Magic and Weight

Sometimes there are moments that propel us forward, remind us that at least at some point in our lives, we believed in very big things.  Not just effervescent, heat of the moment belief, but a real, tangible winking that good things are going to happen.  For me, one of these moments happened when I was a junior in high school.  I was at a friends graduation at the Cathedral of the Madeline in Salt Lake City.  I don't know if it was the way the stained glass looked with the early morning sun glowing through it, or the birds in the trees outside just before we came in.  It could have been a really good graduation speech, though I kind of doubt it.  It could have been that I was sitting up so high looking down on everyone, watching time inch forward like white, flapping wings.  Whatever it was that morning,  I remember feeling so excited, so ecstatic, that my stomach was in knots.  I think I recall writing something about magic in my journal.  I was honest to goodness, just so excited about what was to be accomplished in this life, that my insides were going wild.

I've felt that subsequently, though perhaps with less intensity as the years go on.  I've gone through phases where I think, "I've lost it, any magic, or pretense to magic I may have ever had, is just gone."  Then I go through times where I reflect back on that moment and think, "silly girl, so naive and fresh, how embarrassing." Then there are times like today, when I realize that I am not the only one who has ever felt these things.  Wow, big surprise.  I don't know how I ever imagine that I am the only one who feels certain things, though those moments still are very much my own, it is most refreshing to know that I am not wading in an empty swimming pool with them.  At a Women's Conference today at my church, a very smart women was the keynote speaker. She said that she originally wanted to use a talk that she had written twenty years ago as a missionary in Russia.  She said she wanted to use the talk because it seemed so brimming with hope and happiness, but as she read the old talk, she realized that while her essence was still made up of the same particles, she was a different person today, with different things to say.  She said that she worried, like I have, that she'd lost the magic that she felt those twenty years ago, but then she said something that should accompany any sentence about feeling magic:  we also grow older, and add to our souls the weight of wisdom.  I don't know that I heard too much after she said those words, "weight of wisdom".

In my head, my life from that point in the church pew began to rewind itself and I followed myself back through the weight of moving to a new place and starting over, the first year being a mom, the weight of pregnancy, of marriage, of mistakes, of heartbreak, of schooling, of disappointments, of a mission, of imperfection, of joy, of doubt and loss, of happiness, of service, of friends, and family, and painting and poetry and hikes in the mountains.  And when I was all through journeying back through time and had returned to my place in the church pew where everyone was singing a hymn, I felt better.  I felt like I no longer had reason to lament the fact that I don't get giddy with butterflies as often as I used to.  I am far from ripe, but I am preparing for a harvest when I am wrought with the weight of wisdom.  I think it is possible to cultivate both.

I also realized that those fifteen years ago, when I was so excited for the things that were to happen, which I imagined at the time were earth-shattering and totally life changing, are actually happening and have been happening all this time.  Yeah, I'm not actually saving orphans or starting revolutions, I haven't even protested something in years, but my place has been pretty good.  My place over the past fifteen years has been filled with white flapping wings and birds in trees, and many friends in so many places, and rain out my window at night, and Carl, and Remy, sweet Remy who bites me each morning when he comes into our bed, and the new friends who surprised me with birthday party when I least expected it.  Later in the conference I started to write down a quote by Emma Smith, but I only got part way before the slide changed and it was gone, but I kind of prefer the small piece I managed to get down in my journal.  It says simply, 'We are going to do something extraordinary,...'

Mormon Women

We must cherish one another, watch over one another, comfort one another, and gain instruction that we may all sit down in heaven together.

Lucy Mack Smith

It is easy to believe you are small, even insignificant in the world.  I've done a fair share of wondering in the deepest parts of my heart, where I had assumed there was simply no one else around those places to whisper a good word to my doubts and fears.

I live in a quiet place. Somedays, I only talk to 10-month old son, Remy, the three nine-year old boys in my courtyard, and my husband when he gets home from school. But in my heart, women I hadn't known until now are slowly filing into those deep places. They are my friends, better yet, my advocates.

They seem to nod to me, tell me to keep going, to work hard, to speak up, that I am good, even better than I think I am. We even celebrate together. I met these women one at a time.  I am getting to know them through their words.  Some through stories told by others, some typed out in books they’ve composed, and others in speeches spoken in front of many people.

I was inspired to take up this project after I had painted a similar series of the Twelve Apostles and the First Presidency of the church.  I didn’t feel right about offering a painting of fifteen men for people to put in their homes without a companion of equally influential and important women to put up alongside it.  I felt like the men in the first painting would agree with me.  As the idea for the mormen women artwork formed I realized that there really wasn’t any resource or visual gathering of these women.  It made me sad to think that in many mormon households there are prominent photos and paintings of mormon men, but rarely are we exposed to mormon women.  I thought a lot about myself as a youth, and even now, as a young mother in a new city, I wondered which women I could invite into my own life and hopefully the lives of others to bless, uplift and inspire.

For me, this project of compiling Mormon women visually in one space is important because as Mormon women we are a nexus of history, accomplishment, change, challenge, faith, and story, yet so often these women have no voice in our daily lives because we don’t talk about them.  When I first had the idea for this project I asked on Facebook for feedback about prominent Mormon women.  A good portion of the responses were the author of the Twilight series.  While I’m sure that Stephanie Meyers is a lovely person, I was sad to realize that many incredible women are lost to us simply because we do not know or hear about them.  I want these paintings to be a catalyst meeting many more strong and beautiful women of the Mormon Church, both in our history and with our contemporaries. I have read and researched these women night and day, and the more I read, the more women I find.  I’ve found a new resolution to love myself while still expecting much of myself while reading the words of Chieko Okazaki; proof that our writing does make of difference through the example of Emmeline B. Wells; courage to make art about my religious convictions through Minerva Teichert; more reason to stick up for what I believe in through Esther Peterson; peace in working hard and moving forward the best way I know how through Laurel Thatcher Ulrich. 

I want the stories, the words, the faces of Mormon women to be in our lives. I realize that the images on this work are by no means comprehensive.  I want our Young Women to learn about these women at Wednesday night activities and camp, I want Remy to respect and love them and then in turn, I want us to love ourselves more because we know about them. I want these women to continue to teach me daily so I can better know how to teach others around me.  I don't want this artwork to simply be a tribute to these women, although it is partially that.  I want this artwork to celebrate that within the gospel there is a place for women who do grand and public things, but there is also a place for women who do equally important work that is quiet and may never be known publicly.  I want the artwork to inspire Mormon women to be better, but also to realize that they are already probably better than they think they are.  I want us to be able to celebrate collective accomplishments, both large and small.  Perhaps the most important part of the painting is the space left to insert your own photograph.  

I am grateful now to be learning in depth about these women, but it makes me sad that it has taken until so recently. Why had I not heard some of their names before? I think I could have found solidarity and confidence in my youth had I known these stories. I cling to them now. I vacillate between feeling so excited about this project that I wake up in the middle of the night and wonder, how can I get this to every woman I know, and then there are times of extreme self doubt where I think 'silly silly silly, no one cares'.

Funny though, it seems to be precisely in those times when the words I've been reading seem to take life, and I picture these twenty-four women all in my living room, eating warm bread and honey, looking lovely and telling me, 'Go ahead, do the things you feel you should do.'

*To purchase packs of 25 Mormon Women cards, go here:

http://www.etsy.com/listing/86813761/mormon-lds-women-poster-6x8-pack-of-25