respectfully yours (and homage to Yayoi Kusama)

Respect quilt no. 1 has rolled out of production as you see below!

If there is one lesson this work is teaching me, it is to focus on the center. Start at the center. Get the center right and the rest falls into place gracefully. It holds for stitching up a quilt as well as standing on one leg in a crane pose during T’ai chi.

As legendary martial artist Peter Ralston reminds us, “Centering is perhaps the best way to calm our thoughts and emotions. Putting attention and feeling in the center region of the body allows for a shift to a state of being that is calm, nonthinking but aware, balanced, in-the-body, grounded, present, and alive. It coordinates and harmonizes all movement in the body. Every action and movement is done with more power and control when directed from the center.” (The Principles of Effortless Power, p. 10).

In design, the center draws in the eye and creates a feeling for the whole. Yayoi Kusama understands that so well! Her Infinity Rooms are none other than spherical objects–with an invitingly open door. When people go inside, they are thus engulfed in the aesthetic, caressed by its special air and light, the weirdly round architecture giving us an unforgettable memory of coziness and wonder.

In fabric, things work a little differently, though I certainly hope people will one day wrap themselves in my Respect quilts!

The message is straightforward, if told through abstract shapes: in no. 1 (on the left below), the central red and black squares resemble the African continent (top) and a couple of ships bobbing at sea (bottom). They remind us of the slave trade, life’s vicissitudes, and the urgency of action. In Respect quilt no. 2, the central red and black squares resemble a curvy female form (top) and people talking or embracing under a blazing sun (bottom). They memorialize women’s vitality and community-building powers. None of this was premeditated; the images just came to shape when I unrolled that tantalizing package of African fabrics from Cultured Expressions: it’s magic!

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day 20: on buoyancy and a good omen, maybe?

Hello!  This morning began slowly. I felt utter despair while perusing the testimonials in the New York Times Magazine from Sunday, “Exposed. Afraid. Determined,”  where ordinary working people–“essential” people like cleaners, delivery people, pharmacists and E.R. doctors– explain how the crisis has impacted their daily lives. It is a heart-breaking revelation of our broken system, which should be required reading for all elected officials. Anyway, after feeling hopeless and shedding too many tears, I went out.


The day is cool and windy, and the walk down our steep hills to Alki Beach was bracing. Little by little, however, my spirit rebounded. For some reason, it just happened. Like these seagulls, we humans have the capacity to bounce back endlessly, even with the weight of gravity pushing us down and without that nice salty water to hold us up.

Buoyant [Etymology: Old French bouyant or Spanish boyante, light-sailing, pres. part. of boyar, float, from boya BUOY noun + ant]*

  1. Able to float; tending to float or rise; floating; lightly elastic; resilient; able to recover, light-hearted.
  2. Able to keep things up or afloat.

As my spirits rose, my eyes rose too, and saw things I’d never noticed before, like the cool street art hanging from a wire at the corner of Harbor Ave SW and California Ave SW.  Would love to know who created that: so cute and colorful!

It’s fitting that the final image of today’s walk captured an accidentally funny or possibly prescient icon seen here:

Funny street art at Alki April 8 2020

This juxtaposition of images could be a good omen! It could mean that the coronavirus (the creature hanging from the wire) which has been devouring our population (the pedestrian with his head in the creature’s mouth) is on the way down (the arrow pointing down) here in Seattle (the ferry boat and Space Needle).  It’s a floating totem, twisting in the wind, telling us what we want to hear…

Finally, here for the record is a pic of the face masks produced yesterday. Got to get back to work now; more people are waiting. (I am loving this work actually, so thanks, customers and neighbors, for letting me be of service!!)

Masks made on April 7 2020

May all our spirits be buoyant!

*The Shorter Oxford English Dictionary on Historical Principles, 5th ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), vol. 1, p. 308.



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answer to the riddle / solution de la devinette : Frankenstein quilt/wall-hanging no. 2 !

Thanks for coming back!  The answer to yesterday’s riddle is today’s finished creation:  Frankenstein patchwork quilt / wall-hanging no. 2!  This original artwork is both useful and pretty, though it may bring on nightmares… It can hold your phone and keys in its pocket made of tuxedo pants, all the while thrilling the touch with lustrous satins, silks, and the beaded décor of an evening jacket. Meanwhile, your eyes will follow the story—told as if on the page of a book, from top left to bottom right–of Mary Shelley’s poignant creature in Frankenstein. (Details below.) Available now in a limited edition, this Frankenstein quilt no. 2 has a 100% cotton back made of “Stargazers” blue cotton with gold accents, and a sleeve allowing it to play double duty (as a bed cover or wall-hanging).

