The Very Early 80s

Remember that time in your life when you would willingly wear a plastic bag on your head, all in the name of fashion?  Well, Birnam wood do come to Dunisnane.

Fear not, for while the early 1980s may have made an appearance in our household in the form of florescent hair colouring, I, myself, have made it to the 21st Century.  Or so I told myself when I became the owner of an iPod shuffle (in order to be able to listen to the chants that I need to memorize).  When I made this remark to Finnian, he scoffed.  

"More like 20th Century!"  

You can't win around here.  Maybe I should dye my hair pink?  Orange?

What's Next? Boiled Peanuts?

It must be those hazy, hot and humid days of summer - there have been so many of them.

The light is thick and golden and heavy.  Maybe it is like this in New Orleans all the time?

I miss the cool, blue light of Newfoundland.  I miss it so much that I actively try to not think about it.  Good thing I have so much training in putting my mind to be where I want it to be when I want it to be there.  My mind wants to be on a rock in the North Atlantic but somehow it got stuck in a William Faulkner novel.

Could such a plant seriously exist any place labelled "northerly"?

As I write this, the cicadas are singing their pervasive chorus.  Everything is green and lush in a way that seems, frankly, unnatural.  Next thing, I'll be talkin' right slow-like and voting Republican.

Amazing!

What happens when you bring six young men and six young women together for three weeks?  Not what you might think!  Sometimes something really amazing happens...

Ba Da Bing

Everyone is happy.  

Finn is in the northern woods and on the northern waters of Maine, paddling a 22 ft. long canoe that he made (along with 11 other skillful teenagers).  Lucy is camping in the Vermont woods with a group of young women who are, no doubt, as strong and clever as she.

What about Mom?  What does she do with that rarest of rare things:  time alone?  

It is called camping, Brooklyn-style.

This Machine Kills Fascists

Happy 100th Woody!

Into the Proper Hands

We have all done it: enthusiastically decided to take up some new skill or interest, eagerly purchased the necessary equipment, and then....quietly set it aside for a few days, months, years.  A friend was telling me that this describes her every attempt at taking up a fitness routine.

When I shop at thrift shops, I always have the feeling that stuff doesn't ever really belong to us.  It just shifts around until it finds its proper owner.

Yesterday, these two threads came together as I became the proper owner of a generous bag of spindles, niddy noddies and very high end fleece.  It was all originally purchased by a very enthusiastic would-be spinner.  She had signed up for the class.  She had purchased her materials.  And then.  Some time later, she gave it all to a friend (the talented Zabeth that I have been featuring regularly).  Zabeth may be a lace genius but she is not a spinner (yet - I am not finished with her yet).  So the bag of materials sat around Zabeth's house for a good long time.  And then.

Come home to mama!

I don't know the person who bought all this stuff but she has amazing taste!  She had a modest, beginner spindle - perfectly serviceable.  But look!  She also immediately bought a Kundert!  And a Turkish spindle.  And two sizes of niddy noddy.  Her fleece choices show excellent taste in sheen and softness but, perhaps, not such a good awareness of what is best suited for a beginner.  Baby alpaca, kid mohair, and 100% silk are not beginner fibres.  But, um, I like them.

A cat using a spindle!  Possibly the world's cutest photo ever.

Webster likes them too!  The best part of coming into this treasure trove was that I was immediately able to give away one of the spindles (not the Kundert - I am not a saint) and some fleece to someone who showed interest in learning to use them.  Ok, I might have told her that she needed to have this interest.  But I was not wrong.  And she has two children that I know she will teach.  And she teaches high school art so maybe she will bring that into her classes.

So you see, you never know the results of your one action.  Sign up for a class!  Buy materials!  The whole world is waiting!

A Match Made in Heaven

First, this:



Then, this:

Well over 500 yds of squishy Rambouillet yarn (hand painted fleece by Widdershins, of course!).  It started as lace weight and then it bloomed.  It bloomed like a teenage girl on her first date.  It bloomed like a lily at Easter.  It bloomed and blossomed and decided to be larger than lace weight.  But still beautiful.  And soft.  I think it is destined to fall into the capable hands of the above mentioned Zabeth (Loisel) Weiner.

Very Practical

Zen is “the biggest joke that has ever been played in the spiritual realm. But it is a practical joke, very practical.”  

Chogyam Trungpa

Brilliant!

Vogue Knitting Early Fall 2012, photo by Rose Callahan

My brilliant friend, knitwear designer, Zabeth Loisel Weiner, created this lace shawl for Vogue Knitting.  It is in the latest issue, Early Fall 2012.  Doesn't the mere name of the issue make you want to start knitting?  Please check it out!  You don't even have to be as brilliant as Zabeth because she did all the hard work of figuring out the pattern.  You only need to knit it.  


And, believe me, you do need to knit it.

For sizes: 50" wide
Yarn Information: Madelinetosh Prairie
Amounts: 1 hank in Mourning Dove

Teach What You Know (and What You Believe)

Two weeks ago, in teacher training, we studied with a terrific teacher, Fran Ubertini.  She is a great combination of high energy and straight talk, being born and raised in Brooklyn in a big Italian family.  Plus she knows her stuff and has been around long enough to have worked through exactly what yoga means to her (hint: it ain't just asana).

