Day three: walking on sunshine

All you need to capture how this day went down is to listen to Katrina and the Waves “Walking on Sunshine”!  All right now!  So fun to work with my hands, hear the machine whir,  and dance around the room, instead of sitting in a stuffy library taking notes… The quilt is coming together bit by bit, like a new friend. Must keep perfectionism at bay…

Speaking of walking, there is a big  dog waiting for me downstairs sighing significantly…  so I’m off now on another Honey Girl walk!  I think I’ll take her to the cool leafy old growth forest known as Schmitz Park, it’s perfect for a hot day like this.

 

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Cheer up! let negative ions help

Hello on a cloudy day, one of many out we’ve now had here in my new home, Seattle.

I knew that this cloudy, rainy weather was coming. I remember having cold wet feet all day long in high school, after riding my bike there in the morning darkness. But it’s different to be here now. I want to love living here as much as I did when it was sunny and warm in July, August, and September!  Being a bit older and wiser, I’m also aware of the dangers of depression and SAD.

So I recently read Heather McAuliffe‘s helpful book, Beating Seattle’s Grey, and I recommend it to everyone, no matter what cloudy sky you live under. Among the best tips I took away from from it are: 1) water is not the enemy, darkness is the culprit; 2) bright light is good for the mood; 3) decorate with color; 4) go out and get some bright light at lunchtime if possible; and 5) there are actually “rain shadows” in Seattle, created by the small mountain ranges upon which this city sits, and which allow some neighborhoods (Yay, North Admiral is one!) to be less rainy than others.  6) But the most intriguing scientific fact that I read, and which underlies McAuliffe’s advice about getting and using good rain gear, lies in the concept of negative ions. Negative ions are especially numerous in places where air meets water, as in waterfalls and mountain streams, but any body of moving water will do, I imagine. (The Saint Joseph River, back in South Bend, was always a nice place to walk also, even if the effects were less exuberant.)

As Bruce A. Mason notes in an article called “How Negative Ions Produce Positive Vibes”: “It’s time we get back to basics, people! The healing properties of negative ions have been recognized for thousands of years. Different cultures and societies have embraced the power of negative ions for centuries. The ancient Greeks recommended seaside health spas to cure skin diseases, and in the 1800s the English developed seaside resorts to treat the depressed and unwell. So if you’re able to seize the day and find a way to recharge in nature this season, run don’t walk and just do it!”

Ever since I read McAuliffe’s description of all the good done by negative ions, I’ve made it a point to walk along Alki Beach as often as possible when I’m out with Honey Girl. Although the skies are cloudy, the seas are choppy, and the air is brisk, it is still a beautiful experience. Honey Girl likes it too, as you can see from pics of today’s morning walk. (She’s not thrilled about rain and being wet, however.) I hope to make this a daily practice, even in the pouring rain (and possibly without the dog). Just think how many negative ions would be in the air on a day like that!

 

 

three days to go: peaceful thoughts and Night pillows

Hello,

I am a fuzzy pony here with a peaceful thought: being is round.

When you think about life from a round point of view, it is much easier to cope. Lots of nice things are round: the earth is round, and there are round-trips and homecomings. You could think of roundness in terms of ladybugs, birds in flight, and seasons too.

Bachelard explains the philosophical satisfaction: “images of full roundness help us to collect ourselves, permit us to confer an initial constitution on ourselves, and to confirm our being intimately, inside. For when it is experienced from the inside, devoid of all exterior features, being cannot be otherwise than round” Poetics of Space, 249.

Everything round invites a caress. Like these pillows.

And me, of course. Fuzzily yours,

Pony

Announcing the new Night Tranquility Pillows, model 1, “Shooting Star” (left) and model 2 “Moonrise” (right), available soon via Honey Girl Books and Gifts!  In their soft, squishy yet firm presence, they incarnate what Bachelard calls “the phenomenology of roundness.”

 

Three stars accompany each pillow and they have a symbolic meaning: the back of the white satin star shows the fears we carry about every day. The back of the blue star is a dream of happiness. The third star is the S.O.S. “Freak Out!” star which has the nightmare on both sides. This pillow can be used as a nonverbal means of communication, so that can family members can be alerted to a person’s distress.

 

Time for a walk with Honey Girl!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a walk in the snow

Time for a walk!

Off we go.

The river looks good.

Trees are pretty in the snow.

What’s that?

Don’t know.

It’s quiet out here tonight.

Over the river and up the hill…

… to Honey Girl’s house we go!

 

rainy thoughts

Today it rained all day but that did not stop Honey Girl and me from taking a leisurely walk through the neighborhood until we were totally drenched, but peaceful. There is something melancholy and touching about the natural world at this time of year; there’s a stark sunflower, blackened and brittle, which always catches my eye. Its silhouette against the grey sky reminded me of that scary scene in The Night of the Hunter where Robert Mitchum rides a horse in silhouette against a white sky singing an ominous hymn. Tragic, sad thoughts mull around.

I look at the picture of my relatives, the woman from whom I inherited the sewing machine that has become my spiritual inspiration, and I used to think, “How miserable to live in White Salmon, WA circa 1915. That battle-ax in the middle looks like a real tyrant. It must have been so awful and boring in the rain, in a wooden cottage, etc., etc.”

Today I was thinking of that little girl in the front row, second from the right, because I cut up a quilt that I think she made for me. It is all falling apart, we found it in a drawer a couple days ago. I cut off a piece, restored it, and I’m using it as the basis for the SPARK quilt, since our mothers were so important to many of us SPARK students this session.

