we do not achieve things …

by way of proclamations and slogans

but through

persistence,

effort,

and

enthusiasm.

“May 15” in Path to Peace by Shi Wuling.

***

The venerable Shi Wuling once came to South Bend, IN, and it is from her that I first learned about Buddhism. Lately I’ve delved into Tibetan Buddhism with Lama Surya Das’s audiobooks, Buddha Standard Time and Buddha Is as Buddha Does. Perhaps it’s working, because I finally feel more at home at home. It’s almost three years since we moved. Since I left my identity at the curb and took on a new everything. (Well not quite everything. The husband and dog are the same.)

And I swear we’ve both lost 10 years in attitude-drag. To see him on his e-bike & going to the gym, and me with my regular T’ai chi and Aikido sessions, we are both way more disciplined and physically fit than we were in our 50s. We’re also cheerful now. I think we are actually happy, most of the time. Pretty amazing in comparison with the stressed-out wrecks we used to be!

Funny, what you realize when you have the time to realize stuff.

• 

Creating intricate quilts with symbolic meanings and diverse textures continues to be my passion and way of communicating with the world. Above and below you’ll see some pics of my latest work, the “Respect” and “RARE” quilt projects, which have drawn me to connect with people of color from all around the USA and increasingly, here in my hometown. That development–and the chats, smiles, and thank you letters I’ve received–give me great pleasure and life satisfaction.

Thinking it over as I work in silence, I realize that these projects are a continuation of friend-making I learned to do in France. After years of feeling estranged in my beloved adoptive country, and never really connecting in a long-term way with a French person, I moved to France again in 2001. We would be there for two years, so I needed a friend. One day, I put up a card in the library, asking basically if anybody felt like being friends. Or at least talk once a week. Then 9/11 happened the very next day. And on 9/12, two French women called. It worked. Life-long friendships were born there in the Bibliothèque anglophone on rue Boisnet in Angers, France.

Now I’m trying to reach out, or deepen friendships, with people from a different population–namely my fellow citizens. Through the “Respect” quilts, I seek to support and celebrate people of color in the USA. And make friends, if possible. As a very white person living in a very white city, it is not that easy. But little by little, what do you know? The same technique seems to work. People like people who like them. A smile begets another. Hope begets hope. One person’s search meets another’s.

These latest quilts are for inspiring Black women who live in the Seattle area, a top-echelon hospital administrator (and a friend, whose name starts with “J”) and an award-winning high school student.

Drop by West Seattle Grounds coffee shop during the month of June and you will be surrounded by my handiwork. I’ll be there in person smiling at everybody, and hosting the “Make a quilt” game, during the West Seattle ArtWalk on June 10 from 5-8pm.

• 

On another note, it would be amiss of me to neglect mention of Taiyaki, a Japanese delicacy that I discovered today after T’ai chi class. (Which was fantastic as always.) The taiyaki truck Bean Fish parked right behind me. When I smelled that good smell and saw the truck sitting there, I thought: “If this is not synchronicity then I don’t know what is!”

Wow! Good call. I highly recommend the Food Truck, Bean Fish, for these deliciously comforting treats. I had an “original” with red bean paste and loved the warm, crunchy, gushy sweet combo of flaky crust, soft inner layer and perfectly textured bean paste (very important). Plus the adorable fish’s face and cute scales! It made me quite content, all the way home.

(Or for the rant version: all the way through the convoluted Pioneer Square detours, past the rude/terrifying speeders who zoom by and/or cut in on the highways, and behind the long lines of patient neighbors working our way back to “Vashon East”, otherwise known as West Seattle, cut off from the mainland since 2020 when our bridge broke.)

Either way, it was an excellent Saturday morning.

FYI: The Bean Fish truck is parked across the street from the busy and amazing Asian grocery store, Uwajimaya, for your shopping convenience.

Long live Seattle’s International District and Chinatown, for bringing the tastes, sounds, smells, and arts of Asia to the West!!

Advertisement

little ideas for an enchanted life

Hi readers,

Did you ever discover a writer who seems to be saying what you wish you knew, or are in the process of discovering? As one with an active imagination (some might say over-active), this has happened to me on several memorable occasions, starting maybe with Richard Kraus (in the wonderful set of books known as “Bunny’s Nutshell Library”), later with Jean-Jacques Rousseau (the Confessions), and most recently with the books by Sharon Blackie. I have not quite finished The Enchanted Life yet but it is due back at the library so I’m going to order my own copy today and, to make my commitment public, share some tips here.