At the end of our weekend of training, she lead us through an agna laghava sequence, which I think means something like "lighting the flame" but please correct me if my Sanskrit is off.  In the Desikachar tradition, there is a lot of attention paid to how yoga moves prana (loosely translated as life force, energy, or sometimes even breath) and apana (waste, elimination).  Various asana create more prana or work to burn up apana.  It is all on a subtle plane and not something immediately tangible.  In agna laghava, we practiced the asana by doing a full inhalation and full exhalation and then, while holding on the exhalation, actually moving into or out of the posture.  I think that means we were using prana to burn up apana, if I understood it correctly.

Although it is simple in concept, it is not a practice for beginning students because it assumes that you have a rather large breath capacity and that you are generally fit enough that the series of postures you are doing are not challenging from a physical standpoint.  In other words: do not try this at home.  It is something to be done with the guidance of a teacher who knows you and your breathing patterns.  While Fran didn't know us very well, she figured that we were basically good to go as 500- and 700-hr teacher trainees.

We did some rounds of a very simple sun salutation and then some other standing postures - nothing fancy - but it was totally and completely transformative.  By the time we finished, my state of mind was still and clear and totally ready for meditation, which if you believe the Yoga Sutra, is the main purpose of asana.  The thing is, I had never really and truly believed that.  I believed that yogis did asana because they lived in the forest without access to healthcare and needed a way to stay healthy (a description of how asana practice came about that I once heard).  I believed that our bodies retain a memory of emotions and events deep in our muscles and that asana can help release them (why do I often want to cry when I deeply flex my right hip?).  And I believed that doing asana simply makes you feel good - because it does for me every day.  But as a preparation for meditation, I did not believe it because it never was for me.  I mean, everyday, I simply sit on my cushion to meditate.  Asana had nothing to do with it, and so this mysterious connection never felt like a connection.  Until it did.

When it did, it kind of rocked my world because it made all the criticisms of ashtanga that my teacher has been sharing with me (after twenty years of practicing ashtanga herself) seem valid.  Even as I have learned a lot about myself and my body through ashtanga, the fact remains that it is limited in terms of helping one to achieve the eighth limb of yoga: a state of samadhi.  I would go so far as to say that practicing whatever series you are working on will never bring you to that state.  And I think it is not a sustainable practice once you reach a certain age.  Although I know people in their sixties doing it, in a way, I feel a little sorry for them.  Do they still need that much asana?  Why?  This is an important question!

After confessing all, my teacher gave me a new daily home practice that is (surprise!) an agna laghava practice.  It isn't much asana and the main focus is the breath and concentration of mind.  It is surprisingly difficult!  But I really love it.  As for my dear ashtanga practice?  I have decided to call it my workout and I do it after yoga and meditation.

It is an awesome workout - you should see my biceps!

The Best of TImes, The Worst of Times

One of my sisters was here recently for a visit and high on her list of places to go was the 9/11 Memorial.  To be honest, I did not want to go.  It is hard to see this site as a tourist destination.  The original act of senseless violence and the subsequent wrong turns and bad ideas that it spawned leave me feeling less than thrilled about making it part of any itinerary.  But Sis wanted to go, so we ran the gauntlet, which is what happens to those who feel the need to visit the memorial before it is totally open to the street.  It will be someday when all the construction is completed but, for now, one must get a free visitor pass at a location several blocks away from the entrance.  This not-so-brief walk also allows the construction workers taking lunch to have a front row seat to view all the tourists heading to the site (it was ALL tourists - why do they want to see this?).  If you enjoy being inspected by many construction workers while they eat sandwiches, then I recommend this visit to you.

After the visual inspection by iron workers and other tradesmen, you go through a security check that makes an airport security check-in experience seem like a joyful welcome from your favourite grandmother.  So, if you enjoy being manhandled by people in light blue shirts who have been trained by some rogue nation's secret police, then I highly recommend this visit to you.

After some vigorous inspection and humiliation, then you walk through an endless roped off area - back and forth like some kind of surrealist movie sequence.  In fact, it was so bizarre and yet compelling that I was seriously regretting not bringing my video camera.  I was regretting it until I was accosted after taking this one photo in an attempt to capture the way people were moving through the space.  Apparently, no photographs were allowed here, although it is not at all clear why since photographs are okay at the actual site.  If you have ever wished to be a participant in a Kafka-esque bit of highly guarded choreography, then I recommend this visit to you.

It is much more interesting with the movement but I can not fathom what would befall
anyone who dared try to record it.

Battered in spirit if not in physical self, we persevered and entered the actual memorial site.  Amazingly, it is quite moving and cuts straight through whatever bitterness you feel by the time you enter the gates.  The other visitors were remarkably subdued and respectful.  In fact, I would go so far as to say that it is a very powerful experience.

I think it is a testament to the design that anyone was able to feel anything other than a sense of despair at what has happened to public access and our collective sense of paranoia since 9/11.  Indeed the disparity between the experience of getting into the memorial and the memorial itself is perhaps the perfect illustration of the state of the country today.  The very best and the very worst, side-by-side and completely interconnected.

Did I Show You This?

