May 24, 2022
Gleanings
- I still grieve the loss of those friendships, losses that are almost entirely my own fault. In casting aside those friendships, I discarded love, shared history, a different perspective on me and my life, and the gifts of wisdom, strength, and goodness that those two women gave me.
- But it’s also strangely, a bit perversely, encouraging just knowing there are so many other sad people out there. I don’t imagine that it feels easy to any of them, or that they are “over it” or have “moved on,” but there they all are, carrying on with their lives while also somehow carrying their grief. “How do they do that?” I still wonder, even though I suppose I am now doing the same, however haltingly.
- I liked the idea that I might have been at the forefront of the slow stitching movement! And doesn’t it fit with how I live my life these days? I have so much more time now that I am older; I am no longer running to the finish line. I like walking for the sake of walking, not the destination. I enjoy spending hours cooking in the kitchen with my husband and then savouring a tasty meal with friends as the sun sets and candles burn down. Slow walking, slow food, so why not slow stitching?
- This morning I’ve been thinking about Greece, a place I will probably never travel to again, and I am remembering how I took for granted the long warm days, swimming in a warm ocean, eating ripe tomatoes and cucumbers and salty cheese with glasses of golden retsina at lunch, and lying down in fragrant grass with Agamemnon.
- What better way to dive back into more regular blogging than to start a new series?! The days are so long and short of late, it might feel good to pause and make a wee list of where things are at?
- I firmly believe that the more creative you are, the more creative you are. When you’re a creative person, your default is creativity. Your default is flowering. Your default is fecundity. But. There will be obstacles.
- But I think the most valuable part of women’s friendships is the understanding, the listening, the forgiving, if need be, of lapses in judgment.
- To remember it’s all temporary and fleeting and to still love anyways… to still jump in and risk and engage with it all. To not shut down in anticipation of pending grief, numb or avoid, or for me … live in fear, but to allow and be in relationship with grief , with the sorrows and hardships in and of this world, alongside love and joy … this. This feels sacred, “a holy thing.”
May 17, 2022
Gleanings
- I am eternally searching for murder mysteries that scratch a very specific itch.
- When the Cherry Blossoms at Robarts Library are in full bloom I know that winter is well and truly over.
- I’m glad to have recognized, yet again, that it is possible (necessary) to love the imperfect.
- In Dublin I wondered why I’d ever left that western island but it was the beginning of something else, a key, the life I live now, and Dylan somehow knows that and offers his own strange consolation.
- Words and photos never capture the breathtaking beauty of sunrises and sunsets. They are an experience one has to witness.
- And the flowers open in sunshine and close again in the evening and in cloudy weather, which makes me wonder about the mysteries of nature. How it does this. How it knows.
- But I do know what fear feels like, and looks like, and how it shows up in me, and in our world and so what might be possible if love simply is moving away from, or through fear, to a place of openness and spaciousness and being with… to the myriad of possibilities that lie beyond fear?
- If he’d lived, he would be 96 now. If my mother had lived, she would be 99. That would be improbable, for me to have a 96-year-old father, a 99-year-old mother. Am I old, then?
- What I have learned this past while is that it’s very easy to be a buddhist among buddhists. It’s easy to be a good listener among other good listeners. But in the absence, it can be quite ridiculously difficult! Likewise, it’s very easy to be just and fair and kind among same.
- It’s revelatory and delightful to discover (again and again?) that the self is so sturdy.
May 3, 2022
Gleanings
- Give me ordinary. Give me cups of tea in the backyard and an afternoon so slow I can hear the hummingbirds. Give me time to look at the moon and midday trips to the bookshop. Give me satisfaction with Enough. (via ARB)
- My mother died in 2003, ravaged by Alzheimer’s, which robbed her of memory but not of her spirit. “There was a terrible war, here,” she told me, pointing at bullet holes that still mark the facades of old Wrocław buildings. “Terrible things happened. Terrible.” By then, she did not know she had a daughter, but the memories of the war lingered in her mind.
- There is a suddenness to beauty, a shock to it. I sometimes think I’m quite dulled to the world these days, but then it happens, I’m pulled through, and that reminds me what I’m here for.
- Purple, acid yellow and milky white. I can’t imagine how many seed species there are on earth, and like the urchins, how much variety exists in each one’s appearance, both subtle and dramatic. It blows my mind.
- For I know I can’t make time slow, but I can lean into inhabiting the ever-present nowness, the slices of the day.
- Earlier in the day when we had first pulled out the map book, we looked at the grid the lines that marked the roads and then out at the prairies that surrounded us and wondered if there was anything out there. And the answer is yes, there much to be seen and much more to be imagined.