Now I realize I may have her all wrong! She may have loved running up and down and through the dripping trees during those wintry days, and playing tricks on that grumpy old grandma to make her laugh, etc., etc.

We can choose the spin we put on our memories. We can choose the spin we put on every person we meet, thinking, “Hey this guy is actually really ….. (positive adjective of your choice)”! and this day is not so bad after all.

 

the mind whips

the rest of ourselves as a master whips a slave to make it work harder.

Yet by correcting your posture, your entire emotional climate can be changed.

turning in a circle about oneself: a dog and a Taoist meditation

The two dogs here represent morning and night.

The dog on the left was waiting for attention of a rather intimate nature this morning when I came downstairs. It was Honey Girl, so warm, soft and loving that you felt like lying down on the wood floor beside her for a while, just to feel her warm fur and listen to her breathing.

What a soft launch to the day!

It is not surprising that this day feels so mellow: the students were lively and smart, the conversations were meaningful, and I had chocolate torte for dessert. Perfect, right?

The evening walk with Honey Girl swept us up in cold wind and darkness. The sky had cleared from the rain, and excitingly dynamic white clouds were stretching, morphing and flying across a backlit dark canvas—it was very hugolien and thrilling to the blood.

When we came back in, Honey Girl grabbed one of her (embarrassingly numerous) squeaky toys off the floor—a navy blue and red fuzzy bone–and started making it squeak, then walking all around making a joyful ruckus. She does that when she’s happy. Which is most every day! She does it at our parties too.

Returning home is what I want to capture: a good theme for Thanksgiving!

What I related above is a particularly joyful version of a dog returning home, but the concept is important to human psychology and Taoist philosophy too. Since T’ai chi, Zen, and Taoism are philosophically related, I am keen to understand them better. I really like explanation in The Tao of Painting, and wonder what other people think.*  Chinese painter and writer Mai-Mai Sze (1909-1992) explains the symbol of the fan, the benefit of considering the universe as a circle, and of “turning in a circle about oneself.” Sort of like Honey Girl does every night on the couch.

I paste here the cover and illustration from the page in question:

 

Fan (to turn over), shown here in its modern and old forms, describes the Taoist idea of “returning.” The pictograph represents the right hand turning something over. It indicates that the “other side” or the “returning” is the reverse of one and the same thing or process. The hand is specifically the right one; it appears to emphasize the manifest yang nature of the process.

The course of the Tao is not only circular motion but also, on the one hand, the marking off of a sacred precinct and on the other, fixation and concentration. The enclosing circle prevents “emanations” that, in terms of modern psychology, “protect the unity of consciousness from being split apart by the unconscious.”

“Turning in a circle about oneself” involves all sides of the personality, and has the moral significance of “activating the light and dark forces of human nature and, with them, all the psychological opposites of whatever kind they may be.”**

Wow! Didn’t know dogs were so deep, did you!?

Good night, dear readers, and sweet dreams.

*The Tao of Painting by Mai-Mai Sze, is a huge and impeccably scholarly tome (with its own distinguished box), that contains many beautiful color prints and the entire text of a painting manual from 1600s that is funny, witty, and rings true on many levels. It makes you love Chinese painting—something I never thought I would do. The manual explains things like the playful spirit of goldfish and the stern character of pine trees, the way that mountain ranges should seem to emerge in successive waves of energy, and how emptiness is compelling. I did not know, for example, that hollow trees were revered for the abundant chi that they held after a storm.

**Mai-Mai Sze, The Tao of Painting, 2^nd ed. With a translation of the seventeenth-century Chieh Tzŭ Yüan Hua Chuan or Mustard Seed Garden Manual of Painting ( 1679-1701) (New York: Bollingen Foundation, 1963), 16-18.

 

thoughts on balanced imbalance (le déséquilibre équilibré)

Today was a day of ups and downs. The news is crazy scary, and that’s enough to explain the downs, but I also woke up with a migraine which, as all those who are migraineux will know, is a huge drag. Doing my standing 30-minute meditation by the window was helpful, and the 30-minutes of T’ai chi I got in before I had to go out were excellent and stabilizing, as usual (thank you again and again, Master Peng!).

By the end of the day, the headache was gone, the heavy feeling had lifted, and I just got back from a walk that was not only invigorating and fun, but was also kind of mystical. Walking through the North Shore Woods in the dark tonight made me feel like I was moving through a fairy tale and turning the corner to discover who knows what marvelous surprise! One time, Honey Girl and I saw a full-size buck, who gazed upon us with cool dignity. And didn’t move. At all.  For minutes.

I said, “Go on! Shoo!” and he just gazed at me softly, wondering perhaps, “What is she thinking? Go away little woman and dog-on-a-leash, and let us freely roam where we live.” Or maybe, “Huh?” or …  who knows!  That’s part of the wonder.

We don’t know what they’re thinking. We don’t know what Honey Girl is thinking. Hell, I don’t know what Rich is thinking, even though I’ve been living with him for the last 38 years.

All of us are all going up and down, riding currents of seasonal beauty and wonder, angst and regret, hopefully edging out the dark with hope and gratitude. C’est juste ainsi. It just is. And it is good, right? The French call this attitude of Zen-like realism le déséquilibre équilibré: a state of balanced imbalance. Breathe deeply, this is it.