It's All In The Hands

We are in the final stages of editing the about to be current issue of Spirit of Knitting. All of the patterns are written and the samples knit. Today was the day for pictures. We have two baby items - an infant girl's sundress and a toddler boy's cardigan. We headed for a local pre-school. (We have connections; we don't stalk appropriately sized children.)

I do not claim to be "a photographer". I simply enjoy taking pictures. I especially like to take candid shots. Even though we need to portray certain aspects of the knitted garments, babies and toddlers do not understand posed pictures. So, you get what you get. For me, that is the fun part. I just pray we get what we need.

I did get some good shots of a 7 month old little girl in the sundress. The pictures of the sweater are probably not as good; however, I was struck by some of the pictures of the little boy. He is a precious little thing with a sweet face but, it was not his facial expression but the animation in his hands that really grabbed my attention. He was saying so much with his tiny hands.

In this first pictures, it looks like he playing an "air guitar." I don't know what song he is playing; it looks to be something on the serious side.

Here he is working a complex mathematical equation - one of those where each finger is not simply "one." There is no doubt that his little fingers will serve him better than any fancy calculator.

After the stress of higher math, it is time for a round of "Eensy Weensy Spider."

This is my favorite. His hands seemed to be posed as if they were about to receive communion. This is not really a position that our hands naturally find themselves. Yet, his look so comfortable. I do wonder what he is thinking about.

As a knitter and musician, I am fascinated by what can be made with our hands - beautiful music and sweaters as a start. But in these cases, our hands are simply a tool, a means to an end. In these pictures, his hands need be accompanied by nothing else. They are the beginning, the middle, and the end of the story. The movement and expression present draw me in. I am not even sure why.

I have a T-shirt with a picture of one of those spiral hands. (I think it may be a Reiki symbol.) The picture is accompanied by the following:

HANDS

TO SAY HI,

TO SAY BYE:

A SIMPLE

GESTURE!

TO MEET,

TO PART;

AN OPPOSITE

DIRECTION.

TO CREATE,

TO DESTRY:

THE BIG

DIFFERENCE.

IT'S ALL

IN YOUR

HANDS.

What Page Was I On?

One of my favorite movies is 84 Charing Cross Road. It is the story of a transatlantic friendship that is begun over books. Helene Hanff (played by Ann Bancroft) and Frank Dole (played by Anthony Hopkins) carry on a twenty-some year correspondence revolving around books that Helene Hanff wants from Frank Dole's bookshop in London. Every facet of this movie interests me but I am particularly struck by how each book that Helene Hanff receives makes reference to or inspires her to read another. There is an interesting exercise for all of us in following the progression of our related reading materials.

I have been reading John Lane's The Spirit of Silence. Several posts back, I made reference to the Zen poet Ryokan (April 10, 3007, "Don't Worry, Be Happy"). Lane had a brief discussion of Taigu Ryokan in which he quoted the poem that I included in my previous post. The words of this poet resonate deep within me. So much, that I felt called to read more about the life and works of this man. I ordered Great Fool: Zen Master Ryokan, Poems, Letters, and Other Writings. I think that part of the reason that I am so drawn to him is that in my mind he embodies much of the same spirit that I see in St. Francis. Thus far I have only flipped through the book. I know that I have barely touched the surface of the great wisdom that lies in these pages of Taigu Ryokan. How do I know this? Because the following leaped to me from the midst of this text's 300 pages.

This poem is from the collection, Butterfly Dreams

What was right yesterday
Is wrong today
How do you know what's right today
Wasn't wrong the day before?
Right and wrong aren't something fixed
You can't tell in advance the pros and cons
The foolish are stuck on a single note
So wherever they go, they're out of tune
The wise penetrate to the source of things
And pass their time roaming free and at ease
Forget about knowledge and ignorance both
And you can call yourself one who has the Way

In a nutshell, I believe that the message here is that living in black and white makes one "foolish" and "out of tune." Most of life is lived in they grey area - some days it leans more towards white and is lighter; other days it's cast is dark as it moves more towards black. The good news is that it never remains in one place. Life, we, are in a state of constant flux. This is a good thing. Change is always available to us if we are willing to be open to the present.

This one if from Dream Dialogue

People's minds aren't all the same
Any more than people's faces
Everyone clings to his own point of view
Incessantly arguing over right and wrong
"If you think like me, you're right
even if you're wrong"
"If you don't think like me, you're wrong
even if you're right"
Whatever is right to you is right
Can't you see that's wrong?
From the start, right and wrong are both in you
But the Way itself isn't like this at all
Only a fool would ever attempt
To fathom the ocean with so clumsy a pole

Here too, Ryokan urges that we not fixate on right and wrong. I think he is asking us again to be open to all that is around us. If we form an opinion and then cease to have dialogue around that topic, personal growth stops. We must be willing to always be open and flexible. Judgement, either right or wrong, affords us nothing.

