Personal Metaphors

Seventeen

2009-11-12T20:36:44Z

An Open Letter of Love and Celebration of Seventeen Years Together

Dear Michael,

If this seems eerily familiar to you, it should -- until this day seventeen years ago, this was all you had of me, these words on a computer screen. Seventeen years ago it was difficult to send pictures over phone lines and modems, and we called what we did "netmail" instead of "email." Seventeen years ago, we paid through the nose for long distance phone calls, relative to today.

Seventeen years ago we'd come to the agonizing conclusions that our first marriages were irrevocably dead. Seventeen years ago, we'd discovered that somehow, impossibly, we were in love.

Seventeen years ago, our first day spent together was also a Friday 13th. :) It turned out to be the luckiest day of my life.

I still don't know how we didn't tear each other apart in our grief. I still don't know where I found the patience to go through the months of defining terms with you, having discovered that though English was your first language and mine, we didn't speak it the same way. All those words we traded for all those months, only to find out we couldn't talk to each other face to face without fighting! How achingly ironic it was and yet somehow, we survived it.

What I wasn't sure it could survive was our wedding each other two years later, though the jury's still out on that one, I guess. =) Still, it's been 17 years. We have come a helluva long way, baby. In celebration of this, and of our most recent renewal of our bonds of love and affection, let me tell you (and everyone else) what I love about you:

Your competence. I know you struggle with this personally, but here on the outside of your skin you still look like the most supremely competent man I know. Whether it's fixing a toilet, a car, a door, or a broken heart; whether it's building a deck, or a floor stand for my stitching, or a life together -- when something needs to be done, everyone you know turns to YOU to make it happen. I love that about you.
Your stubbornness. I actually have a love/hate relationship with this part of you, but right now when I think about the hard times, the fights, the hurt feelings, the "deal breakers" we've faced in our time together, I'm terribly grateful for and love the fact that your hard-headed stubbornness kept you from giving up on me -- on us.
The silver in your hair. I got to watch almost every strand come into being in our time together. They glitter in the sunlight, and in my heart.
Your integrity. You don't knowingly compromise yourself. In this modern world of relative morals and an almost Machiavellian urge to do or say anything to justify the "bottom line," you just don't go there. I love it that integrity always wins out, for you.
Your laughter. When we first got together I made it a personal goal to make you laugh at least once every single day -- and I mean laugh-from-the-gut kind of laugh. You were such an uptight white guy back then baby, you seriously needed to laugh, every day. You learned to laugh with me, at me, and then even at yourself. It was a lot of years before I missed a day, but even now I still love it when you laugh like that.
Your hands. Yes they're calloused and hard from a lifetime of using them for work. But "work is love made visible,*" darling. You've used your hands in a lifetime of such loving -- I'd have to be dead not to respond when you touch me with them.
Animals dig you. That may seem a silly reason to love you, but I knew when my cat Della adopted you as her second person that you were just all kinds of all right. :) For our darling lab Kira, the sun rose and set wherever you happened to be. In our time together we've had quite a few animals and they've all adored you. I can SO see why.
Your writing, of course. You don't get to write stories very often anymore but I unfailingly enjoy the ones you do. Your ability to craft a plot from beginning to end and make it fun with lively characters and zippy dialog -- what is not to love, here?
Your openness of mind, or perhaps the voracious appetite of your intellect. At 50 you're still learning, still looking for new knowledge, still willing to take on new challenges. You don't just look for stuff that validates what you already think you know -- you're looking for new stuff to know! Thank you for not letting your mind calcify and fossilize. I love you for that.
Your love of toys. :) Yes, they're grown-up toys now and yes they serve some tool-like functions, but you know as well as I do that's what they are. I love that we share a love of some of them, like smart phones and computers. I love that we can geek out together over stuff like that.
Your vibe when you're working on something. I don't know how to explain this so anyone else would understand it. There's this "groove" you get into when you're puttering on a project. Aura? Attitude? Energy? Maybe it's that "love made visible" thing again, but it's damn sexy, baby. Seriously.
Your cooking in general, and your baking in particular. Your sourdough repertoire (including especially waffles!), your pumpkin pies, your Parker House rolls. The chocolate confections you bake for my birthdays and other occasions. I also love it that you bake all these things and we eat them and you never, ever tease me about being overweight. :)
I love to go camping with you. I love how we settle into a routine of tasks without a lot of discussion. I love that you get up to start the fire in the mornings, and the coffee. I love how warm you are in the sleeping bags, and that I feel completely safe with you there. I love how serene you become as you accept nature's renewing grace and I can't wait for us to get up to Twin Lakes this summer.
Your inner strength. That Bible verse you were given as a young man -- you know, the one about being the rock? Well, it was spot-on and it doesn't really matter what other metaphor you use for it. When my world is coming apart around me and I can't find anything inside myself to hold on to, you are there. You are always there, standing firm in the midst of my storms, giving me something to cling to when all else seems lost. Moreover, when the storm has passed and I'm feeling strong again, you let me stand on my own and you're never, ever threatened by that. For this reason alone, I would love you enduringly.
Sleeping together. And I'm not referring to sex here though that's swell too -- I mean actually sleeping together. Sometimes it's tough when your body is hurting. You don't sleep well during those times and neither do I. But by and large sleeping with you in the bed with me, waking up with you beside me... I love that. I just do.