Merci d’être revenus pour la suite ! La solution de la devinette est: Le patchwork quilt / tenture « Frankenstein » no. 2!

Cette œuvre d’art originale est utile et agréable, quand elle ne te donne pas de cauchemars… Elle peut cacher discrètement le téléphone portable et les clés dans sa poche tout en caressant la main avec ses tissus (le satin, la soie, un morceau d’une veste perlée). Entretemps, laisse tes yeux plonger dans l’histoire—racontée comme un livre, du haut en bas, de gauche à droite—de la créature ô combien pathétique, du roman de Mary Shelley, Frankenstein.  (Les détails se trouvent ci-dessous.) Un sleeve attaché au haut permet de l’afficher sans l’abimer, quand il ne sert pas de couverture sur un lit. Ce patchwork quilt Frankenstein no. 2, disponible désormais en édition limitée, est doublé d’un dos 100% coton « Stargazers », bleu marine avec des accents dorés.

Frankenstein quilt / wall-hanging, no. 2

Captain Walton, a ship captain, initially promises a strange story about a person whose name starts with “F.” He is stuck in the ice and snow, and lonely for human contact, so he takes pen in hand. He writes of a scientist who works in secret laboring long into the night, and taking bodies from unhallowed graves, as he tries a fiendish experiment. A creature is born of his work! The creature loves the sights and sensations of being alive, delights in nature, and becomes fond of a peasant family living nearby. He watches their games.

Eventually, he develops jealousy. He demands a mate. The scientist refuses. When his hopes are dashed, the creature descends into despair, then anger. For the rest of his days, he pursues a vendetta against his creator and his kin. Finally, the scientist and this awful being face off on a ship in the Arctic, before the monster disappears into the fog.

The dramatic effects are enhanced by the following designer accents:

– the three-piece sepia hunt sequence (rabbit, leaves, and dog) is “On Point” by Brunschwig & Fils Inc.

– The watery looking brown and white silk in the top left is “Cawdor” by Nina Campbell

– The light green utopia of fox and fawn, is called “Woodland Gathering” by Betsy Olmsted

– The green Frankenstein head buttons are from Buttons Galore

– The original cartoon of Frankenstein’s creature was drawn by Seattle artist John Douthwaite

-The black serge tuxedo pants with pocket are from Louie’s Tux Shop

Machine quilted, finished by hand; With a sleeve for wall mounting; Polyester batting

Made in Seattle by Honey Girl Books and Gifts LLC:

36″ x 45″

Available now on etsy:

Frankenstein, patchwork / tenture no. 2

Le Capitaine Walton, du bord de son navire, commence en évoquant un personnage étrange qu’il rencontra en route au Pôle Nord, dont le nom commence par « F ». Puisque son navire ne peut avancer dans la mer de glace, il prend la plume et décrit ce personnage, un scientifique qui travailla tard dans la nuit, seul dans son laboratoire. Il prend des cadavres des tombes impies, pour tenter une expérience interdite: la création d’un être humain.  Une créature est née de ses labeurs ! La créature prend du plaisir à vivre : il aime la nature et les paysans qui vivent près de sa cachette dans la forêt. Il les regarde dans leurs jeux. Il apprend à leur envier leur sort. Il voudrait les rejoindre.

Avec le temps, la jalousie le prend. Il désire avoir une femme et demande au scientifique de lui en fabriquer un partenaire. Celui-ci refuse. C’est alors que le désespoir, puis la rage envahissent la créature. Il passera le reste de ses jours à poursuivre son créateur—et sa famille—pour se venger de sa misère. Enfin les deux se rencontrent dans la mer arctique, ils se disputent, et le monstre disparaît pour jamais dans la brume.

Les effets dramatiques sont soulignés par les étoffes designer comme suit :

– la chasse en trois moments (le lapin, les feuilles, le chien de chasse) est « Sur le point » par Brunschwig & Fils Inc.

