Friday, April 13, 2018

New Day, Same Lesson














Good habits can unravel, best intentions need to be revisited and revised, when I fall... I gotta get back up, when off course... adjust the sails. Basically, the lesson I seem to need reminding of, again and again, is to do with entropy: The gradual decline to disorder, that things can come together, and they can fall apart. All too often, I get discouraged, or overwhelmed when things fall apart, when there is too much to do, when I get sick, or someone else needs extra care, when I've watched too much news, or faced plagues in succession. Actually, entropy is the first part of the lesson, and where I get stuck is between recognizing the entropy, it's natural and inevitable appearance, and impact, and accepting that I must start over. All too often, I feel like I have failed, like most of my efforts are exercises in futility... (not productive or empowering reactions,) and then I wallow a bit (quite a bit, honestly), and then I rationalize, and writhe and flail for a time. Oh, dear.

I wrote an entire paragraph about what I have come to believe are the origins of my attitudes and bad habits, and then I realized that none of that is particularly compelling to anyone, but a small self-satisfied and grasping part of my brain that wants to understand everything, and feel exonerated or absolved of wrongdoing. Sorry, brain, but this is just one of those things. You may have been duped or misled, but you simply must move forward. And so, to put it more simply... I am not good at maintaining order, and I feel incompetent and trounced, but here I go... it seems we are not moving, and fairies are no where to be found, so old patterns, and wishful thinking, will not do. I will pick myself up, and begin again.

Wednesday, April 11, 2018

Dear Maria...




Dear Maria,

As you know, I have fallen in love with chamomile. It's my favorite tea, along with chai. Chamomile tea has come to feel like a gentle friend that will keep me company... a quiet, uncomplicated companion, warm and supportive. Now, even the fragrance of the tea relaxes me, puts my thoughts at ease. And so, when I discovered that the fresh cut flowers smell like a bowl of steaming tea, like a meadow of flowers, I became completely enchanted. I love their button-cushioned faces, and the tiny petals. They are like the first flowers children draw... simple. But when I look into their faces and really see them, I am drawn into the complexity of their parts, the tiny details that belie their easy form.

Last week I discovered that there is another variety of chamomile with no petals. They are all golden yellow button-cushioned, on long and slender stems that sway gracefully when I turn the vase. Someday you and I should make chamomile crowns, or wreaths. Yes?

Golden yellow. It's the color that, lately, has captivated me. It began after Christmas, when I put yellow roses next to the tulips from Paul and Janece, then we tidied up the holidays, and reorganized the table at the back of our sofa. I love the holidays, and then I feel a slump when it's all over, but I think my second favorite time of the year begins when we've put away decorations and found homes for the gifts, when everything is restored, and even refreshed. Then, when things feel decluttered, and new, I get the feeling that we have a fresh start. The yellow flowers brightened my mood, and the room, and I have been craving the color ever since. And doubly more, since the workshop was painted blue. I love that blue... the blue that I post about, and share, and have been contemplating since forever. Wall by wall, bit by bit, we are getting our Bird House Blue, and I think it looks really pretty with golden yellow flowers.





Dear Maria,

There it is. I keep taking pictures of the shop. When I am at the kitchen sink and looking out the window, I can see it through our garden. From the spot at the dining table where I sew, or the other corner where I paint, I can see it, too. And of course when we are outside, feeding chickens, or watering the seedlings, or picking chard... we see it. Our workshop. And we see your brothers and dad, working away at all of the renovations. Of all of the improvements we dream of making for our home, I think the one that I most wish for and imagine, revolve around a fantastic workshop and maker space, with open areas and worktables, with lots of storage, good light, ventilation. It's inspiring to imagine what could be built and shared in such a place, how much easier and safer it could be in a really good shop, which is why I am so glad that Geoff, William, Alex and Max are tackling the job, doing what they can with the space we have. It's going to be amazing, really. I wish it could be bigger... but never mind. What they are accomplishing is pretty great. I am beginning to think of this summer as a time for great making, all because of the efforts and investment being put into making the carport a real workshop.

There is a lot in life that can be made better, can give back to us, when we put our work and planning, our time and care into it. I am thinking of our garden. I am so glad we planted chard, and sweet peas, and snapdragons. Clearing out an old garden bed, amending soil, pulling weeds, and starting with little seedlings, then watering, and minding the pests and willing things to take... it's an act of hope, and effort, work. It can feel pointless, at times, or we can lose sight of the benefits to come. In fact, there may not be any benefits. The goats could escape and eat the chard down to nothing, or snails could destroy those little seedlings. I guess that's why we need the hope to go along with the work. We've been fortunate this year, and hard working, too. Now, when I pick flowers and we fix onions and chard, peas, with our dinner, I feel lucky. Really lucky, and we are fortunate, but I like to remind myself that planning, and effort, months ago, and every day since, made the luck grow, made the garden possible.

You know, mi'ja, I didn't always understand that... about planning, and foreseeing good things, and then working for the results. Believing that a good outcome is a result of hoping and working, being steadfast to a plan. Your Dad, taught me that, showed me, countless times, by example. So much of what we have accomplished has been by hope and work, and patience. We have been lucky, of course, but it's not enough to wait for an opportunity to come around, or to hope things get better. I guess that intellectually I understood it, but sometimes what we know is not as powerful as what we believe, what we take to heart. With your Dad, I have come to believe, to trust in what is possible... maybe it's the optimism and faith that has made the difference.





Dear Maria,

The banana bread you made was delicious. Over-ripe bananas aren't usually what one hopes for, but I wish we had some now! At least we have plenty of eggs on hand. Let's buy bananas, then wait...

How many yo-yo's did we make at Gaslight Gathering, I wonder. I'm glad I brought so many little blue circles. After all of our fair and event experiences, exhibiting and teaching, I was happily surprised to have so much free time, and now I am looking forward to turning our tiny yo-yo's into the mini quilt. What did you think of my idea to appliqué them to a little bedspread? Otherwise, it will definitely have a lot of gapes.




Simon~

Leslie and Ido, with Bex~





Meeting the band~



We were both surprised, I think... to have such a relaxed time. We work so hard at Maker Faire. It's fun, but whew! I think it's pretty amusing how easy this event felt, and how much we are now looking forward to committing to returning, next year, to exhibit and to play. We had a good time, and it felt familiar, and comfortable, being back in a steampunk crowd. I enjoy all of the outreach, hands-on activities, and exhibiting we do with our BOoM making group. Making things, sharing and teaching... what is it that makes it so compelling, so gratifying? It's satisfying, and feels good. Now, I feel even more excited for Scratch Day, too. I know Geoff and William had a good day, but I think we can agree... Alex had a really, really good day! It's nice to see his art recognized.

Thank you, mi'ja. I won't say it all here, on the Internet, but I can't help saying a little... you are a joy, and bring immeasurable pleasure to your family. You raise my thoughts and give me courage. I thought a great deal about the lessons and support that I hoped to offer you, but that you could teach, and inspire so much in me... this has been an amazing gift. It is an honor to be around you, to observe your journey, and share your days. You are one of my best dreams coming true, and I love you.