There's so much more about you to love, but I hope I've gotten the most important ones. As for the rest, well, we can talk about them later. You know, when we're alone. And not sleeping together.

You rock my world, sweetheart. I'm totally looking forward to seventeen more years with you.

*-From The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran.

Another reminder

2009-11-11T21:50:57Z

I'll be reposting blurbs to remind those of you who've seen this already as well as introducing it to those whose Flists push posts down quickly (I know mine does).

I'm in a "mutual follow" relationship with Tony and Clare of Just a Moment Cross Stitch Designs in the UK and will be placing an order with them this month. Because I don't have enough local business for X-Stitch Xpress just yet, I'm extending the opportunity to order some of these great charts (Mystic Mog and those lovely biscornus are my favorites) through me, saving you overseas shipping. :)

If you're a US stitcher or you love someone who is, take a look through Just a Moment Cross Stitch Designs and see if anything tugs at your heart. Drop me a line here in the comments or by email to xstitch (dot) xpress (at) gmail (dot) com. Tony and Clare say that if I fax the order in they'll likely have it out in the post (now that theirs is no longer on strike) the next day at the latest, so you'll DEFINITELY get them in time for the holidays!

Don't worry about the currency conversion unless you want to -- I can figure it out along with normal US postage and let you know what the total will be. Once I have the funds deposited, the order goes out -- but to be fair to those who've already indicated they wish to order, I'm imposing a "no later than" deadline of 11/17/09.

Thanks for reading along!

Quick reminder

2009-11-06T00:52:14Z

For my Stitchy Sisters

2009-11-03T19:00:54Z

Well, and anyone else who might be interested, too.

Over on Twitter, I'm in a "mutual follow" relationship with Clare of Just a Moment Cross Stitch Designs of the UK. I adored her Mystic Mog charts as well as her biscornus. I'd asked her if they had a US distributor for their designs; she told me they did not. However, she has offered X-Stitch Xpress a "trade deal" (I assume that's BritSpeak for "retailer's deal") on their charts!

Now... unfortunately for me, the stitchers here locally so far are rather... well... they're not buying too many charts anymore, mostly because most of them have achieved SABLE and the "LE" part of that acronym is more of an immediacy than you might think. I haven't managed to recruit any new stitchers into the craft yet (working on that!), no ordering joy there either. SSSOOOO.... I really really want to place an order and to make it worth the cost of shipping, I thought I'd throw the offer open to you. :)

Here's the deal: If you are in the US, place an order from Just a Moment Cross Stitch Designs with me. Figure out the price conversion to USD. Or, ask me to do it if you're more comfortable with that -- Google is My Friend. ;) Once I have enough orders confirmed I'll figure out the shipping costs, we'll get the $$ together and I'll place the order with Clare as soon as I can get it shipped off.

Now, if you don't stitch personally but you love someone who does, feel free to place a gift order for that special stitcher in your life. Just let me know in private message, if you think he or she reads this journal and you want it to be a surprise.

Let's place a deadline on this for November 17, 2009. If I get enough orders before then, it'll happen all the sooner! :)

ETA: My email address is xstitch (dot) xpress (at) gmail (dot) com,for those of you who aren't yet on my Flist here or on Facebook.

I so wish I'd gotten this yesterday.