Over 400 yds of lace weight Shetland beauty spun from a fleece hand painted by Widdershin Woolworks.  Dear Ani (the genius behind Widdershin) nearly met her death after a visit to Israel - no it wasn't terrorism, it was a mosquito who gave her a West Nile like virus.  The handspinning world was on tenterhooks and we didn't even know it!  She is on the mend now, thank the spinning goddesses!

Anyway,  I don't care what anyone says, Shetland sheep are very cute, their wool spins up like nobody's business and the resulting yarn has a sturdy integrity that is unmatched, except perhaps by Icelandic wool.  Nah, I think Shetland is best.  

As Finn once said in response to my telling him that I thought I liked spinning *better* than knitting:

Oh no you dittn't.  (add your own sweeping, snapping gesture).

(No Impact Week - Day #5) Don't Be A Drip

The focus for the fifth (and for us, final) day of No Impact Week was water.  To be perfectly honest, I didn't make any changes in our water use during the week.  I felt that I had pushed Fin and Lucy to their limit with the other changes so I didn't insist on altering the way we consume water.  Others in the group that I was participating in this experiment with did much better.  One household cut their water use in half with very simple methods of catching grey water (the water used to wash and rinse dishes, for example) and using that water to flush the toilets.  Others shut off the shower after they had gotten wet, soaped up without the water running and then did a quick rinse off.

My one goal was to re-install a diverter from our downspout so that rain water will again collect in our rain barrel.  I didn't get that accomplished during the week, but I will.  No Impact Week doesn't actually have to end, you know.  Truthfully, most of it was pretty painless and actually improved our lives.  Is that really surprising?

No Impact Week ends with what Colin Beavan calls Eco Sabbath - a day when one gives back to the community.  For our group, we had a three options for a morning of service: work on a farm in Red Hook, work in a community garden or attend a tree stewardship workshop.  Lucy and I went to the tree workshop.

It was a straightforward session that gave us the basics about how to care for street trees.  The trees are owned by the city but do not really get much care once they are planted.  As you might imagine, city life is pretty hard on the trees and even a little care and make the difference between survival and firewood. New York City trees don't really end up as firewood; they end up as garbage and is there anything sadder than seeing a tree go in the garbage?  After getting our instructions, we went out as a group and took care of four street trees.  It was kind of shocking to notice just how uncared for most trees are in the city.  Suddenly, we saw dire circumstances everywhere!

Lucy was so inspired by our experience that she immediately signed up online to adopt the tree in front of our house and then went out and began to care for it in the way it needs - first by removing weeds, garbage and ivy around it.  Eventually we will plant some flowers and mulch around the tree pit, as it is called.  Truly, there is a huge need to care for the trees that add so much to city life.  The workshop took only a few hours and our efforts make a visible difference to our neighborhood.  Consider taking this on!  It isn't a big commitment but it is an important one.  Plus, we met all sorts of people walking by who were curious and happy about what we were up to.  A real community building effort.

After our labours on the street, the No Impact Week-ites gathered for a picnic of local, organic homemade food in Fort Greene Park.  Yum!

We were very happy about our nice lunch!  

And since it made such lovely pictures, here are some photographs of the pasta I made for the pasta/kale salad that was my contribution to the picnic.

  

It was a good day and a great week.

(No Impact Week - Day #4) Pump It Up

Yesterday's area of focus was energy use.  I was out and about, using up my own personal energy so I wasn't able to post anything.

As I mentioned earlier in the week, we have been using an oil lamp in the evenings instead of our electric lights.  The first night, everyone was pretty excited and we ended staying up late, talking and laughing.  Ahhh....just as I dreamed it would be: family bonding, heart-to-heart conversations and lots of intimate togetherness.

The next night, my friends from Germany stopped by for a visit and sat in the near-darkness with us.  It was fun but we all got sleepy rather quickly and they left not long after arriving.  Do we get more boring in the dark?  I wonder.

On Wednesday night, Fin and Lucy began to rebel.  A couple of nights is one thing but this was going on a little too long for the tastes of some.  Fin staged a strike - he refused to wash the supper dishes if the lights stayed off.  After a tense stand-off, the kitchen lights were turned on and dishwashing commenced as per usual.  Last night, a sense of resignation seemed to have settled in and, as the house grew darker, no one protested but no one seemed inclined to talk either.  Even I began to wish I could just go read a book in bed.  I am currently re-reading Kristen Lavransdatter and you know how that is.

Tonight will be our last night with the oil lamp.  I am thinking that perhaps we should try to have one night/month when we keep the lights off.  It could be just enough to keep us appreciative of the convenience and benefit of electric lights and to have that time of closeness that darkness brings forward.

The other thing we have been doing to reduce our energy use is to power up the laptop batteries in the morning and then unplug them.  If their charge runs out, then no more computer use that day.  I think it is a good system and one that I want to keep in force after this week is over.  It manages to save energy and give some boundaries to computer use all at the same time.

As part of this experiment, I also learned about solar powered chargers for cellphones and other devices.  They run around $30, which seems pretty reasonable.  I think they are smart idea given that charging up these devices sucks up power at a surprising rate.

Pump it up - you don't really need it.


