A Weekend Away

I had another lovely Zentangle retreat at Copper Beech Mindfulness Institute, my fifth!  I love the location--a huge, connected, multi-building monastery on a forested hill complete with labyrinth and (at least once that I saw, though not this year) Great Horned Owls.  This time, my little room overlooked the woods, my favorite view there. 

I was getting into the retreat spirit early, stopping at the other labyrinth in town--can you imagine, two lovely labyrinths?--which I had never walked.  I do love to walk a labyrinth--it's restorative and contemplative.  And it's the first thing I did when I got to the monastery, walking the labyrinth there, which is my favorite of anywhere.  I love the wide, flat, accessible walkway, and most particularly the beautiful stone circle in the middle.  In fact, I actually bought a print from the Monastery Gallery of a photo of the labyrinth, stretched to make it look painterly.  Lovely.

The majority of the weekend was devoted to Zentangle. I love to learn new Zentangle technqiues, to be challenged in my practice, and to draw with a group.  And I got to do all that this weekend.  Several of the projects were outside my comfort zone--I generally like black-and-white, non-representational tangles.  This weekend we used a lot of watercolor to make little houses and a "creative girl" (inspired by Danielle Donaldson), which would not have been my own choice, but I had such a great time tangling.  And I've gotten more comfortable with color as non-representational, meaning I'm not specifically coloring in particular shapes, but only laying down washes of color before or after drawing. 

The two women at my table were new to Zentangle and asked a lot of questions; so I got to explain and explore Zentangle with them--comfort tangles (the ones you know and use a lot), favorite resources (www.tanglepatterns.com and the books Zentangle Primer and  A Tangle a Day), tips to turn the tiles while drawing, step outs of Huggins and w-2 and pokeleaf/root and Diva Dance Rock 'n Roll, all of which only mean anything to people who tangle. There were tons of supplies, raffle prizes for many (I gave away my blank canvas tote and origami book to one of the newbies at my table who didn't win.) 

We enjoyed several fantastic meals--roasted chicken, lemon fish, roasted potatoes, the best balsamic vinaigrette, orange-y pickled beets, oatmeal with all the toppings (granola, raisins, Marcona almonds, blackberries, cinnamon, yum!), frosted lemon poppyseed cake, a variety of cookies, and delicious little cannoli--it's such a treat to be cared for this way.  It was a lovely little break.

While I was away, Sis worked her last Girl Scout cookie booth for the year and for her term as a Girl Scout (she wants to be an independent Juliette next year, without a troop, so I had my last cookie booth last weekend!)  She also got to walk her horse outside on a sunny day because the ground had firmed up a bit.  (I got to go outside with the horse and Sis yesterday; Patience was so happy that she actually rolled on the ground.  I missed it, though, because I was corralling the dogs who had spooked her just a few minutes before.)  And Bud had his first competition of the year, winning three gold medals and a high score of 9.93 in straight sword.  Yay! 

Fragment dice to choose a tangle!

A Day Away

I attended a daylong mindfulness retreat on Friday at my favorite mindfulness center.  I am always renewed when I go there.  The peaceful and rejuvenating atmosphere, the inspiring workshops, the wholesome meals, the lovely concerts, the restorative yoga and meditation classes, the beautiful woods hiding the stone labyrinth, even the little gift shop with unique books and items—everything leads me to contemplation and reflection.   I have attended two Zentangle weekends, a mindful knitting retreat, and now this day of immersion in mindfulness and meditation, which I attended with my good friend, Mommy Goose.

I think the day was just what I needed.  I’ve had a meditation practice for about 8 years now, starting with the Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) meditations I learned during my first and most severe back issues in 2010 (when I couldn’t sit—or function for long periods of time--for almost 2 years because of chronic pain from spinal issues and a tailbone dysfunction.)  I still find the MBSR approach to chronic pain one of the most potent tools I have when my back and tailbone issues flare.  From there, I studied Buddhism and found that it really resonated with me—the focus on presence and compassion, the approach to suffering and the alleviation of suffering.  I integrated a regular breathing practice and later a metta or lovingkindness practice.

But with the recent challenges of CPE, when I probably need meditation the most, my practice has been slipping.  I have not volunteered for so many hours in a week since the children were born; it’s essentially an unpaid part-time job.  Nor have I been engaged in coursework (with papers and readings etc) like CPE since I finished my classes for my Ph.D. almost 20 years ago.  And I can see the obvious effect on our home life—laundry goes undone, as does the grocery shopping.  We’re eating more take-out.  And I’m struggling with issues of guilt—I’ve been late to take kids to activities, I’ve been gone on snow days, I had to rely on friends to pick up a child who missed the bus, which I know are issues that working parents regularly deal with, but it is new to us.  While Mama and the kids are handling it all in stride and aren’t disappointed or critical, I am struggling at times.