– La soie marron et blanc s’appelle « Cawdor » par Nina Campbell

– Le coton en vert clair où un renard et un daim demeurent en paix, s’appelle « Woodland Gathering » par Betsy Olmsted

– Le tissu serge noire, tiré d’un smoking, vient de Louie’s Tux Shop

– La caricature originale de la créature de Frankenstein vient de l’artiste John Douthwaite (Seattle, WA)

L’ouate est 100% polyester: léger mais cosy; Finition à la main; 91 cm. x 114cm

Fabriqué à Seattle, WA, USA par Honey Girl Books and Gifts LLC:

Disponible maintenant sur etsy:

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being used for a purpose

George Bernard Shaw once said that the true joy in life is “being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one.” Writing Saint Joan certainly earned him that—it was a mighty achievement and remains a stunning read. But those few words are powerful too.

“A purpose recognized by yourself.” I love that part! It opens up life’s path to things seen in dream, fiction, and reverie. It allows us to be self-determining agents of our lives, and to choose our own vocation.

“A mighty one.” That reminds us that it must have heft. Purpose must be embedded in the world of pain and people. Staring at yourself in a mirror all day or collecting bits of lint in a jar, for example, are disappointing ways to spend a life, I think he’d agree.

Purpose: it’s a moving target.

An urgent purpose suddenly arrived on my front porch last week, when a bulky package from the Modern Language Association in NYC came. It held the page proofs of a book I’ve been co-editing for the past seven years.

“Thunk,” went the package. “Ding-dong,” went the bell.  “Uh oh,” went my head, “guess what, you’ve got purpose.”

So I’ve had a nice bulky pile of white paper on my desk, pushing aside the fabrics, to remind me of my purpose this week. It felt good to switch back into academic mode, made me remember that I’m good at editing and proof-reading. It took me back to Lawrenceville, NJ, where I learned the rigors of writing : B.I.C. (butt in chair).

But deskwork is so nitpicky and sedentary! I long to dance around again as I make bits of yellow and blue cotton come to life as a quilt for baby Theodore, my new great-nephew! Or to make more of those Paris révolutionnaire pillows! Or more quilts and more pillows that I have not yet even imagined!

My forced immobility in front of a desk, pencil in hand, while the sun shines and green trees beckon outside, makes a good metaphor for this season. We long to be outside doing things as the light grows visibly brighter and stays with us longer in the evenings.  I just signed up to train for a new (unpaid) job as “Seattle Urban Nature Guide”! Can’t wait for the orientation in late March, to learn about the beautiful ecosystems of the Northwest, and meet some like-minded people.

But in the meantime, the cold wind blows, the rain pounds, and snow constantly threatens to sock us back into hibernation. That’s why the Chinese New Year celebrations were so wonderful! I’ll never forget the smell of firecracker smoke, the funny fluffy faces of the lions in the lion dance, and how they grabbed at the lettuce and dollar bills hanging from a rope held by a man on a balcony high above the street! The little kids executing precise kung-fu moves in gorgeous flowing silk robes of royal blue and magenta, the drum, gong, and cymbals which punctuated the whole day in precision pounding rhythms, it was all a feast full of love and fun and hope for the future.

Happy year of the Pig!

Well, it’s almost 10 am on Saturday morning: gotta go to T’ai chi class now!  So I’ll leave you with some image-metaphors of the season, as up and down we go, through the days, with Honey Girl by our side…

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a quilt is born

a brief news flash from the world of Honey Girl Books and Gifts:

Number 13 in the Great Chain of Quilts est. November 2016, was just finished. This one is for Pam. The front features five lines of multi-colored cotton sewn in synchronized patterns, symbolizing the lives of Pam, her three children, and two grandchildren in ways that she will plainly see (and can read about in the “Story of Pam” that accompanies the quilt). The back features a soft fleece photo blanket designed and created by her daughter, where dozens of  family photos are arranged in loving company. That’s a nice model of how our minds work: photo memories on one side, symbolic patterns on the other: realism meets destiny.

Hope she likes it!

Pam's quilt July 22 2018

Pam's quilt back July 22 2018.jpg

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there is no prescription for life

Living and sustaining a creative life.jpgI recently stumbled upon a message that bears repeating. That it was written by an artist who shares her time in two of my favorite cities–NYC and SEA—makes it even more compelling. I found it in Living and Sustaining a Creative Life: Essays by 40 Working Artists, ed. Sharon Louden, and it is by Karin Davie:

“it’s complicated, but it’s also been an immensely gratifying experience. It’s allowed me the psychic space to think differently about my creative process. I’ve also benefited from not thinking that there is a prescriptive way to live one’s life” (104).


