"Knits and Pearls"* Retreat

Please pardon the centering of the text; I've tried to get rid of the formatting, but it won't go.  So it can stay centered.

Coincidence?

FRIDAY

I had been looking forward to this weekend since midsummer:  it was time for my mindful knitting retreat.  We picked up the kids just before dismissal and rode together to Copper Beech Institute.  It's part of a large monastery and retreat center, though unconnected theologically.  If you recall, I went to a Zentangle retreat there in February which was a marvelous experience.  

We arrived not long before sunset and they helped me get settled into my room.  Unlike last time when we were all a bit edgy about the separation and newness of the experience, this time they left rather quickly--to catch a showing of the new Peanuts movie (which they enjoyed.)  Indeed, they had a hold weekend planned--Peanuts, lots of restaurants and take out food, Minecraft, kung fu, ice skating, public free skate, origami.  

I had a big weekend planned, too:  a mindful knitting retreat.  I was more focused on the knitting, hoping to expand my skills beyond rectangles to a simple mitten pattern!  And so with my Icelandic Lopi wool yarn and my double-pointed needles, I was ready to learn.

Our Friday evening gathering included the usual housekeeping issues (no cellphone usage in public spaces, how to return used linens on Sunday via the laundry chute, even a discussion of the omnipresent Catholic iconography as full of compassion and sensitivity and in no way connected to the beliefs of the mindfulness institute.)  We did a mindfulness meditation, letting go of attachment, judgment, criticism, expectations, wishes especially with regard to our knitting.  And then we knit a swatch, silently, checking our bodies and breath, letting go of a product or a goal or an end, just knitting to knit.  We felt the yarn, saw the colors, heard the needles, even sniffed the wool--almost all the senses taking in the knitting (I would taste the fibrous stuff as I threaded a needle later in the weekend.  Eh.)

And then we pulled it all out!

I was glad that I had knitted my green Block Island blanket last week, so that my skills were in practice.  I can cast on, knit, purl, knit two together, bind off, and follow simple patterns as needed, not much more.  But I made the mistake (albeit intentional) of admitting I was a crocheter.  "Oh, we'll cure you of that," one said.  Ah, the superiority of knitters over crocheters.  But I expected it and am used to it (in "real" yarn stores, the clerks barely want to help crocheters choose yarn.)  Still, on the last day, another congratulated me, "You're a knitter now."  So much for judgment and attachment.

The evening was spent on our own and I journaled and doodled in my sketch book.  It's so quiet in the monastery, so much solitude and peace.  It's odd after living in a small house with three other people and four furry beasties; even during the day when I'm all by myself, it's not the same--there are chores and phone calls and errands, either to do or ignore.  At the retreat, there was nothing.  

I resolved to wake up early to see the sunrise and set my alarm.

Saturday

My walk in the woods at 6:30 a.m. was a continuation of the quiet and solitude of the monastery.  I was the only one out.  I found the labyrinth easily enough, though I was convinced I was lost on the alternate wood path just as I spotted it.

Bigger then I realized, more remote, and surrounded by trees, the labyrinth was built in 2007, I think. If you can get to it, via the longer paved path with a short jog through the grass, it is even possibly wheelchair accessible, paved with small gravel as it is and wide and flat.

The sun was just rising, first creating muted pastels and then producing brilliant reds and oranges and yellows.  I watched the sunrise and took pictures from outside the labyrinth at first and then walked the path.  It was a wonderful, focusing, rejuvenating walk.  It wasn't even until I had circled the center  stone circle for awhile that I noticed someone had been there before me:  a novena candle was lit.

I walked back just in time for the breathing mediation with the director of the institute.  As much as I had focused on the knitting of the retreat in my anticipation of it, I got so much out of the meditation; I imagine that my daily practice has been kickstarted.

Then it was breakfast and our morning lesson.  There was so much to learn:  how to split stitches between three needles; how to insure the stitches are not twisted and facing down/away from you so that the project grows down/away from you; what to do if you drop a stitch or a whole needle of stitches (DON'T PANIC!  with non-slippery yarn, the stitches don't really move so you can recover it); how to change color; how to use waste yarn to save space for the thumb; how to easily count stitches on the purl side; how to gather the tops of mitten and thumb together; how to wave in; how to close holes.  I worked on it for hours.  I think I counted 7.5 hours overall for the one mitten.  But I was so excited, so proud, elated, grateful, joyful.  I had learned a new skill.