2009-10-14T17:46:27Z

But let me preface this with a clip from last week's Freewill Astrology horoscope for Sagittarius:

"...I celebrate this breakthrough as a symbol of the events that are about to unfold in your personal life: the long-lost truth finally revealed."

And it was exactly, literally true. That did happen. Yesterday, in fact. My entire ground of being and understanding of who I am got yanked out from under me -- and I did the yanking.

So this morning, the new Brezsny's newsletter arrives. First, Sagittarius, since that is my sun sign:

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): "Jazz music is an intensified feeling of nonchalance," said playwright Francoise Sagan. Keep that in mind during the coming week, Sagittarius. Whether or not you actually play or listen to jazz, do whatever's necessary to cultivate intensified feelings of nonchalance. It's extremely urgent for you to be blithe and casual. You desperately need to practice non-attachment as you develop your ability to not care so much about things you can't control. You've got to be ferociously disciplined as you transcend the worries and irritations that won't really matter much in the big scheme of things.

Yeah. That. "The coming week" started yesterday, as it turns out. Why couldn't that have gotten here before then? I might have spared myself some drama and embarrassment.

Scorpio is my moon sign, so I tend to read it also for emotional/subconscious stuffs.

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): Your circumstances aren't as dire as you feared, Scorpio. The freaky monster in the closet is bored with spooking you and will soon be departing the premises. Meanwhile, one of your other tormentors is about to experience some personal sadness that will soften his or her heart toward you. There's more: The paralysis that has been infecting your funny bone will miraculously cure itself, and the scheduled revelation of the rest of your dirty secrets will be summarily canceled. I hope you're not feeling so sorry for yourself that you fail to notice this sudden turn in your luck. It may take an act of will for you to wake up to the new dispensations that are available.

So. Things are pretty rough as I try to figure out where I am now, but the upheaval is local, limited, and probably not as bad as I feared.

I'm still picking up the pieces though.

Hey.

2009-10-13T23:03:31Z

I'm still around.

There's just a lot going on right now. As usual, some is pretty okay, some is not.

Will journal something when I feel like putting order to it...

Dare Change!

2009-10-07T17:14:34Z

Share Freely.

Forwarded Recasting Call

2009-09-29T22:41:32Z

I'm forwarding this for the GM, who is a friend. I have a vested interest in seeing this character return to the game, so I'm doing all I can to make that happen. :)

Title: Recast Casting Call for Stormclouds

I am looking to recast a character in my AD&D game that is run here (http://rpg-fusion.com). The game is Stormclouds on the Horizon and is epic fantasy at its best.

The character's name is Tob, and he was played by a Robin Kaspar back during the LostCoastGaming Site days. He had many RL complications and it doesn't look like he will return to gaming at all. I had been in sporadic contact with him, but that has ceased altogether. I can only believe he no longer wishes to take part in any gaming.

I have held off recasting this role for awhile, but feel it is time to move on. He is a wonderful character and there is a history for him as well as future. I would hate to see the character and his future disappear from the fabric of the story we are weaving.

He is a ranger and has been Janus' best friend and protector. I strongly encourage everyone to give serious consideration to joining this game and taking over the role. Tob disappeared in the middle of the night before the group went down into the catacombs under Castle Northwatch on Guardian's Isle. He left on a mission most dire, and THAT is a story to tell in itself.

Once again, I strongly encourage anyone who loves roleplaying and epic fantasy to consider this and apply. Any interested parties can email me at paragon@rpg-fusion.com , or PM me via the site or the forum pm. I will get back with anyone that applies and we will take it from there. I WILL ask that all applicants review some of the past posts and maybe get with a couple of the players that had a lot of interaction with that character.

thanks

It's been a while since I did a quiz-meme...

2009-09-22T03:30:19Z

Your Animal is the Raven

You have an incredible work ethic and are very tenacious. You like to productive.

No matter what you want in life, you're committed to making it happen.

You are infinitely patent. You are philosophical about life and feel that good things will eventually come.

You believe it's important to carve out your own space in the world. You will change your life until you feel comfortable.

What's Your Celtic Animal?

Blogthings: We'll Tell You The Truth... Someone Has To!

Moving on...