That is what we all need to hear: despite what your company, school, or church might tell you, there is no prescription for life.  Do what you love to make your life as nice as you can. Then later, make it even better.


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people are like trees, and other fables

window from sunroom April 4 2018.jpg

I woke up with a start at 4:30am and have felt off-kilter ever since.

It seems that it must have been the tree branch, which fell off our neighbor’s tree last night and landed right outside our kitchen window that made the huge THUNK I heard. It sounded like a distant bomb going off.

Staring out at the windblown snow during this morning’s meditation brought more sad thoughts to mind, of death and weakness. The trees react vividly to the wind blowing their branches and, if we could watch ourselves from without, we’d probably say the same thing about ourselves. Sometimes I feel like a cedar, other times like an oak.

window from study April 4 2018.jpg

The cedar tree bounces and sways with every fiber of its being: from bottom to top the whole tree bows and flutters nervously. The maples and oaks more stiffly sway, hold their arms up to the sky despite the wind; but their tiny red and green budlets break off and fall down.

This weather reminds me of LaFontaine’s fable, “The Wolf and the Lamb.” A harsh little story! My own version, “April, the Cruelest Month,” inspired by life in South Bend, awaits below.

The sounds of tires slushing on the street below make me feel excited, like it’s Christmas time, then bewildered when I see robins hopping in the garden. How easily our minds are fooled and confused about what is, versus what is “supposed to be”!

A proverb in closing:

En avril ne te découvre pas d’un fil. Au mois de mai, fais ce qui te plaît.

(trans. “In April, don’t take off a thread. In the month of May, do whatever comes into your head.”)!!

Hang in there!  Only 4 weeks til May!

page 19.jpeg

page 20

page 21.jpeg

page 22.jpeg

These pages are from Hey LaFontaine! Are You Ready for South Bend? (ten fables illustrated in a hand-made book, 2016).

Front cover

back cover

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The Frog Prince and other favorite things

It’s still early, only 9:30 on Saturday morning. Ah, Saturday morning, possibly the best time of the week (now that the kids are grown). The house and the neighborhood are practically silent; no trains or sirens yet to jangle your nerves. The only sounds are the quiet hum of the boiler downstairs, heating up the radiators; Rich’s munching of something in front of his computer in the other room; and Honey Girl’s sighs as she breathes right here, lying by my side on the dining room rug. I sit on a nice wood chair and feel just right.

In the hopes of passing along the peaceful feeling, here are some favorite things.

In the kitchen, deep in a corner behind a cluster of stern-looking wooden spoons and a menacing rolling pin, stands a hopeful frog. He was given to me years ago, destined for a garden I think, but I prefer to keep him closer at hand, as a sweet reminder of the Frog Prince. He is the hapless amphibian who wins the girl over through patience and love. An apt symbol for my household! (according to the Grimm version, however, the frog transforms into a prince upon impact, when the princess throws him against a wall in disgust!  Ouch!).

Another favorite thing is breakfast: plain Greek-style yogurt with sliced banana, roasted almonds with sea salt, and honey drizzled on top. Plus a double espresso with steamed milk of course, from our vintage Cimbali machine.

After breakfast, I still practice the “morning routine” every day, or at least six days out of seven. When I do not have the time or feel good enough to do it, I really miss it, and the next day think to myself, “Finally, I get to get back into shape!” It has become a sacred ritual, just like Twyla Tharp says in The Creative Habit: only in this case, my creation is my life!

I’ll leave you two other picture-thoughts: both from Mai-Mai Sze’s lovely and erudite Tao of Painting, seen here alongside a little pot of pink flowers I received from the Ruiz children, students in “Write YOUR Story,” at Christmas time.

Growing, changing, and flowering, those words apply very well to the fun, bright children I’ve grown to love. The same processes are all around us! Just think of the Mustard Seed Garden Manual description of youthful bamboo. Despite their recent arrival, the bamboo branches are portrayed as wise and deep:

… they are like the hermits who follow unswervingly the Tao. With the power of their spirit, they could comb the wind and sweep clear the full moon. They should not be painted confused or crowded, for the air around them is clear and pure.