We broke up a lot of the knitting with stretches, centering breaths, water.  One of the breaths was the alternate-nostril breathing, when I realized that my cold wasn't completely gone!  There was also a cupped-hand/slapping exercise to get the blood flowing, plus one where we twisted back and forth swinging our arms.  There were self-hugs to open up our shoulders, eye exercises because of all the intense focusing, and a variety of yoga poses I didn't know.

I've realized that yoga just makes me sad.  Really, deeply sad.  I even shed a few tears during the morning practice.  My poor body has been so unloved by me and family and friends who criticize it or much more subtly make suggestions for its improvement, not accepting me how I am; it--I?--has been through so much from birth defects and other anomalies (lordosis, scoliosis, low muscle tone, leg differetital), hernia repairs, c-section, herniated discs, tailbone dysfunction, and now emergency abdominal surgery; and it just can't do what so many can do, especially all those stretchy middle-aged white women dedicated to yoga who are pretzeling themselves while I lie prone and alone (yes, lots of self-pity and envy in there, too.)  I always leave yoga feeling sad and down about myself, which is entirely opposite the point so I vowed to skip other yoga sessions entirely.  

So hat evening, instead of yet more yoga, I decided to take another walk to the labyrinth.  It's not everyday you have a labyrinth in the backyard.  As I made my way there, I saw three women from another retreat standing off the path and pointing up, then they waved to me.  I stopped in my tracks in time to see a Great Horned Owl fly from where they were standing, over my head, and in a tree nearby.  And when it took, another one followed.  Two giant, silent, fast, beautiful owls with their little tufty "ears."  Such a gift. So amazing.  I had never seen owls in flight naturally (beyond birds-of-prey exhibitions.)   I was too caught up in seeing them to take a picture; they were too fast for that anyway.

And then I watched the sunset at the labyrinth, the day ending quietly, not in a huge splash of color.  As I walked, I sang Sarah Dan Jones's "When I Breathe in" mediation and Emma's Revolution's "Peace Salaam, Shalom," which I think go well together.  I like to sing.  A few others joined me around the labyrinth later, quiet togetherness.  At first, I thought I'd mind, but I think I actually welcomed the company, even though all we did was nod.  

After dinner, there was a concert.  Girl-with-guitar Kate Callahan came and played many of her lovely folk ballads and songs for us, accompanying herself on guitar.  She also plays a quartz crystal singing bowl, with which she vocalizes and chants.  An incredible sounds!  She did some circle singing with us, which she had studied with renowned singer Bobby McFerrin.  She had one group start a rhythm, the other group do another, and she overlaid it with a tune and lyrics--about our retreat and concert!  Such a gift.

After the concert, as many of us stayed up to knit, as we talked of the music, I offered to teach them the two songs I had sung at the labyrinth.  And I did!  I sang a cappella, alone, in front of other adults; and then most of them were too shy to sing along.  But a few did, boldly.  Singing, I realized (as I've realized before), has so much to do with confidence.  I mustered just enough to sing aloud; I don't think I could do it regularly.

By the end of the evening, I had completed the body of one mitten and closed off the top!  If all went well, I would make the thumb the next morning and perhaps cast on the next mitten to do at home.

Sunday

So many clouds that I didn't bother to get up for sunrise.  I slept in, read more in Voyager (my current Outlander novel), and then got up to dress, pack up, and clean up my room.

We spent the morning knitting in silence, first complete silence and then with some sacred music.  We could quietly ask questions, as I had to in order to complete my thumb.  We checked in with our breaths and our bodies (especially to combat hunched postures common to knitters.)  

And I finished one whole mitten!!!!!  

In fact, we all finished at least one.

We celebrated over lunch together, commended the friendly and supportive community we had created in just a few days, pledged to continue our mindfulness practice and knitting upon reentry into the "real" world.  I was grateful to the teacher for her knowledge and assistance and patience, to the participants for their companionship and support, the Copper Beech staff and volunteers for creating a nurturing and sustaining event, to my family for letting me go, and for the privilege of being able to attend a retreat and to have knitting as a hobby.  