As for the workshop, which I think both Mommy Goose and I really needed, I sat, watching my monkey mind, observing my breath, and could feel the anxiety pass away.  I did a body scan and felt tight muscles relax.  I practiced an alternate nasal breathing technique and felt my mind clear.  I did a mindful eating exercise and paid attention to a meal for the first time in weeks.   I was familiar with all of these exercises but hadn’t practiced in awhile, despite it being one of my learning goals.  I had been sitting daily at hospice, breathing in the pain and grief of the patients, breathing out love and peace (the practice of tonglen), but I needed something different.

My favorite part was a mindful listening exercise with a focus on empathy.   First, we sat with a partner and alternately shared a story while the other person listened deeply—no interruptions or advice, not even therapeutic nods or “uh huhs.”  At the end we simply said, “I will remember this for you.”  To be heard is such a deep gift.  Then we stood, with one person’s eyes closed while the other looked into her face (we were all women) and gently touched her arm or shoulder while the teacher read, slowly, something like this:  "This person, like me, has been happy and sad.  This person, like me, has had hope and despair.  (It went on like this for a bit) May this person, like me, be happy, healthy, safe, and free from suffering."  To be seen by another and to see another, to acknowledge our shared humanity reminded me of why I was drawn to hospice work in the first place and why the first UU principle (about worth and dignity, a la the UU Golden Rule) is my guiding light.

Zenith of Zentangle

Last weekend, I had a marvelous getaway at a Zentangle retreat at Copper Beech.

Before classes started, I wandered out to the labyrinth, which was covered in ice.  I was nervous about walking on the ice and couldn't do the whole loop, but I enjoyed the solitude and the view.  I even left behind a token I had stamped with the word "peace."  I especially liked all of the other footsepts around the labyrinth which were frozen in the ice.  Just the idea of everyone walking the path separately.  It reminds me of that meme (though it existed before internet memes) about footsteps on the beach and there only being one set at times, when God carried the person.  For me, the footsteps at the labyrinth were the community walking separately but together.

Then it was food and tangling.  We always eat well at Copper Beech!  Salads, baked cod, chicken parmesan, tasty veggie sides, fresh-baked cookies, honey butter with bread.  Mmm, mmm, good.

And on the tangling!  So many great projects, including our double-heart-string puzzle, a piece of which was given to someone else to tangle and returned to us at the end of the weekend.

And the gorgeous bleeding tissue paper that colored our opus tile for our tangled heart.  I experimented with lots of "frills" or "doodads" outside the heart, also with random white dots to highlight the patterns.  And of course, I don't usually work in color.  This was a great way to use color without worrying about coloring or painting in the tangles.  

We also made gratitude bouquets (the vase is made from acrylic paint applied onto paper with baby wipes!), a little book (acrylic paint scraped on paper with a gift card or hotel key card), and a little Bijou tile book which will contain 26 tangles A to Z.  I made the book but will add the Bijous later.  I was mostly focused on the bigger, higher concentration projects like the heart and the puzzle.

I really liked the group of women (and one man) who attended, several of whom I'm now in touch with online.  Of all my Zentangle classes, this one really stands out.  Just lots of fun and inspiration.

Retreating

Gommie and I spent three days tangling our hearts out!  Such a wonderful time.  Before we left for our formal Zentangle retreat at Copper Beech Institute in West Hartford, CT, we warmed up a little at home.  I taught her my Zendala tangle/string TWYST.  With some practice, she got it down.

TWYSTing with Gommie

I also flipped through Gommie's sketchbook, which had these wonderful tiles . . . . 

Which I proceeded to blantantly copy!  I don't know the names of the tangles (except Springkle, which is just an enlarged version of the one I usually do)--and I didn't even get the gist of the middle one.  But I like them and will keep practicing.