- It has been extraordinarily hard navigating the tightrope between expressing myself truthfully, and not hurting my mom’s feelings.
- Imagine, I always said, the death of a child. How terrible. How terribly sad.
- All through the 1st year of the pandemic, when we didn’t see anyone apart from masked cashiers in the grocery store and the masked lifeguards at the pool, I was so grateful for the company of jays.
April 26, 2022
Gleanings
- Surrender to knowing what it should look like or where it’s going to show up, how I’m supposed to do it, or who’s supposed to find it or connect to it or show up. Plant and tend to the seed. And surrender the rest.
- My plans are mere sketches, a few chords on which to improvise; they delight me.
- Seasons always reassure us that life in all its forms continues. It shifts, evolves, and readies itself for what is next.
- This poached, cooled asparagus waits patiently until you’re ready for it and when you are… you just dump it on a plate. [“Nobody writes recipes quite like the Smitten Kitchen!” said nobody, today at least.]
- In this part of the world, at this time of year, there is such a dramatic change in the way light fills our days. As winter ends, and we transition through spring towards summer, we are reminded of cycles – days, seasons, lives.
- I continued with the business of daily living. I felt grateful to be able to. And that’s win enough.
- I still have chilli peppers in glass jars in the freezer, but they don’t begin to compare to the fieriness of the ones I hung to dry in the window.
- I carry my past, in ways I wish I did not. I carry the groceries despite having teens. I carry myself in dignity except for when I am swept away .
- What you can’t hear are the fine grits of gravel ticking off the car doors and the wind singing in the barbed wire fences.
- Today, I celebrate the gift of joy, of connection, of relationship. And, I’m so grateful for the reminder to stay open … you truly never know who is going to come your way, cross your path, and through their very being, create invitations and possibilities in your own becoming.
- Like many people, I’ve spent much of my life seeking external validation, permission and approval, especially from my immediate family. I worked hard to make sure that wasn’t part of this process. I wanted to stand in clear ownership of my lived experience and the stories within it, to take responsibility for this being my story, not our story, hence my desire to inform and invite
- What I’m getting at is – creating, exploring with curiosity, learning from the masters at their craft, experimenting and painting over – this is how I want to spend my days.
- What became intolerable to me was devoting my life so fully to my kids becoming themselves, while losing myself so completely in the process. What kind of example was I setting? Who would they become if their mother was nothing more than a reflection of their wants and needs?
April 12, 2022
Gleanings
- In short, we’re not helping anyone by ceasing to create beauty.
- What is it to truly know someone, to expose all, even the dark parts inside?
- I like that it isn’t about achievement, it’s about discovery.
- At some point this spring I need to put the pink fleece housecoat away.
- Now what I’m discovering is that it is hard to keep finding new words in the absence of change. Narrative requires movement, not repetition or stasis. How many times (how many ways) can I say “I am sad”?
- I think there should be a rule, that for every piece of good news we want to post on social media, we must also post AT LEAST 3 pieces of the mundane or depressing AF. That way, we can fully celebrate with you in the good news, because we now understand the subtext: “I was struggling for a while there, but now something really great has happened!!”
- When I make quilts, I am thinking of them as embodiments of usefulness first. I have fabric and batting and I know that a quilt will be used. But I am also driven to make something out of a fierce need to use my hands, my body, my strength.
- When women get old, what do they do? Are they neglected, left to their own devices financially and emotionally? If so, perhaps they end up at a place like the Claremont Hotel, a place for those growing old but not yet ready for a nursing home. A place with one rule: they aren’t allowed to die there.
April 5, 2022
Gleanings
- In some ways, the book feels more like an allegory for moral imagination, one man’s story that begs every person to ask piercing and hard questions of themselves.
- So the grey squares can be signs of success, too, for what that’s worth.
- That sorrow remains, with all of its complications, but as time passes for us but not for him, it’s hard not to feel that now we are the ones leaving him, which we did not choose to do—which we desperately do not want to do, but can’t help or stop.
- I’ve often marveled at the strange, cyclical nature of life and creativity. How the things that I sketched five years ago, with no real thought, have elements that are now a part of my current art practice in ways I never planned for.
- I never expected eleven to come so fast, and to take so long.
- There’s so much I’ve missed, and miss. I meant to learn more about botany, and maybe it’s not too late.
- How do I start having my own life now, at 47, leaving them to grow and become more independent, without feeling a guilt that is tied to loneliness from a fourteen-year-old girl from 33 years ago?
- For it never becomes common place for me to witness, to experience birth, life, the beginning, divinity, mystery.