ELVIS COSTELLO - PUMP IT UP by huntylch

(No Impact Week - Day #3) Please Sir...May I Have More?

The focus for Day #3 of No Impact Week is food.  For us, food is also our main area of consumption in terms of where we actually spend money.  It is a matter of making choices and setting priorities.  I am still wearing sweaters from high school but I willingly pay more for organic and local food.

Today we will go to the market at the Brooklyn Grange, a rooftop farm that is within walking distance from our house.  Why is it called Brooklyn Grange when it is located in Long Island City, Queens?  Did they think it would have more cachet to put Brooklyn in the name?  Although there are few thing us Queenites like better than to roll our eyes at the faux hipster borough to the south, it seems there is a more prosaic reason for the name.  Here is their answer from the Frequently Asked Questions section of their website:

When we started our company in 2009, we thought we had a site in Brooklyn locked down. We were all living in Brooklyn and put together the plan there, so the name made sense. In spring of 2010 we had to look for a new site; subsequently, we found our current location on Northern Blvd in Queens. At that point, however, we had already established an LLC under the name “Brooklyn Grange,” had begun using the name in public at our fundraisers and events in the winter and didn’t want to confuse the folks who had been following our progress and supporting our efforts. We’ve kept our name as Brooklyn Grange, but we are thrilled with our new home in LIC, Queens and have really enjoyed meeting the community there.

So there you have it.  They aren't snobs, just victims of the vicissitudes of the New York City real estate market.  And who among us hasn't had that experience?

When we started this experiment, I decided to allow myself to use whatever I already have in the pantry and fridge.  The No Impact Week began immediately after I returned from sesshin and it is safe to say that I was pretty much unprepared for it so that rule seemed sensible if we actually wanted to eat anything.  It has forced, nay - encouraged, me to be creative with what was on hand.  Although I have heard a few complaints from certain parties who shall remain nameless but whose initials are Fin and Lucy, I think we have had some decent meals cobbled together from odds and ends.  I am noticing that we have almost nothing getting tossed out because it has gone by its edible stage.  Plus it is fun to be forced to be creative in this way - I feel like a participant on Chopped.

Do you know where your food comes from?  What non-local item could you give up?  Bananas?  Avocados?  Coffee?  Ouch - that's cutting close to the bone!  Fortunately I have a large store of coffee in our cupboard so the most drastic sacrifice has not needed to be made.

(No Impact Week - Day #2) Change and Change and Change

Here is some more 1970s idealism from my favourite TV show ever, Free to Be You and Me with Marlo Thomas.

Today's challenge, trash and transportation, is added to yesterday's focus on consumption.  In terms of trash, we do our best to recycle whatever New York City allows us to recycle (which isn't as much as you would think) and I compost our kitchen scraps.  Since I was raised with parents who grew up in the Depression era and steeped us in their "waste not, want not" attitude, being wasteful is not one of my issues.  Please be assured, I have many others but this is not really one of them.  We are ahead of the curve in eliminating unnecessary trash from our lives but I know we can do better.

Transportation is a little trickier.  Normally on a Tuesday, I would drive to Brooklyn for several errands, including the week's food shopping.  Since this week, I am trying to only buy at the farmer's markets, I don't need to drive today so I will take the subway.  It is a little over an hour each way into Brooklyn from Sunnyside - longer than driving - but not terrible.  And I can knit in air conditioned splendor!

Did you know that Rosie Grier is famous for his crochet work as well as his crying?  Maybe I will shed a couple of tears just for Rosie while I knit on the N train this afternoon.

(No Impact Week - Day #1) In Which I Make My Case for Idealism

I miss 1970s idealism.  Did you know that there was a time when people actually believed that peace, love and understanding would make a difference in the state of the world?  I think it is time to bring some of that back.

A friend gave me her collection of Growing Without Schooling magazines when she moved - she had almost the entire set from the very first one that John Holt wrote onwards.  You can read them online now - how exciting!  I love the optimism and, yes, the idealism of those early issues.  People were doing radical things like taking charge of their own children's education, which is to say not believing everything they were ever told about how children learn.  Some people did things that sound a little crazy, even to me, but the amount of trust in the children and their innate passion for learning that they had is so refreshing.  I particularly remember parents writing about how their 15 year old daughter went to Europe by herself, ended up working on a farm and stayed for a year.  What would happen if a parent did that today, I wonder?  I have a friend whose 15 year old daughter went to Japan on her own for a modeling assignment (she went with a group of models from a very well-known agency so she wasn't just wandering around on her own but maybe that would have been ok too).  The mother was strongly criticized in some quarters for "allowing" it to happen.

Trust.  If you know your child, then you know when to let them go and make their mistakes on their own and when to, perhaps, keep six or ten paces behind them just in case.  Trust also allows for children to not read until they are twelve if they are not interested in reading until then, or not take up math until it becomes clear (to them) that they need to know some math.  I know parents who have had this kind of trust and their children are not illiterate hillbillies but wonderful, functional people in the world.  Trusting is hard because we have to let go of our own expectations and our illusion of control.  Yet, if I don't trust my children then how will they learn to trust themselves?