Just as Helene Hanff made her way through books, always being open to the gift that each one brought to her, I too make my way - not worrying too much about whether what I am reading is "right" or "wrong". Obviously I have formed opinions. They may not be right tomorrow but, for me, today, they are. What you discern from the words of Ryokan today is yours. Read today. And, read tomorrow remebering that it is a new day.

Maybe I should put down this book and again watch 84 Charing Cross Road? Will its message to me still be the same? Does it really matter? I don't think so. If the message changes, I needed to hear/see/read something different.

An interesting aside to this idea of change - When I was in London, I wanted to see 84 Charing Cross Road. I wanted to see the shop. I knew THE shop was not still there but the building must be. So, down the street we strolled to discover that what I thought would be a quaint English shop had been consumed by American commercialism. 84 Charing Cross Road was the address for Pizza Hut.

"What was right yesterday is wrong today . . ."

Stop And Hear The Music

Today's "To Do List" had many things on it. I am proud to say that they are all still there. Though there were many things that I could have, maybe even should have, done, there was nothing that I had to do. I slept late - 9 is late for me - and then spent the afternoon at the Denton Arts and Jazz Festival before going to school at 8 to hear my students present their sophomore recital.

It was a beautiful day for an outside festival. The Civic Center Park was filled with music, artists, crafters, food, and people. It was a center of creative energy. Energy suggests motion, maybe even agitation. Creative energy often has the opposite effect. Listening to all the different music going on today had a soothing effect on me. The sounds varied; I heard everything from middle school choirs to bagpipes to show tunes to jazz. No matter the genre, I felt that I was being pulled to just sit and listen. To sit and listen, what a treat. Life today does not afford us as many opportunities to do this as we'd like or, more importantly, as we need. To be creative beings we need periods of calm and stillness. Listening to music is a great way to achieve this - especially when the music is live. My day of listening concluded in the concert hall by hearing my students perform some classical, some jazz, and some show tunes. Today was a nearly perfect aural experience!

I thought that it was interesting that the festival divided the "artists" and the "crafters". The artists were in the building and the crafters were outside in tents. Best I could tell, the artists were the ones who charged a bunch for their wares; they were the ones who try to make a living doing what they do. The crafters were the ones who seemed to be having fun, but not becoming rich doing their thing. Frankly, I would rather be a crafter - outside and having fun. Don't get me wrong, there was some beautiful "art" but, I enjoyed strolling through the crafter's tents. To me, their goods seemed more creative. I saw ceramic ocarinas shaped like all kinds of animals, beautiful handmade furniture, jewelry, pottery, and copperwork. It was a feast for the eyes.

Then there was the feast for the stomach. Nothing, except maybe the roasted corn on the cob on a stick, was even remotely healthy. To enjoy the taste sensations you had to abandon any notion of Weight Watchers or Atkins. You could have any kind of meat on a stick, popcorn, corny dogs, and anything, from rice to Snickers, fried. I could not pass up an unhealthy dose of fried food; I just had to decide what to put on the inside of my batter. I narrowed the choices to pickles, potatoes, and Snickers. I have had my share of both fried potatoes and fried pickles in my life so I decided to try something new - I got the Snickers. Snickers are my favorite candy bar so I had high hopes for this. It was served on a stick, coated with batter and drenched with powdered sugar. You probably do not have enough fingers and toes to count the calories even if you count by tens. BK and I did share it so I was only half bad! I must say that though I laud the creativity exhibited by frying a Snickers bar, it was not good. When the woman at the counter handed it to us, she said, "Wait at least two minutes before you bite in to it." Even after two minutes it was still mushy in the middle. It was the same disappointment experienced when your scoop of ice cream becomes a melted memory of its former self. I am glad that I tried it. Now I know - order the pickles!

So tomorrow comes with today's chores still to do, as well as a few more. That's OK. I had a great day today. The calm, the music, and my full tummy should carry me through tomorrow with no problems.

God D#*!, I Mean, Bless You

Today was a whirlwind of differing experiences with humanity - some good and some bad.

After taking the girls to school, we had our regular Spirit of Knitting meeting/therapy session at a local Jewish deli. We have eaten here nearly every Thursday morning since last August. The waitress knows what we all like to drink and has our beverages at "our" table before we even sit down. And, because we are most often creatures of habit, she also knows what we want to eat. Perhaps this is because one of us (not me!) orders french fries with both ketchup and jelly. That is memorable breakfast fare! The conversation usually drifts, sometimes without notice, between knitting, family, food, life, just about anything. I think that such conversations are the essence of real friendship.