Then Mama and the kids picked me up.  They met a few of the staff and then helped me fetch my things.  We all walked to the labyrinth together, the kids talking the long path "off road" through the woods.  We walked relatively quietly, joyfully, through the labyrinth.  The kids walked ahead while Mama and I walked holding hands (see, nice wide labyrinth; couldn't do that on Block Island.)   At the center, we placed a little heart that I had purchased at the gift shop.

And then we were off, retreat over.  Back to life, back to reality, as the song goes.  I hope I carry a little bit of the peace and acceptance into the whirlwind of the holidays.  Perhaps this was just the right way to kick off the holiday season.

For next year, I promise everyone mittens!

*That's "pearls of wisdom" and a knitting pun on purl.  The retreat's title and pun, not mine!


-=-=-=-=-
Poems read during some of our mindfulness moments:

Allow by Danna Faulds

There is no controlling life.

Try corralling a lightning bolt,

containing a tornado.  Dam a

stream and it will create a new

channel.  Resist, and the tide

will sweep you off your feet.

Allow, and grace will carry

you to higher ground.  The only

safety lies in letting it all in –

the wild and the weak; fear,

fantasies, failures and success.

When loss rips off the doors of

the heart, or sadness veils your

vision with despair, practice

becomes simply bearing the truth.

In the choice to let go of your

known way of being, the whole

world is revealed to your new eyes.

________

Surrender by Edmund Leland

I surrender because control creates false security and is an insatiable master. 

I surrender not to give up, but to open up.

Not to let go, but to receive

Not to drop something and have less, but to unclench these hands and make way for more spaciousness that holding on or controlling could never allow.

Sweet conscious choice to surrender.

This is how I choose to live

This is how I choose to love

This is how I choose to dance my life.

______

Last Days by Mary Oliver

Things are

  changing; things are starting to

    spin, snap, fly off into

      the blue sleeve of the long

        afternoon. Oh and ooh

come whistling out of the perished mouth

  of the grass, as things

turn soft, boil back

  into substance and hue. As everything, 

    forgetting its own enchantment, whispers:

      I too love oblivion why not it is full

        of second chances. Now,

hiss the bring curls of the leaves. Now!

  booms the muscle of the wind. 

_______

Love after Love by Derek Walcott

The time will come 
when, with elation, 
you will greet yourself arriving 
at your own door, 

in your own mirror, 
and each will smile at the other's welcome
and say, sit here. Eat. 
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread.
Give back your heart 
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you 

all your life, whom you ignored 
for another, who knows you by heart. 
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, 

the photographs, the desperate notes, 
peel your own image from the mirror. 
Sit. Feast on your life. 

_______

Kindness by Naomi Shihab Nye

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. 
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
     purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you every where
like a shadow or a friend.

Live Blogging: Gratitudes

I'm thankful for my beloved Aunt Sis, who we just learned has fallen, broken her hip (again), and is in the hospital, where she'll spend the holiday before moving to rehab.  Again.  She weighs only 88 lbs now (at nearly my height, 5' 7" ish) and is sleeping a lot.  I hope she is peaceful and comfortable.

And I'm thankful for Goo, who showed up after a full shift at the hospital (he's a third-year medical student) totally prepared to play with his niece and nephew.  They have played the piano for him, watched "What Does the Fox Say?", had a dance/gymnastics party, and made two pies--pecan and apple butter pumpkin--before settling into Minecraft now.  He is a blessing.

Month of Gratitude: Other Parents

My gratitude for the weekend was for my Small Group Ministry (SGM) of parents of young children at our UU church.  This group meets monthly to discuss issues and ideas of concern and interest to parents, such as Newtown and also the spiritual lessons of parenting.  We also have monthly potlucks, more casual gatherings with the kiddos playing together.  I joined in January and we had a summer hiatus so I haven't been to many meetings, but the tight-knit group has been very welcoming.  We aren't even the only lesbian couple with twins!!  Go figure.  Though, we are the only family of color (but UU churches are pretty white, with a few multi-racial families.)  I'm not even the only vegetarian!!  So we fit right in.

And the food this weekend was great.