Right now, Fin is growing at such a rate that he mostly sleeps and eats.  He is officially taller than me and, in the week I was away, I think he grew another inch, at least.  Part of me freaks out when he spends half the day in bed and the other half wandering between the kitchen and the couch, complaining about how tired he is.  The part of me that freaks out is the part of me that sets goals, is ambitious and striving, and wants to project all my own desires for success onto my children.  It is a rather big part of me.  But this big part of me has to - HAS TO - step back and take a chill pill.  I need to trust that the work Fin is doing now is valuable enough simply to allow him to do it in the way he needs to do it (which is, apparently, out cold in the sack).  It is scary - it feels like working without a net.  But think about the current state of the world and tell me if you think the safety net of schooling is producing the results you want for this world.  The truth is that it is all an experiment.  The only difference between myself and parents who send their children to school is that I have eliminated any opportunity to let myself lay blame on anyone else if things go to hell in a hand basket.  Truthfully, what would that look like exactly?

I think part of my version of resurrected 1970s idealism is to toss away what constitutes "success".  Many of the other people taking yoga teacher training with me are in their mid-20 to mid-30s with graduate degrees and many tens of thousands of dollars of student debt.  After all those years of schooling and now working in the nine-to-five world, they are taking yoga teacher training.  This is NOT a criticism of my fellow trainees (I love them!) but I point out their plight, for a plight is what it feels like it is, because it seems so completely insane.  They did everything they were expected to do - go to school, go to college, get an advanced degree, get a job - and they are very unhappy with the results.  Unhappy working in the corporate world and loaded up with debt.  What if someone along the way had advised them to take a year (or two) off.  Even if they traveled Europe for a year, it would have been cheaper than one year at a private university and imagine what they would learn about the world and about themselves.  It boggles the mind.

You know, maybe success doesn't look like one thing.  Maybe the fullness of life isn't measured in good grades, prestigious awards, or even money (gasp!).  Maybe peace, love and understanding isn't such a naive place to start after all.

Let's bring back some good ole 1970s idealism!  I am definitely in.

PS.  Day #1 of No Impact Week is focused on consumption.  I will be trying to eliminate unnecessary electrical energy sucking devices like chargers that remain plugged in all day and night - using power strips and then turning them off when not in use is a good solution to a lot of that kind of thing - and going to the green market in Union Square for the week's groceries.

No Impact Project

Stepping away from the video camera, Vogue Magazine and my scissors, I want to let you know about an experiment I will be participating in in two weeks time.  It is called the No Impact Project.  It is the current incarnation of a project that began as an experiment of one man and his family - a guy named Colin Beavan, his wife and daughter - in New York City.  He decided to try to live in a way that made no environmental impact for a year.  I first read about him in an article in the New York Times and I followed the blog he kept (he still keeps it up now and then) while he began to transform his life.  The project turned into a book and then a movie and it continues to impact others (haha) as he takes what he learned and encourages groups and individuals to try their own experiments in reducing their footprint on this earth.  

His website will walk you through the process so you aren't left wondering where to begin.  It is fun to do with others in a group, so gather your buddies and consider taking up the challenge. 

As it turns out, we are already doing a lot of things that he recommends.  We (mostly) use public transportation, we don't have a clothes dryer, and I make a lot of our food from scratch.  Frankly, I rarely buy anything besides food, wool and books.  In fact, I vow to only buy things that have two consecutive O's in their name from now on.  They have served me so well so far.

My main goals for the week will be eliminate those food items that I have slipped into buying ready-made and to forego electric lights in the evening.  We once spent most of a month in a non-electric house in Newfoundland.  This house had propane lamps that were wonderful, although not quite enough light to read by in the evening.  We quickly became tuned into the rising and setting of the sun.  One night, we went to a bed and breakfast and we were thrilled to flick a switch to turn on lights...for a moment.  Once the lights went on, we realized that a true sacrifice had been made when we went over to the convenience of electric lights.  The quality of light was so crass compared to the gas lamps!  I am looking forward to our dim, quiet evenings.

Meanwhile, I am off to sesshin.  Oh yes, two in a row.  See you next week for some low impact blogging.

On Being Mistaken for a Younger Woman

Exploring aging, illness and death through yoga, Bobby and Cissy and Vedic chants.

(PS.  Does it look really pixelated to you?  If anyone knows how to fix that, will you be in touch with me? Thanks!)

Having Coffee with Mr. T

I had a long-winded Mother's Day post half-written about the false duality created by a conspiracy of rich, white men that is also known as The Mommy Wars, and how it is exemplified by the current cover of Time Magazine.  I didn't finish that post because it was a teacher training weekend and I was busy from morning 'til night all weekend.

Then, a friend posted this video on her Facebook page.

I am sure you will agree that this is much better.  Much better.

Maurice Sendak (1928 − 2012)

"I don't care!"

Maurice Sendak died today.  Among children's book authors, Sendak's work was consistently a favourite for me as a child and then for my own children.

If I had to pick a favourite, I think it would be Pierre (A Cautionary Tale).  Please read it!

I also love A Hole is to Dig, a book by Ruth Krauss that Sendak illustrated.  Please read that too!

Thank you Maurice Sendak for everything.  The moral of the story is:  CARE!

