You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘life’ tag.
Standing in line
To see the show tonight
And there’s a light on
“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.
“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”
“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.
“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.”
― Lewis Carroll,
November was exceedingly strange. Here are a few pictures I’ve taken this month of things that happened.
There was this…
(I was waiting on a friend in the car when the bear showed up seemingly unaccompanied.)
(The dino was my contribution to a SoKaN event for #901 Rocks – a delightfully fun community craft movement taking the city by storm. These are some of the other SoKaNers’ painted rocks…)
[And finally, coming home fr0m this mad, funny, heartbreaking, and beautiful world to retreat (not to be confused with retweet) and recharge.]
We show up,
burn brightly in the moment,
hold nothing back,
and when the moment is over,
when our work is done,
we step back,
and we let go.
-Rolfe Gates, Meditations from the Mat
Beneath those flames
the charred remains
of four years of work.
Therein the ash and smoke
lie thousands of hours of
The fire ate them all
with no regard
for the size or shape of the ideas.
I stood and fed the greedy tongues
as they hissed and sputtered,
devouring it all indiscriminately–
the fire and I whispering
all of your names
on the wind.
This was the first summer in a bunch of years I didn’t teach a summer course, which freed up a considerable amount of time, energy, and brain power. I know exactly where all that extra time, energy and brain power went because I am still keeping my weird little daily spreadsheet to track the time spent on my goals/resolutions. For the month of July it went like this:
- 24 hours PRACTICE MANAGEMENT — This excludes the time spent in sessions with clients. I recently started tracking this because I was curious how much unbillable time I spend doing things for the practice. Now I know.
- 20 hours DANCING — Teaching, practicing new choreographies, reviving old choreographies. This includes drills, exercises, rehearsals.
- 16 hours GARDENING –Watering, weeding, harvesting, planting, watching butterflies, cutting flowers. In recent weeks there has been a lot of violent killing. I have fed literally hundreds of Japanese beetles to the ducks and chickens. I have squashed squash bug daddies and mommas and their babies while cursing their ancestors. No poison was involved; I didn’t want to accidentally kill the good bugs or bees or do any damage to the birds or frogs, so the violence has been all up-close and personal. It’s a terrible thing and I’m not proud of it, but it happened. This whole garden thing is probably wreaking havoc on my karma. But I give away a good portion of the spoils, so maybe it all balances out?
- 12 hours RESEARCH for the book I’m writing and 8 hours of WRITING the book. I really need to increase the time spent actually writing.
- 10 hours COOKING…pickles. Yes, it was all spent making pickles from the garden cucumbers. I canned some bread-n-butter pickles last Thursday. The horrible squash bugs completely wiped out the squash plants before I became aggressive with them. Now they have found their way to my cucumber plants, so that may be it for pickling this year.
- 4 hours MEDITATION.
When I showed El-D the spreadsheet last night he said, “Geeze, you could work for the government. The engineers would love you.” They really like spreadsheets too apparently. And then he asked, “How many hours did you spend putting numbers in your spreadsheet?”
Hmph. A couple seconds a day! The spreadsheet, as lovely as it is, isn’t the goal, it’s just a tool to help me understand where my time and attention go. It also gives me insight into how I flow across time. For example, fifteen minutes of meditation is forever long. Sitting around doing nothing but listening to my own thoughts is horrendous most days. Truly. Sitting down to write at a computer – not much better and sometimes worse. Sitting down to write on paper, doable and sometimes enjoyable, and sometimes absolutely necessary. I flow way differently in the garden. I’ll set a timer inside then step out the door and become completely absorbed by everything until I get hunger pains or it starts raining or somebody shows up and stares at me expectantly, or something else happens that draws me back into a world where there is such a thing as a clock ticking. Today I disappeared into a game of peek-a-boo with a praying mantis for who knows how long? Anyway, I guess the point is time is a weird concept. Or maybe it’s that spreadsheets are great.
“You haven’t the time? Time is all you have, your life energy to spend as you will.”
My pickle journey began on a crisp January day this year. I was flipping though Annie’s Heirloom Seed Catalogue, while fantasizing about warm weather and all the stuff I wanted to grow in the garden.
Me: “Hey! We could grow corn and make our own popcorn!!”
El-D Squidward: “No. The deer will eat it.”
Me: “Then we need to plant enough for the deer to eat too! What could be better than homegrown popcorn!?”