–quoted in Mai-Mai Sze, The Tao of Painting, 123.

I like the image of a being which is not confused or crowded, for the air around it is clear and pure.

Wouldn’t we all like to live, breathe, and feel like that?  Young yet wise. Supple yet inflexibly devoted to creativity, kindness and life!

off to do T’ai chi now…

good day to you!

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small business, big business


–Thanks to Dirk Ercken for sharing the Zen sand stone garden above.

Business is on my mind these days. It is a very new and odd sensation for a French teacher. In fact, it appears that I am moving through a fascinating phase of life: doing three things simultaneously that would seem impossible to coexist.

  1. finishing up my academic career with a full-time load of teaching (bright and highly motivated) students and all that ensues (grading papers, office hours, helping people revise their writing, etc.)
  2. launching a small business—the Honey Girl Books and Gifts “Valentine’s Special” starts Jan. 31.  Enter code 03 for 50% off a special pillow today!

and most importantly,

3. studying Zen philosophy and practicing T’ai chi daily to deepen my health, serenity, and well-being.

The soft and comforting gifts I sew are, for me, a source of marvel and joy.


“Marvel and joy?” you might wonder. “It’s just a home décor item.”

“Maybe to you,” I’d say.

[And I would think: the process is fraught with wonder, when you work with a 90-year-old sewing machine inherited from your grandma.

Great-grandma's sewing machine

There’s that spiritual thing, first, as if you’re surrounded by a small but ever-present group of benevolent ghosts, helping you on. And second there’s a physical reason for the sense of joy (and relief!) I get from finishing projects, because my machine is broken in back. So I have to hold the motor pulley against the hand wheel with my right hand and steer the fabric through the machine with my left hand. I know it’s insane. But I love the new creativity I’ve been feeling for the past year and wonder if it’s not due in part to activating some other sector of the brain, as I’ve become more ambidextrous. One day I’ll get it fixed. But for now, sewing on that White Rotary is sometimes like a contact sport, navigating the fat pillows under the cast iron machine to sew the hems is my battle.

Until it’s won!  And it is won, night after night, despite all the mistakes and revising and redoing. And they are beautiful little creatures that almost seem alive to me; thus naming them makes sense. Last night I made “Happy” in Spring Yellow Plaid and “Love is sweet” in Hearts and snowflakes.   (images coming soon on the HGBG website)]

“OK, ok,” you might reply, if I dared to say all that out loud, “I get that. Sort of. But isn’t it just a set formula for those pillows? Don’t you get sick of making them?”

I would answer “no.”  And probably look away, because that’s personal too, you see.

So I would think to myself:  [Absolutely not! It’s a refreshing change for a long-time workaholic academic. After so many years reading other people’s words and regurgitating them into new patterns, sitting on a chair, it feels so good to move around!  And my mind feels very alive working with the inventory of fabrics I’ve built up. I made the Tranquility Pillow ordered by Catherine into an asymmetrical, Chinese-looking design that emphasizes the emptiness and mystery of the forest. This winter model has a tiny creek (“le petit ruisseau”) running quietly along the sides of the wood, instead of a broad river or waterfall, such as I’ve put on other Tranquility Pillows.”

But that makes me sound kind of crazy. Just saw Phantom ThreadPerfectionists unite! (as if that were possible).]

So that is why sewing pillows feels like a marvel and a joy.

Sewing is difficult and highly detailed. I frequently hurt my hands with pins and needles and sometime the sewing machine needle goes right through a finger, as it did last night. I am a passionate artisan more than an expert and love the sense of being a beginner and constantly refining my art.

Beginning. Maybe that’s why the things I make sometimes have the quality of an accident. As Alan Watts describes in The Way of Zen:

“this is not a masterful mimicry of the accidental, an assumed spontaneity in which the careful planning does not show. It lies at a much deeper and more genuine level, for what the culture of Taoism and Zen proposes is that one might become the kind of person, who, without intending it, is the source of marvelous accidents.” (28)


Back to small business and big business coming together.

The fact of starting a small business pushes all kinds of very practical and time-sensitive issues to the forefront of one’s consciousness. Mind is bombarded with urgent demands and can easily become overwhelmed, with thoughts such as, “There are so many details to manage!”  “This business costs lots of money. Will it be worth it?” “Will I get paid ok, or will my clients rip me off?” Such thoughts cause the shoulders to tighten, the jaw to clench, and a panicky feeling to rise from the belly.