ETA:  Thank you Erica!   Here is a delightful version of Pierre, sung by Carole King

A Little Link Love

As Lucy pulled another shirt of mine out of my closet, she said, "You used to wear nice clothes."  Then she gave me the once-over.  "But look at you now..."

Hey - I just returned from mysore practice!  Sheesh.

That is a Monday morning for you around here.

To bring the discourse up a notch, I want to share some words and images of others whose work I have been enjoying lately.  And, no doubt, they also are much better dressed than I am, too.

A new blog by a Zen practioner and priest, Koun Franz.  I find his words to be like the clear and sincere ringing of a bell.

The blog of artist, Altoon Sultan.  She makes paintings and hooks rugs as art - thoughtful, beautiful work. She also writes about her garden and other artist's work and posts lovely photographs.

Anne Dinan's blog.  Anne makes jewelry based on forms in nature - often electroforming natural objects.  I don't really understand her process - she only posts photographs - but the results are gorgeous and very intriguing.  Anne was one of my closest friends in high school.  We lost touch soon thereafter and only reconnected recently via Facebook.  Whenever I think about quitting Facebook, I think of Anne and how happy I am to be back in touch with her.

Photodocumentary blog by Les Stone.  Les is documenting the human and environmental cost of fracking.  It isn't pretty - in fact, it is horrible and tragic.  His photographs are poignant and beautiful even as they record the senseless, wasteful horror of this misguided practice.

And if you don't know what fracking is, check out this video made by some Irish teenagers.  They have created the clearest description of it (and how/why it is such a very bad idea) that I have seen to date.

As a side note, I would put links to those blogs on my sidebar over there but blogger rarely allows me to change my design for some reason.  If and when it does, I will add them.

Everyone Loves Pictures of Yarn and Kids

Yet another yarn for the shop!  This one is a two-ply, merino, lace weight skein.  Two hundred twenty yards of Widdershin beauty.  I plied the singles so the colour changes matched up (mostly).  The changes are long in a Noro-like manner.  I think it will make a stunning lacy project if you are up for it.

And speaking of stunning...

For my video project on aging, illness and death, I photographed some pictures from long, long ago.  I wonder where she is now.

Death is a Nectar-like Medicine

 If you reflect on death then there is nothing you will need. Always keep death in mind. Once the conviction that everything is impermanent, the recognition that existence is very fragile, and the awareness that death is an ever-present threat, once these things have truly taken root in your mind you will stop hankering after life's ordinary compulsions. But if you don't reflect deeply enough on death and impermanence your lack of perspective will make it difficult to rid yourself of life's more futile concerns. Your tendency always to want more than you need will continue. Even though you have enough to eat you will want ever more delicious food. Despite having enough clothes and an adequate place to live you will keep thinking about getting something better or more fashionable to wear and a bigger more comfortable house. Although you may already have a partner or lover you will be constantly on the lookout for someone better. These are all signs that you are not remembering how close death really is, all the time. Why would you invest all that energy on those plans for the future if you are not somehow blindly convinced that you are still sure to be in this world for a long time to come. The great practitioners of the past describe themselves as yogis with the thought of impermanence planted firmly in their hearts. They saw clearly the futility of ordinary pursuits. There minds were entirely turned towards the dharma. Their practice of the dharma was based upon a frugal life inspired by the thought of their own death which they knew would take place, somewhere in a deserted cave. All these great practitioners, of course, are now dead... Such a far-sighted and profound perspective can take hold within you. It is the result of being constantly mindful of death. Mindfulness of death is a nectar-like medicine that restores you to health and a sentinel that watches over the discipline of your practice, never letting it stray into distractions.

Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche

Just Enough

It was a full weekend.  

It was a teacher training weekend.  My community class went well.  People played with pasasana without getting too hung up on getting into the fullest expression of it, which was my goal.  One aspect of teaching the community classes is that we spend about five minutes at the end giving and getting constructive feedback.  It is a very helpful thing and something rarely encountered.  It is lovely when people tell me that they enjoyed my class but I really need to know what wasn't working and why.  So it was good to hear not just the likes but the dislikes.  

After my class, a seasoned teacher came in and we explored how to teach advanced asana, which in this case meant two hours of inversions.  I freely admit that I do not love inversions mainly because they are difficult for me.  I am a late-comer to them so I am still very much working with my fears about being upside down.  Plus, doing two hours of inversions right after lunch is....um....kind of disgusting.  Then we moved right into arm balances.  There are people who love inversions and arm balances (they always seem to love them both) and then, there is me.  It is good to notice the stories that come up when revealing my weaknesses in public.  Yes, good to notice and then move along.

Sunday, I skipped the morning teacher training session since it was information I had already studied several times and helped out with our Zen Kids program.

The program is almost a year old now.  We have a great core group of 3 −5 year olds and Lucy joins us to help out.  We have quickly learned that we need to be able to let go of our well-laid plans at any moment if that is the way things are going.  The kids are our teachers.  I think the program has really cultivated a welcoming atmosphere for families with smaller children.  When I started coming, I felt rather alone in having younger children.  I understood that sitting zazen isn't really a family-friendly activity but it felt like something was missing.  So it is wonderful that there is this acknowledgement that the sangha includes the whole family.  And it is very fun to have little ones around the Temple.  Adults aren't always so interesting, you know?

