Advent Activities: In Pictures

House decorations

Baking cookies--6 dozen!

Our only snowflakes this season

Waiting for Star Wars 7

Kindness Elves appear, getting ready for our cookie party

Sis's cookies

Making a scarf for a friend's daughter

Priceless

Mindful knitting retreat:  $$$
Icelandic Lopi yarn:  $$
Hours knitting:  ##
My first non-rectangular project:  PRICELESS

"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.

Of Yarn and Cats

I'm headed off to a knitting retreat this weekend, to which I very much look forward.

So I leave you with pictures of three of our four cats enjoying yarn this week.

The fourth cat, Albus, prefers fleece most of the time, and so is not pictured here.

This is our main yarn-lover, Mojo.  Here he has climbed into the basket that holds his unfinished blanket.

How Mojo usually prefers his yarn, with one ear always out.

Mr. P is learning to love yarn

Another yarn convert.

The most expensive seat in the house--that's artisanally-dyed merino.

Fall Fun: Leaf Peeping

After our usual morning of kung fu and ice skating (plus a visit to a friend's tag sale where Sis scored a lovely old portable art box and I got a little picnic basket with a divider to protect pie), we headed way north to the Icelandic Affair, a festival Mama had heard about from work.  It's a small festival with a lot of interesting foods and features.  We mainly went to see the furry ponies, a special Icelandic horse breed.  We arrived just as they started showing off the horse's gaits.  Sis was fascinated and hopped, quite literally, at the chance to ride one of them.  She grabbed hold of the mane, put her boot in a stirrup, and hoisted herself up like a champ; the horse's owner was impressed and let Sis walk around the green without guiding her.  Sis's face just lights up when she's near horses or almost any animal (she enjoyed meeting an Icelandic sheepdog from the RI search and rescue.)

Bud liked the food:  a hot dog with Icelandic-type mayo and mustard and fried onions, trout and Icelandic butter, gravlax on rye, a special seven-thin-layer pastry called Vinarterta (with almond and cardamom flavors and some thin layers of jam and lots of butter cream), some chocolates, a thick vanilla yogurt called Smari, some caramels, and a cardamom sweet roll called something with an S. Mama liked all the food, too.

And I scored with a beautiful sweater.  I had walked past the table when we arrived and saw the black and rainbow-colored hand-knit sweater out of the corner of my eye.  When I went back it was still there, marked "Large Sweater Dress."  And it fit me!  Perfectly. Not as a dress, but as a long sweater (I have a very vague memory of a later 1980s long, multicolored sweater trend--I had several dark ones with rainbow patterns, machine knit, though.)  As I paid the lady, I heard someone turn to a friend, "You snooze, you lose."  I guess someone hadn't quite committed to the sweater.  I loved it.  And I got several compliments as I walked around.  Mind you, hand knit!  It took 36 hours and it's not variegated wool--those are all individual color changes!  And you can't see where the knitter changed rounds.  It's beautiful.

After the festival, we went to a nearby state park for a little leaf-peeping.  A dramatic, cloudy sky and some near-peak foliage made it a perfect day for taking in the scenery.  I love fall foliage and rock walls, of which we saw a lot.  And took copious pictures, after which we stopped by one of our favorite shops, Nodine's Smokehouse, and picked up some ham, meats, and other tasty goods.  It really was a glorious day, from beginning to end (actually, the real end was the kids playing a Beta-test of a new Zelda game and my baking an Apple Bourbon Bundt Cake for Applepalooza tomorrow.)

Whew!

What a wonderful, exhausting, frustrating, fun first 24 hours.