Chana Saag Aloo
A creamy savoury Indian dish using potatoes, spinach and chickpeas.
2 medium potatoes, peeled and chopped into 1″ cubes
2 cups cooked chickpeas (one 19oz can)
1 large onion, minced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 can (398mL) coconut milk, or homemade (shockingly out of this, I had to substitute water during cooking and then stirred in some Greek yogurt for creaminess at end)
1 large bunch of fresh spinach, washed, dried, and chopped into thin strips (used frozen WF mixed greens)
1 large ripe tomato, chopped (used part of box of diced)
1/3 cup nutritional yeast (optional, but adds nice body to the flavour)
2 tbsp oil
2 tbsp curry powder
1 tsp cayenne pepper
salt to taste
In a heavy-bottomed pot, heat the oil over medium. Add the chopped potatoes, onions, garlic, and all the spices, and saute until the onions are translucent.
Add the cooked chickpeas, nutritional yeast (if desired), and can of coconut milk. Reduce heat to medium low and simmer for 25 minutes, or until the potatoes are tender.
Stir in the chopped spinach and tomatoes and cook until the spinach has wilted. Serve over a fragrant basmati or jasmin rice.
Makes enough for 4-6 people.

from VeganMania


Piggy Cookies
If you cover them as soon as they cool, they will remain soft and fluffy for a while, but as the days go by, they will harden and have the snap of a traditional cookie. If you want them to harden faster, don't cover them.

You can find pig-shaped cookie cutters online, or use any shape you like — but then, you need to change their name.

1 3/4 cups (10 ounces) firmly packed grated piloncillo or dark brown sugar

3/4 cup water

1 Ceylon cinnamon stick

1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, cut into small pieces, at room temperature, plus more for the cookie sheets

2 tablespoons honey

4 1/4 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon kosher or coarse sea salt

2 large eggs, lightly beaten, at room temperature, plus

1 large egg, lightly beaten, for glaze

Confectioners' sugar for dusting (optional)

1. In a medium saucepan, combine the piloncillo, water, and cinnamon and bring to a simmer over medium heat. Lower the heat to medium-low and simmer for about 15 minutes, or until the piloncillo has dissolved and the liquid thickens to a light syrup. Turn off the heat and remove the cinnamon stick.

Add the butter and honey and stir until they melt.

2. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Make a well in the center and pour in the piloncillo mixture. Mix with a rubber spatula until well combined. Add 2 of the eggs and stir until thoroughly mixed. The dough will be very sticky and gooey.

3. Place two long pieces of plastic wrap, one running horizontally and one vertically, in a medium bowl, letting the ends overhang the edges of the bowl. With a rubber spatula, scrape the dough onto the plastic wrap, then bring the edges of the wrap over the dough and secure tightly (leave the dough in the bowl). Refrigerate for at least 2 hours, or up to 2 days.

4. Preheat the oven to 375°F, with racks in the upper and lower thirds. Butter two cookie sheets.

5. Sprinkle flour on a work surface and a rolling pin. Cut the dough in half. Working with one piece at a time, roll out the dough about 1/4-inch thick. Using a 3-inch piggy cookie cutter, press straight down on the dough to cut out cookies, moving the cutter slightly on the work surface to make it easier to lift up the cookies. Gather the scraps into a ball and roll out again. Transfer the cookies to the prepared cookie sheets, spacing them about 1-inch apart. If the dough becomes too sticky, roll it into a ball, wrap it again in plastic wrap, and place it in the freezer for 5 to 10 minutes before rolling again.

6. Gently brush the cookie tops with the remaining egg. Bake in batches for 7 to 9 minutes, or until the cookies are puffed and golden on top. Remove from the oven and transfer to a cooling rack to cool completely. Sift confectioners' sugar on top of the cooled cookies, if desired.

on NPR
Excerpted from Pati's Mexican Table: The Secrets of Real Mexican Home Cooking by Pat Jinich. Copyright 2013 by Pat Jinich. Excerpted by permission of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.

Month of Gratitude: Bits and Pieces

While I am trying to be more aware of my gratitude for various things, I haven't been posting daily.

I might also extend this practice beyond November.

But for today I am particularly grateful for 

• Self-cleaning ovens--no work but lots of satisfaction!  Just in time to get messy again on Thanksgiving.
• Mugs of Earl Grey tea, especially on blustery fall days, while I read Lady Almina and the Real Downton Abbey.
• A fully-stocked sewing box and bits of leftover fleece that Sis and Bud are making into sachets for their first lesson in sewing.
• My giant soup pot filled with chicken-tortellini soup tonight (with some tomatoes--Sis can handle them in the soup as long as she doesn't have to eat them.  Sound familiar?  They both still avoid carrots!)
• The (until Friday) readily-available camera that was my smartphone--you (and I) have missed out on pictures of fleece pillows and blankets and sachets and many other things in the last 4 days.  So, I am grateful for all of the moments I captured with my smartphone camera.

