stitching.

Savant Weekend at last you are here and I am so ready. A weekend at at a bed and breakfast with good pals, good food and KNITTING. As close to paradise on earth , you can get. Then in April Story Circle Network's conference-- a weekend with fellow writers, bloggers and old and new pals. Another mini- Eden to enjoy. Life can be so darn tooting good at times.

Knitting ( or crocheting or sewing if you must) is for me a therapy. It calms my restlessness and keeps my mind sharp.( No joke here following those patterns can be he--!).
Even more that those aspects stitchery to me is a symbol of the inner connections of life.Stitch by stitch made with string and two sticks a garment emerges. Is not life like that? Decision by decision a life emerges. Even those dropped stitches and bad decisions can be repaired so the garment or a life can be made whole.

Whatever stitchery a person does, a pattern is a necessity, and so it is with life. We follow or deviate from the pattern. The pattern? It is a person or belief that guides us when we are reaching beyond food and drink. We can follow the pattern step by step and emerge with a perfect copy or we can deviate a bit and have a unique result. In stitchery deviations are not always useful but in life they make all the difference. I had good role models and they laid the basic foundations of work ethic, moral basics, and social conscience but then I did my own thing or things. I studied languages, went abroad, moved from state to state and other such things. So the fabric of my life is warp and woof a material of my own making.

Knitting also is a constant reminder that a whole is made of its parts, by the knitting and purling one does. We are a product of all that goes around us. My grandmother knit, my mother crocheted, my daughter and granddaughter crochet. Just as skills are passed on one generation to the next so are cultures. Because I knit my world has become broader, Persons have entered my life bringing their own viewpoints on the craft and on life and thus enriching my knitting and my understanding of those around me. This is as Martha would say:" a good thing."

When I was thirteen or thereabouts , I thought my grandmothers were ancient. In reality one was barely sixty and the other just past it, but they had already donned old age like a cloak. Both wore the flowered house dress with apron and for dress the black crepe with rhinestone buttons. Both knitted, both lived with daughters and both had very limited social lives. It was not because they unmotivated or anti social, it was ,I think, that this was the role society had for them.

At twenty My mother who was just in her fifties seemed not ancient but old. She worked, played bridge, attended church and was much more active than either of my grandmothers. She traveled back East to see family and cared for my father whose diabetes was getting the best of him. Her image of herself was definitely younger than my grandmothers’ at that age.

Now I am in the age range and I wonder did they seem old because of my younger self classifying them that way or was it society. I do not consider myself old. I still walk with a broad confident step not the shuffling of age. I still work. I travel and socialize. I most assuredly do not dress in print house dresses or black crepe. In fact today, I am sporting coral jeans and a Dr. Who tee shirt. So what the heck is old ?

Attitude makes us old. Acceptance makes us old. Explanation? Ok. Here goes. We are old not matter the calendar or physical state when we become set in our ways and unwilling to keep an open mind to new ideas and new things that life give us. We are old when we accept the fact that the calendar rules us. Sixty? Time to creak and moan and so we creak and moan. We make ourselves old when we are not involved in life and all the surprises it throws at us. We are old when we refuse to adapt to circumstances and seek what is good even in the bad moments.

So do I think I am old. The calendar might say so but my mind and spirit is still learning, still adapting. So I am young and damn it I intend to stay that way until the last breath I breathe.

Balance

Balance the word has just set me off balance. Balance is the topic for the next Story Circle Journey edition and when I first saw it, my mind literally blanked. Nothing there for me, but the word began to niggle my creative juices by being constantly present in my thoughts.So here I am settling down some of the random flights of fancy that the word inspired. Balance for me is best depicted as the two scale of justice being equally full or better yet as the seat board of a teeter-totter completely level on its fulcrum Both ends in the air at an equal height. That is pretty tough to achieve if at all, and balance in life is much the same.

It seems in today's world all issues are mostly polarized. Think about it---red and blue states, pro this and anti that, atheist-conservative fundamentalist.The middle stance is not given much status and the calm they often bring to discussions is dismissed as unimportant. As passionate as I am about the things I support and believe I can be vocal when they are attacked without sound proof I get so tired hearing and watching sides expound weighted biases and no chance of middle ground being reached.

Everyday life has its share of ups and downs. Some days are definite pluses;others not so much. As I grow older, I have come to realize every down has an up. Life is not static. The teens I teach do not see the swiftness of life changes. The downs are so deep to them and the ups are in space. The emotional teeter totter of life is a rapid ride for them. Some weather it well; others not so well. The slower dips and swells in later life are much easier on the soul.