• Kids' Service Team event.  The kids' service team is a great combo of community building and helping others.  We shared pizza, salad, and brownies at church, and then the kids made fleece blankets and the adults tried their hands at knitting.  Sis and a few of her friends joined us and we practiced casting on and knitting . . . and fixing our mistakes.  I learned a few new techniques--the one needle cast-on, how to prevent curling edges in an all-knit piece by dropping the first stitch of each row, how to rework dropped stitches with a crochet hook (over-under, over-under), and how to pull stitches off a needle and put them back on (very carefully, making sure stitches are facing the right way)--with the help of one of the experts.  It was all fun.  But now I have a scarf to finish!  
• Ice skating!
• Kung fu!
• Cookie booth--oh, the stories I could tell.  And so I will.  Of course, the GS cookie booth troubles started a couple of weeks ago when the store that had agreed to host several troops selling cookies changed their minds and we all had to scramble for new times and places and reschedule everybody!  Then today, we our people showed up at a different store, they said we weren't supposed to be there, though we had registered and our contact was on her way to smooth it over.  Well, don't mess with Cookie Moms!  And so we stayed put.  Until we had to move--our shifts were split between two stores because of the aforementioned schedule change.  THEN, a GS mom stationed at the store we'd just been at came over and harassed us for being at our store, saying we were competing with them and ruining their sales and that wasn't supposed to happen (though, there had been another troop at the store all morning--the troop of an older sister of one of our girls.) It happens every year.  EVERY Year.  Novice.  Again, don't mess with Cookie Moms!  But all of our girls worked their shifts, even in the cold, and we sold 40 cases of cookies, which is excellent.  We are very proud of our troop and very grateful to all of our volunteers.
• The VAGINA Monologues:  Our old church sponsored a fundraiser reading of the Eve Ensler play this evening and I went with a bunch of friends, who first gathered for dinner together.  Veggie lasagna, salad, garlic bread, flourless chocolate cake, and almond cake.  Yum!  And the show, oh, the show was amazing.  I'm ashamed to admit, as both a feminist and a lesbian, that I had never seen it.  But this production was perfect because I knew 95% of the cast, from old church and around town, and there they were saying things like vagina, cum, cunt, orgasm, hair, coochie snorcher, folds, clit, lips, wet, etc etc outloud in public!  And talking about rapes in Kosovo, female genital mutilation, repression, and even dry cotton tampons and cold duck lip specula!  We laughed riotously--at the Angry Vagina and the dominatrix who curated moans of her female clients (and demonstrated several of them, like the WASP moan and the exhausted Zen moan!)--and sighed at the "cellar" and "tulip" and lack of self-awareness (and cheered at the painful, glorious discovery of such), and choked up at the memories of violence.  It really was a wonderful evening.  So proud of the cast of wonderful, talented women, and of the UU church community that brought them together to benefit a women's outreach center nearby.  Well-done!  (It was also great to see so many old church friends, whom I miss often.  Took me awhile to hug my way out the door.  Haven't felt that much love and support and energy in a space, like that, since lesbian coffeehouse in Chicago.)
• I got home to discover that my BIL had been called back to work a hospital shift tonight.  He was with the kiddos and his sis for about an hour.  They were very sorry to see him go and quite subdued when I got home.  We know he'll try again soon and we'll have a good time and besides . . . . . 
• It looks like the weather is turning ugly earlier tomorrow than we expected, with anywhere from 1-6" coming (depending on whom you believe) plus ice, and so it is probably best that he won't be on the road tomorrow night.
• And so we'll see what tomorrow brings weather-wise, along with church, Soup Sunday, and the arts and crafts party.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Solo Almond Bundt Cake

Almond Glaze Topping
1 cup confectioners sugar
1⁄4 teaspoon almond extract
2 tablespoon light cream

Cake
1 cup butter or margarine, softened
2 1⁄4 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup sugar
2 teaspoon baking powder
3  eggs
1⁄2 teaspoon salt
1 can Solo Almond Cake and Pastry Filling or 1 jar of any other fruit filling
1⁄4 cup milk

Chocolate Glaze Topping (no chocolate on the one at church)
1 cup confectioners’ sugar
2 tablespoon Dutch-process cocoa
1⁄2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
3 tablespoon buttermilk or low-fat milk

Preheat oven to 350° F. Grease and flour 10-inch tube pan or 12-cup Bundt pan and set aside. Beat butter and granulated sugar in large bowl with electric mixer until light and fluffy. Add eggs, 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in almond filling until blended. Stir flour, baking powder, and salt until mixed. Add to almond mixture alternately with milk, beginning and ending with dry ingredients.  Beat until blended. Spread batter evenly in prepared pan.Bake 50 to 55 minutes or until cake tester inserted in center comes out clean. Cool in pan on wire rack 10 minutes. Remove from pan and cool completely on rack. To make glaze, combine ingredients in small bowl, and stir until blended and smooth. Spoon or drizzle over top of cake. Let stand until glaze is set. Or top with fresh fruit and whipped cream!

