From today’s adventure… There are 25 enlarged versions of Rodin’s The Thinker. Fewer than five were cast and patinated during his lifetime. This is a posthumous cast authorized by Musée Rodin, 1972.
Two more shots from different angles are below. It’s much larger than photos suggest. More about the artist here.
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Ah, what a good night’s rest can do! Husband and I went to bed early (for us) at 9:30 last night and slept solidly. I awoke at 8:30 and he an hour later. I feel refreshed.
And this good, because in an hour (and I should be showering instead of writing this) a friend is coming to pick me up for an adventure. We’re going to The Cantor Arts Center at Stanford University and then to lunch. The day is bright, sunny, and mild. It promises to be rich in good talk and sensory experiences.
In my morning blog wandering I came across a couple posts of note. One is a thoughtful reflection on Chrismas, Happy Holidays, and Religious Chauvinism. I’m still thinking about the ideas presented. A complementary piece explores Julbok, the Christmas goat, a symbol that is part of the Nordic tradition that predates Christianity. Do read and reflect.
Holidays are approaching. Christmas is my favorite holiday. I love the lights, ornaments, Christmas trees, cookie-baking, cider-mulling, caroling, and gifting of the season. This year I decided to try again to make some gifts for my friends near and far. Last year was too hectic and I spent most of the month in Washington helping to care for my father-in-law.
Back in 1999 when I took a trip to Europe (the 14 countries in two weeks kind), I noticed many windows had lovely lace half-curtains. While in Innsbruck, Austria, I happened upon a store that sold these, so I bought many yards of various lace designs. I used them at home, but my husband wasn’t so fond of them when I moved in. So they went into my art supply storage. Last night I decided to make small sachets. I cut circles and used glitter glue to seal the edges. Then I put oil of lavender on cotton balls to wrap inside, tying the sachet with ribbon and affixing a small fabric ornament.
Next up, making book thongs.
Something lovely is evolving in my life. For months and months I have intended to start attending a local Unitarian Universalist church in Palo Alto. I visited once, and the folks were warm and friendly. The community seems vibrant and active, with lots of niches where I could probably find a home. But I haven’t returned, although for awhile I tried to nudge myself by writing it on my calendar. (Yeah, that’s my left brain attempt at motivation.) I came close to attending on several occasions, but on the morning of the service I simply didn’t.
In May I contacted my friend Lynn, an east coast blogging knitter, about resources for learning to knit. She referred me to Commuknity, as she is acquainted with Nathania, the manager. I emailed Nathania briefly and received a welcoming reply; then I put off further action. When my mother-in-law visited in August, we stopped by Commuknity to check it out. Our reception was so enthusiastic that I felt at home instantly. The women working there were eager to talk about knitting and made it sound easy. My curiosity was piqued. They welcomed me to come in anytime and offered help if I got stuck, but since I didn’t know the first thing, I wanted to take a class. My schedule didn’t allow this until the end of September. I took my first class, and I fell in love with knitting.
Commuknity strives to provide a physical and social space for knitters. They have many events, including a KnitLit group and “social knitting” sessions on Wednesday evenings and Sunday afternoons. I have even gone in some days when I needed to get out of the house and just sat in a comfy chair to knit. As I become involved with the craft, friendships are naturally growing from this. There’s support for more than knitting here. I’m not one for large social gatherings — I’m generally uncomfortable going alone to places where I know few people — but tonight, I feel, will be different. There will be local artists, jewelers, locally designed knitwear and an informal fashion show. And of course there will be dessert! Because I feel so at ease with the store,the staff, and many customers, I know I’ll walk into a kindred group.
In my courtship with knitting I have glimpsed how it can be a spiritual practice. People who knit are passionate about the craft, and this energy bubbles over into other parts of life. I truly do feel this might become a group where I could provide friendship and support to others in need, and to receive it as well. It fulfills my need for larger relationship without overwhelming me. Attendance at church does overwhelm, in part because there is so much going on. With knitting and the store, we focus on this one art and the rest simply and naturally emerges from it.
If you’re local and free, come out tonight! The money raised will be donated to the Susan B. Komen Foundation.
I started the Beginner II class at Commuknity tonight. My project is to make a hat from Rowan Big Wool, but I’m not sure I’m going to like the result. Seems like it’s going to knit up tight. The instructions call for size 15 needles, but that made my guage 2.5 stitches bigger per inch than required. So I went to size 13 and it seems better — just half a stitch off. I do know now that my head is 57 centimeters. The instructor measured. Sounds big, eh?
So knitting is happening; I just have nothing to show at the moment. I’m still working on two scarves. Now that I’m not obsessively knitting 12 hours a day (a favorable development), completion is slower. I’m doing other creative stuff.