- Which then leads me to think more about process and practice. About forming a body of work out of the squelch of our own many clicks. About being more deliberate. But then needing the freedom to just make images….(I go back and forth on this obviously).
- When everything shut down two years ago, I was so burnt out and overstretched that my main feeling was relief at not having to do everything all the time for everyone. In the interim, I’ve recalibrated my boundaries, and I feel more capable of saying yes and no with greater understanding of the costs and benefits of each.
- The light, the dark. Within. Without. There’s never really one, without the other.
- Once again, I’m resolving to take back home with me the sense of freedom I experience while on adventure.
March 29, 2022
Gleanings
- What’s in a song? What’s in a robin song heard in the trees on a March morning?
- My daughter becoming a mother reminds me of what those first few months of motherhood are like.
- As they say, if you want to get fit, hang around with fit people. And, if you want to read more, hang around with readers!
- Every year around this time I see tulip leaves emerging in the gardens around Victoria College and I worry that they’re too eager, that they won’t survive another Spring snowfall.
- What if, after two years, we actually understood each other better instead of being convinced that only one of us is right.
- I’m not sure why or when I imagined I was supposed to know things or have a “valuable perspective” to offer. Or, you know, some kind of wisdom. Ha.
- I won’t suggest that braiding a rag rug is a quick and easy zero-waste solution to repurposing your used bedsheets. There’s nothing quick about making a rug, and while the actual process is easy enough, it’s a project that demands time and staying power, not to mention some muscles and balm for your soon-to-be tender pinky finger.
- But thick black eyeliner and jelly shoes aside, I’ve always found that the most difficult thing to express when people poke fun at the decade, is how we lived with a thick air of potential nuclear annihilation and destruction that permeated even the most French Formula-hardened ‘do. It was everywhere. And it followed us around for years.
- Our eyesight may be changing, but we start to see wider and further, from a different perspective. Our inner lives are richer than they were before. And we know there’s still more to know.
- And very practically speaking, writing every day has me quiet … listening, noticing, observing, reflecting … a necessity in order to have something to put down on this page each evening, trusting and seeing that when I arrive here, I don’t need to have it all, or any of it figured out, but just allow what already exists …
- Here’s to sitting in the darkness, then, with beauty and love, just sitting on our laps like cats — an orange one and a gray one.
- I’m not going to let my messiness stop me from loving this wild and precious life.
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March 22, 2022
Gleanings
- If anything, ballet is forcing me to rethink my relationship with my middle-aged body and instead of noticing only the beginnings of older age descending upon me, I now marvel at what my body is capable of and the incremental changes I’ve seen as I’ve learned to stand with more confidence and courage. And as for the imperfections? They’re part of being alive.
- …still one of the finest books of short fiction to appear so far in the 21st century.
- The key for me is that I keep writing, even if what I have to say is as frothy as a cappuccino. Because when the urge does come for me to express something weightier, I’m more likely to have the words.
- I missed the practice of framing the world through my viewfinder. I began wondering what I would find if I photographed my city as I would photograph Rome? If I looked at Edmonton, so often described in terms of ugliness, with love-coloured glasses?
- “In terms of the scope of the war, it’s the Russians who have done badly,” he says. “The ground campaign has been pathetic. And the whole world is watching.”
- The thing about having a practice, is to remember that it’s just that, a practice. It’s not something ever present, but something to continue to work toward. Sometimes there’s joy, sometimes not.
- The greatest gift I can imagine is if you give yourself the gift of a book.
- The rest of the intentions were along the lines of: “Make more time for myself”; “Learn to accept myself more”; “Learn to say no more often.” I wanted to feel empathetic towards the women, but all I could think was: blah…blah…blah…Self-improvement 101 stuff. (Perhaps I needed the retreat more than I thought I did?)
- Recently, I shared a photo of myself on an island beach trail. I looked at the photo and thought this is who I am.
- Somehow, that is, the end of Owen’s life has to become part of the story of my own life: rather than considering it a break, a catastrophic rupture, in that story (the way it feels to me now), I need to learn to see it as belonging to a new, different continuity. (Mrs. Ramsay, though dead, is still very present in “The Lighthouse.”)
- So I decided to keep writing, to let the plot unfold like the textiles in the small museum run by the cousin in Lviv, a city as haunted as any, and even if I can’t return, my character can go for the first time. She can hear an opera, drink coffee on Serbska Street, look at old books at the market by the Fedorov monument, and sit with her cousin, drawing the tree that gathers them both into its root system, families on each spreading branch.