Escaping the rapid rise and fall is not easy and some of my favorite people are still hanging on trying to survive. I feel for them. Life even in the slow lane can be tough, but if the drama continues at a higher level it is definitely much rougher to endure. Hopefully they will come to the realization that they can make the changes to slow the ride.

For me that realization came in the last months of my mother's life. I was teaching in South Dakota; she was in Nebraska and not doing well. Every weekend I made the 10 hour one way drive to spend a few hours with her. The last such trip on my return I was an emotional mess. The teeter totter had dropped heavily into the low side. Not once during the visit did my mother call me by my name. I was my daughter or her sister the entire weekend. Driving home I ran in to a snowstorm that became a near whiteout and tears were flooding out of my eyes. Suddenly a brief clearing made it clear there deer in the ditch. If they wanted to jump the road , I would be dire trouble. Broken in spirit and somewhat hopeless , I gave up. "God you got me here. You have to get me home . I can not do it" to this day I do not know if it was a silent prayer or an angry shout. I made it home and since that day that personal mantra gets me through tough spots.

Now I do not mean that I just sit and do nothing. I do want I can. Ride the teeter totter until I can no longer see which way to go. When that point comes, I give in and let Him. Another thing learned recently is to forgive someone who has hurt me on purpose or by accident. I do not tell them in most cases. The forgiveness seems to rid me of the oncoming of bitterness and the blessing of peace and calmness can settle in. My teeter totter slows to a calmer ride.

Balance is something we all strive for in life. It may never be attainable just as a teeter totter seatboard can never really be level. Yet, Time has shown me that the ups and downs can be slower , calmer and easier to live with.

thinking

My story circle writing group gives us prompts every month. Some months they elicit an immediate response and the keys fly as the writing flows; other months they require some time to brew a product. So far March has been a brewing month. Several ideas are in the simmering stage but nothing is complete. However they all have an ingredient in common a life change moment. There have been several but nothing is as dramatic as Carol's which she posted today about the the change Vatican 2 wrought in her life.

Moment one was when I became a catholic. Know that saying as the twig is bent? Well it is true. Catholic school with its rosaries, masses, novenas and stations of the cross made up my early years.Yes there was Lutheran Saturday school and for years that was my choice as it made less demands on me as a member.Yet years later during a divorce I was spiritually empty and an invitation by a local priest had me go to mass. It was like coming home to a warm blanket ad hot tea. So here I am catholic even though not a perfect one by any means; much of what my mother I insisted I do to understand her family is now the spiritual haven of my soul.

The second moment was motherhood. Three girls filled my life with a reason for living, and they still do. There are days I am not really in touch with them due to distance but they are always part of my life. Each one is unique and each one gives my life unique blessings. Watching them grow was an emotional roller coaster. I hurt when they hurt, felt pride when they did well, got angry when they got stubborn but never once stopped loving them and even after all these years the ride is much the same but not quite so rapid.

Other moments working as a reporter, working at Powderhorn Pizza, as an Avon lady and the career, I love teaching. I always come back to it. Can I pick a moment when I knew teaching was it for me? No, it has always just been there, and I have been at since I was 20 on both the college and high school levels. My travels have given me moments to write about, but are they important enough for the prompt that is simmering in my brain?

Guess that is where I will leave it for now.One of these will develop into a full boil by the end of the month and with a few added ingredients a dish can can be served. Time to leave as the cooking metaphor is getting to be a bit too much.

silvered saturday

The day is silvered and the sun itself has a puritan gray tone rather than a warming yellow. I think it was Lowell who wrote a poem comparing the grey silver of her native New England to her soul. today as i look at the silver paten that is our sun , that poem is running through my mind. The lines are not there but the message and mood is present. I too prefer the cooler days and grey skies do not make me dismal but sleet,ice and scary roads which result do bother me,

Heat in fact is my enemy. Not in my memory have I ever been comfortable if the temperature goes beyond 80. My comfort range is 30-75. I rarely put a coat on until it hits 20 or below unless I will be out for along time or the windchill is severe. Most of my friends are polar opposites in this aspect of their lives, and while I love sunlight and the lifted spirits it can provide the eat is not welcome.

At any the silver of the day is becoming white as sleet becomes snow. Accident pictures are beginning on the net so I am glad I did the errands this morning. Guess I will hunker down until Monday and the work week begins. The dogs even go out sniff and turn tail for the warmth of the house. I really do not see how people leave their pets out unless they have insulated or heated shelters.

But things will not be boring. Today I purchased a roku and can stream shows on my tv. Have to give honors were they are due. Steve Snook helped me find the the needed password when I got stuck installing it. That found it was a b c easy and so tonight British mysteries etc on acorntv will entertain me. Not a bad day.