2009-09-21T02:59:41Z

little_wren92 has made it back home safely, hopefully still as rested and relaxed as she was when she left here. Peace and quiet was all I had to give (sporadic dog barking aside) as I managed to become host to a ghastly digestive bug the day before she arrived and spent the week recovering from it, pretty much. We did get some stitching done, and a trip to 6Rivers Brewery for framboise lambic and good eats but that was about it, for our plans. I just couldn't manage any of the outings we'd talked about, either through unwillingness to stray far from a bathroom or just overall fatigue.

The dogs remembered her of course, and Libby was every bit as taken with her as I thought she'd be. :) I think in fact Libby is our cat now, hers and mine. The little fur baby's heart is big enough for that and more, for realz.

We watched movies in the evenings, ran out of the non-stop talking by Wednesday afternoon, I think -- but silences with good friends are no burden. We managed a trip to Fortuna, then through Old Town Eureka etc. for fun... and a dinner at the Sunset Restaurant at Cher-ae Heights Casino Friday evening. The Seafood Fettucini Alfredo remains a dish TO DIE FOR and I have never had tenderer, tastier fried calamari in my life.

As a long-time gamer, there's something inherently satisfying in munching on the battered, fried remains of the spawn of the elder gods... ;)

So, yeah. We talked kids, husbands, friends... gaming, writing, characters, disagreed about Arthurian legend... cross stitching and crafting in general, cooking... books and literature... music (she has good tunes on her Zune though, in honesty, I could have lived without all the Elvis *grin*), health, weight gain, weight loss... computers, smartphones... tossed around a couple of potential ideas for future vacations...

It was one of the quietest visits I've ever hosted, but that's no bad thing. I have every intention of making some different choices (physically and emotionally) so that the likelihood of me going through purge episode after a period of toxification will be more like an UNlikelihood. =)

Love you, Sue. I hope you wake tomorrow rested and ready to engage with your life again. *hugs*

Every herb bearing seed...

2009-09-06T23:49:13Z

I loved my herbal seasonal project as I stitched it (twice). I may have to do it again, finish it differently this time. Here's Autumn's herbs:

I post this because I've been harvesting herbs today -- chamomile, mugwort, oregano, lemon balm -- and hanging them to dry in my living room. This isn't a big house, I don't have a "drying room" or even a sewing/craft room, so a line strung across the center beam of my living room has to suffice. We like it -- in fact, we adore the scent of drying herbs. Better than any artificial pot-pourri or deodorizer. :)

There wasn't enough lavender this year to do much. I've clipped the 3 flowers that have already gone to seed and will sew them in January. I hope I get some shoots to replant. Wouldn't a lavender bed in my very own yard be lovely? I'd also like to plant some yarrow and more chamomile.

My catnip, thyme, and basil didn't do well this summer. I'm going to repot them and bring them indoors for the winter. Libby lurves her catnip plant, I'm not sure she's going to appreciate me bringing it inside and putting it where she can't get at it. Maybe I'll make a shelf for it -- and her -- or something. ;)

I picked some blackberries and made jam last week. There really aren't enough berries for wine this year, but there's plenty for a few pints of jam. Mr. Monster (our oversized monstera deliciosa plant) got a bath too, and turned in to face the room. He's already twisting, trying to face his meat platter-sized leaves back toward the window.

Yes, it's autumn, and I'm nesting. This is the season I get the deep cleaning bug -- my "spring cleaning" happens this time of year, just before we hibernate for about 8 months.

I'd love fall better if winter didn't follow so hard on its heels.

"I expect you not only to master music; I expect you to save the planet."

2009-09-04T18:14:18Z

A welcome address given to the parents of entering freshmen at the Boston Conservatory, given by Karl Paulnack, pianist and director of the music division. Emphasis formatting is mine.

Welcome Address, by Karl Paulnack

“One of my parents’ deepest fears, I suspect, is that society would not properly value me as a musician, that I wouldn’t be appreciated. I had very good grades in high school, I was good in science and math, and they imagined that as a doctor or a research chemist or an engineer, I might be more appreciated than I would be as a musician. I still remember my mother’s remark when I announced my decision to apply to music school—she said, “you’re WASTING your SAT scores.” On some level, I think, my parents were not sure themselves what the value of music was, what its purpose was. And they LOVED music, they listened to classical music all the time. They just weren’t really clear about its function. So let me talk about that a little bit, because we live in a society that puts music in the “arts and entertainment” section of the newspaper, and serious music, the kind your kids are about to engage in, has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with entertainment, in fact it’s the opposite of entertainment. Let me talk a little bit about music, and how it works.