Finally, I am pleased to share that I am now officially doing the complete primary series in my mysore practice.  I had been doing the wholes series with a previous teacher but when I switched teachers, the new ones (they work as a pair) put me back to navasana, which is considered half-way through the series.  I was a bit insulted to be honest.  It was a test of my ego and a lesson in humility.  Let me tell you, I didn't go quietly into the night.  I struggled and resisted and got pissed off.  They let me stew in it and they kept me at navasana for a good, long time.  Slowly, I got one more asana.  Then another.  At a certain point, I found myself feeling content: it felt like just enough.  I didn't want or need anything else.  My cup felt full.  Of course, just as that happened, they gave me the rest of the series rather quickly, including the last asana - setu bandhasana - today.

Photo of Finnish practioner, Petri Raisanan, in setu bandhasana from here.  He is making it look very pleasant and easy, which has not been my experience in it at all.

I have mixed feelings about this asana.  I am not convinced it is so great for necks over 40.  I have heard that David Williams does not teach it any more because he feels it isn't a safe asana.  It is hard to say.  So many things that I have feared or filled me with dread, I have come to appreciate over time (hello, drop backs, I am speaking to you), so perhaps that is the case here too.

How much is just enough?

Community Class Tomorrow

Azaleas in the front yard (two weeks ago).

Tomorrow I will be teaching an one-hour community class at Sacred Sounds Yoga (163 Bleecker Street in Manhattan) from 11 am to 12 pm.  It is free!  The class will be in the Desikachar tradition so expect some chanting, asana with classical vinyasas and pranayama.  We will working our way up to pasasana, a deceptively challenging twist and squat, but one that has many modifications available so everyone should be able to enjoy some good, twisty action.

Moving In and Out of Silence

Recently, my friend Patti wrote very movingly about her first experience at a silent retreat.  She is pursuing a course the Colgate Rochester Crozier Divinity School and this retreat was part of their training.  I think she was very brave to put her feelings into words and then share them.  I know that, for myself, I have mostly avoided writing about my experiences at sesshin.  In part this is because they are private and need to stay that way but, in another way, I avoid it because I feel that I simply have no words to describe what it is like to spend a week not speaking, keeping my eyes lowered, and foregoing any social niceties.  However, Patti has inspired me to take a chance and be a little more forthcoming.  I think the world could benefit if more people spent more time sitting in silence, so if reading Patti's account of her experiences or what follows intrigues you enough to consider taking yourself into silence, then it will be worth it.  Maybe.

The first time I did a sesshin, it was a during a weekend in Brooklyn.  I arrived on a Friday afternoon and it ended on Sunday morning.  Finn and Lucy were still of an age that required constant adult presence so I had to arrange for them to have somewhere to be on the Friday and it all felt very complicated.  Indeed, I spent about three-quarters of that sesshin, or maybe something like seven-eighths, feeling like I should not have abandoned them, that I should not be there and plotting how I might leave.  The only thing that stopped me from leaving was that it would mean I would be too embarrassed to ever come back and I knew that never coming back was unacceptable, so I stayed.  On Saturday night, I finally allowed myself to really be there.  The whole world looked exactly the same - I am sure that anyone looking at me would have said that I looked exactly the same - but the whole world had shifted and I know I can safely say that I was not the same person that I had been one second before.  That moment of transition, from resistance to acceptance, was a true turning point for me.  It never would have happened if I had not been in silence during that time.  I needed the silence - even as it was filled with the stories I was telling myself, often at very high volume - in order to come that moment.

But the silence was hard.  I really didn't understand it and I had a hard time understanding people not looking at each other or using any kind of facial expression to make contact.  I took it personally and was wondering what was up with these people, all walking around looking so dour.  When the silence was lifted and everyone opened up and became outwardly animated again, I was totally taken aback.  How was it possible that these stone-faced people were suddenly so friendly and alive?

I really didn't understand it but I knew I wanted more.  Ever so slowly, I have come to see the silence as a wonderful gift.  To sit in a room with 100 other people (sesshin at the Monastery get crowded!) in complete silence, with only the birds singing outside, is a beautiful and profound gift.  Also, the silence makes the words that I do hear become filled with such strength that they can go deeper than if I had heard them among the chatter of my everyday life.  I once read a book about the history of art and the author pointed out that, in medieval or renaissance times, most people had no visual imagery in their lives save for the one painting they might see when they went to church (and that might only be very rarely depending on their circumstances).  Imagine the power of that one painting!  I think of that when I think about how I receive the words I hear during sesshin.  There are so few of them and their power is immediate and strong.  Fortunately, the people wielding the words are doing it with exacting attention to what they are saying and with an understanding of their impact.

Leaving a week of silence and returning to social niceties is a difficult transition.  I always have a moment (or longer) of dreading it and wishing we could just go on a bit longer.  I suspect most people do.  But
I always come around and find new delight in being able to chat with my neighbor.  Perhaps there is something worthwhile in just that right there.