Month of Gratitude: Health and Wellness

Generally grateful for our good health, even with a cold working its way through the family (everyone but me has it) and my chronic back thing.

Also grateful for our general safety . . . this time last year, my in-laws (and the Tri-State) were recovering from Hurricane Sandy (which totaled two cars and the entire contents of their basement, including all holiday stuff and family mementos) and now hundreds of thousands of people are experiencing such severe devastation in the Philippines.

Month of Gratitude: Rain, Rain, Come Today

I am very grateful for the rain, even if it's measured in 1/100ths of an inch.   My part of Connecticut is in a state of drought.  Apparently, NYC and Westchester County have been declared in a state of drought, too.  So even a little bit of rain helps.  Besides, I like the way the fall leaves glow when its overcast.  And I like drinking mugs of tea and hibernating just a bit.

Nothing for Granted

I've been keeping a running list in my head for some time now of things, specifically activities, which I do not take for granted after my on-and-off-again "life in a bed."  Often, I find myself doing these and thinking, mercy, I couldn't do this three years ago and now I can.  Call it gratitude, self-awareness, mindfulness, whatever, I don't ever forget that I can:

• tie my shoes by myself
• rollover in bed
• stand up without help
• getting out of the shower alone
• putting a bag in the garbage can
• pick something up off the floor
• take things in and out of the oven
• stand at sink to do dishes or at stove to stir a pot
• unload dishwasher
• get things off the lower shelves of the fridge
• sit down to eat
• lean over to tuck my kids in each night
• push a store cart
• carry in the grocery bags
• drive for 20 minutes!
• sit in passenger seat instead of reclining in back
• travel in a plane
• sit in pew at church
• attend a show
• weed my garden
• feed the cats
• pick up the cats
• put laundry in and out of machine
• stand to fold clothes
• bend to open drawers to get out/put away clothes
• get down on floor/ground and get back up (like for a picnic in the grass!)
• give a 1 1/2 tour at the historic house
• sit with a hospice patient
• stand for an entire Brownie meeting
• sit at Starbucks for awhile
• open and close the windows
• dance a little
• walk on a treadmill/outside for longer periods of time
• be out and about for up to about 5 hours (with rests, of course)

There are others, I'm sure--and of course a list of things I still can't really do (swim, sit to use computer)--but I like to focus on those above.

Month of Gratitude: The Little Things

I'm also thankful for the little things (and these aren't all of them but the ones that come to mind now):

• my high school typing class
• tea bags
• apples and peanut butter
• autumn leaves
• yarn
• quilts and afghans
• beans
• Bloodroot
• mint
• cats, penguins, bunnies, otters, pandas, koalas, hedgehogs, pugs
• candles
• chocolate
• cheese and crackers
• books
• bookmarks
• iPods
• magazines
• rainbows
• prisms
• handwritten letters
• diaries
• recipes
• bread
• purple
• Star Wars, Harry Potter, Xena, Buffy, Doctor Who
• Girl Scouts
• boat rides
• costumes
• roses
• s'mores
• Fritos
• pizza

Month of Gratitude: Catching Up

Saturday:  I am grateful for Mama.  Have I mentioned that before here?  Right now, I love how she's researching and organizing our trip to Disney World and Harry Potter World.  Her childlike excitement is infectious and her planning skills top notch.  It'll be a great trip.

Sunday:  I am grateful for my friend Vivian, who taught me how to crochet, a skill that has brought me great pleasure over the years and enabled me to make gifts for others.  Now I'm in the process of teaching Sis, who purchased two skeins of different weights of yarn, both pink, and a J hook and L hook--she thought the letters meant "gigantic" and "large."

Monday:  I am grateful for my friends, near and far, including the two I met with today, one for breakfast and one for lunch.  They are my inspiration, my support, my advisors, my confidants, my role models, my rest and relaxation.  And I hope I am theirs.

Month of Gratitude: Extracurriculars

I'm grateful today for the chance to give our children after-school activities that expand and challenge them, particularly Bud's kung fu and piano lessons and Sis's Girl Scout troop and gymnastics classes.  They derive such pleasure from these, learning new skills, meeting new friends, exploring their own interests and talents.  And I get to watch--to see Bud do a tornado kick or to hear him play "Joy to the World," to be there when Sis sells 300+ boxes of cookies and takes pride in learning to do a back bend.  It's a gift to them and to me.

