge into ONE whimsical journey.
Grandma’s Canvas of Silent Flowers
5/4/2010
I don’t tell my clients, unless they ask, that most of the paintings in my office were done by my grandma. With Mother’s Day around the corner, I got inspired to write a piece about what it means for me to be surrounded by my grandma’s oil paintings while I am working. Not only did my grandma, Greta Laird, paint these paintings, she also grew all the roses, daisies, cosmos, etc that are in the paintings. She was an organic gardener. She was a nutritionist (aka: health-nut, no sodas at Grandma’s house!) and an environmentalist. You might say she was ahead of her time. She recycled, conserved water, and composted all food scraps. When she washed the dishes, she would use very little water, and she would proudly say, “I am saving the water for my grandchildren”.
I remember the earthy smell, colorful splashes of decomposing food, and wildness of her compost. It was like her art room; filled with the creative aroma of paint and a rainbow of color. Often, as a child, I remember looking up and seeing grandma bent over some project in the yard. She was part of the earth like a rock is part of a mountain. It oozed out of her soiled finger nails.
Grandma was a humble woman. She hardly talked about herself. She mostly asked questions, her mind endlessly curious. She always laughed at herself and she did not take herself too seriously. I remember how she loved to paint my brother and me. She’d put us in a chair and capture our essences on canvas. It was not easy to sit still while she painted us, but it made us feel special and deeply seen. My brother would often say the best way to describe grandma is: “Grant that I may not so much seek to be understood, as to understand”. -Prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi.
It is easy to worship our grandparents. To grandchildren they are pure; they don’t carry the wounds that our parents might have inflicted on us. I prefer to keep them that way, PURE. As my mom always says, “you don’t know how grandma was when I was growing up, she changed a lot”. I believe my mom, but I don’t share her experience, mine was a lighter, happier side of grandma.
Another special thing about my grandmother was she meditated every day. Often, I would witness her quietly sitting in her chair, eyes closed, hands in an open position on her lap. She surrendered each day to silence, to listen to the divine. As a child, when I walked through a room that she was praying in, I could feel a peaceful vibe in the room, it emanated the air. Respectfully, I would tiptoe through the room, as an automatic response to not disturb her sacred space.
Grandma’s gift of silence and presence transcends her paintings into my bodywork and facials; my canvas. While I am working on my clients, I often look up into the her vibrant roses and I feel her, I feel her strength, I feel her sensitivity, and I feel her attention to detail and beauty. Her spirit keeps me present to my practice; to my clients needs. If my mind is over active and I am distracted, her paintings gently remind me to silence my thoughts and be present. When I am tired, I ask her to give me energy. Sometimes, I touch her painted lilies forever captured in oil to feel the texture of her brush strokes; and to remind me that her hands were once all over those canvases. Memories of grandma linger in the subtle fragrance of painted petals, subtle like her, still and connected to nature.
My Grandma represents a full human experience to me, complete; with birth, life, and death behind her. Sure! She made her mistakes, was deeply hurt by others, and suffered the consequences of life’s lessons. She experienced the most horrific loss of all; she lost her son when he was age 25. She had a hard life, as many do. However, in her later years, Grandma found ways to heal herself through her art, through her dogs, through her meditation, through her organic soil and bountiful flowers. Most of all, she endured her life on this planet by leaving behind this beautiful art, so I can still feel her, smell her, and talk to her in the most authentic way; for she carries the purity of only spirit, where there is no judgment, no pain, no mistakes, just LOVE.
I wanted to share this gift with my clients because it is also your gift. You might feel her benevolent peaceful spirit while I am working on your bodies. Come immerse yourself in her explosion of flowers and colors! What a joy for me to do organic facials and be surrounded by my grandma’s organic flowers; forever illuminating the canvas of her life. Thank you Grandma, the flowers you planted in my heart are still growing, still inspiring me, and still healing me. I love you. Happy Mother’s Day!
Small Hands with Intention
"An Ode to my Hands"
by Ione Lindroth
4/12/10
It is fascinating what we can remember from our childhood and how one keepsake from kindergarten can bring back a flood of memories. Recently, I was going through a box of some of my childhood keepsakes and I found a clay molding with my tiny 5 year old hand pressed into it. It was a circular piece of clay with a string attached, so it was made to hang on the wall. As I pulled this man-made fossil of my hand out of an old dusty box, I was instantly brought back in time to that special day in Kindergarten. For a while, I stared at my hand print with tenderness. I slowing started caressing the grooves of my little hand, while turning the piece of clay around in my now 36 year old hands. I can actually remember the moment when I made that hand print, my teacher, Mrs. Brothers, slowly guided my hand into a wet, pliable, sticky piece of the earth. Then, sinking my hand into the clay, I watched with amusement as the clay oozed up between my fingers. What joy for a 5 year old!
