Struck me funny

Shouted down to my soon-to-be-18-year-old son, who wanted me to make him a snack: "You're an adult now! You can pour your own bowl of Froot Loops!"

Expanded Thoughts While Reading Jack Kornfield

I've always believed that you best serve others when you are in good form yourself. You can't pour water from an empty bucket, and you aren't as able to be helpful to others if you are struggling yourself. So I've always promoted taking care of yourself as important when taking care of others. But maybe my view has been too shallow. It still pushes the idea that "you" are separate from "others."

In Bringing Home the Dharma, Jack Kornfield notes that we are all interconnected in the world and there is no "us" and "them." Now I've heard this before, of course, and understood intellectually that we can't see others as different from ourselves. But he takes it a step further and asserts that since we are others (oneness), when we care for ourselves we are taking care of others. In other words, if we are truly part of the world, when we care for the world we are caring for ourselves, and when we care for ourselves we are caring for the world. We are not separate from the world we want to help. If we feel compassion toward all sentient beings, that entails---obligates---having compassion for ourselves. It isn't a matter of selfishness or self-sacrifice. It's all part of the same thing. We don't feel guilt for tending to our own needs, because it's inherent in tending to the world's needs. If we still see ourselves as separate from other people, then it does risk becoming self-serving. But if we approach it from a stance of loving-kindness toward all beings, it changes the very nature of it.

Which puts a deeper twist on the scripture "Love thy neighbor as thyself." Not "Love him as much as you love yourself." But "Love him because he is yourself. And you are him." The "as" takes on a different meaning.

Anti-Corporate Slogans

At 4:30 this morning, as I dragged myself out of sleep to face another commute to work, I had a sudden idea for a small business: T-Shirts, mugs, mouse pads, backpacks, etc. imprinted with a selection of anti-corporate things such as the following:

• A picture of someone rock climbing, with the phrase "The only upward mobility I care about."
• A picture of someone fishing on a peaceful lake, with the phrase "My liquid assets."
• A picture of a healthy Longhorn bull wandering in a meadow in the sunlight, with the phrase "This is my kind of bull market."
• A beautiful treehouse with a rope ladder temptingly dangling down, and the phrase "This is the only ladder I want to climb."
• A basket of deliciously plump, juicy berries and the phrase "My Blackberry."
• A lovely sailboat on a lake, with the phrase "I'll be on my cell sail."

You get the idea. Think they'd sell?


They sounded like good ideas at 4:30.

A Trip to Webster's Falls and Tew's Falls

Discovered a gem not far from our house. It's been tucked away there all along and I never knew it! We don't have to travel the world to find wonders; they're right in our own backyard if we take the time to look.

The Silence of the Lamms

I spent another couple of hours yesterday facing down my loom. It's almost tied up and ready to dress. (Doesn't The Naked Loom sound like an English pub?) I just have to sort out the misbehaviour of the lamms, which insist on hitting each other, and it will be time to put on the warp. The physics of it makes sense to me now and I don't find the whole thing quite as intimidating as I once did. I can actually envision myself making something on this someday. Placemats, tea towels, scarves...My ambitions aren't grand. Though apparently I have been given the "work horse" of looms that is capable of making anything from lace to carpets and tapestries.

I recently read a bizarre little book by Martha Beck in which she talks about casting your thoughts out into the universe and drawing toward you the things you need and want most. How basically you don't have to strive and struggle, but you let the magic of the universe provide. The things you require or desire will just appear in your life.

Well, it was worth a try, I supposed, so as I was reading I projected the thought, "I want to make a living doing something I love." I didn't do it the right way, according to her instructions, which involved "dropping into Wordlessness and connecting with Oneness," but the thought was there, anyway.

About a week later I was offered this loom. Now ordinarily I wouldn't see anything marvelous about it, except this is the second time in my life I have been offered a giant floor loom for free. Does this happen to everyone? I think not. And one of my best friends in my twenties was a weaver. That's three times a loom has nudged my life. Actually, four: I have a distant Scottish ancestor who was a weaver. I can take a hint. I accepted the loom. When I told Jette about it, she laughed and said I was meant to weave.

Will I make a living at it? I doubt it, though I could see it possibly supplementing the income. Jette makes a living at it, both by producing and by teaching. But I do think I will fall in love with it. I find treadles and heddles are the last thing I think of before falling asleep and the first thing I think of when I wake up. Maybe once it's strung up and ready to use, I won't be quite so obsessed.

There will soon be a lot of clanging and thudding in my house, but don't be alarmed---it's just the universe knocking at the door with a delivery.

Garlic Harvest

My house is filled with the most lovely aroma as the garlic cures. My best harvest yet.

The Categorization of Artists

Martha Beck says, "Bad artists ignore the darkness of human existence. Good artists often get stuck there. Great artists embrace the full catastrophe of our condition and find beyond it an even deeper truth of peace, healing, and redemption."

Which explains to me why I detest the bland, sweetness-and-light fluffy stories many other women seem to enjoy, but also hate the dark and depressing "life is horrible" literature that seems to make it to the best seller lists. I fear I may never be a great writer myself, but at least I think I can recognize great writing. It's the stuff that changes you, makes you feel hope, and lifts your burden while giving you credit for the challenge you've come through. It helps you grow and then recognize your growth.

Having said that, today I met a truly great artist, Jette Vandermeiden, a woman who has gone through some seriously difficult challenges and losses and has emerged on the other side of them as a joyful, generous being. You look into her face and see genuine peace and happiness there. She has found her place, undertaken meaningful work, surrounded herself with beauty, and discovered how to pass her hard-won knowledge and skill along to other seekers. She spent two hours with me today giving me hope and perspective and igniting a little spark of inspiration. I simultaneously felt both that I wanted to get to know her and that I'd known her forever.

As a thank you I sent her a copy of my latest book, a pathetically humble offering but mine own. Will my journey lead to my becoming a great artist? I don't know. But today was certainly a step in the right direction.