Month of Gratitude: Insurance Again

Yesterday it was health insurance, today it's property insurance: I am thankful that, with the addition of a garage door today, our garage is back in working order after the accident in early September. Now we just have to fill it with the stuff in the POD!

Month of Gratitude: Health Insurance

Month of Gratitude:  Thankful for health insurance, which we've used so much in the last few years (and for Mama's job which provides it).

Month of Gratitude: Thanksgiving

I'm grateful for Thanksgiving, not only the chance to gather with family and to cook special foods, but also to contemplate gratitude itself (and compassion and generosity, especially with yearly food bank donations), as well as to reexamine the early history of European settlers and the Wampanoag who were here first.

I'm starting to work on our family menu for next week.  How is it already next week??  I think we'll have pretty much the same as always:

• turkey
• dressing (I've got leftover cornbread, homemade biscuits, and Italian bread in the freezer!)
• gravy
• homemade rolls
• cranberry sauce(s)--jellied, homemade, fresh, horseradish varieties
• sweet potatoes
• green bean casserole
• jello
• pumpkin pie
• pecan pie

The rest is up for discussion.  I'm considering broccoli rice casserole, roasted Brussel sprouts, something to snack on, and whatever Goo wants to make.  I haven't done the shopping for us yet, but I did fill a cart with sets of 10 for $10 deals at the store to donate to the food bank.  I usually get boxed stuffing, mainly because it is so much lighter to carry than canned green beans or cranberry sauce.  We'll take those to church this week.  

And I'm prepping to do a presentation on pilgrims at school for Sis and Bud's class.  I have my white pilgrim coif/cap and will wear my maroon colonial outfit (which can look 17th century for the occasion, especially with the cap.)  Of course, talking about Thanksgiving is fraught.  I don't want to whitewash the time period or present myths of a friendly "First Thanksgiving" with cranberry sauce and sweet potatoes, but it has to be appropriate for second graders.  I'm hoping to read the original account of the 1621 Harvest Feast adn talk about life for the settlers and also life for the Wampanoag, including the thanksgiving rites of both--European harvest festivals, the Strawberry Thanksgiving, and native traditions of gratitude for Mother Earth.  I might also mention what our own town looked like in 1621, which was essentially a summer village of the local tribe; Europeans only showed up 20+ years later.  I'm still conceiving of it, drawing ideas from Oyate, an organization for Native American/American Indian advocacy and education , and Plimoth Plantation, which has led the research on the original 1621 feast as well as a more accurate and responsible understanding of the Wampanoag and settlers.  

Lastly, I'm enjoying contemplating what I'm thankful for each day and posting it here.  This was yesterday's gratitude, actually.  When I reflect tonight, I wonder what I'll be grateful for today?

Month of Gratitude: Sunday and Monday

Sunday:  I am thankful for my Unitarian Universalist faith community, our second UU church, which we've been attending a little less than a year.  We're finally settling in and getting to know people, which took longer than we expected, with all the craziness of our spring . . . and summer . . . and fall.; the kids are very happy with their religious education class.

Monday:  Today, I am extra thankful for computers.  I'm working simultaneously on GS stuff and the school arts contest--emails, flyers, shopping, research.  All while watching "Doctor Who," first "Doomsday" and now "Runaway Bride."

Month of Gratitude: Arts Education

Today, as I start organizing our school arts contest, I am grateful for arts education (visual, music, dramatic, dance, literary) in our schools and educational programs in our museums. As the t-shirt reads, "Earth without art is just 'eh!'"

Month of Gratitude: Hospice

Today, I'm grateful for hospice.  I went to my hospice team meet-and-greet to met the other volunteers and staff (no, I haven't had my first patient yet due to logistics).  And I just finished a great book, The End of Your Life Book Club by Will Schwalbe, a memoir about a mother-son relationship during her struggle with pancreatic cancer and their connection through books.  It was, oddly, like Mitch Albom meets Azar Nafisi (Reading Lolita in Tehran).