El-D Squidward: “Being dead…or anything else.” (ok, maybe he didn’t say that part exactly, but the sentiment was expressed in the look he gave me.)
I continued flipping pages in the catalogue and came to the page with cucumbers. Homemade pickles! I kept this thought to myself, lest I be told a plague of cucumber-eating locust were expected this year.
I pondered pickles for few months, then ordered the seeds for Boston Pickling Cucumbers. The date was March 24th.
I planted them on May 6th. Little fuzzy plants began pulling themselves out of the ground a few weeks later.
El-D saw them coming up and built them a fancy trellis. On May 11th it occurred to me that I really needed to be growing dill if I was going to make pickles, so I planted some.
As the cucumber blossoms started turning into fruit, I realized that this pickle thing might acutally happen. The search for recipes began in earnest. I watched the Good Eats episode on pickle making as part of my research because Alton Brown is THE MAN.
After painstaking research, I finally decided on Curbstone Valley Farm’s Classic Dill Pickle recipe. Four stores later, I had managed to acquire almost all the ingredients. (Where the heck does one find juniper berries??).
Today, pickle preparation began. Today alone was a 5 hour labor of love.
I have the scalded skin to show for it. Seven months after the pickle idea popped into my head, I have this…
<cue angels singing here>
Sing it with me y’all!
…and now I only have three weeks to wait. This batch will be ready August 2. *sigh*
You reach out with any little part of yourself and rise from the dirt to be what you are. How you make my heart ache with your sense of belonging.
Vanity of vanities! We all have the same breath.
(Solomon was right.)
Greetings Dear Searchers, Lurkers, Crawlers, and Readers.
I offer a warm welcome to my fellow Americans and guests who’ve made an appearance this week from Canada, Germany, Brazil, the UK, the Netherlands, Slovakia, India, and Australia! I’m baffled, astounded, and honored in equal measure by your presence, however brief, accidental, or intentional it might have been.
Tonight marks the first State of the Spacebook Address in this blog’s history. As the sixth year anniversary of mylittlespacebook’s existence rapidly approaches, may we all pause to consider for a moment just how we came to be here.
Perhaps you were you were searching for a happy morning yoga playlist, which judging by the fact it’s one of the most frequently viewed posts, a lot of people are. Maybe you lit on the site in hopes of resolving some gender identity issues that had nothing at all to do with chickens. You might be a beloved family member or friend who reads semi-faithfully out of duty, for gossip fodder, or some other strange compulsion. Are you the mysterious, consistent reader who voyeuristically lurks in the shadows, but never comments?
Perhaps, like me, you were just wandering around when the landscape changed drastically and you can’t exactly remember how you got here or what this trip was supposed to be all about in the first place. Lucky for me, I left a trail of electronic breadcrumbs to follow.
From my first post on June 9, 2010:
My vision here is just beginning to unfold, so please overlook the banality of this first post.
I’m not entirely sure what will come next, but within the virtual walls of my little e-space you may find humorous anecdotes, half-intelligible thoughts hastily written in a chai-induced frenzy, a piece of blue glass, sobering reports from the Society of Knitters and Nutters (SoKaN), reviews of books that strike my fancy, a dead rat you can swing on a string, questionable questions, transcriptions of conversations recorded for posterity, ideas for inventions the world needs to make me happy, lists of things, a few polls, a kitten’s whisker, travel logs, observations from the natural world, philosophical contemplation, notes to self, and maybe even a pearl of wisdom if we get lucky.
As I sit tapping out the current post in a chai-induced frenzy (some things never change) I am struck by how much my life has changed in the last six years and how much I have changed. I’ve gone from transient-academic-carnivore with a purse cat to domiciled-matronly-entrepreneurial-yogi-vegetarian with a flower and lettuce growing obsession.
**BREAKING NEWS: I just realized my pants are on inside-out. I taught yoga tonight in inside-out pants and nobody had a word to say about it. At least they were my inside-out pants and not not-my-pants. Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.**
What hasn’t changed is that I’m not entirely sure what will come next. It might be something profound or incredibly stupid. Let’s reconvene at a later date and see.
Thank you for being here and for reading.
Buried beneath warm blankets, in the quiet shifting shadows just before sunrise, there arises an urgent need to share…
Me: Ostriches look like they have a lot of pent up anger with no adequate means to express it.
Him: That’s what you’re thinking?