Reversible!! Magic!! Beauty!! Long stripeys!
Double knitting ISN'T all that scary after all. One would think that three days of meetings might yield more progress, but... there are multiple layers going on here.
Monday, October 30, 2006
double knitting works!
Reversible!! Magic!! Beauty!! Long stripeys!
Double knitting ISN'T all that scary after all. One would think that three days of meetings might yield more progress, but... there are multiple layers going on here.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Be still and KNIT!
Yay Knitting!
Since I'm not really posting the spiritual stuff so much anyway, let's bring in the knitting!
It'll at least make the knit-along easier to be part of!
A double knit hat is two hats in one-- double the thickness, yum yum! Now that I'm urban, I spend more time outside, (does this seem ironic to anyone else?) and I need a better hat.
So a double knit hat. I want long up and down stripeys like I found in a book of hats and mittens from Maine traditions. But I'm lazy to find that book, so I'll make it up as I go. Which makes progress slower.
So in the meantime, I finished a scarf to match, also long skinny stripeys. I'll post a photo soon.
It's harvest colors, real cozy and soft. I'll use the colors in the hat, and a couple more, and hopefully it will look coordinated. It will be long stripes something like this (one stays constant and one mutates)
H=H=H=H=H=H
H=H=H=H=H=H
H=H=H=H=H=H
H#H#H#H#H#H
H#H#H#H#H#H
H#H#H#H#H#H
H+H+H+H+H+H
H+H+H+H+H+H
H+H+H+H+H+H
The challenge being that I'm using up lots of old yarn, which is all a little unusual, and has all different textures.
I'm headed to four days of Central Committee, and I've got my hat recipes packed, and lots of needles, and a whole lot of courage mustered to figure out how to double knit this hat.
I hope I figure out enough before the meetings start so I can knit in good conscience-- not getting too caught up in patterns to pay attention to the meetings.
Since I'm not really posting the spiritual stuff so much anyway, let's bring in the knitting!
It'll at least make the knit-along easier to be part of!
A double knit hat is two hats in one-- double the thickness, yum yum! Now that I'm urban, I spend more time outside, (does this seem ironic to anyone else?) and I need a better hat.
So a double knit hat. I want long up and down stripeys like I found in a book of hats and mittens from Maine traditions. But I'm lazy to find that book, so I'll make it up as I go. Which makes progress slower.
So in the meantime, I finished a scarf to match, also long skinny stripeys. I'll post a photo soon.
It's harvest colors, real cozy and soft. I'll use the colors in the hat, and a couple more, and hopefully it will look coordinated. It will be long stripes something like this (one stays constant and one mutates)
H=H=H=H=H=H
H=H=H=H=H=H
H=H=H=H=H=H
H#H#H#H#H#H
H#H#H#H#H#H
H#H#H#H#H#H
H+H+H+H+H+H
H+H+H+H+H+H
H+H+H+H+H+H
The challenge being that I'm using up lots of old yarn, which is all a little unusual, and has all different textures.
I'm headed to four days of Central Committee, and I've got my hat recipes packed, and lots of needles, and a whole lot of courage mustered to figure out how to double knit this hat.
I hope I figure out enough before the meetings start so I can knit in good conscience-- not getting too caught up in patterns to pay attention to the meetings.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
More easily said than done.
Post-move I've been having extrordinary difficulty finding God in Meeting for Worship. Today there was a shift.
The first 20 minutes or half hour were painful, miserable. Every smallest sound is amplified a hundred fold-- worshipping in your home and workplace is less romantic than it sounds! The happy baby sounds were like fingernails on a chalk board. I was squirmy and at wit's end.
"Why is this so hard for me?" I asked not with my conscious mind, but with all of my soul.
"Perhaps I am making it so hard for you so you will be so hungry for me that you will dig deeper for me than you have in the past."
Shit. Yeah. Phew.
So God's trying to meet me some place new, and I'm still going to the old place.
Does this new meeting meet at a deeper place and I just don't know how to meet them there?
I think this is all very good news. I can just try harder and have a richer experience. More easily said than done, which is, of course the point.
Also in meeting Friends spoke about treating someone with hypothermia, stripping their clothes off, and wrapping them in a blanket with a warmer person.
Other Friend spoke of the Seed, and nurturing that seed, that yeast, til we are bubbling up, powerful to transform flour into bread.
