new poems up at The Puritan

Two poems in The Puritan.

Happy to be featured with John Barton, wonderful work. Mostly, it's good to be in a space where I can at least think about writing again.

Jesse said this amazing thing yesterday about learning how to add a new element to his music--beatboxing no less--he said, "I didn't know my mouth could make those noises. I was surprised by what my mouth could say."

I feel not unlike this: I didn't know I could think that thought, say that thought, find a way to say that thought again and develop "sense" of what the thought needs. Jennie Lowe Stearns  played an amazing show last night where one of her lyrics summed up a thought I have found unsayable--of course, I didn't write it down. I think the lyrics was, "just make sure you leave when you go." It's that kind of expression that takes a second to unravel and reverberates afterwards, finds some echo in your lived experience. I was so impressed by her lyric capacity to simply say such difficult things. Not to mention her voice--to hear her play in a barn, out in the middle of nowhere, was amazing.

This weekend, we are outside all day, each day:

The plants here have identified themselves as visitors. 

It took Jesse and I over an hour to find a bullfrog responsible for all the noise in the woods--so small, such big vocals. 

marsh

I'm probably sunburnt from watching this all morning.

So happy a new season, with new baby geese, is here.

sketch a day: day eight

Yesterday was kind of long feeling.

Making some fortunes for my co-workers made me feel better...hope they are used and encouraging.

it's almost summer, it's almost something new

Okay folks--title is official for Jesse: Quality Control Specialist for Gimme!; and for me, Outreach Coordinator with Rasa Spa. Jesse is feeling directed, aware of what he's doing and what he wants to do and both of our minds are spinning with potential ideas and the full awareness of how hard it is to find support and peers for some of our bigger ideas.

As usual, we're hoping for the best and pushing forward with our new direction.

It's been challenging to leave education and see how hard it is to find funding, project incentive, and relationships with coworkers that enable really cool projects and ideas to manifest. I've been struggling with the difference in field and the difference in what it means to "work" in different fields. It's not a negative struggle by any means, just a new way of tilting my head and seeing.

Speaking of seeing--the weekend really gave us a peek at our potential hike-a-thon of a summer and it made me think, again, about sounds and how much I like listening to nature.

Sketch a day from saturday, 21 May 2011. I'm trying to write again and I think sketch a day is going to quickly switch to illuminated sketch a day.

Yesterday was a good chance to call an old friend. I got his answering machine, but it felt warm and nice to hear his voice on the machine and remember some good times we shared. This came after a car conversation with Jesse about how often or how infrequently we both get to "really relax." I told him that I remember driving in cars with Tara--on our way to Chatauqua once and in South Caroline--where I was fully relaxed: like leg out the window, eating in the car relaxed. We weren't allowed to do that often since my father's a bit of a neat freak; there was something special about it being "us" and making up our own rules. The only other "fully relaxed" moments I can remember (aside from being a kid) involve this old friend I called up...and I wonder what it was about him that made me feel like that.

My new favorite cocktail is a bit like a relaxed flavor and scent too. It's clean and herbal-y. I told Jesse it tasted like the color soft yellow; I guess, according to him, it's not uncommon to "taste a color" and doesn't mean (sadly) that I have synesthesia.

grateful sunday

Usually on Saturday I meditate on the week, but our Saturday was a continuation of the week--a day filled. Our Saturday was, in fact, OUR Saturday and it left little time for any kind of meditation. It was, however, mindful.

Jesse and I hiked Fillmore Glen this Saturday and spoiled ourselves with a day where work, money, anything that felt "overly real" was out of mind. We let ourselves look at moss, watch water spiders, and pick up rocks.

It seemed appropriate that the day--the weekend-started with waiting for a duck to cross the road. We did wait, and we looked for his family to follow. After the rain all week, the hops and witch hazel are happily growing and the ducks are all over stopping cars and waddling across the street. A good reminder that time isn't ours and time isn't something we can control. A good reminder to wait and take a few breaths.

These were the first flowers we saw. We saw them while we were enjoying coffee and some breakfast sandwiches in the car, in the parking lot. We saw them and how they reacted in the sun and without the sun---not unlike us, some seasonal reactions to light and lack of light. 

It was pretty lucky to be out before the sun was full sun, to be out before 9 am and to see how the light started to come through leaves and trees. It was lucky because, of course, we got lost driving. A good kind of lost, a lost that let us go around the lake and see some pretty small towns and start to understand just how small a small town can be in this area.

Probably, the back pack was over planning.

I'm pretty excited that we not only got to see this fall from the bottom, but we saw it from the top and then we snuck over some fences to see it up and close--to see it and get a little wet. The water tasted amazing and we found those grooves and deeper spots to put our hands in and find smoother, round pebbles. 

Kind of an idyllic weekend. More than kind of, kindred to the idea of perfection.