On the other hand, the fact of studying Zen and practicing T’ai chi and meditation on a daily basis pushes the Body-Mind—located in the Tan tien two inches below the navel–into a more powerful focus. By keeping our thoughts there while meditating or doing the Form, the body naturally starts to hold the back straighter and makes the torso feel tight and strong like a spring. Yet shoulders are loose and comfortable. Vision shifts as well, so that interesting things appear everywhere, every single day, all the time.

Will my new-found and hard-wrought serenity withstand the ravages of greed and competition?

I think so.

A business is sometimes small. It simply is.

The big business is life!

And the art of living well.

Good day to you, reader!

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The creepy sounds of the forest tonight

creeepy woods.jpg

We didn’t hear it at first, when Honey Girl and I headed out for our daily walk. We were following the usual path across the grass and onto the sidewalk, to get across the river and into the forest. But once we were on the old train tracks, something seemed to be following us. Honey Girl’s ears perked up. She startled and turned, staring intently into the spindly brush.

But no, nothing was there. No rabbit, chipmunk, or even a mouse.

So we trudged along in rhythm. I was feeling strong and healthy, breathing in the frosty air and gazing at branches etched on a white sky. She also felt good, I think. She went along sniffing and squatting, catching up on her pee-mail as usual.

Then we heard it again.

We both turned around and peered into the twilight. A squirrel scratching a nut? A pipe dripping onto the ground? A deer’s quiet footstep?

But no. There was nothing.

As we walked deeper into the gloom, the sound grew and swelled. Soon it was all around us! It was a spindly, splintering, quiet, sneaky sound of ….

Frozen rain.  It was the faint crack of rain drops that we were hearing, falling onto the brittle leaves underfoot.


This is a lesson on listening, and exploring with senses other than your eyes.

It is an auditory lesson of interest to poets and musicians. As Twyla Tharp says, “Metaphor is our vocabulary for connecting what we’re experiencing now with what we have experienced before. It’s not only how we express what we remember, it’s how we interpret it—for ourselves and others.”*

The sound scared me for a while. It was weirdly disconcerting: my eyes gave me nothing to fear, but my ears told me something was there. I wracked my brain for a song, to push away Doubt and Fear, and began singing. I sang loudly walking in the dark, old songs from my childhood like “I am a rover” and the Robinswold Song.** Honey Girl loves it when I sing. She jumps up and turns around as if to dance or play with me. Singing with my big dog, I was actually having fun in the weirdness.

Now that I’m warm and safe and that the night is firmly outside, this experience drives home the power of sound.

Which reminds me that Papagayo is coming our way! Written and illustrated by Gerald McDermott, Papagayo the Mischief Maker will be read by the kids in Write YOUR Story this spring. In Papagayo, a parrot is a problem because of his noisy ways, until the day he comes to rescue the night creatures. In it, a scrawny ghost dog discovers that the moon tastes good, and so he comes out night after night to eat it with sharp teeth. Although they sing their sweetest love songs to the moon, the night creatures cannot save it. Finally the night creatures—the bats, monkeys, frogs, moths, and sloths of the jungle—call out to Papagayo, “Oh what shall we do? He is eating the last of it!”

Just then, Papagayo shrieks, jumps up, and shouts: “Make noise! You must make noise! Craaaawk! Cara-cao-cao-cao!” And they do. “At first they were timid, but gradually they began to yell and shout. They howled and hissed and croaked. They cracked sticks and shook bushes and beat a rhythm that every night creature joined in chanting. … The moon-dog was frightened by all the noise. He jumped off the moon and ran through the sky.”**

In the end, the night creatures save the moon from the ghost dog… until the next month. Then they make the same ruckus, that amazing cacophony of the jungle!!

It’s good advice to all of us:  make noise!  Tell the world you are here.  Say what you want to say, go on the record.

*Creative Habit, 64.

**”Oer the waters we have come to sing in harmony / Here the waters run so deep and here the birds fly free” (or something). From Girl Scout camp near Poulsbo, WA, circa 1968). Comfy songs I know by heart from when I was 10, 11 or so. The best age of childhood.

**Papagayo, 16-21.