To JLD: My Favorite Season

In the autumn the earth sheds whatever is unnecessary for the coming season of cold and stillness. The green leaves of spring and summer are given up to the wind by the trees that created them; as their verdant shades fade, they are made beautiful in fiery colors that oppose the air's wintry chill. This was my father's favorite time of year. He had to leave us at this time of year. He was born in the spring, when the natural world becomes expansive and new, but autumn was the season in which he felt most at home. A peculiar melancholia precedes the anniversary of his death; a creeping sadness that seems to have no reason, until the date on the calendar is realized. 'Oh, it is that day,' I think, and wonder how best to approach it. In many ways, I like to think of it as being just another day, after all, my Dad's death is not something I wish to dwell upon. But, if I were to move through this day without some sort of acknowledgement of what was lost, and of what changed, and out of respect for death and life, I would be turning against my own nature. So, this day has become both dreaded and welcome, for me, as the years have moved on. I celebrate and honor the life of a man who taught me to try and leave things in a better way than I found them, and I take a moment to mourn what was lost to me and my family. While this day is just a day, it is also sacred, as everyday should be. Whatever time I have to spend in the company of those I love is a sacred day, whatever day I rise and greet the sun and enjoy a cup of coffee is a sacred day. Just as Dad taught me to have an appreciation for the big moments in life, he really taught me to enjoy the nearby, simple things. Today has been a beautiful, overcast autumn day. There are few leaves left on the trees, and the ones that remain are not the bright oranges one sees early in the season, but the deep reds and purples, and dry browns of late fall. The air in this high desert is clear and has a bite to it now that the days are shorter. This is a day that my father would have enjoyed. And this is my favorite season.

Rice Cakes!

That's what I'm eating right now. I kinda hate 'em. It's like eating crunchy, flavored, styrofoam... These ones are "Honey Nut;" they taste like neither. But I digress, this is my weekly Eagles Wisdom post and, my measurement of blog weeks is in the number of days I have off; so 7 days off of work equals a week... that's why it's been two real weeks since my last post, or something like that. Without the help of my friends, Ernest and Julio Gallo, this post is bound to be even suckier than usual, but I must keep my commitment to the great musical institution that is the Eagles. I had some notes... dammit... lost 'em. Ok, so this post is supposed to be about "Seven Bridges Road," which was not written by the Eagles, but I like their version better. Sorry, Steve Young. Here are some thoughts to get your summer started...

Today was the Summer Solstice, marking the actual beginning of summer, although it doesn't look like the Mountain West will get much of one. I would go out and dance around a bonfire, naked, this evening, but alas, no bonfire and therefore, no nakedness either. So... "Seven Bridges Road," the history of this song is shrouded in the mists of wikipedia; basically, it's the road that leads to the cemetary where Hank Williams' is buried. If you want to know more about it, please feel free to utilize google yourself. Ummm... Ah yes, my point... There really isn't much of one (but I'm sure I'll come up with something by the end of this post), except that this song reminds me of when I was a little bit younger and a lot more invincible. In my moderately crazy youth, I used to spend my free time tearing up tiny californian backroads in my '86 Volvo station wagon. Thank god my parents picked out that tank as my first car, otherwise I may not have fared so well when I went through that other teenage milestone... totalling the first car. My brother never did this, but that's just because I gave him a good example of how not to be.

This song sounds like summer to me, reminding me of all the places I'd drive to, out in the boonies with my friends, who felt like family. It reminds me of a time when I felt free and hemmed in, all at once; it reminds me of when I was both excited by and petrified of my future; it reminds me of who I once was, and how small pleasures are the best. So, here's to the sweetness of summer...

"Seven Bridges Road"

There are stars
In the Southern sky
Southward as you go
There is moonlight
And moss in the trees
Down the Seven Bridges Road

Now I have loved you like a baby
Like some lonesome child
And I have loved you in a tame way
And I have loved you wild

Sometimes there's a part of me
Has to turn from here and go
Running like a child from these warm stars
Down the Seven Bridges Road

There are stars in the Southern sky
And if ever you decide
You should go
There is a taste of time sweetened honey
Down the Seven Bridges Road

Eagles flying high...

Hehehehe... Ok, so I saw the Eagles play the other night. And today, it hit me; I have now achieved one of my life-long adolescent goals... I mean, I've wanted to see them play since I was 13! So, after achieving the impossible, I will be posting "Eagles Wisdom" once a week to highlight their awesomeness... Until I run out of wise ideas from their songs... First pearl of wisdom: "...it's those restless hearts that never mend..." from Johnny Come Lately.
What's a "restless heart?" Is it one that moves from the arms of one lover to another? A person that can never settle in one place? Or, the one that is never content with where they are? Will post my meditations on this subject later...

