The Zen of Knitting

It's a beautiful thing - rosewood needles looping a new row of yarn through the previous one.  Making slip-knots, really, and watching them grow into a shawl, or a sock, or a sweater.  Creating the open spaces of lace knitting to produce an airy scarf.  Knitting around and around in a circle, creating a strawberry or Lorax to warm the head of a toddler.

Meditation with needles and yarn.  String art. A quiet spirit.  A gift.

Domestic Warfare

Drama - one of the least appealing aspects of teaching middle and high school.  When I retired, it was the part of the job I missed least.  It's hard to lament the loss of dealing with who stole who's boyfriend, mean girls, wedgies in the guy's locker room; not that I mean to downplay the importance of these issues to 13-year-olds.  It's just that the mediation had become exhausting.  Anyone who's taught will understand.  Multiply your family drama times about 300 and you've got it.

However, yesterday I encountered drama in my own back yard - literally.  The noise of the battle was what first drew me to the window.  Inside the ring of bricks surrounding the birdfeeder, a squirrel was stuffing his face with the seeds that littered the ground, and simultaneously declaring his displeasure.  Surrounding him were three crows, voicing their own dismay in a language that sounded like a cross between a caw and a whimper (you'll just have to imagine it - that's the best I can do).  The scene was reminiscent of old westerns, with the cavalry huddled inside the fort, surrounded by marauding Indians looking for a point of weakness.  One crow was digging in the dirt with his beak - perhaps sharpening his weapon, or maybe just trying to look busy and keep a low profile.  The other two paced back and forth, a couple of strategizing generals.

Their battle plan evaporated in a flurry of gray; the squirrel had launched a pre-emptive strike and the crows retreated, screeching in outrage and losing all pretense of dignity, while their attacker turned and withdrew to his fort.  Each bird responded differently to this indignity; one continued to dig nervously with his beak, one paced around the feeder - apparently deep in thought - while the third took the offensive.  He flew at his opponent, fluttering and pecking, only to lose his courage as the squirrel turned and jumped at him, chattering in outrage. 

This was no epic battle; it only lasted about ten minutes and it ended in a draw.  Ultimately, no lives were lost and there were no clear winners or losers.  Unless you count me.  I gained a good laugh and a renewed appreciation for drama.

Back to the Start

Several years ago I got into really good shape.  I was running 3 miles per day (although I'll grant that I wasn't setting any land-speed records) and my weight was actually where it should be.  And then I got comfortable; the weight began to creep up, and I bought new clothes. I kept walking every day and sort of lulled myself into believing the spread was just a normal part of the process for women moving on past middle age.

But there comes a time when one must admit that "normal" isn't a good enough excuse.  So after researching ideas and giving the idea a whole lot of thought, I decided to try Apple's "Couch to 5K" program, a method designed to help out-of-shape folks progress from strolling to running three miles over a nine-week period.

Today was day one.  The program for week one calls for three sessions, each including a 5-minute walk, followed by alternating 60-second runs and 90-second walks and a 5-minute cool-down walk.  It was harder than I thought it would be, and also easier than I feared.  It felt great to actually break a sweat, to have followed my little iPhone coach's instructions, to stretch out afterward.  I look forward to keeping it up.

However, right now I'm just hoping the Aleve kicks in soon.

Being Right and Social Media

 

Being right in the sense I'm using the word isn't a political stance.  It's an insistence on the correctness of one's personal opinions.  If you had full access to my Facebook account, you'd find that I have friends from all parts of the opinion spectrum.  But you'd also find that when any of us posts an opinion, the respondents all "Like" or affirm those opinions.  Those who disagree just stay on the sidelines. In all honesty, I must include myself among the sideline sitters.  Seldom is there real dialogue aimed at understanding each other.

 

An exception occurred in my little corner of  the Facebook world a few days ago when I had a true discussion - an exchange of ideas - with a former student who generally expresses opinions much more conservative than mine.  Frankly, I'd always thought this young man probably belonged to the Tea Party movement, and I'd probably still think so if we'd not stopped expressing our own views and asked questions about and listened to each other's judgments.  We discovered that - at least on the issue of gun control - our ideas are much more similar than either of us had thought.  We don't fully agree, but we found areas of understanding and respect.

 

Which leads me to consider a little saying in a tiny frame that sits on my desk:  "Listen without defending.  Speak without offending."  Which leads further to the realization that I can't change how others interact; but I can work on my own attention to remembering this phrase.  This may be a baby step - but I think it's a step in the right direction.

Gift Wrapped

'Twas the week before Christmas and our great-grandson got - the flu!  No fun for sure.  But it was truly a gift of sorts.  Monday he spent the day with us and was liberal in handing out hugs.  What's better than those intentional, snuggly, heart-felt hugs from a two-year-old?  At the end of the day I needed aspirin for the achy muscles and I think I went to bed at 8:00.  And I wouldn't have traded even a minute of the day.  So very grateful for the sweetness and purity of baby love.  I pray that the day comes when we may all love each other as wholly and sweetly.  And how perfect to have experienced it as we wait for the celebration of the coming of Love in the world once again.

Myla

I met Myla in 2007.  We were among 100 teachers chosen to train and act as literacy coaches - teachers who were to help teachers do their jobs better and more easily. From the first, her soul shone through her sweet eyes and her razor-sharp intelligence cut through to the heart of what teachers do: create with love and work harder than anyone else on earth for the sake of their students.  That year she also discovered that she had ovarian cancer.  And we all know what that means.  But I remember with absolute clarity her exact words as we talked about her situation.  "All will be well."

And all was well.  She received treatment, her children rallied around her, she lost her hair, and she continued to work with the students she loved and with those of us who were blessed with her presence.  After the first round of chemo, as her hair began to regrow, we all bought tiny barrettes and wore them as a sign of solidarity and support and love.

This isn't a happily-ever-after story - but it's a story of great joy.  Myla has gone on before us.  But every year Facebook let's me know that November 13th is her birthday, a time to celebrate.  Then, a couple of weeks ago, while sorting through a box of odds and ends, I came across that tiny green barrette.  And I felt Myla's presence and knew she was right: all is well.

Compromise

We've recently survived two weeks of political conventions.  Perhaps more than any other time in my memory, the murky difference between truth and fiction has been blurred.  Statistics may be - and have been - skewed to mean whatever the publisher wants them to.  So, more and more, I've been contemplating what place compromise has in our system of governance.

We must compromise with others to get along in the world.  But that doesn't mean compromising who we are, who we've been, who we hope to be.  Obfuscating past stances belies basic principle.  I think of Mitt Romney's approach as the governor of Massachusetts to universal health care, which he now seems to deny.  And yet Massachusetts folks appear to be quite content with this paradigm - a structure strikingly similar to "Obama-care."  I think of the funds both parties want to deduct from Medicare - in very different ways - and Ryan's denial that his plan makes the same deductions as does the Democratic approach - with different outcomes. These compromises impinge on principles like honesty and clarity.

In contrast, compromise in terms of issues may be defined as moving a step to one side or the other of a topic to accommodate other points of view.  We need to be very clear about this.  Recognizing that our fellow citizens may have valid perspectives that differ from our own is important to our political system – and to our lives together as human beings. If our candidates are being held hostage by those whose votes they want, if those who govern our country have no room to change and grow, we cannot progress as a culture.  I fear for our country if we - and our governing bodies - cannot or will not differentiate between principle and issue.