Little things to do, to make life feel more enchanting:

1. Build an attachment to some “things” in the place where you live. This can be done by speaking or singing to some living creature (birds maybe?), touching (a special tree perhaps?), or otherwise learning to love some part of the natural world on a regular basis. It could be visiting a special stone on your daily walk, and addressing it as you pass.  As Blackie writes, “Like any new relationship, it is about building attachments to particular locations and features which, over time, become familiar and loved. You can learn to belong anywhere, in this way, if you choose. It’s an act of creation, and like all acts of creation, it’s also an act of love, and an enormous leap of faith” (55).
2. Allow wonder back into your vocabulary, and seek out places that fill you with awe. Quoting philosopher William James, Blackie notes, wonder is “a key to human potential.” Such experiences “break us open, and invite us to open ourselves to the possibility that there might be an order of reality which lies beyond that which we can experience through our physical senses” (77). For me, this is the Pacific Coast and all the wonderful saltwater beaches of Seattle. I feel like a little kid again, walking on those slippery, sandy logs and looking for sea anemones in the cold and windy tidal zones…  (the pic below was taken at one of my all-time favorite places, the Quileute Nation beaches near LaPush, WA).
3. Accept not-knowing. Consider each day a phenomenon that unfolds as part of a long-term mystery, instead of a list of chores to check off before you’re allowed back to bed. Embrace philosopher Søren Kierkegaard’s maxim–“Life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved.” (88)
4. Blackie’s book is full of little quizzes you can take, and concrete suggestions to improve your state of mind. For example, she suggests thinking about plants you love. As Blackie writes, “Scan your life, and you’ll find there are at least one or two plants that intrigue, comfort or inspire you. Like any good relationship, your connection with this plant will need tending. … Perhaps put a picture of it in your bedroom, or try growing it, or sit with it. Eat it if you can! The more intimacy you create, the more you will learn (just like in human relationships)” (251).

The image above is of a flower called Fritillaria meleagris (painted by Rory McEwen). I had never seen this flower until 2002, when I had the good fortune to make friends with Isabelle Pottier Thomas who then lived in Saint-Jean-des-Mauvrets, not far from my then-home in Angers, France. Once a week, I would drive out to Saint-Jean and we would go for long walks around her village, in the vineyards and orchards of the beautiful valleys near the Loire river, and our friendship gradually took on a wondrous shape of its own. It was an odd and awkward friendship at first, between two opposites–she the stern, reserved Norman, and me, the over-enthusiastic, naive American–or that’s how it felt, until we realized that each of us mirrored the feelings of the other, deep down. The Fritillaria was a fragile spring wildflower that Isabelle brought to my attention on one of those walks.  They don’t last long, so you have to enjoy them while you can. Neither did Isabelle, who died way too young.

I ordered some Fritillaria seeds this week. They are coming from very far away, and they won’t flower for months after I plant them, but the very fact that they are on their way now makes me happy.  I hope that the purple blooms will rekindle memories of those walks, and Isabelle’s feisty funny spirit will continue to enchant this life…

In the meantime, I’m going to the park again today with Honey Girl!

introducing à la française

Introducing “à la française”: a most French pillow!

 

Inspired by some kindly neighbors and their French daughter-in-law and grandchildren. And voilà! Families on both sides of the Atlantic will have a cheerful new cushion in common. (You can have one too, of course, via Honey Girl Books and Gifts).

Yellow and blue are a very French combination; think of The Little Prince. In this version, a maritime theme, added to the yellow and white, reminds me of hot sun on the cool beaches of Brittany, in a style hearkening back to the classy, crisp Petit bateau clothing line.

***

“I have friends to make and lots of things to discover.”

Le Petit Prince, The Little Prince, classic novel by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (1943)

Day Two: make new friends before moving! why not?

Discovery of Day Two (38 to go)

It seems like I’m making new friends these days! If that seems like a funny thing to happen right before you leave, I agree. But on the other hand, why not?!