With an infinite number of ways we can choose to spend our time, the choice to be silent can seem crazy or a luxury or impractical or just stupid.  I would suggest that it is critical, vital even, to our ability to be able to step forward in this world that needs so much more care and attention than it is currently receiving.  I wish that everyone might not just find an opportunity to experience it but make the opportunity to do it.  Make it happen and then let's see what happens.

Pictures of People Taking Pictures

At Finn's request, we went to the New York Auto Show.  While I can't say that I understood its attraction, I did enjoy adding to my collection of pictures of people taking pictures (and looking at things).

I include this one only because it was the only plant-based life in evidence in the entire Jacob Javits Convention Center.  It was part of a display of RVs made by Mercedes-Benz.  I am not sure why they warranted fake plants but even in their very plastic-ness they were a welcome relief to the eyes.  Or, to these eyes anyway.

PS.  I will be away at sesshin this week.  See you next week!

Of A Friday

Enjoying these things:

I Let Go by Erica J. Schmidt.  When I gave Erica, aka the Exuberant Bodhisattva, a Liebster Award a while back, she generously sent me a copy of her new book, I Let Go.  It is available on Amazon.com for the very low, low price of $2.00.  It says Kindle edition, but you can get it both for an e-reader and just as a pdf file.  It is less than the cost of a subway ride but it is much more fun and it smells way better.  Update:  According to Erica, "The PDF file isn't actually for sale, but if people don't have e-readers, they can still read the Amazon version by downloading a free kindle app."

Henri the Cat



My friend who teaches French at Columbia says he needs a French tutor.  Alors, just one more of life's indignities.

This is one of Finnian's drawings from his life drawing class at the New York Studio School.  He has been making some beautiful drawings.  It has been very exciting to witness his development, even just how he has dealt with drawing naked people each week.  I wasn't so sure how it would be, as a 15 year old boy.  This one made me laugh:  here he is confronted with a very large, nude woman, laying on a platform.  His chosen point of focus?  Her iPhone.  It's all about priorities, I guess.

And some yarn.  Chain-plied merino from a hand painted fleece from Widdershin Woolworks that was, oh, I don't know, picked up on a little jaunt to Taos.  You know how it is....

Reclaiming Independence

I love this in so many ways.

Here is part 2:

Warning: Kitty Kat Kuteness

Spring is here - our lilacs are in bloom and Lucy has been training the cats to go outside with a harness.  They mostly creep along close to the ground and then roll around in the dust.  A neighbor's cat, named Eddie, who is actually quite sweet, came over and bopped Webster on the head the other morning.  Webster was all like "hey, life was good until just a second ago...what happened?"

Lucy also is toilet training them (she bought a book about it in Asheville).  But, kind hearted as she is, she has been lightening up on the toilet training while she trains them on the harness.  She said she didn't want to overwhelm them with new information.

One could eat no fat and one could eat no lean.

Vanity Made Me Do It

For the past month or so, I have been making a video about old age, illness and death, but you know, with a sense of humour.  It might be a total disaster in the end but I am enjoying making it immensely.  The thread running through it is my yoga practice.  Oh dear god no!  I know that is what you are saying.  And who can blame you since watching someone doing their yoga practice is pretty dull stuff unless you are Kino MacGregor in her short shorts.

It is all in how you extend your big toe, I swear.

In case you were wondering, I am not Kino MacGregor.

It has been quite a challenge to make the yoga shots interesting.  My effort to do that has led to all sorts of funny business because, you see, my yoga practice is quite wrapped up - for good and ill - in my ideas about old age, illness and death.  It is my way of aging gracefully and healthfully.  And truth be told, it also is tied up in my vanity.  My biceps and triceps are, by far, looking hotter these days than they ever did when I was 25.  In fact, my whole body is looking pretty darned toned these days.  Fifty chaturanga dandasana a day have to have some effect, I guess.

So, I thought I would explore this double-edged sword of my practice.  In video format.

The temptation not to include shots of me falling over, missing the mark and otherwise looking like a klutz is strong.  Just the shots of getting both legs behind my head, please.  We'll see.  Meanwhile, at teacher training, the anatomy instructor, who is herself a dancer, made several in-joke references to me as if she believed I was a ballet dancer.  Once I understood what she was getting at (wait, what? is she speaking French to me? why?), I felt a huge surge of....what?  Pride?  Happiness? Amazement?  Well, whatever it was, it wasn't very healthy.  Time to look at that shot of me toppling out of Virabhadrasana A (fer chrissakes!) again....

No worries, Kino!  Unless there is a sudden demand for videos of sweaty, red-faced, middle aged women muddling through Primary series, your career and shorts are safe with me.  But you, dear reader, can begin to look forward to it now.

It's Better Than A Joke

Here is a trick for April Fool's Day - not a joke, just an amazing trick that you, too, can do with your own body.

First, Sit on the ground with your legs out straight.

Second, find your right (or left - just pick one) pubic bone.  Yes, it is where it sounds like it is.  Find it and keep a finger or two on it.

Third, reach forward with only your right (or left - if you chose your left pubic bone) big toe.  Not dramatically, just extend your big toe (only) a wee bit, which is really all you can do anyway so don't worry about it, just do it.

Did you feel it?

Did you know that your other toes each directly connect to and can cause movement in other areas of your pelvis?

Freaking amazing!