We headed to Copper Beech midday Friday.  It's the place I attended my first Zentangle class two years ago.  We had a wonderful time--delicious meals (albeit Lenten, so lots of fish, which I don't generally eat), rejuvenating yoga and meditations, a lovely walk to the snow-covered labyrinth, and, of course, the Zentangle sessions.  I especially liked the yoga and meditations, from my first gentle yoga session to the even gentler Restorative yoga session (where you support your poses with cushions and just breathe into them), followed by a lovely tea in the art gallery (with a delicious "Om" blend of cardamom, rose, etc from Culteavo.)  And of course the labyrinth!  Even partially snow-covered, I like the meditative space.  Perhaps especially snow-covered.  No owls this time, though.

There were about 26 of us in the Zentangle retreat.  For the first night, they split the beginners from the more experienced tanglers, with our experienced group doing a black-and-white project working with negative space.  I liked the results.

On Saturday, we did two more projects, both tangential to pen-and-paper tangling.  With Janet, we explored the use of polymer clay to created tangled beads, basing our designs on such tangles as Printemps and Tipple.  We made canes of our designs and Gommie had the great idea to do a class bead and to share our cane patterns around.  In the afternoon, we experienced Zenquility, or paper quilling.  We used basic flowers with coils and teardrops as the start of a Zendala or other tile.  I especially enjoyed this, seeing the possible applications in Zendalas.  Quilling is much like 3D tangling.

I really liked our session Saturday evening, which was a guided meditation with verbal cues for the tile.  The teacher described the tangles, trying not to name them (though, eventually, she did say flux and pokeleaf.)  It was very similar to something we did at the Zentangle retreat at Kripalu.  See the results in our class mosaic--similar yet so individual!  I can't wait to try this kind of meditation in one of my advanced classes.  Over the course of the weekend, we did a few breath mediations, including one called Four Corners or Box meditation--you draw a box slowly, with the verticals and horizontals representing the exhales and inhales.  We also did the Breath of Joy--three inhales and then an explosive "ha!"

Our class mosaic from the meditation

Our last session, was a very complex terrarium, using some Zentangle patterns and sophisticated Renaissance shading in browns, blacks, and whites.  The result is a Zentangle-inspired art work (ZIA). I have to admit this was not my favorite--with the use of compass and eraser, all that representation and specific orientation, the focus on product over process, and not much repetition of most of the patterns save in the base with meer, nzeppel, and tipple.  We barely finished--you can see I didn't finish the shading or even decorate the mushroom.  Still, I learned some shading suggestions, like working from darks to lights, and picking one side for lights and the other for darks (the teacher arbitrarily does darks on the left and whites on the right.)  And I loved the woodless 6B pencil we got--it's nice and dark and smudges beautifully.

Altogether, it was another wonderful weekend and I look forward to the next year's.

When we got home, Gommie and I continued to tangle, playing with some 3Zs.  I drew a continuous string on six of them and we each went to work.  Here are mine and hers in progress.  See the nice shading on mine?  Yep, 6B!






Happy tangling, Gommie!

"Sing Out, Louise!"

Loved the clouds and mist--and this was the non-foggy day!

What an amazing weekend at Kripalu!!  So much to tell you about my singing workshop and the weekend itself.

Way back in fifth grade, as we prepared to enter sixth, I considered joining the junior high school choir because I loved to sing.  But a friend warned me off, saying you had to sing alone in front of the whole choir.  That did it; I signed up for art and spent months drawing a single bottle with a pencil.  Blah.  I tried singing again in Chicago in the all-women Artemis Singers but didn't stay with it too long because I was too self-conscious.  (And practices were far away.)  And so, as an adult, I've fulfilled my love of singing at home with the family casually, in the car to the radio, at church for 2-3 hymns a week, and as a Girl Scout leader.  I'm a great group singer--I just follow along, with more enthusiasm than talent.  I'm terrible with lyrics but very good at inventing them.

And I sing to my hospice patients.  Once patients pass a certain point on their dying journey, they don't really respond to conversation anymore.  But they like to feel a visitor's presence and so I sing.  I try to sing soft things--"Amazing Grace," if they are religious (there are sometimes rosaries or prayer cards and the like on the nightstand), or familiar songs like "Simple Gifts" and "Love Me Tender."  I carry the lyrics around in case I forget.  Sometimes I sing for 30 minutes or more, moving into lullabies, folk songs, and various simple chants.  And I repeat.

When I saw that Kripalu offered The Natural Singer workshop, I decided to take it--to boost my confidence and to acquire some singing techniques, skills, warm ups that would stand me in good stead.  And it did all that and more.

Of course, when I signed up way back when, I had no idea there would be a Woman's March (much less not a woman president.)  Sigh.  Marching isn't my thing, physically, so I didn't cancel the class.

