May all sentient beings be peaceful
May all sentient beings be free of inner and outer harm
May all beings be cared for gently as they walk upon this earth
May all beings know joy, wisdom and compassion…
Not sure, yet, if I’ll give this a base, so as to be a box, or stitch on struts, so that it can be ‘planted’ outdoors.
Computer freak over the weekend. I am NOT a PDA owner, I have an ordinary phone, I’ve sent perhaps six text messages so far and two never made it because I pressed the wrong button, I can go on vacation and not look at a screen — but this weekend, when a virus made our whole system go ga-ga, I panicked. A little. (And, probably only a little because I have such faith in my husband’s ability to fix these things).
And Ken DID fix it over the weekend — two days re-whatevering, and it seemed fixed — but yesterday, the weird pop ups popped up again. And again. Oh, GOD AND AGAIN!
So, if I disappear for awhile, you’ll know why.
And then, there are the interruptions. The interruptions associated with having a recently disabled sister in need of lots of help (yes, she’s getting better, but housing? work? benefits? — the list is substantial)… as well as the tasks associated with having two teenage children —
trips to the dermatologist, the dentist, the orthodontist, attending track meets, ordinary pick ups and drop offs, homework review, homework nag, computer supervision, computer nag, cooking, shopping, making lunch, making breakfast, cleaning up from breakfast, making dinner, making snacks before dinner, washing clothes, folding clothes, hunting for things like a particular sweatshirt or the mate to a ski glove,
and other jobs —
hunting for the source of stink in the fridge, cleaning the containers that held the stink in the fridge, cleaning out a closet now and then, stripping beds (I’ll never admit how ‘now and then’ THAT gets done), scrubbing tubs and toilets, unearthing the dining room table, looking for a summer cottage for 14, vacuuming up dog hair, walking the dog, asking other people to walk the dog, bathing the dog, cleaning up after my sister’s cat, feeding the cat, getting the car in for brake-fix, putting shit away, hanging up wet towels (Oh, wait a minute that last item belongs up with having two teenage boys in the house), putting more shit away…
all these things have a way of taking up time without necessarily granting me (or anyone?) the sense of having ‘done’ anything…
This is not a complaint, truly, not a complaint, but an observation that (I believe for cultural reasons having to do with gender), I have to keep making over and over. I have to keep noticing over and over how my time is ‘not my own’ — not only because I forget, but because in forgetting, the accumulated pile of things not-done have a way of starting to criticize me.
And then, of course, there are the queries (upheld by various practices that I needn’t go into) —
why does anything attain the status of ‘interruption’? Why is anything deemed unimportant? Why can’t I see that things unfold as they should…
Ahhhhhhh. There’s the rub.
Above, a mid-winter mandala that I don’t know what to do with — not a pillow, not a wall-hanging — don’t know. But it cheers me up to look at its hot, bright colors.
In the Upper Field with Jack this morning (Bowen/Thompsonville field, not Heaven!), the light spoke straight to my heart about spring. Snow squalls on the way this afternoon, frigid temps returning this weekend, I know, I know, but the light does not lie… the oaks ringing the field were awash in a lemony-rose color that tickled my chest in a way that only people who live in wintry climes understand.
Today, this pin speaks to me of vulnerability — opening of the hands for help, opening of the hands to our own weaknesses, opening of the hands to silence, opening of the heart.
Traffic, Christmas shopping, a bustling Burlington Mall, Route 128, a quick Costco run — not exactly the stuff of quietude. Nevertheless, an underground sense of quiet faintly persisted — always a signal, to me, that we are close to the darkest day of the year.
An early phone call with a friend delivers this fruit — a definition she had heard a few days earlier — “… forgiveness is giving up all hope of ever having had a different past.”
1. Weather — Today is cold. Steely sky, breath condensing. Hat and glove weather.
2. One thing I did well yesterday — Can’t think of anything. I’ll have to come back.
3. One thing I could have done better yesterday — Responded more neutrally when D. said he had a sore throat.
4. and 5. Two things I’ll commit to doing today that I might not otherwise get done —
Back to doing something well.
What DID I do well yesterday? I made a muslin angel that I ALMOST love — but I loved her better before I sharpied in a face, which on some level feels to me like I ruined her, so THAT doesn’t count. Overcooked the pork chops, which were still okay, but can’t count that. Spent hours on the phone finding out about Mass. Health, ECOB, COBRA for my sister… but all of that felt like a big muddle so that even though I came out of it with a couple of appts. and a located birth certificate, I wouldn’t put that on the list. So, what then?
Can I count NOT being awful as doing something well?!!
Yesterday, I contained my rage waiting for 25 minutes at the post office. There I was picking up a certified letter (on my sister’s behalf — so there’s THAT) that my postal carrier SHOULD have rung the bell for me to sign and receive at the house. He had THREE chances to make life easy for me.
There it was, the first ‘real’ business day after Thanksgiving and presumably the beginning of package-mailing-season and my wonderful post office branch had ONE window open (the line was ten deep the entire time I waited). Furthermore, (does this count as TWO things I did well?) I did not call the postal carrier a liar when he claimed to have rung the bell and knocked when he delivered the three notices, which I know for a fact, he did not. I was there when the mail hit the floor every single time and no bell was rung, no door was knocked.
And now, I’ll rant about this guy.
This is a postal carrier that defies the notion of service and veers into some creepy realm of vindictive laziness. When he was assigned to our street, it was all anyone could talk about for weeks — what stupid, incredulous thing he had done THAT day (e.g., drop envelopes with checks in them onto the curb, not deliver mail because a rug-cleaning hose was threaded through the front door, refuse to bend over and pick anything up on a stoop because of a bad back, act like my dog is a vicious, postman-eating predator). Many of us reported his errors to his supervisor, he was put ‘on probation’ for awhile, and now he is back to his tricks.
Though it serves no purpose, I spend a fair amount of time wondering, as he strenuously cuts corners and makes life difficult for everyone on the route, whether he is acting out of a generalized incompetence or out of some sort of shrewd and calculating desire to inflict misery on his customers. I tend to think the latter.
Can’t I come up with ONE THING I DID well yesterday? Oh, here — I added some machine stitching to my Full Moon in Taurus quilt, and miracle of miracles, located the missing moon, by, again miracle of miracles, cleaning up my work area a little.
It is a beautiful fall day here. Production for fall shows is in full swing… I am making a LOT of pillows!
But also taking a little time to get outdoors. Took Jack to Cold Spring Park and was able to photograph him with my phone — I hope he never figures out that it is also a camera. Last night watching “FlashForward” (I know, I know), he hopped up onto the couch in terror because they were taking pictures ON TV!!
Now, as soon as I learn how to download pix from my phone, I’ll share them!
Lastly, here is one side of a new altar block. This is St. Catherine of Siena, mounted with cloth and paper scraps on a painted block. I just learned that she was the 25th child of an Italian family in the 14th century who devoted herself to Christ at an extremely early age.