After breakfast and before teaching my class at 2, we went to the knit shop. That was a whole different atmosphere. The four of us who had breakfast together have an unspoken agreement of equality. We all bring different things to the table (literally and figuratively); all are valuable and all are respected. This is not the way at the knit shop. It seems hard for anyone there to find good or beauty in any thing or any one other than themselves.

What is it with grown, supposedly mature, woman who act like they are regressing to the terrible two's? Toddlers are renowned for believing that the world revolves around them. By the time we are 50+ reality should have hit and it should be patently obvious that the world does not revolve us. How can people walk through each day with no clue as to how their actions impact on those around them? Why do people feel like they have th right to put down others in an effort to validate themselves? Are people really so insecure and unhappy with themselves? If so, this world is in a pathetic state. Listening to people cut each other into tiny pieces literally caused me physical pain today. We left the shop long before I had to be at school because I could not take that environment any longer. A trip to the bookstore to buy The Natural Knitter was an attempt to calm my nerves, one that was not totally successful.

My class went well. My view of humanity was somewhat redeemed. ANd then, this evening Erin had a soccer game. That too was a pleasant experience. But the real redemption of my poor attitude towards humanity in general came from a phone call that I had this evening.

I am not much for phone calls. But somehow this one was different. I talked with my office mate from graduate school, whom I have not spoken with in nearly 15 years. Much has happened and changed in both of our lives since we last talked with one another. Yet, it seemed like no time at all had passed. In some ways, our conversation flowed easier this evening than it did when we saw each other every day. I wish I understood what makes some people so easy to talk with and others it takes every ounce of Christianity that I have just to utter an insincere "hello". My phone call tonight did wonders for forcing me to reconsider my pervasive attitude of the day that said that the human race is a bunch of self-serving, egocentric, mean beings. I was definitely not thinking, "what would Jesus do?" So, God had to step in and send me a phone call to remind me that all shall be well, all shall be well, all manner of things shall be well.

I am going to bed giving thanks for those who are truly my friends and thinking kinder thoughts, at least for the moment, about my fellow man.

Eight Inches! . . . No, Really.

I have heard that it takes 28 days to form a new habit. Last night I learned that I have formed a blogging habit. We had terrible rain here in Denton yesterday - the national news reported nearly eight inches. We were fortunate that the rains were not accompanied by tornadoes. In fact, the only ill effects at my house were displaced fire ants (that sought revenge by attacking my feet while I was outside with the dogs) and a down DSL line. The lack of DSL service meant that we had no Internet or email access. I realized that I was OK without email but, I was bummed by the fact that I could not write a blog entry last night. It was at that moment that I was forced to confess that I am a blog addict - both as a writer and a reader. I suppose that I could have worse addictions. We are not talking about the yarn and the books!

I was supposed to be at a knitting guild board meeting last evening but thankfully it was cancelled due to the weather. So, I had the gift of an evening at home. What should I do? The mound of laundry called to me but, it is not a good idea to overburden the septic system when the ground is so saturated. It would wait. I could work on the upcoming issue of Spirit of Knitting but, the thunder and lightening with accompanying power blips made working on the computer a poor idea. I made pumpkin bread. I know - if I could not work on the computer because of possible power outages, why did I think that I could bake in the electric oven? Don't look for reason.

Then I decided to do something I almost never do - watch a television show "live". There are not many TV shows that I enjoy watching regularly; House and Grey's Anatomy are the exceptions though I generally record them and watch in the wee hours of the night. Tuesday night is the night for House and I was going to watch it - commercials and all.

Often we lose satellite reception during bad storms. Not last night. And because of the storm, the dogs did not want to go outside - no interruptions. Life was good. Until . . .there were possible funnel clouds southwest of us. This resulted in the interruption of House to "bring you this special weather bulletin". I realize that such information is vitally important but why did it have to come at the climax of the show! Now I will have to wait until next week's rerun to find out whether or not the woman actually died because of the misdiagnosis! Or . . . there is Itunes . . .

I guess this probably sounds a bit whiny. Really I can deal with not seeing all of House. I just find it ironic that the one time I sat down to watch it intentionally, the weather thwarted my plans. And the blog thing . . .I don't know what I would have written had I done so last night. I just know that I was genuinely bothered by the fact that I did not have the choice to write or not to write. Insight gained.

The other thing I learned last night is that people really do care about me. With no email to engage in the idiotic late night banter with my buddies (you guys no who you are!), I received several phone calls asking if we were OK. What a nice feeling.