I'm one who is so cold I don't know my name. I need that close, artificial yet real intimacy, to kindle the warmth of Christ in my heart. Wrap me in your blanket. Warm me up. Let my Christ-yeast bubble on up and out of my cup. And see what bread we shall bake, and whom we shall feed.
--4-30-06
Found 10/14/06
The first 20 minutes or half hour were painful, miserable. Every smallest sound is amplified a hundred fold-- worshipping in your home and workplace is less romantic than it sounds! The happy baby sounds were like fingernails on a chalk board. I was squirmy and at wit's end.
"Why is this so hard for me?" I asked not with my conscious mind, but with all of my soul.
"Perhaps I am making it so hard for you so you will be so hungry for me that you will dig deeper for me than you have in the past."
Shit. Yeah. Phew.
So God's trying to meet me some place new, and I'm still going to the old place.
Does this new meeting meet at a deeper place and I just don't know how to meet them there?
I think this is all very good news. I can just try harder and have a richer experience. More easily said than done, which is, of course the point.
Also in meeting Friends spoke about treating someone with hypothermia, stripping their clothes off, and wrapping them in a blanket with a warmer person.
Other Friend spoke of the Seed, and nurturing that seed, that yeast, til we are bubbling up, powerful to transform flour into bread.
I'm one who is so cold I don't know my name. I need that close, artificial yet real intimacy, to kindle the warmth of Christ in my heart. Wrap me in your blanket. Warm me up. Let my Christ-yeast bubble on up and out of my cup. And see what bread we shall bake, and whom we shall feed.
--4-30-06
Found 10/14/06
Thursday, March 09, 2006
The Old Life whispers
The new life is rumbling tonight.
From my cushy, exhausted evening I can't tell what it is. But I long for the plain, quiet of my old space at Rote Farm. The silence of a sleeping house, with a storm outside, witnessed by the fields, forest and garden.
The thunder there could only be thunder, not a helicopter or other machine. There was something so comforting about the plain expanse of that space, it cradled me to sleep while the wind whipped and the thunder threatened and the rain fell relentlessly.
After the numbness of the past month and a half, I just might be able to feel again.
From my cushy, exhausted evening I can't tell what it is. But I long for the plain, quiet of my old space at Rote Farm. The silence of a sleeping house, with a storm outside, witnessed by the fields, forest and garden.
The thunder there could only be thunder, not a helicopter or other machine. There was something so comforting about the plain expanse of that space, it cradled me to sleep while the wind whipped and the thunder threatened and the rain fell relentlessly.
After the numbness of the past month and a half, I just might be able to feel again.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
the old life
The soon-to-be old housemate started a blog about the great country life that's been pruned away for me.
I can't figure out how to make a link on the side, so for now you could visit
thefarcoast.blogspot.com.
I can't figure out how to make a link on the side, so for now you could visit
thefarcoast.blogspot.com.
Country mouse to City mouse
The last time I left Maine I was 17 years old, bound for Czechoslovakia. I was so excited to get away from small-town-hicksville Maine. I couldn't really imagine coming back.
Contrary to my 17-year-old expectations, I've spent half my life since then back in Maine, remarkably enough, in the area I grew up. I've been so happy here, I found so many great people to enjoy the Maine quality of life. Cooking, knitting, dancing and playing music, gardening, hiking, kayaking…I can't imagine living anywhere else. Or at least I couldn't til a couple weeks ago.
It happened so fast. A couple weeks ago I found out about a job equally improbable and perfect for me. Eight days later I was offered the job. February 9, I'll move to Boston.
The job is director of a residential Quaker-run house and center. Around 20 folks live there for up to a couple years, in intentional community, living according to Quaker principles. A little bit like the boatshop (in the way people agree to live in community) and a little like Rote Farm (in that it's a home, not an apprenticeship or workplace (except for the directors and cook!) and people pay rent.) There are various Quaker activities associated with the house as well; it's home to a Meeting there, and there's lots of public space for Quaker and other events. And it's got guest rooms for hospitality-giving too.
As I thought about leaving Rote Farm in the fall, I just couldn't imagine where I'd go. A quiet place seemed nice for a second, but I just couldn't imagine living without throwing huge parties-- and all the warmth and joy associated with welcoming friends into my space. Now that I think about it, this new house is the most logical place for me to go from here.
