Lovely World

green

It is all green here. We are settling into summer. The first round of lettuce and radishes are just about done. The peas and string beans will be harvested in a couple of weeks. One more day of walking the kids to the school bus stop. I have been enjoying these walks, the morning air so full of life. We have a very long driveway, so there is always something interesting to see along the way. My son and I saw a coyote on the driveway a few weeks ago.

Here are some lovely things for you:

♥ Maissa Toulet

♥ Chinelos de Trapo (don't you want a pair?)

♥ Kettle's Yard (let's go here)

♥ Sonia Delaunay at the Cooper Hewitt (too good)

♥ Sally Nencini

Bye for now.

i am here

I have been so busy, here and there. Here is a brief glimpse of me, look quick before I'm off to something else!

I keep looking at my feet in this photo. I have been attending yoga class regularly and often find myself focused on the contact between my feet and the floor. I really like this grounding. It is a point of mindfulness.

I put a few birds in my etsy shop earlier today. Please take a look if you like. Lovely World Handmade.

Hope all is well. ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

storms

We have had turbulent weather lately. Lots of rainy storms. Last night a big one blew through. I had never heard such strange howling of the wind. I sat up watching the trees sway in the flashes of light from the electrical storm. We had trees down over the driveway this morning. Lots to clean up.

As I was walking around town this morning I came upon this sad bird's nest. It had obviously blown out of the tree during the storm. Poor little birds must wonder where their nest and lovely eggs went.

The storms have washed out quite a few of the girls' softball practices and games. I have to admit that I have enjoyed watching the games that have been played. I also enjoy watching my daughter learn something new.

The Green River runs through the length of our town. Here is a view I had of it today. It flows into the Hoosic River, which then dumps right into the Hudson River. The water has been running high all spring. This has been a boon to kayakers and other boaters.

Lastly is a photo of a shelf on my work table. (The photo on the middle shelf is of my parents, me, and two of my siblings. We are all just a year apart in age.) I have been so engrossed in activity that I have had very little quiet time working there. I awoke at 5AM this morning, restless, so I was able to creep quietly to my work room to paint before anyone woke up and demanded my attention.

Have a nice long weekend. We have some travel and some celebrations ahead of us.

busy

Busy.

My children are on school break.

Passover began yesterday evening. We had 15 people for our seder. A very nice time, after days of preparation.

Our public library's annual used book sale is this coming Friday and Saturday. I am very involved in organizing this event. Today we moved two moving trucks full of boxes of books to the school gymnasium. We unload and set up over the next two days. Hard work, but good work. And it is very satisfying work for a book lover.

I apologize if I owe you an email, and for being a bit absent from my usual blog reading.

I've been busy.

Many years I find myself in July, wondering what happened to those lovely months of April, May, and June. These are often months full of activity. I am committing myself to a mindful appreciation of spring this year. Yes, this week is a busy one, but I am going to stop and notice and be present.

control

Do you ever try to control the people and things around you?

I do sometimes (I used to do it a lot more, I'm loosening up). And it never really gets me anywhere. I have begun to note that the harder I push at controlling people or things, the worse it feels. My body and mind become tight, constricted, and inflexible as I try to impose outcomes that would probably be well enough left alone.

My children and my husband are often at the receiving end of my efforts to control. I think this comes from the perceived role I have taken on to make the day, and our lives in general, run along smoothly and on schedule. Do you ever find yourself barking out orders like a drill sergeant? In particular, I do this in the morning as the kids get ready for school and in the evening as it gets close to bedtime. This is good for no one. And interestingly, on the days I am not working myself up into a tizzy, everyone gets off to school and to bed just fine.

Another potential area of trouble: food. Trying to control what my kids eat. That is a tough one. (One of the very funniest essays I ever read touches so beautifully on this: Ian Frazier's "Lamentations of the Father" in the Atlantic).

So where is the better place to be? Of course, it never hurts to ground myself right there in the moment. No worries about what comes next. My infatuation with the past and future only act to unanchor me from the task at hand.

I recently found myself sorting it out this way:

control = fear of loss of control = burden to self and others

loving care = interdependence = closer trusting relationships

So, I can be a parent (or be a wife, or a friend) who acts out of a place of fearful control or out of loving care. I pick the latter. How about you?