The picture here was made possible by some new friends from France who came to dinner last night. The mug says, “Demain je me lève de bonheur”: Tomorrow I’m getting up happy. (A play on the homonyms de bonne heure –early—and bonheur—happiness.)

Which reminds me of one of the great things about teaching: the students. Our exchange program with the Univ. de Rennes II (founded by me and friends Isabelle Brouard-Arends & Laurent Loty, in 2008) has been such a wonderful addition to our French program at Notre Dame. Last night’s dinner guests were the last in a long line of Masters students and their parents, but no less beloved for it! I hope we’ll meet again in Brittany one day. My secret weapon (a professional chef husband) has made those visits to South Bend memorable for all of us.

Thanks to all the students I’ve come to know.  You’ve made my work a pleasure. (Well, most of you.)  ^_^

meditation on a sound–the red-winged blackbirds are back!

Walking down the hill to the river with Honey Girl tonight, I got that weird feeling of déjà vu; a flashback suddenly took me to another me, another present, walking the dog around these same streets in winter 2015-16.

Like many thoughts that come from nowhere, this one was elicited by a sound. It was the sound of a red-winged blackbird, sitting in the river grasses and singing at twilight. (You can listen to one singing here.)

Back in winter 2015, I was thinking about red-winged blackbirds a lot. I was thinking about black a lot and thinking about death a lot too: my mom had died in early spring that year. When spring came around in 2016, the blackbird’s call took my breath away. I had forgotten all about spring. It made me laugh and cry for sheer happiness to feel alive again, to hope and try again.

The bird belongs to a story I wrote and illustrated to present at a conference on wild children (les enfants sauvages) in Paris in December 2015. The story concluded a post-colonial analysis of the jeune fille sauvage de Champagne who I first studied years ago for a book called The Wild Girl, Natural Man, and the Monster (2002). Instead of seeing her through the prism of European artists, through woodcuts and crude engravings that depicted her in insulting primitive stereotypes, this time I depicted her as a healthy young girl running through these woods in pursuit of bluebells, chipmunks and daisies. I saw her as an Amerindian growing up in this region near Lake Michigan.

Although the archives record the quiet death of an outsider to Paris, in my little story-book, Native Daughter, Marie-Angélique gets the last laugh. She does not die with despair, like Europeans–she lives on!  First she becomes a black alley cat, and then a red-winged blackbird. The book ends with the reader hearing that incredibly sweet trill that I just heard tonight.

I was lonely and wistful then, and felt some kind of grudge toward the French who “took” Marie-Angélique from her home, “showed” her for entertainment, and “graced” her with a pension to live–and doomed her to a lonely life. I tucked my emotions neatly into Native Daughter and decorated it with collages cut from books on Indians, guidebooks to Midwestern plants and birds, and commentaries on Parisian society. One copy ultimately ended up in the hands of the conference organizer: a scarily famous French writer… who has since become a dear friend.

***

Like me, the setting sun was sentimental tonight—the lower horizon was ocher and cinnamon layered with tangerine and blood orange, ending on top in a bit of peachy froth, or that pinky-orange foam on the top of an Orange Julius, against an eggshell blue sky and a half moon. (Not exactly like the hills of Tennessee, seen here, but you get the orangey feeling!)

Speaking of which, Rich served a blood orange and red onion salad with dinner tonight! (the oranges and onions were sliced thin, and had just a trace of extra virgin olive oil and sea salt. It was sweet, tangy, soft and crunchy).

***

You cannot know how surprised I am to see the words I just wrote. After all those years of striving and judging and aching with academic isolation, angst, and frustration, I feel the weight is finally lifting. I don’t care if my writing seems silly. If you don’t like it, click out!

Life feels good again, like it used to in childhood. Alan Watts’ Wisdom of Insecurity describes the feeling like this:

“When you realize that you live in, indeed that you are this moment now, and no other, that apart from this there is no past and no future, you must relax and taste to the full, whether it be pleasure or pain. At once it becomes obvious why this universe exists … Obviously, it all exists for this moment.

[…]

How long have the planets been circling the sun? Are they getting anywhere, and do they go faster and faster to arrive? How often has the spring returned to the earth? Does it come faster and fancier each year, to be sure to be better than last spring, and to hurry on its way to the spring that shall outspring all springs?