The first people to understand how music really works were the ancient Greeks.And this is going to fascinate you; the Greeks said that music and astronomy were two sides of the same coin. Astronomy was seen as the study of relationships between observable, permanent, external objects, and music was seen as the study of relationships between invisible, internal, hidden objects. Music has a way of finding the big, invisible moving pieces inside our hearts and souls and helping us figure out the position of things inside us. Let me give you some examples of how this works.

One of the most profound musical compositions of all time is the Quartet for the End of Time written by French composer Olivier Messiaen in 1940. Messiaen was 31 years old when France entered the war against Nazi Germany. He was captured by the Germans in June of 1940, sent across Germany in a cattle car and imprisoned in a concentration camp.

He was fortunate to find a sympathetic prison guard who gave him paper and a place to compose. There were three other musicians in the camp, a cellist, a violinist, and a clarinetist, and Messiaen wrote his quartet with these specific players in mind. It was performed in January 1941 for four thousand prisoners and guards in the prison camp. Today it is one of the most famous masterworks in the repertoire.

Given what we have since learned about life in the concentration camps, why would anyone in his right mind waste time and energy writing or playing music? There was barely enough energy on a good day to find food and water, to avoid a beating, to stay warm, to escape torture—why would anyone bother with music? And yet—from the camps, we have poetry, we have music, we have visual art; it wasn’t just this one fanatic Messiaen; many, many people created art. Why? Well, in a place where people are only focused on survival, on the bare necessities, the obvious conclusion is that art must be, somehow, essential for life. The camps were without money, without hope, without commerce, without rec reation, without basic respect, but they were not without art. Art is part of survival; art is part of the human spirit, an unquenchable expression of who we are. Art is one of the ways in which we say, “I am alive, and my life has meaning.”

On September 12, 2001 I was a resident of Manhattan. That morning I reached a new understanding of my art and its relationship to the world. I sat down at the piano that morning at 10 AM to practice as was my daily routine; I did it by force of habit, without thinking about it. I lifted the cover on the keyboard, and opened my music, and put my hands on the keys and took my hands off the keys. And I sat there and thought, does this even matter? Isn’t this completely irrelevant? Playing the piano right now, given what happened in this city yesterday, seems silly, absurd, irreverent, pointless. Why am I here? What place has a musician in this moment in time? Who needs a piano player right now? I was completely lost.

And then I, along with the rest of New York, went through the journey of getting through that week. I did not play the piano that day, and in fact I contemplated briefly whether I would ever want to play the piano again. And then I observed how we got through the day.

At least in my neighborhood, we didn’t shoot hoops or play Scrabble. We didn’t play cards to pass the time, we didn’t watch TV, we didn’t shop, we most certainly did not go to the mall. The first organized activity that I saw in New York, that same day, was singing. People sang. People sang around fire houses, people sang “We Shall Overcome”. Lots of people sang America the Beautiful. The first organized public event that I remember was the Brahms Requiem, later that week, at Lincoln Center, with the New York Philharmonic. The first organized public expression of grief, our first communal response to that historic event, was a concert. That was the beginning of a sense that life might go on. The US Military secured the airspace, but recovery was led by the arts, and by music in particular, that very night.

From these two experiences, I have come to understand that music is not part of “arts and entertainment” as the newspaper section would have us believe. It’s not a luxury, a lavish thing that we fund from leftovers of our budgets, not a plaything or an amusement or a pass time. Music is a basic need of human survival. Music is one of the ways we make sense of our lives, one of the ways in which we express feelings when we have no words, a way for us to understand things with our hearts when we cannot with our minds.

Some of you may know Samuel Barber’s heartwrenchingly beautiful piece Adagio for Strings. If you don’t know it by that name, then some of you may know it as the background music which accompanied the Oliver Stone movie Platoon, a film about the Vietnam War. If you know that piece of music either way, you know it has the ability to crack your heart open like a walnut; it can make you cry over sadness you didn’t know you had. Music can slip beneath our conscious reality to get at what’s really going on inside us the way a good therapist does.