There are a lot of ups and downs to our move and there are days that we've been regretting the decision, wondering if we've walked away from things like money and materialism that we can't quite get here. And then there are whole and perfect moments that we can't remember from before. There are dried flowers in our books, oregano and mint all over our garden, and days that seem elongated and immeasurable. We are practicing living between each moment, breathing a little louder, and letting ourselves recognize how lovely all of these between spaces our. 

sketch a day: day seven

I keep missing days...or time to sketch.

To catch up with the day, I'm going to be practicing the 24 hour Mini Mindful Moment Challenge. Hopefully, this will last longer than 24 hours--though I've had a harder time wrapping my head around the purpose and "how to" of meditation in the past. I like that the challenge works in steps: attention to the body, the feelings, the thoughts, and then letting go; I might be able to do that.

I can already see, in the new job, my patterns resurfacing: working before and after work, forgetting to take a lunch break, stressing out about things I can't control. I'm working hard to stop overworking. And we're lucky that Jesse's getting home earlier, we have wild mint growing all over the backyard, and we're trying to remind ourselves that even our imperfections (like being a complete stress mess) are somehow lovely. 

We think it's spearmint and not mint, based on smell. Either way, FANTASTIC that there's so much of it.

In the garden, trying to learn how to let things grow and how to let go a bit, I keep trying to think that all the trimming and weeding, all of the work is a bit like what I need to be doing: trimming, letting things go a bit wild, and valuing the fact that I can't control it--especially the mint that's growing like crazy! There's this sense of hope in our little garden that makes me think I can "get back to" a more playful state that enables me to drop a lot of my type A tendencies. We'll see.

“Three Rules of Work:
Out of clutter find simplicity;
From discord find harmony;
In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.”

- Albert Einstein

sketch a day: day six

all day, a monster bird walking through my mind. a fuzzy--less scary monster kind and more haphazard monster kind--bird monster.

Equally in my mind space, I was thinking about this project called "before I die"and how much I wish I could organize something with that same spirit, that same intention of setting intentions and considering (shaping?) perspective.
 It's a really moving installation, enough to make me wonder what my own work is doing and how it's functioning to comment. In my mind--with the monster bird--I go back and forth between the necessity to make something that "does something." I worry, a lot actually, about obligation. Can you have urgency, authenticity, the things that make a piece stand out if the work itself does not "do" or "want" or "comment"?

Regardless, the project is a great testament to how we can alter spaces--internally and externally. How we can create (and recreate) a space for something.

sketch a day: day five

I missed two days, which means I was leading an exciting life for two days--too exciting for sketch time. It left me with time to think about a purple horse carrying some monks in a barrel; it left me with this sketch in my mind:

gratitude Saturday: a practice in eating the Finger Lakes

Today was the Edible Finger Lakes release party, which we enjoyed without actually knowing anyone at the party besides the people who were serving food.

There was lots of wine, as it was the wine issue being released--it was our first "fancy" Ithaca event and we were happy to support a magazine we really enjoy--especially for its recipes!

For most of the day, we did "nothing." I've been trying to be aware of the value of doing little, of taking time to regenerate. I've been talking a good deal about slowness and trying hard to practice what I'm preaching. Especially since I'm reading Thich Nhat Hanh who says:

If we are not empty, we become a block of matter. 

We cannot breathe, we cannot think.
To be empty means to be alive, to breathe in and to breathe out.
We cannot be alive if we are not empty

It's not easy to practice this kind of awareness and this kind of acceptance for stillness. Luckily, Jesse likes a good and lazy Saturday and wanted to spend the day "emptying". 

In the car, on the way to the market, we heard this song:

It was something about the "feeling you've thought you forgotten" that made me really like this song, really start enjoying the day and our car ride over the water and around all of the prettiness that's the Finger Lakes in the summer.

At the market, we bought rhubarb, looked at ramps, got some purple asparagus and enjoyed walking on the parts of trees that curve into the water. A totally perfect morning.

We watched the trees and how they bent, wound themselves around each other. Not unlike how we are winding around each other, trying to wind round this place and our new life here.

And we were both grateful to watch how things things rely on each other, how there is some kind of symbiotic relationship happening. It reminded me of  an Alan Watt's quotation: "normally, we do not so much look at things as overlook them."  

After market, we happily bought a million plants to plant tomorrow at the annual plant sale -- expect some images of us trying to pretend like we know anything about gardening...I just keep killing plants, but we both have good intentions and high hopes.

But the best part of our day included the taco truck, the good truck. We weren't exactly awake today and the pepita salad, "local" taco, and other yummies really helped us enjoy a day where we didn't really ever wake up or become totally "alert."

That's just the kind of Saturday we needed: a little hazy with some good food and good wine. Some time to notice around surroundings.