All is well now. The flood waters have receded so there is no need to build the ark. Our DSL line is back in service hence I am able to write this and receive email. However, I still must wait to find out whether or not the radiation treatment resulted in the patent's death.

The Best Laid Plans

It is Sunday evening and I am going over my notes for my Monday classes. Our last class meeting was last Wednesday. On that day, we did something in class that I have not done in 15 years of teaching - as a group, we "skipped" class and went to a local coffee shop. Why did we do this?

The shock of the Virginia Tech incident was fresh and unprocessed in all our minds. We had been together in class when those events unfolded on Monday morning though we did not know what was happening at the time. We stood in the hall outside our classroom and pondered the proverbial list of "what ifs". Despite the memo that faculty and students received on Wednesday outlining details concerning "Dealing With Violent Intruders On Campus", we all know that safety is not a guarantee. Though I have never felt unsafe on our campus, random acts of violence, just like random acts of kindness, are always possible.

Another reason for skipping class is that the anxiety level of the students at this time of year is quite high. Because I teach at the junior college level, the sophomore sequence courses that I teach are the last courses that many of these students will take before transferring to a four-year school. The transfer process, with its applications, auditions, and placement exams takes a toll on the students.

Over coffee we talked about their goals, about their families, about fears, about success, about failure, about shaping and reshaping dreams, about learning, about teaching, about despair, about hope, about local concerts, and about good coffee.

At one point during our discussion, one of my students stopped and said, "Do you do this at the end of the semester for all of your classes?" I had to confess that I had never done this before. Sure, at times I have talked of some of these topics with other classes but always as an aside to the lesson (as stated on the syllabus) of the day. When I admitted that this coffee shop meeting was a first, the student said, "Too bad. This is the most helpful class I have had since I have been here." Don't take this the wrong way. I don't think that he was saying that he did not benefit from what he was learning in the classroom. The message was that sometimes a teacher may have the greatest impact on a student when they dare to stray from the syllabus, their "field of expertise", and in our case, the classroom itself.

Though our outing did not count as a field trip, I think that the value of drinking coffee together was greater than any of us may have realized at the time and on that day was more important than what I had planned to do in class. I am grateful for the freedom to be spontaneous. And, I am grateful for the opportunity to know each of these students.

So, I prepare my lessons for tomorrow knowing that if I am called to teach beyond what I have prepared I will do my best. Over time, I have learned to be open to the present moment. I prepare tonight in the present; however, when I get to school in the morning this will be the past and a new present moment will be at hand - a present that I will embrace and do my best to live in to.

Royal Flush

I have considered writing on this topic many times. I can resist no longer. What are people thinking when they talk on their cell phones in public restrooms?

Today while at school I heard the most ridiculous comment while in the ladies' room. A student in the stall two doors down was talking, at full volume, explaining how she was in the restroom having this conversation because a girl in her class was listening to her every word. Hello - has this girl never experienced the acoustics of the tile-covered bathroom? I too could hear every word she was saying without even trying to eavesdrop. Maybe it is only mothers of toddlers, who explain biological function at the top of their lings while in public restrooms, who truly understand the physics of lavatory reverberation. At least in today's case, the girl confessed that she was indeed in the bathroom.

It is the people who are carrying on conversation in which they make no mention of the fact that they are in the restroom that drive me crazy. Personally, I don't really care where they talk but I often find myself faced with the dilemma of "to flush, or not to flush". Maybe I am too considerate. Should I disclose this person's location by flushing? Should I wait until they are off the phone? What if it is a long conversation? What if it is obvious they are doing business on the phone? Do you really want to know that your realtor is handling the sale of your home while sitting on the commode? I don't. Here are some phrases that will clue you in to the fact that your friend on the other end may indeed be on the pot:

• Can I get back to you when I finish the paperwork?
• Let me get a handle on it and I will let you know.
• It is a relief to be sitting here talking to you.
• This is the only place where I can get peace and quiet.
• I wonder what that funny sound was.
• Damn, the paper roll, I mean paper tray, is empty.
• This must be an automatic flush. . . Oh, it's an online poker term.
• For a good time call . . .I don't mean that I a not having a good time talking to you. I am just reading.
• I am getting tired of reading six month old magazines. (This one may be a little deceiving. Your friend could be in the doctor's office so don't jump to conclusions.)
• From my perspective, the best advice is shit or get of the pot.
• Have you ever noticed how difficult it is to fasten a button with one hand?

Remember, no one wants to know all of your business. Consider your surroundings before answering your cell phone.

This message brought to you as a public service announcement by concerned citizens for ethical flushing.