After the whole classroom of children had made their hand prints in clay, Mrs. Brothers hung our clay hands on the wall. When I looked up at the sea of hands from the other children in my class, to my bewilderment, I noticed that I had the smallest hands in the entire class. Even the shortest girl, Danielle Torres, had a bigger hand than me. But, what I also noticed was that my hand impression was the deepest; I had pushed the hardest into the clay and I had the most pronounced and defined imprint. Somehow, in my little 5 year old brain, this redeemed the fact that I had the smallest hand. I was proud that I had pushed the hardest into the clay and made the strongest imprint forever recorded in dirt.
As a deep tissue massage therapist, I chuckled as I remembered this day because of what I do now for a living. Even at the age of 5, I was heavy handed. Unfortunately, my hands are still very small. When I put my adult hand over my Kindergarten hand my fingers only reach about 1 1/2 inch beyond my little hand. Being a massage therapist, it would seem more appropriate to have big hands to get more grip and leverage with my clients bodies. Consequently, I have had to be creative and use different strokes, including my elbows to get around these limitations. But, one thing is for certain, my hands may be small but they are not weak!
So, as I stood there in the garage caressing this clay relic of my hand, I got inspired to hang up this keepsake in my massage office. I moved into my office over a year and a half ago and I still had not hung up my educational credentials up on my wall. This becomes less novel after being in business for 9 years. However, I know I should put them up for the sake of looking more professional and well trained in my field. So, seeing my little hand inspired me to put my credentials on the wall because I realized that this hand print was the most important credential of all. My hands do all the work! Therefore, I decided I would put my clay hand print in the middle of all my credentials as an “ode of gratitude” to my hands, my little hands!
The Nature of Skin is the Nature of Soil
7/26/2008
In order to understand my philosophical blog, I must first bore you with some details of my journey on this planet so far. My blog is a provocative, sometimes serious, sometimes silly flow of consciousness. Like most people, my life has not been a straight road. It has been a meandering path that often made no sense. Luckily, it is making more sense now. I have come full circle on a few important aspects of my life, therefore, I feel like I have the wind at my back now, instead of at my side.
Before I became a Massage Therapist & Esthetician, I was a Soil Scientist (B.S. from Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo). I was passionate about organic farming and studying "living soil". I did everything from soil and plant nutrient analysis in laboratories, to living and working on organic farms and selling produce at farmer's markets.
Organic farming was hard work, in fact, I never worked so hard in my life. There was nothing more rewarding than being part of something bigger than myself; a movement that reconnected the farmer, food, consumer, and sustained the environment.
On the farm, I went to bed each night with basil and vegetables aromas still lingering on my fingers; contented from a productive day of work. I didn't drive to work, I rolled out of bed and walked out to the land. Nature was my new classroom and I felt relieved to be out of the western educational model. After many years of formal education, I was used to working hard with my brain. I quickly learned the serious physical demands of farming. My body ached with pain at night, the skin on my fingers cracked, joints swelled, and my muscles would be stiff and sore in the morning. I experienced exactly what it was like to be a 'farm worker'.
I never could have predicted the experiences I had on the farm. It changed my life forever. I miss it. But, most of all, I miss the passion I had at that time in my life. I loved reading books about farming. I loved doing something progressive and healing for the environment. I loved watching great blue herons glide in for landings on the farm. I loved working in rhythm with nature and my co-workers. I loved seeing tree frogs attached to zucchini plants. I loved eating foods right off the land with no chemical residues. I loved growing soil, not just plants.
My massage and skin care clients are always surprised to learn about my "dirt days", especially when they are getting a facial or a massage. "Soil Science??? What kind of major is that?" The truth is, I did not not grow up thinking about soil that much, I just took it for granted, like my skin. The soil sustains our very life. It is a porous, living, fertile, protective layer of the earth; it is the ecstatic skin of the earth. Our skin is a self regulatory system that protects, excretes, absorbs, controls temperature, senses pain and pleasure; it is like the brain inside out.
So, if you think about it, the soil beneath our feet and the skin on our body have much in common, they are both protective boundaries that are layered, full of microbes, mutable, and sensitive to changes in the environment. We could not live or function without either one. As you read my blog, you will better understand why I like to compare soil to human skin so much; they are both wondrous matrixes for supporting and protecting life.
For a moment in time, my life has come full circle, I am connecting an old passion with a new passion. This is why I am so excited about bringing organic skin care products into my business. When I smell the wonderful natural aromas of Eminence Organic skin care products, the scents carry me into nature, into the toiled hands of the farmer, into the rich earth, and my heart swells with joy. It is like reuniting with a timeless friend; time has passed, but we talk as if we saw each other yesterday.
I have rejoined the fight against global warming in a small way. Our planet is in trouble, it is important to support the organic farmer, choosing organic skin care products is one way to cast your vote for a greener cleaner world and healthier skin!!!