I bet that you have never been to a wedding where there was absolutely no music. There might have been only a little music, there might have been some really bad music, but I bet you there was some music. And something very predictable happens at weddings—people get all pent up with all kinds of emotions, and then there’s some musical moment where the action of the wedding stops and someone sings or plays the flute or something. And even if the music is lame, even if the quality isn’t good, predictably 30 or 40 percent of the people who are going to cry at a wedding cry a couple of moments after the music starts. Why? The Greeks. Music allows us to move around those big invisible pieces of ourselves and rearrange our insides so that we can express what we feel even when we can’t talk about it. Can you imagine watching Indiana Jones or Superman or Star Wars with the dialogue but no music? What is it about the music swelling up at just the right moment in ET so that all the softies in the audience start crying at exactly the same moment? I guarantee you if you showed the movie with the music stripped out, it wouldn’t happen that way. The Greeks: Music is the understanding of the relationship between invisible internal objects.

I’ll give you one more example, the story of the most important concert of my life. I must tell you I have played a little less than a thousand concerts in my life so far. I have played in places that I thought were important. I like playing in Carnegie Hall; I enjoyed playing in Paris; it made me very happy to please the critics in St. Petersburg. I have played for people I thought were important; music critics of major newspapers, foreign heads of state. The most important concert of my entire life took place in a nursing home in Fargo, ND, about 4 years ago.

I was playing with a very dear friend of mine who is a violinist. We began, as we often do, with Aaron Copland’s Sonata, which was written during World War II and dedicated to a young friend of Copland’s, a young pilot who was shot down during the war. Now we often talk to our audiences about the pieces we are going to play rather than providing them with written program notes. But in this case, because we began the concert with this piece, we decided to talk about the piece later in the program and to just come out and play the music without explanation.

Midway through the piece, an elderly man seated in a wheelchair near the front of the concert hall began to weep. This man, whom I later met, was clearly a soldier—even in his 70’s, it was clear from his buzz-cut hair, square jaw and general demeanor that he had spent a good deal of his life in the military. I thought it a little bit odd that someone would be moved to tears by that particular movement of that particular piece, but it wasn’t the first time I’ve heard crying in a concert and we went on with the concert and finished the piece.

When we came out to play the next piece on the program, we decided to talk about both the first and second pieces, and we described the circumstances in which the Copland was written and mentioned its dedication to a downed pilot. The man in the front of the audience became so disturbed that he had to leave the auditorium. I honestly figured that we would not see him again, but he did come backstage afterwards, tears and all, to explain himself.

What he told us was this: “During World War II, I was a pilot, and I was in an aerial combat situation where one of my team’s planes was hit. I watched my friend bail out, and watched his parachute open, but the Japanese planes which had engaged us returned and machine gunned across the parachute chords so as to separate the parachute from the pilot, and I watched my friend drop away into the ocean, realizing that he was lost. I have not thought about this for many years, but during that first piece of music you played, this memory returned to me so vividly that it was as though I was reliving it. I didn’t understand why this was happening, why now, but then when you came out to explain that this piece of music was written to commemorate a lost pilot, it was a little more than I could handle. How does the music do that? How did it find those feelings and those memories in me?”

Remember the Greeks: music is the study of invisible relationships between internal objects. This concert in Fargo was the most important work I have ever done. For me to play for this old soldier and help him connect, somehow, with Aaron Copland, and to connect their memories of their lost friends, to help him remember and mourn his friend, this is my work. This is why music matters.

What follows is part of the talk I will give to this year’s freshman class when I welcome them a few days from now. The responsibility I will charge your sons and daughters with is this:

“If we were a medical school, and you were here as a med student practicing appendectomies, you’d take your work very seriously because you would imagine that some night at two AM someone is going to waltz into your emergency room and you’re going to have to save their life. Well, my friends, someday at 8 PM someone is going to walk into your concert hall and bring you a mind that is confused, a heart that is overwhelmed, a soul that is weary. Whether they go out whole again will depend partly on how well you do your craft.

You’re not here to become an entertainer, and you don’t have to sell yourself. The truth is you don’t have anything to sell; being a musician isn’t about dispensing a product, like selling used Chevies. I’m not an entertainer; I’m a lot closer to a paramedic, a firefighter, a rescue worker. You’re here to become a sort of therapist for the human soul, a spiritual version of a chiropractor, physical therapist, someone who works with our insides to see if they get things to line up, to see if we can come into harmony with ourselves and be healthy and happy and well.