The Workshop

Saw lots of fun patterns for Zentangle

There were 30 people in our group, ranging from little singing ability to professional (albeit ones who desired improvement); only three were men.  I was definitely one of the youngest, with maybe two or three others--the rest were in their 50s and 60s.  Almost all white.  (So, very much like Kripalu itself--middle aged, white, female.)

Our teacher was Claude Stein, an industry professional who has worked as a vocal coach, producer, and now, in addition, teaches these workshops to encourage non- and budding professionals.  He says he tried his hand at writing but found he could make a career out of vocal coaching.  His ear and his skill with impromptu piano playing were impressive!

I don't want to say too much about the class itself, knowing that he offers it several times a year and earns his livelihood from it, in part.  Besides, I'm not really qualified to accurately describe the theories and practices.

So, the class was organized around warm ups and exercises AND personal vocal coaching.  For the first two of ten hours, we learned ways to improve our voice, our instrument.  Mainly, we focused on lowering the voice box, checking pitch, loosening our jaws, etc., through "nyawn," "MMMmmmm," "bum bum bum," "eh-gah-eh," lip thrills, etc.  We also did a lot of call and response, repeat-after-me singing.  And we even paired up with another person and sang directly to them.

Together, we sang alleluia, "We Shall Overcome," "This Little Light of Mine," "How Could Anyone?," and, one of my new favorites, "It's in Every One of Us."  Yes, lots of relatively liberal, feel-good songs that we sing at my Unitarian Universalist church, too--perfect for the day of the inauguration and the day of the Women's March.

We started each session with some exercises and some group singing.  And then we had vocal coaching.  I sang "Mama Loves Me," by Deidre McCalla, the lullaby about two mothers and their rainbow-color kids.  I know it backwards and forwards and thought I could sing it without panicking. I'd considered "Water is Wide" and "Summertime" but wasn't confident of the lyrics under pressure.

Oh, the pressure.  I was so nervous.  And it actually got worse as I sang, so that my voice shook.  And I got teared up.  It wasn't just singing in front of people, or singing the song from the kiddos' babyhood; it was also having discussed my hospice work beforehand.  "So," he asked, "yours is probably the last song they hear?" or something to that effect.  Yeah, I hadn't quite considered it that way.  But yes, I have sung in several cases the last music patients have heard, to the best of my knowledge (I'm rarely there at the very end.)  He said more than once that I did good, important work.  And immediately, a few of my class started tearing up (especially when I did, but several of us were cryers.)

Oddly, really oddly, I sang so much higher than I usually do.  I don't know if I started off to high or if it was the physiology of it--he suggested it was the energy of the moment, when I asked--but he said "the fragile thing" worked for my voice and needs.  Can't usually belt or jam out in a hospice setting, it's true.  And so I practiced gentleness, smoothness, tenderness.  He applauded that I sang right through the emotion, that I just kept going even when it made my voice unreliable.  He tried to get me to dispel my fears with some call-and-response, first loud (even with stomping my foot and belting) and then softly ("I have the voice of an angel.  I bring love.  I bring peace.")  It was all very emotional.  (Three people came up to me afterwards, two with hospice stories, and one with a bisexual daughter.  It meant a lot to me to talk to them.)


It was easier to listen to, learn from, and clap for everyone else once I was done!  He met each person where she or he was (we had let him know what we wanted--I wanted more confidence and skill to sing to my hospice patients), from beginner all the way to pro.  And he was always encouraging, even when he was fierce or funny or had us say "fuck!"  I learned so much just listening--and there was some great music and new songs and touching breakthroughs.

On Saturday night, many of the group met informally for karaoke.  We sang a lot of women's empowerment music--"I Will Survive," "Natural Woman," "These Boots were Made for Walking," etc.  I sang both "Cottonfields" and "Summertime" a cappella, just because I didn't want to have to chase the karaoke accompaniment.  And this time my voice was more like my regular singing voice, lower.  But with more resonance--all those low voice box and jaw exercises.  I liked it.  And these women were fun--we laughed and sang and cheered together for two hours.

I can already tell that I have more confidence in my singing, not because I'm that much better, but because I know I enjoy it and that there really isn't anything to be embarrassed about--even if I go higher than I'm used to, forget the lyrics, bottom out on the low notes, get off key, or forget the tune.  It's more about my passion and emotional expression.  And that is a priceless gift from this weekend.