I think I can end Saturday being grateful for:

1. plants and what they reveal about being human (more human than we often are)
2. wine and beer
3. tacos (especially tacos with ramps)
4. Saturdays that feel like Saturdays, like weekends, like carelessness

and probably most thankful for a day where it feels like rain without ever actually raining.

sketch a day: day four

In continuing my thoughts about thankfulness; especially creating an "attitude of gratitude" at work:

summer makes me remember how much I like music

PROJECT OBJECT #4

from Keri Smith's blog (11/18/2005)

I've gotten a bit behind on project object--only up to four--but it might be because I've been spring cleaning, trying to get rid of so many objects, so many things and attachments.

That being said, I'm still adhered to memory and how objects can make the past and the present jostle around and knock into each other.

I'm always picking things up: a rock, an old marble on the ground, anything. When I come home, I try to "assemble" those walks into small, found statues. This "object" is from our first walk over to the Taughannock Falls. It was winter still and there was just this small, dried and wilted, piece of green next to all of this shale rock. Jesse slid down on the ice and I picked up the pieces of shale, put them in my pocket with the piece of green. Later, by the falls, a small piece of driftwood with a hole in it. When we got home, I put the shale and "plant" into the driftwood and felt like we'd found something of spring before it was here. 

sketch a day: day three

sketch of the day: day two

sketch a day: day one

may 9 2011

at the time of the sun coming around the corner

The blogging break was fruitful. Fruitful in the sense that I let myself do nothing, absolutely nothing for a few hours at least.

After starting meditation classes lately, I've been trying to practice more stillness. Maybe not surprisingly, trying to visually document moments and trying to recognize each day with a blog has helped me develop more mindfulness and slowness. 

A slower moment outside of the new "office." After running around to get some photocopies for a pr event, I got a chance to look at the waterfront, watch some shadows.

This might be why people prefer ritual, even seek them out. I've been thinking about rituals like having "indoor" shoes that I slip on right when I get home or having a cup of tea closer to bed. I think it would change the way I interact with the day and with time. This goes for the sketch a day too, which officially starts today. 

Either way, we've been interacting with time differently since moving from the city to the town. People walk slower, people walk arm in arm more often, and people stop to talk about how high the water is or some other "local" sentiment. 

I made my coworkers some macaroons--pistachio macaroons this time--and it was surprising to see them, even the day after and the day after that, recall the sentiment and extend some thanks. Things just seem to last a bit longer.

Imperfectly shaped pistachio macaroons. The pale color they get is really stunning,  almost regal in the way that disturbingly pale things are often fancy. The crunch of these was better than my first attempt at macaroons and I halved the filling recipe to have a bit less waste and more texture balance.

I've planted everything too early. I'm an impatient green thumb.

Winter lasted a bit too long, but it looks like we've started to see spring and some time to put our faces towards the sun. 

a little break, a big list

I'll be taking a blog break until the weekend while I assimilate into my new path / career.

It's been an interesting detour (and detour and detour) to get here and I hope "here" is where I feel good and comfortable. I've been reading, quite a bit, about WWII and the "invention of stress" or "being broken by modern life"--how ads and journal reporting started naming a sense of American fatigue or dissatisfaction. An interesting sense of this comes from the idea of "future shock":

"Future shock [is] the shattering stress and disorientation that we induce in individuals by subjecting them to too much change in a short time."                                                               
      --Alvin Toffler, Future Shock, 1970

I might have experienced this--both Jesse and I might have experienced this--with marriage, a move, career changes, and our new rural experience.

Luckily, there's the better and more meaningful idea of transcendence:

"O my friends there are resources in us on which we have not drawn."
      --Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1838



Some things I'll be working on and hope to update you all about:

• a sketch a day: inspired by a print a day, I'm hoping to get back into the practice of making a sketch a day and remembering to document the day visually.
• trying to dress as amazingly--or at least closer to and better than i do now--as this lady over at atlantic-pacific. Bee is just a stunning woman who understands how to make basic pieces look different or unique with good accessories and clean lines. I have a total girl crush on here and I doubt I'm alone in thinking that.
• looking for an old chair to make some more storage room in the house--what a clever idea for turning a chair upside down. This reminds me of how I used to tell my students that creativity just means looking at something that's already there and making it into something that wasn't there before. Of course, I probably had a new definition the next day, but it's still a good self quotation...makes me sound a bit bright.
• collecting sticks to make my jewelry (the little bit I've got) into a display piece for the bedroom like this. Our bedroom, after spring cleaning, is in serious need of a headboard (still) and some light and loveliness.

spotted on MJ Porter Design

Someone beat me and Jesse to the plant book idea, but I still want to make them soon. Now that Jesse's back, he's got a list of house chores to do (I think this is called a "honey do list"--at least, that's what my sister says) and he's promised promised promised to help me build some things I've been dreaming up.