- I began writing poetry and doing contemporary dance around the same time in high school, and they’re definitely connected for me—they’re both non-linear, non-narrative, and imagistic
- How we think we are one independent organism, living, breathing, acting on our own, and how I have so often felt so assured that I could, or even should do it on my own… and yet, there’s no possible way that we can’t not be interdependent. We need and are dependent on one another, and each provide gifts, seen and unseen, spoken and unspoken for the other, and receive what we need and more from others in return.
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March 16, 2022
Gleanings
- I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the ways in which social media and the theoretical shrinking and speeding up of the world impacts our ability to be nuanced thinkers and ethical actors, not to mention emotionally stable.
- “Zero risk is, I don’t need to wonder anymore,” he says. “Wondering is exhausting.”
- I’m not running away or hiding from news of the world. But I do recognize it’s not healthy to focus on it to the point of inducing anxiety over that which I cannot control.
- I kept to the classic script and every single person in my family, including the two who don’t like bananas at all, couldn’t get enough of it. I get it now, I really do. It’s far more complex than it seems, and abundantly cozy.
- I just bought five bunches of Hyacinths from my local corner shop that within minutes of entering the house muffled the smell of gym socks and meatloaf with their ethereal scent.
- Until the light returns/ The trees promise to remember how it felt to/ Be wrapped up in cool, endless shade.
- Time. Time is what I most long for. Time denied the Ukrainian mother-to-be and her child who were killed in the bombing of their maternity hospital. Time is also what I most celebrate. Individual moments of clarity are all the more precious when they emerge from a fog.
- It’s been nearly a hundred and fifty years since this chair was shiny, and new, and arguably, plagiarized. As always, to me, those years are a comfort
- Poetry is a place, still, to work things out, work things through. I
- I realized I knew little about poetry. By little, I mean nothing. But I want to learn to appreciate poetry, the beauty of the rhythm and cadence of the words, the meanings within.
- At times, I can disregard the boring days, the days that stretch on and need to be filled, the days of ordinary-ness, the days we’d long for if we no longer had them, the days, so many are wishing for in this moment, the days that make a life.
- Its the spring, things and thinks burst out from seemingly nothing. All this time, they’ve just been waiting. It can be its own overwhelm, but I am hungry for it. And overwhelmed by it. the irony, the ache. the swell, the burst. all of it.
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March 8, 2022
Gleanings
- Yesterday marked the two-year anniversary of the day when Faye’s kindergarten teacher sent around a parent sign-up sheet for volunteers to help with in-classroom hand washing. Just a few more days from now will mark the two-year anniversary of the day New York City schools closed and the rest of the city followed suit.
- My voice may be a little muffled by the mask, but this is me speaking. My skin is winter-dry, but this is my hand holding yours. Right now, this is everything. And more than enough.
- Women empowering women: The importance of mentors
- In caring for a little piece of earth, one rejects the idea that scale is all that matters, or that all worthwhile labor is paid labor. One creates unruly beauty for its own sake.
- We had hoped for children, biological or adopted, but the universe had other plans. I suspect, truly, Piper chose us and let us pretend we were choosing her. I am not for a second suggesting that a cat replaces a child, but she came into our lives when we most needed her, and we have loved her ever since.
- And yet stories of the war years have made up parts of who I am today and I can also say with certainty that although my mind doesn’t remember, my body certainly does! And it manifests the trauma and the impact of the war in variety of ways.
- Castle Breakfast isn’t as much a recipe as it’s a philosophy. It’s about making days off feel special, about feeling as calm and doted on at home as you would in a fancy tearoom. It’s about feeling a tiny bit royalty, regardless of budget. I hope it feels good.
- Does our watching the news and scrolling twitter change anything? Does reading poems change anything? Does witnessing in this way change anything? How is it possible that we can have one line of poetry about the massacre of innocents and the next about flowers? But of course we can.
- ask me what I was wearing, and if I could wear it again afterwards
- But it’s the charm against evil I’m most interested in right now.
- It is terrible, the damage grief does to one’s own generosity. I don’t like it, though for now I can’t seem to help it.
- How are we still doing this, going to war, in 2022? Have we learned nothing? How does a species who can travel into space and look at planet Earth from above, still have it in their hearts and minds to destroy each other, communities, cities, with weapons?
- I had no idea what I was in for when I signed up for this class. But it has been an eye-opening blessing and I would encourage anyone to do the same.
- She had hoped to leave her children and grandchildren something of value. She could not grasp that the family treasures we longed for were those that held sentimental value.
- There is so much I can’t do right now. But remembering the miracle of a perfect clump of crocuses, actually blooming underground, in cold soil, far from sunlight, reminds me to continue to try to find hope.
- If you know who Amanda Marshall is, that tells me so much about you.