Tomorrow evening is the Breast Cancer Awareness open house at Commuknity. I’m looking forward to it!
I spent several hours at Commuknity today working on a project. I hung out with Nathania and Emy, gabbing about esoteric topics such as spiritual practice. I bought yet more yarn, too. Some solid worsted wool which is good for felting (I may make a few small items and felt them), and some other special yarn which is for a gift, and about which I shall say no more! (Wish me well that I might finish them before Christmas.)
Afterward I went home to work on my book thongs. I discovered, last night, that it is as difficult to tie knots around beads as it is to give a cat a bath. I was discouraged; I don’t know how to bead nor do I have the equipment. Searching on the ‘net didn’t result in much advice of help. I thought these might end up being one-ended book thongs until this afternoon, when I remembered my button collection. Buttons come in handy for so much more than clothing. So I finished assembling the beads and then the button ends. Yay! Definitely homemade, but made with love, and at least they’re different from most bookmarks of their ilk.
You might think parents worry most about whether their children are taking drugs, having sex or joining gangs. But a new survey of Bay Area parents reveals their biggest concern is that the day-to-day stress of modern life may be making their children overweight, depressed and less interested in school.
Homework and peer pressure are constants. Divorce, the area’s high cost of living and family feuds permeate many homes. Too many extracurricular activities and academic school testing keeps many kids hopping. And all around, many kids are feeling the need to grow up — and fast.
–Julie Sevrens Lyons, Survey: Stress on kids biggest worry of Bay Area parents, San Jose Mercury News
It was a social social weekend. I went to San Francisco for the day to see a friend, and the next day attended Nathania and Kevin’s wedding celebration potluck in a park. We arrived late; the directions we got from Google (which came from the Sunnyvale Parks website address list) led us to a completely different park. We were persistent and found it, with plenty of time to still enjoy cake — particularly the Armadillo cake (alluding the the movie Steel Magnolias). It was all quite good.
While in SF, I went to Imagi Knit, where I fondled yarns nested from floor to ceiling in this crowded shop. The staff were very helpful. The store was packed with customers. I ended up purchasing much less than I wanted to (hurray for self-discipline). I bought some Karabella Aurora 8 100% merino wool and some Jo Sharp Infusion Kid Mohair. It’s for a gift, and I’m not saying another word.
I also went to Lush, another shop where it is tempting to buy everything. My friend gave me an early Christmas gift and handed me money, which allowed me to merrily purchase a bunch of soap, bath ballistics, and bubble bath bars I wouldn’t otherwise.
By the end of Sunday I was drained of energy. Monday a friend’s manuscript arrived — her first novel. She’s asked me to read it, which is quite a privilege, as she has worked on it for years and always been private about it. Since Monday I’ve been reading and knitting. Not much else is going on. I need to rustle up some domestic action for this blog!
Aside from the fact that they sell the most luscious yarn — the kind that I want to pile into a large box and then crawl into for a nap — they wrap purchases in yellow tissue paper. This extra bit of customer service extends beyond me. See?
My cats adore and claim it. They sit on it for days, even weeks, until it’s ratty enough to bug my husband. Then I toss it. Say… maybe that’s the yarn purchase schedule I ought to follow! (Update at 7:55 p.m.: yeah, right. Heh.)
Not much posting has occurred (or knitting for that matter) in the past couple of days, because I’ve been busy acquiring and organizing items for our family go-bags and home disaster kits. When we lived in central Texas, the threat was minimal. If a tornado were to hit, there would be no warning, so there seemed little point in having a kit. Besides, the damage would be localized, leaving much of the surrounding area unscathed. If my house were hit it would be a personal disaster, but not one shared by thousands of others demanding basic life support.
Now, however, we live in earthquake country. A big one could hit at any point; damage could be widespread. Of course there are other concerns too, though they feel vague: terrorism (biological perhaps) or an avian flu pandemic (not so vague). The aftermath of Katrina provided incentive to do something; I’d had the articles and lists ready for months.
I’ve been researching what is recommended and would like to share some information in case you decide to create your own. It’s a drudge chore, requires financial investment, and forces one to confront the possibility of Bad Things Happening. But now that we’ve done it (almost complete, just need to photocopy documents and purchase a few hardware items), I feel a bit of relief. I know exactly what to grab in order to survive and to take care of my cats, and I know where to lay my hands on it.