Flourless Chocolate Cake

Block Island Blanket

Not happy with my Block Island merino as a crocheted piece--it was too stiff--I ordered some huge knitting needles and got to work.  In two days, I had my small lap blanket all done, reminding Mama and me of the steely blue colors of our Block Island vacation.  And the knit stitches and variegated sections remind us of the waves, sky, hills, and rock walls.

-=-=-=-

My Block Island Blanket

50mm circular knitting needles

160 yds super chunky merino yarn

Cast on 30 stitches.  Knit the entire skein, stopping when you have 4-6x the length of a row leftover.  Bind off.

Mommy Hungry

The Mitten Tree

One of my favorite children's books is The Mitten Tree, by Candace Christiansen and Elaine Greenstein. In the story, an older woman whose children are grown and gone enjoys watching the neighborhood school children gather near her house as they wait for their school bus. One day, she notices that one boy, standing alone and away from the others who are playing in the snow around the spruce tree, lacks mittens and can't play in the snow. So she gets to work on a pair of blue mittens for him. That next day, she hangs them on the spruce tree for him and soon he is playing happily with the others. By the end of the book, she has knitted mittens for all the kids and they, in turn, have surprised her with a whole new basket of brightly-colored yarn. Neither side "knows" where the mittens or yarn come from, "but someone must . . . "

It's a charming story about generosity, community, kindness. And everytime I read it aloud to Sis (for it is she who always requests it), I want to knit mittens. Mind you, I don't knit well enough to knit mittens; I'm only able to create simple rectangular knit-and-purl scarves. However, I might be motivated to learn to knit mittens. Sure, I could probably crochet some mittens (I'm a better crocheter). But it just isn't the same, isn't like the story. And I want to make lots of mittens and give them all away.

Somehow, an idea is germinating in the back of my head, a kind of fiber arts ministry, not just prayer shawls and baby blankets and baby caps and mittens but all manner of handmade yarn items (or why stop at yarn? fleece blankets and cotton pillowcases!) to donate . . . . I love to make all these things but don't need to keep them. And everyone feels better with a special homemade item just for them. I just have to figure out the details.

Why Food?

I was waxing philosophical last night as I knitted on a scarf for a friend in Chicago--why did I select food as the organizing principle of my blog? I do other things. I am a beginner knitter, crocher, quilter, and cross-stitcher. All of which I took up after I finished my Ph.D. in art history. I could've just told stories about the family without the food hook, like many other mommy blogs (which, of course, this still is).

So, why emphasize food? This would seem to be the root of my weight and body issues, the interest and dedication to food, so why spend my extra time reading, writing, and experimenting with food? In fact, the weight issues existed long before the more methodical interest in food. But it seems like jumping from the frying pan into the fire. Know thy "enemy?" Not exactly.

It's part nostalgia, part history, part sociology, part psychology, part politics. Like it or not, I spend a lot of time thinking about food--what groceries to buy, what recipes to try next, what the kids might like, where DP and I can go on date night when the babysitter is here. And so, I like to think, by expanding my interests in food beyond grocery lists and recipe files to include Slow Food and sustainable agriculture, Alice Waters and Alice B. Toklas, ancient Roman recipes and open hearth cooking techniques, I'm learning something about the world and cultures around me, in addition to myself and my origins.

But don't be surprised if I throw in a scarf pattern from time to time!

-=-=-=

One Skein Knitted Scarf

Size: appx. 6 x 60"

Materials: 6 oz worsted weight yarn; size 10 knitting needles

Directions: Cast on 22 loosely.

Row 1 Knit
Repeat row 1 for pattern, using entire skein.
Bind off and weve in ends.

Adapted from Lion Brand pattern