I've long been longing to open up a retreat center/hostel/B&B etc… this has all those aspects, and more. I imagined the realization of that dream far out in my future—partly because it was capital-intensive and I've been living paycheck to paycheck for so long. And partly because that seemed such a grown-up thing to do, and I still felt that the grown-up part of my life was far off. As I considered this job, I realized that not only did it have the potential to help me realize some aspects of these goals, I also couldn't deny that my time is now. Stop trying to pretend that there is some class of grown-ups who make the world the way it is. That's fully my—our—responsibility. And I better get to it.
I was ready to take the risk of such a jump of directing this house, if they were ready to risk me. Thankfully, they were.
This seed was planted at the World Gathering of Young Friends, and should come as no shock to those who were there. Actually I wouldn't be making this transition but for many transformational experiences at the WGYF. Deepening my faith-- my trust in God, my reliance on discernment and my awareness of how God speaks to me. Visiting Swarthmore Hall and feeling calls to foster a spiritual community space. Deepening friendships with Bostony folks. Understanding that my Gardener needed to do a lot of pruning in my life, fearing the implications of that, and preparing to surrender to that. (That's still a blog post unto itself that I've been wanting to do since, oh, Lancaster...)
So, aside from all contemplation of spiritual causes and consequences of this change, I've got an incredible to-do list of things very mundane.
My evenings are filled sorting through material possessions, packing boxes. Of course there are pleasures of farewell dinners and drinks. And on Saturday the 4th, my last big party at Rote Farm. Music, food, drink... Joy and tears will flow.
Rote Farm will be the hardest thing to leave behind. But inside I know that I left it behind when I went to Lancaster. And I'm only just catching up with myself.
Contrary to my 17-year-old expectations, I've spent half my life since then back in Maine, remarkably enough, in the area I grew up. I've been so happy here, I found so many great people to enjoy the Maine quality of life. Cooking, knitting, dancing and playing music, gardening, hiking, kayaking…I can't imagine living anywhere else. Or at least I couldn't til a couple weeks ago.
It happened so fast. A couple weeks ago I found out about a job equally improbable and perfect for me. Eight days later I was offered the job. February 9, I'll move to Boston.
The job is director of a residential Quaker-run house and center. Around 20 folks live there for up to a couple years, in intentional community, living according to Quaker principles. A little bit like the boatshop (in the way people agree to live in community) and a little like Rote Farm (in that it's a home, not an apprenticeship or workplace (except for the directors and cook!) and people pay rent.) There are various Quaker activities associated with the house as well; it's home to a Meeting there, and there's lots of public space for Quaker and other events. And it's got guest rooms for hospitality-giving too.
As I thought about leaving Rote Farm in the fall, I just couldn't imagine where I'd go. A quiet place seemed nice for a second, but I just couldn't imagine living without throwing huge parties-- and all the warmth and joy associated with welcoming friends into my space. Now that I think about it, this new house is the most logical place for me to go from here.
I've long been longing to open up a retreat center/hostel/B&B etc… this has all those aspects, and more. I imagined the realization of that dream far out in my future—partly because it was capital-intensive and I've been living paycheck to paycheck for so long. And partly because that seemed such a grown-up thing to do, and I still felt that the grown-up part of my life was far off. As I considered this job, I realized that not only did it have the potential to help me realize some aspects of these goals, I also couldn't deny that my time is now. Stop trying to pretend that there is some class of grown-ups who make the world the way it is. That's fully my—our—responsibility. And I better get to it.
I was ready to take the risk of such a jump of directing this house, if they were ready to risk me. Thankfully, they were.
This seed was planted at the World Gathering of Young Friends, and should come as no shock to those who were there. Actually I wouldn't be making this transition but for many transformational experiences at the WGYF. Deepening my faith-- my trust in God, my reliance on discernment and my awareness of how God speaks to me. Visiting Swarthmore Hall and feeling calls to foster a spiritual community space. Deepening friendships with Bostony folks. Understanding that my Gardener needed to do a lot of pruning in my life, fearing the implications of that, and preparing to surrender to that. (That's still a blog post unto itself that I've been wanting to do since, oh, Lancaster...)
So, aside from all contemplation of spiritual causes and consequences of this change, I've got an incredible to-do list of things very mundane.
My evenings are filled sorting through material possessions, packing boxes. Of course there are pleasures of farewell dinners and drinks. And on Saturday the 4th, my last big party at Rote Farm. Music, food, drink... Joy and tears will flow.
Rote Farm will be the hardest thing to leave behind. But inside I know that I left it behind when I went to Lancaster. And I'm only just catching up with myself.
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