I’m not an alarmist, but the avian flu is a serious issue. So here are some links regarding this:
The CDC lists the following people as at-risk for the flu:
Yesterday while shopping at Costco for emergency supplies, I happened to notice a small line by the pharmacy. They were giving flu shots at a discount to members. Since I work with children and hope to become pregnant, I was considered a candidate. I also got a pneumonia vaccination, since I’d had it as a child and occasionally have some asthmatic breathing. A vaccination won’t protect you from all flu viruses, but some is better than none.
As for general disaster preparedness, I used the following:
One cannot prepare perfectly against disaster. That’s what disaster is: unforeseen devastation. It’s difficult to reconcile with the fact that we face the unknown all the time. I decided to prepare as best as I can — not to become pessimistic and morbid, nor to act like an ostrich and hide. It’s about finding a balance.
Borrowers are stretching further than ever before, with one of five California home buyers devoting more than half their income to home payments.
–Mark Schwanhausser, Loan Landslide On Shaky Soil, San Jose Mercury News
With the median home price at $714,000 (in some cases for houses less than 1000 square feet), I don’t think we’ll be joining them.
It’s weird to live in a place where the main topic of conversation on any given day at work is about housing. Not, “What movie did you see last weekend?”
From our hike on the Stream Trail in the Redwood Regional Park in Oakland, California. This huge park was virtually empty. One side of the hill is dense urban development; once you crest the hill, you enter an untouched mass of forest. It makes quite a stunning boundary.
So perhaps tonight I will also sleep well, but not, perchance, to dream.
Nacho, who writes Woodmoor Village Zendo, posted a quote by Cheri Huber.
One thing I like about practicing with a group is that we begin to see how impersonal it all is — all our melodramas that can seem so terribly personal. If we spent six months together, we all would know each other’s life stories, and it would be the same story. One person lives in Toledo, another one lives in Shanghai, but it is the same story. Being a human being is pretty much the same for all of us; the differences are far, far less than the similarities. What we think, what we fear, how our emotions arise – fundamentally, we are very much alike. We get caught up in differences in content because that is how we experience ourselves as separate.
Working in a group enables us to see not only how we are all attached to the same things, but how, when we are attached, we suffer, and how, when we come back to the present moment, we cease to suffer. It’s that straightforward.
As we see the sameness of our experience, our suffering becomes less charged: our story is one more story among countless stories. It becomes easier to find the courage to bring our attention back to the present, to allow whatever happens simply to happen.
–Cheri Huber
How relevant this is to me right now! Last night I volunteered at an adult education program with English language learners. My task was to be a conversation partner (actually, a listener) to give them a chance to practice speaking. I conversed with four people and was amazed at some of the similarities among them, and between me and them. Two women came to the U.S. for their husbands’ jobs. They are not permitted to work here, regardless of their professional training (and both had careers in their home countries). I, too, have been displaced from my profession since moving here, and I miss it. I was fascinated as I listened to them describe their daily lives, their comparisons of culture, and what they enjoy and dislike about being here, in the states, now.
Another student illustrated the universality of the heart’s anguish that arises when we move far from home. She is 19 and has lived here three months. Her aunt worked hard for five years and invested no small sum to arrange the paperwork that permitted entrance. She started training in her home country as a nurse, but she came to finish it here. There are better opportunities here for her, if she chooses to stay, and an American education will also open doors back in her home country. She is providing day care and earning a larger salary than she ever did in her home country, and will use her earnings to pay for college here. Yet she struggles with the decision whether to stay. We talked about the advantages of each choice, and when I asked her what pulled at her to return home, she said: “I miss my mother and father.” Oh, yes. Our stories are the same. I shared a little about my recent trip and how hard it is to say good-bye to some things and hello to others. So perhaps she will feel less alone, as I do, knowing that people encounter this everywhere, every day. Whatever her decision, I hope talking about it helped her.
This morning I received an email from a friend arranging a coffee date and learned that a job opportunity she was excited about fell through. We’re in the same position of trying to find our way, following our talent and dreams, and coping with inconstancy. Later I talked with a city library employee to learn more about how I might get a job there. She provided information on this and much more, as well as encouragement. My burden is eased a bit. I am participating in a the same dance as every other human.
I’m home safely, and it’s a wonderful thing.
But yowsa! Drama in the form of tropical Armageddon is heading toward loved ones in Texas. My grandma-in-law lives in Houston, as do some family friends. The storm has the potential to stir things up inland pretty intensely too; Austin is expecting heavy weather, and of course I’ve got family and friends there.
Now all we need is an earthquake here! (If you happen to chat with the gods of irony, remind them that I’m kidding.)
Note: am very very very behind in blog-reading. I haven’t read any in ten days. I’ll catch up with y’all soon.
Read the poem by Carl Sandburg that contains the post title here.