Frankly, ladies and gentlemen, I expect you not only to master music; I expect you to save the planet. If there is a future wave of wellness on this planet, of harmony, of peace, of an end to war, of mutual understanding, of equality, of fairness, I don’t expect it will come from a government, a military force or a corporation. I no longer even expect it to come from the religions of the world, which together seem to have brought us as much war as they have peace. If there is a future of peace for humankind, if there is to be an understanding of how these invisible, internal things should fit together, I expect it will come from the artists, because that’s what we do. As in the concentration camp and the evening of 9/11, the artists are the ones who might be able to help us with our internal, invisible lives.”

The Saga of the Giant Jesus Quilt at the Humboldt County Fair

2009-08-19T01:46:03Z

Get comfy kids. This one's a goody.

Most of you know I'm doing cross stitch demonstrations for a few days at the county fair this year. I was there on opening day, which was free admission, there was a huge crowd coming through the doors. Belotti Hall is where the "Home Arts" are judged and displayed, among them probably about fifty quilts.

One of them was the Giant Jesus Quilt.

Today Giant Jesus Quilt was right up in front by my demo table. On Thursday last he'd been over by the life-size horse constructed out of driftwood that was drawing tons of attention. I didn't know why the Giant Jesus Quilt had been moved, not my business. It's a nice enough quilt, you can see it won a couple of ribbons. I shrugged and sat up my table.

I did eventually hear why Giant Jesus Quilt had been moved. It seems the quilt's creator (not God Almighty. He was the other Jesus' creator) showed up yesterday and gave the hall's manager a ration of crap for not having Giant Jesus in a "better spot." I was pretending to be absorbed in my stitching at this time so I didn't react, but those being told the story seemed to feel the same way I did about it -- it had been in a terrific spot, given that it was right next to that horse sculpture and all. But -- and here's where it gets really interesting -- the woman then broke down into tears, literally actually crying, and near-hysteria insisted that Giant Jesus be moved so that he was the first thing which could be seen when people came through the front door.

Technically, it's a nice enough quilt, she did a good job with it. But there were a lot of other quilts in that hall that had ribbons on them too and quite frankly, to me Giant Jesus looks like he's caught a whiff of something out of the cattle barns, a few doors down.

Well now. The county fairgrounds are a lot like the county courthouse and we do have a constitution in this country that guarantees religious freedom. We also have court rulings which say that you can't favor the symbols of one religion over any other if the site is a state or federally funded one. But: There were no other religions represented (hardly surprising) and you have to pick your battles, after all. The hall manager moved the Giant Jesus Quilt so it was right up by my demo table.

I told you all this because, right after I set up my table and before I knew why Giant Jesus Quilt was my constant companion for the day, a girl ran up to the quilt exclaiming loudly, "Oh! Is that Kenny Rogers??"

I thought it was funny when I first heard it. In light of what I overheard later, I am richly appreciative of the irony, for sure.

The Giant Jesus Quilt is now the highlight of my fair experience this year. :-D

Qamala, pre-Phase 4

2009-08-18T03:27:55Z

Originally written for the Aldeborahnn campaign, now being rebooted at http://rpg-fusion.com. I want a copy of it here. Any and all feedback welcome. :)

"If you're trying to be inconspicuous you might want to damp down the sparkles, shireyet. They give you away every time."

The white-haired woman who was purchasing a kuyunga melon from a local vendor froze for an almost imperceptible moment. The words were inside her head, not outside, which probably should have been a threat but, of all the possible sources from which it could have come, the endearment in her native language told her that the sender had to be another Magellen.

"I can't help it. It's fresh fruit. Do you know how long it's been since I've had any?" she sent back, completing her purchase and taking the unexpected advice. The tiny motes of light that had been dancing in her hair faded into the strands themselves, giving the mortals around her every reason to assume it was a trick of the light. Which, of course, it was. "Who are you, where are you, and how did you know me?"

"Azubuke Zuberi," the voice graciously supplied. "But call me Azu, if you please. Anansiate, I'm afraid." Qamala nearly laughed aloud to hear the simultaneously impish and sheepish tone as he announced his line -- that of one of the oldest tricksters imaginable.

"It's all right. My sire was a trickster too, when he could be bothered to pay attention for long enough. Where are you?"