The meaning and purpose of dancing is the dance. Like music, it is fulfilled in each moment of its course.”  (Watts, The Wisdom of Insecurity, 115-16)

***

BTW: Can anybody tell me where does the spring “return” from?  And where does winter “go”? Those metaphors are bizarrely misleading!  Not to mention that the two seasons overlap. Just go outside if you live in the northern hemisphere and walk around right now: you’ll see what I mean. Winter is clearly here. And so is spring. Change is in the air again… but then, it was all along. As was the present. Which is now the past.

***

Advice: Sunsets are free entertainment. Walk up to a hill, walk down to a beach, or gaze over the valley to the West. Stand there and watch one, some time this week. Enjoy every moment.

happy thoughts about friends, France, and stuff

 

Hello readers!

I am happy to announce that I am back from a long, long trip.

“Where were you?” you might be thinking?

Well, I was away seeing friends I need to see as often as possible. Took a couple weeks to live without media, in France. You see, I love France. Have for 40 years!

I just decided to go see friends and not work. Just travel around Paris to Angers, then Saint-Jean-des-Mauvrets, seeing great people.  A pastoral interlude with safe friends from wayback, beautiful young women I knew at age five and three.

Then back to Paris in a whirlwind of talkative visits with dear friends new and old, back over to the USA and wham, right into the maelstrom of Newark — New York –Subway–A Train–dark and thundering intimidating and thrilling world of New york City!!  Thank you Joyce for two days I will never forget.

But, whew.  That was a long time and a whole lot of talking for an introvert like me. I sometimes don’t realize how much I don’t talk. Until I’m out there.

Out among you,

Mes semblables, mes frères.

(I missed my sewing machine.)

And now I’m stunned to be sitting here sitting on the sofa,

Chapped lips, dry throat, cold windows and air.

I feel stunned.  The only thing to do is stop.

and write instead, a little, til I find my voice again tomorrow in the classroom.

***

The lesson of my travels is: Carpe diem!  Enjoy your lives! Go see your friends and loved ones, that’s where money should go.

***

By the way, Delta lost my suitcase on the way over, and I was stuck for three days in Paris with no change of clothes. This problem was quickly solved by the nearby and remarkably well-stocked, excellent Monoprix, and a very nice crew-neck acrylic pink sweater I got for ten euros on rue Mouffetard. Later that night, I noted that the sleek blue trousse de toilette they gave me at Delta was a strangely familiar site. All four of us already have Delta trousses de toilette. The man’s Tshirt was a nice touch, though.

Anyway, that was three weirdly anxious days. Not really anxious at all, I thought, making do with good will on a stubby toothbrush and a thin comb. But when I came back from Saint-Jean to Paris, and that adorable man at the desk of Hotel de l’Esperance said, “They brought your suitcase back!” I was shocked by how happy it made me. I felt waves of love for my favorite jacket and clean underwear.

Ohhhhh stuff, we love you. You anchor us to the earth, for better or worse.

 

***

Photo credits: Félix Vallotin, Le Rayon, (The Sunbeam) and a hopeful spring moment caught late one January night on Square Medard, Paris, 5e.

Thank you, and heureuse année, to all my friends over in France and New York City!

 

 

windy windy windy skies

It is very windy tonight! The wind blew open my attic window and flooded the tiny room with good cool air smelling of the earth, of wet leaves, wood smoke, and change.

When the wind blows high like tonight, I think of the poem posted below. I was a little girl when I got it, on the back of a postcard from a counselor at Camp Robinswold. Robinswold is on Hood Canal, Washington, which if you don’t know it, is on the Olympic Peninsula. It is a place of huge ferns and shaggy fir trees dripping with moss, a real-live Rain Forest. So in my mind, French style and folklore, lush natural resources, and friendship go together.

This exuberant poem inspires with the colors of blue and white, the movement up into the air, and the soft touch. I don’t know who wrote it, but now it can be yours too.

Windy  windy windy skies

deep blue fallen over my eyes.

The clouds so white

as the sun is bright

The sea is so blue in place

as the wind blows in your face

The birds so loud & clear

as if you feel a soft

hand in the air.

Anon., ca. 1970, Robinswold, WA