Even better:  I signed up for weekly online exercises, particularly because I know I'll forget aspects of the ones we tried.  I've already practiced today!  (Don't laugh, but I think there have been two unexpected benefits:  singing exercises my core AND the jaw and throat exercises seem to have helped the ear pressure which contributed to my hearing loss issues!!!)  I've also made a Kripalu play list with some of the songs people sang this weekend, many of which were new to me--"How Can I Keep From Singing?," "Give Yourself to Love," "Moonshadow."  I love learning new songs.

We ended the weekend with a sing along, finishing with Kate Wolf's "Give Yourself to Love," which really encapsulated the weekend.

Kind friends all gathered 'round, there's something I would say:
That what brings us together here has blessed us all today.
Love has made a circle that holds us all inside.
Where strangers are as family, loneliness can't hide.
You must give yourself to love if love is what you're after;
Open up your hearts to the tears and laughter
And give yourself to love, give yourself to love.
I've walked these mountains in the rain and learned to love the wind;
I've been up before the sunrise to watch the day begin.
I've always knew I'd find you, though I never did know how;
Like sunshine on a cloudy day stand before me now.
So give yourself to love if love is what you're after;
Open up your hearts to the tears and laughter
And give yourself to love, give yourself to love.
Love is born in fire; it's planted like a seed.
Love can't give you everything, but it gives you what you need.
And love comes when you're ready, love comes when you're afraid;
It'll be your greatest teacher, the best friend you have made.
So give yourself to love if love is what you're after;
Open up your hearts to the tears and laughter
And give yourself to love, give yourself to love.
Give yourself to love if love is what you're after;
Open up your hearts to the tears and laughter
And give yourself to love, give yourself to love

Kripalu
And you know I love many aspects of Kripalu--the food, the labyrinth, the amazing mountain scenery, the gift shop!  Yeah, it's a little hard for me to be around all those extremely fit bodies in extremely revealing Lycra yoga clothes.  At least it was winter and they were more covered up--no mid-drifts or obvious camel-toes because of the long shirts.  If I didn't have body issues, being at Kripalu would probably give me some--though, no one treated me any differently.

Some of the food:

• breakfast:  masala soy chai, steel cut oatmeal, quinoa or millet "cream," egg bakes with turkey bacon or kale and the like, buckwheat blueberry muffins, Kripalu granola, roasted potatoes.
• lunch and dinner:  mixed greens with House Dressing, macaroni and cheese, squash "mac", pad thai, Sesame Tofu, chipotle chicken, sauteed kale, roasted roots, curried egg salad, vegan spread, chicken with green peppercorn sauce, white fish with fennel and onion, and others I can't recall now . . . 
• Iced Moroccan Mint tea, vanilla cake, banana bread with whipped cream

And, for the first time, I did Yoga Dance (with teacher Michelle Dalbec.)  I'm not sure how to explain it.  It's more interpretive dance than yoga, in that there are no poses or choreography.  You respond to prompts--make a pattern with your feet or your arms, use your left side or your right mainly, dance to the rhythm, dance the spirit of forgiveness . . . I can't think of all the prompts.  She quoted Jewel Mathieson's poem about high-powered dance, referred to the 5Rhythms work of Gabrielle Roth, even quoted Stravinsky ("I haven't understood a bar of music in my life, but I have felt it.")  All these women dancing their dance to the music.  I found it all very freeing, especially a spoken word performance by John De Kadt called "I am" ("I am not healed.  I am not broken.  I am not my story.  I am not my pain. etc"  And I danced and danced.  And with all that arm waving and foot tapping, it was a bit of a workout, too.

Why dance? 
This dance floor, my canvass, my playground
my therapist, my lover, my meditation, my church
The keys to the kingdom are rattling in my chest
the breath, lifeline to the divine
I come here for the caress of holy spirit thru my body
to feel the beloved in my blood, for a transfusion of light
I come here for the higher powered dance
To feel God's love blazing in my body
salvation from my small self
this body, kindling for this fire, this rhythm refuge
every beat and rest of one heart
this is my tribal church, my communion
this monastery of mind
this holy place in my heart
this pagoda in my palm alms
this sanctuary in my spine a sacrifice
this temple in my torso testifying
this shrine in chakra number three freeing
this higher powered dance
this, this is why I'm here
this is why we're here
for THIS dance
Jewel Mathieson

I also attended an evening Yoga Nidra, or sleepy yoga, session.  I'd done a bit of yoga nidra at another retreat.  You pretty much fall asleep for a short nap, complete with a warm blanket (and, this time, and eye cover) to the gentle voice of the teacher doing a guided meditation in a room with lots of other people.  They say you don't actually fall asleep--something about theta waves or whatever.  But some people were snoring and I definitely checked out awhile.  It is extremely relaxing, so that you have this heavy calmness afterwards.  I got a CD for Mama to use when she can't sleep (though, it didn't work on Bud last night!) I went to sleep not long afterwards.  