Month of Gratitude: Wednesday and Thursday

Wednesday:  I am grateful for snow.  I love snow.  I didn't have it as a child and I can't get enough of it as an adult.  SNOW!!!!!  It's the second thing I love best about Connecticut, right after the left-leaning citizenry.

Thursday:  I am very grateful for my physical therapist. Especially today, because I graduated from PT tonight!!!!  Surprisingly (and perhaps a bit frighteningly!), I realized she was right when she suggested I didn't need regular therapy anymore.  I hadn't seen her in a month, a month in which I'd done more things, including fall on my butt in the street, without needing immediate PT attention.   So I'll continue with Pilates and everything else, like walking everyday and limiting sitting and also being mindful. I'm so much better than where I was almost a year ago when I started with her.  I recognize that I will always have limitations and challenges, but I know better how to deal with them now, both physically and mentally.  She gave me my life back!

Month of Gratitude: Voting

Election Day, November, 1884 

by Walt Whitman

If I should need to name, O Western World, your 

   powerfulest scene and show,
'Twould not be you, Niagara--nor you, ye limitless 

   prairies--nor your huge rifts of canyons, Colorado,
Nor you, Yosemite--nor Yellowstone, with all its 

   spasmic geyser-loops ascending to the skies, 

   appearing and disappearing,
Nor Oregon's white cones--nor Huron's belt of mighty 

   lakes--nor Mississippi's stream:
--This seething hemisphere's humanity, as now, 

   I'd name--the still small voice vibrating--America's 

   choosing day,
(The heart of it not in the chosen--the act itself the 

   main, the quadriennial choosing,)
The stretch of North and South arous'd--sea-board 

   and inland--Texas to Maine--the Prairie States--

   Vermont, Virginia, California,
The final ballot-shower from East to West--the 

   paradox and conflict,
The countless snow-flakes falling--(a swordless 

   conflict,
Yet more than all Rome's wars of old, or modern 

   Napoleon's:) the peaceful choice of all,
Or good or ill humanity--welcoming the darker 

   odds, the dross:
--Foams and ferments the wine? it serves to 

   purify--while the heart pants, life glows:
These stormy gusts and winds waft precious ships,
Swell'd Washington's, Jefferson's, Lincoln's sails.

I voted today, taking part in "America's choosing day" with Sis and Bud, who were as excited about the bake sale as the ballot!  They know we support President Obama, but they kept asking why.  And I tried to explain . . . .

I voted for President Obama and the Democratic Party because I am a woman, a mother, a mother of a girl, a mother of children who might be LGBTQ, a lesbian, a married lesbian, a lesbian with a Chinese wife, a member of a bi-racial family, a person with health problems, the wife of a person with health problems, the daughter of parents on Medicare, a sister to healthcare workers, a person outside of mainstream Christian  religion, a person who supports public schools and higher education, a person in the arts not corporate America, a person who believes in federal funding for the arts and museums, a vegetarian, a mother worried about the foods and medicines she gives her family, a person worried about the environment, a person who doesn't believe in the exceptionalism of the United States, a person who believes in the responsibility of government in supporting and protecting those least able to help themselves be it because of natural disaster/ age/illness/disability/hardship, a person who believes in the government's responsibility to regulate business including agribusiness/military-industrial complex/Wall Street/Big Pharma/etc, a person who believes in national healthcare and childcare subsidies and maternity leave, and for so many other reasons . . . .

Sis and Bud, one day you'll understand . . . and one day you'll vote, too.

And I am grateful for that right to vote, which didn't exist for women when my grandmother was born in 1902.

Month of Gratitude: Distraction

Today, I am very grateful for penguins, sea lions, and beluga whales.

Yep, we went to Mystic Aquarium and had a wonderfully distracting and enjoyable time.  The kids didn't remember having been there before at all, which was quite surprising because I bet we'd been 6+ times!  They really liked the white whales and the sea  lion show, but of course the highlight was the penguin exhibit.  In fact, Mama and I decided that Bud was kinda like a cartoon character with hearts floating above his head every time he saw a penguin!  He would get this blissful look on his face and even tilt his head.  I think he could've watched them dive and swim all day.

Month of Gratitude: Days 2 and 3

Day 2:  I am grateful for all the first responders, both to Sandy and to other emergencies:  police officers, firefighters, medical teams, national and coast guards, electrical workers, etc.

Day 3:  Having seen pictures of the devastation in the Rockaways, I am grateful that my in-laws are alive.