Thinking about T. Rex

So I'm going to update y'all on what's been on or in my mind recently. I cannot get T. Rex songs out of my head right now. I like to boogie as much as the next chick, but the songs keep playing over and over in my head and now I'm tired of boogeying, putting black cats on my shoulders (I have three), and dancing with lizard leather boots on (ew). None of my projects are progressing right now, but that's not T. Rex's fault. The Wasabi Peas socks haven't gone passed the top of the cuff, my new psychadelic colored Noro top doesn't have even one lace repeat completed, and the Jared Flood Bridgewater shawl is going nowhere (this is the shawl I started so I could be a step ahead of one of my friends, fat chance!)... I have no time to knit teeny tiny lace in my house. Ok, no more griping. Everything gets done one stitch at a time. And, in that vein...

Things and thoughts just seem to pile up around me and inside of my head. The future, the future, you're all I've been thinking about lately. Lists of things I have yet to do in preparation for school, for more life, haunt me at every turn and I sit back sometimes and wonder why I haven't completed as much as I should have, when I should have. I hate that word, should. It implies so many things; passed up goals, missed opportunities, sloth, past potential. Shake it off. We all think these things, right? But this life, this day, this project, that job isn't about the end product. Cliche coming... It's about the journey there and the meanderings and diversions along the way. And it's all one thing at a time, just take care of what I can in this moment.

If I had finished school, etc, and my life had gone according to plan, I wouldn't be in this spot right now; I wouldn't know the people that I know, I wouldn't have seen the places I have seen. This world has pushed a great deal in front of my eyes, and without the disappointments and failures I have experienced, I wouldn't know how to appreciate things that truly count; watching my kitten chase dream spiders (she hallucinates a lot), feeling the springtime sun, humming along to T. Rex (see, slipped that one back in there), and taking unexpected opportunities that lead to far more enriching experiences than driving a luxury car and having, having, having a load of fancy crap to show off to others. To be continued... ;)

Knitting with silk and other sensual pleasures

So, for those of you who don't know, I work in a yarn shop, teaching knitting, crochet and selling all manner of fiber accoutrements. I love it. Not just because it's relatively low key and speaks to the underachiever within, but because of everything I see, hear and touch (there's also some tasty moments, but those have more to with lunch than work, and there's not much smell going on in the shop unless some wool got wet). We receive shipments each week of different yarns; basic wools, ready to turn into anything you can imagine, fuzzy mohairs, strong cottons, and silks. Silks that feel like cool, liquid butter moving between your fingertips, silks that smell like a crisp, autumn breeze; last week we received silk. It's always seemed outside of my sphere of creation, silk. It's cool when I want warm, it's delicate when I want sturdy, it's luxurious; and what would I do with luxury?
I bought it, that's what I did. I had to have those colors in my possession; creamy orange and all colors of the sunrise; I deserved this silk. So, that got me thinking; had I always avoided silk before because I thought I didn't deserve it, and what else am I missing out on simply because I thought I didn't deserve it? Heavy thoughts for so small a purchase. Knitting with this yarn has been somewhat cathartic, for me. Every yarn that passes through my fingers and onto my needles is appreciated, but this one made me think, and now I'm dumping old ideas. Although the fanciest places I tend to go on any regular basis are coffee houses, and my critters are the only ones critiquing my style; I deserve a little fancy. I deserve a little soft, delicate, slinky; after all, this life is not all about the utilitarian. And with this in mind, I spent my time on a recent trip watching the wind in the trees, wondering how it felt; noticing every shade of gray through indigo in the clouds... It was decadent. And now I feel like everyday I deserve a little of that luxury, I deserve a little moment to savor my senses and feel everything. While it is easy to feel that I am undeserving of such decadence; I am going to allow myself to experience these things because I can. So, what do you deserve? Maybe you should go out and get what you thought you never deserved, or at least give it a good try (unless you're one who has impulse control issues, etc).

Another Good Reason Not to Shoot Nukes at Asteroids : Discovery News

Another Good Reason Not to Shoot Nukes at Asteroids : Discovery News

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The Ripple Effect

Whatever our religious or political beliefs may be, it is the actions we take each day in our lives that makes the biggest impact on this earth. So, while many of us may be thumping on our soap boxes and proselytizing in our cubicles; what have you done personally to help your fellow woman or man? What have you done without a thought of any payback, without a chance that they will be swayed to your way of thinking? What have you done to help your community without a thought for yourself or your cause? I am not asking this to point fingers or make anyone feel judged. It just seems that lately I find myself spending a great deal more time complaining about my situation and the plight of the world, than I do actually doing something about it. This is something I need to change and I am just wondering how many others feel the same way. So, with this in mind, I would like to know others stories of good 'samaritan-ism' or ideas of how they will integrate it into their lives.