My Grandmommy AKA The Diva Had Something to Say

I am beyond honored to use this very FIRST blog post of mine as the vehicle for sharing the most supernatural revelation that was gifted to me while working on a few jewelry orders the other night...

Attached to this post, you'll see one of the countless sweetgrass baskets that my Grandmother made with her own hands. The basket in this particular picture is the one that I specifically keep on my home studio work desk. But before I say more about that...let me start by first giving thanks for one of the most important women that I still have in my life.

Her name was Mary but she's affectionately known in my family as "Grandmommy AKA The Diva"...& yes, we would reference her just like that. My Grandmommy AKA The Diva was simply amazing. She was straightforward, nonjudgmental, fierce, honest, strong, hilarious, and unifying. I always knew that I could talk to her about anything, so I did just that. In retrospect I now realize that she too, harbored an inner artist throughout an otherwise uninventive society. For many years, she made a living weaving and selling sweetgrass baskets of all different shapes and sizes at the city (or centre) market in Charleston, S.C. Our beloved Grandmommy AKA The Diva went home to be with our Creator in 2013. Reluctantly, we said our goodbyes to her physical form but...she's definitely still around.

For those of you who are unfamiliar, sweetgrass basket weaving is a significantly historic form of African art that was brought to America by enslaved Africans during the Atlantic Slave Trade. Charleston was one of the largest ports of entry for enslaved Africans and consequently, this art form of sweetgrass basket weaving (along with many other African-derived components of black culture) has remained heavily saturated specifically in S.C. and the surrounding areas.

Understanding the devastating destruction that the Slave Trade has had on African practices, beliefs, languages, and family structure...I'm sure that you can imagine the honor that my Grandmommy AKA The Diva must've carried when sharing her handcrafted art, knowing that it was literally one of the few remaining pieces of culture that had managed to survive.  

So back to this supernatural revelation...

A lot of you know that my personal life involves the constant balancing act of marriage, motherhood, household, career as an Epidemiologist, owning a small business, creative jewelry artistry, social life, travel, and overall wellness on a daily basis. It gets rough at times but if I were to be honest, I often find myself applying more pressure to my OWN back than anyone or anything else...(ehem, I'm working on that so don't judge).

Anyway, I had a night/early morning where I was struggling to get a certain brand of jewelry item labels to print correctly for the millionth time (OK, not really but it felt like it). It was after 2 AM and I had literally printed no less than 16 pages of these labels incorrectly. Each. Time....they were upside down, off-center, or flipped on the wrong sheet!  Every time my seemingly "fancy" printer spit out a new messed up sheet (yes, it was definitely SPITTING at me) all I heard was the sound of all my self-funded coins wasted on materials. It was when I lost count that I gave into sleep deprivation and began to cry on the floor.

This cry may not have lasted long but it happened and I felt low. It was quiet and dark when I looked up at my work desk and saw my Grandmommy AKA The Diva's basket sitting there and to my surprise, I saw something that I had never, ever paid attention to before.  The price tag that she had handwritten and affixed to one of the handles was the exact same type of scalloped-edged label that I had just used all my energy attempting to print! At the same exact moment that my eyes focused on that tag, I heard a soft voice in my heart say "I handwrote all my tags girl, why don't you try it too? Perfection isn't always so special".

Touché, Diva. Touché.

All I could think about was how I spent all that time trying to perfect and reinvent a wheel that had already been laid out for me...literally in plain sight. I heard my Grandmommy on my studio floor and you guys are going to start seeing a lot more handwritten messages delivered with my jewelry packages from now on :).

I hope this story helps someone else to also recognize those tiny pieces of light buried within the layers.

With Love,

Mackenzie