I've noticed this process of control vs care in knitting. When I'm knitting without angst, the yarn gently unwinds from the ball and twists itself into the piece I am making. If I am in some way frustrated with my progress, I am more likely to drop a stitch or knit too tightly or botch things up some other way.

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"Only in an open, nonjudgemental space can we acknowledge what we are feeling. Only in an open space where we're not all caught up in our own version of reality can we see and hear and feel who others are, which allows us to be with them and communicate with them properly." Pema Chodron

ordinariness

I recently heard a radio interview in which a man stated that he believed the most profound freedom is found in the state of being perfectly ordinary. Ordinary is the place in which we simply are. We are not striving. We don't have to be better than anyone else. We do not seek recognition and reward. I have been thinking about this a lot lately. It is not an entirely new concept for me, but I guess I would say I was ready to hear this again and go deeper with it.

Are we a culture that values the ordinary?

What about children? Do college admission offices look for ordinary children for entrance?

Does ordinary feel constrictive to you, or expansive?

Ordinary: commonplace, usual, average, customary, regular.

What does extraordinary mean to you? Is it possible to sustain a sense of the extraordinary without becoming exhausted?

Is the ordinary life the place from which true creativity, a creativity without ego, grows?

Do you find freedom and rest in being ordinary? Or does it bring panic?

Can you see connection in the ordinary? Does being extraordinary perhaps separate you?

Can the extraordinary act exist without the ordinary person to perform it?

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The essence of it is to let yourself see how much clinging to how you want your life to be is nothing more than a process of self-torture. Drop it, and allow yourself to fall openly and unguardedly in love with your life as it is and everything in it.

 Saki Santorelli "Heal Thyself: Lessons on Mindfulness in Medicine"

Umbrella, light, landscape, sky

There is no language of the holy.

The sacred lies in the ordinary.

Tao Te Ching

finding home

Although I arrived home on Sunday, I am still playing catch-up (with housework, emails, mail, work responsibilities, and the like). While in Miami, I was able to notice the contrast between true rest and the busy here-and-there life that I usually lead. The noticing was quite profound, actually.

The trick is how to translate a more present, mindful state of mind to my life no matter what. I began taking a look at the ungrounded, chaotic patterns of my life last year. I found myself involved in so many activities (volunteer, personal, family) that I never had the chance to focus on any one thing at a time. And I found I was often running late. And I began to resent the to-do lists I would write for myself, simply to remember what it was I had to do.

I have cleared some space. I have been saying no more often. I know that "learning to say no" sounds somewhat cliche, but it is an extremely powerful thing. With it has come an unfolding awareness of my boundaries. And saying no doesn't just mean to requests that I get from other people. It also means saying no to things, activities, chores. This is a work in progress. Having grown up with a mother that rarely ever said no, I will probably be sorting through this for the rest of my life in one way or another.

{I took these photos of gulls while sitting on the beach last week. They were flying so low, right above my head. Probably looking for something to eat.}

calendar and book

{Calendar Week 9}

Book 8/52:

David Nicholls's One Day

friday

Lovely, lovely Margie of Resurrection Fern sent me this medicine bundle she made with some of her naturally-dyed fabric. Inside is a special stone. I am so happy to have this to enjoy. Margie has some recent posts up about natural dyes - go take a look. She also has a give-away going on for some of the fabrics she has made. Thank you for being a wonderful blog friend, Margie.

A few close-ups from around the house today. Happy weekend to you. I'm hoping to go to a dinner and moonlit ski at a local x-country ski center tomorrow night.

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Fear is a contraction, love is diffusion. -the Bnei Yissoscher

When I was young I admired clever people. Now that I am old, I admire kind people. - Abraham Joshua Heschel

blue

Yes. There is more snow this morning. Heavy and sticky. Some vanilla frosting for the trees.

A knitting project almost completed.

A new doll. The figures I am painting have inspired me to translate them into cloth. I am making removable clothes for it.

An old print of forget-me-nots hanging on my daughter's bedroom wall. You can see her violet collection on the windowsill. My grandmother grew violets as a hobby. It makes me happy that Miriam enjoys keeping them too.

A niggly migraine hanging about my head for the past few days. Goodbye to it already.

It is a transformative experience to simply pause instead of immediately filling up the space. By waiting, we begin to connect with fundamental restlessness as well as fundamental spaciousness. (Pema Chodron When Things Fall Apart)