And the labyrinth--I walked it twice!  Even with the overcast, drippy but not actually chilly (until the last day) weather (besides, I like looking at lots of gray cloud layers.)  I just love walking labyrinths.  And this is a good one, with neat, even paths and nice shrubs; no wildflowers this time of year.  Nor did I see the mama bear and cub that apparently hibernate on the property (and who have been seen recently.)  On my first walk, I introduced a woman to labyrinths who was walking for the first time--she was confusing it with a maze and was afraid she would get lost.  I told her she wouldn't and that there were only two real guidelines--step out of the way if you pass someone and walk in quiet if not silence (yeah, she was chatting with me a lot, but we were the only two there so I helped.)  Otherwise, I told her it could be seen as a metaphor for life and that she just had to walk her own path.  I forgot to tell her about leaving an offering/trinket in the middle, but I know she stood and stared at the collection.  I had an art rock for each visit.  After she left, I sang my metta meditation chant as I walked:

May all beings be happy,
all beings be at peace.
May all beings be happy,
all beings be at peace.
All free from suffering,
all free from suffering.
All beings be happy,
all beings be at peace.
(Kristopher Lindquist)

My second walk was with Mama, who joined me on Monday for lunch and a few hours on site before driving home.   We always walk separately, but I still love sharing labyrinths with her.  She liked it and the food and the view.  I know she'd never take the singing workshop, but maybe we can go to Kripalu together sometime.

And I know there will be lots of singing before that.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Thai Sesame Tofu--approximation of Kripalu recipe
l package firm tofu
6 TBS each of: tamari, brown rice vinegar, toasted sesame oil
1/2 cup water
1-2 TBS white wine
2 TBS chopped ginger
2 TBS chopped garlic
1 1/2-2 TBS honey
Toasted sesame seeds
Canola or other flavorless oil for greasing the pan                      

Dice the tofu into approximately 1″ squares. Combine all the ingredients in a large bowl. Add the tofu and marinate for 30-60 minutes. Drain tofu and place the cubes on lightly oiled baking pan.  Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.

(Alternative:  1/2-1 cup extra firm tofu in 1/2" cubes,  marinated in 1 tsp soy sauce for approx. ten minutes.   Bake at 350 degrees for 45 min)

Kripalu House Dressing

Makes about 2 cups

1 cup sunflower oil or grape seed oil
2 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
¼ cup tamari (natural soy sauce)
¼ cup lemon juice
1/3 cup sesame tahini
2 cloves garlic
½ tablespoon dry mustard powder
½ teaspoon salt
½ tablespoon chili powder
pinch cayenne
½ cup water

Combine all ingredients and blend using a standard blender or immersion blender.

Kripalu Moroccan Mint Tea

Makes 6 cups

6½ cups water
½ cup fresh mint (stems and all), washed
2 tablespoons or 6 tea bags green tea
1 to 2 tablespoons sweetener of choice (organic sugar, agave, or honey)

Bring water to a boil. Turn off heat, add mint, and allow to steep for five minutes. Return to a boil, turn off heat, and add tea. Allow tea to steep no more than three minutes. (Green tea becomes bitter when steeped too long.) Remove tea and mint; sweeten to taste. Serve hot, or make iced tea by refrigerating until cold, or pouring cooled tea over ice.

Masala Chai

Makes about 4 cups.

2 tablespoons whole cardamom
2 teaspoons whole cloves
2 cinnamon sticks
1 whole stars of anise
1/2 teaspoon whole black peppercorns
1 tablespoon slice fresh ginger
4 black tea bags
2 cups milk (or substitute soy milk)
2 cups water
1 to 3 tablespoons sweetener of choice

Combine all spices and tie them in a cheesecloth. Using a rolling pin or other heavy utensil, lightly pound the spices to crush them slightly. Place milk, water, and spices in the cheesecloth in a pot and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and let simmer for 15 minutes. Bring water back to a boil, turn off, and add black tea. Let steep for 5 minutes, then strain. Add sweetener of choice and stir to dissolve. Serve warm, or chill over ice for a cooling afternoon treat.

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.