"Right before you, shireyet." Almost before the thought completed itself in her mind a tall, dark-skinned male stepped in front of her, relieving her of the melon with one hand and embracing her with his free arm, all in the time it took for her to register his presence -- his very attractive presence. Skin the color -- and scent? -- of dark chocolate, broad well-formed nose, high forehead, and jet-black hair in the funniest looking braids she'd ever seen. "You smell good," he grinned as he buried his nose in her hair. "I been too long from our home."

"So have I," Qamala nearly groaned, leaning into him with a sudden sense of gratitude for his presence. Another Magellen -- here on Corcyon 4, in the outskirts of known space. The sudden lurch of homesickness threatened to reduce her to tears and she clung to Azu for a long moment, unable to wordspeak or mindspeak.

"Hey, get a room, you two," a man called from nearby, trying to shoulder past them with a loaded crate on his shoulders.

"Good idea," Azubuke said playfully. He glanced at the man's retreating back; the bottom of his crate cracked and broke, spilling his produce all over the street, accompanied by swearing in what Qamala thought were about six languages. "Are you staying on this nowhere world for long, shireyet?"

She laughed and stepped back, taking his hand as if they'd been lovers for centuries, rather than having just met. "I don't know. Do you even want to know my name, Azu?"

"I was asked to keep an eye out for you, Qamala Sotiris," he replied, and she thought she could slip into the depths of those dark pools that were his eyes and stay for a long time. "You papa and you uncle, they awfully proud of you."

Sparkles immediately erupted from the center of her chest and danced about them both before she laughed and made them stop. "A little premature on their part, perhaps, but I'm glad I've pleased them so far. What are you doing on this nowhere world, Azu?"

He stopped them on the street corner and turned her face up to his, obviously liking what he saw. And when he said, "Waiting for you, of course" and her heart turned sudden flip-flops, she knew of a certainty that all the cautionary tales about Anansi and his line were nothing short of truth.

"Ah, which means you'll be gone by morning then," she retorted playfully, seeing he was taking them to a boarding house.

"Or you will, shireyet. Or you will."

*--*--*

The next span of time was a blur of warm sweaty skin and cool, tangy melon, of limbs and lives entangling for an elastic moment of sweet oblivion. Qamala had been telling the simple truth when she'd said she didn't know how long she would be in the Corcyon system; she hadn't intended to go there, and had no idea when it would be time to leave. That arrow hadn't been fired yet; in the interim she enjoyed the Magellen racial gift of savoring the "now" until it seemed to warp the fabric of time itself. After two decades of almost complete emotional isolation and loneliness, to be able to enjoy that gift with another who shared it? Absolutely priceless.

"You been with no other in all this time..." The mindspeak was softly sibilant inside her awareness. She and Azu were deeply within each other, and not just physically. "Beautiful Qamala, star-white hair and lilac eyes.... why?"

"You... are the first Magellen... I've met... since I left Eden..."

"Magellen not the only ones who can do this, you know."

Qamala sighed quietly, the conflict his questions invoked dragging her slowly from the total embrace they'd shared. Apologetic, Azu gathered her back in, overwhelming her body and consciousness with the kind of erotic onslaught that could beggar a pornographer's dreams.

"Don't leave me before you have to go, shireyet," his mind whispered. "I won't pry, just stay with me...."

In the end she shared it with him anyway, unburdening her heart even as her body sung with the stars themselves. It was fear, they both knew it; fear of loss, fear of starting things she couldn't finish, fear of conflict, broken hearts, and tearful recriminations, fear of the very mortality she'd been living with every day since leaving Eden.

Fear was part of the Great Arc too, they'd been taught. But in deeper understanding fears fell away, leaving room for wider embrace. Qamala saw the inhibiting truth in her fears even before Azu mindspoke.

"Anansi only have tricks for those who already be tricking themselves," he reminded her, smiling from inside like a multi-chorded rainbow. "If you can see for truth? Papa Spider, he got no hold on you. Now, you still gonna trick yourself, shireyet? Or you gonna let go of that, be the beautiful expression of Prime Thought you supposed to become?"

Qamala lifted her mouth to his, joy and gratitude spiking into the kind of ecstasy that carried them both into paradise. As she drifted into slumber sometime later, the taste of his chocolate skin lingered on her breath.

*--*--*

Corcyon 4 was a unique planet, habitable only in a band of twenty degrees latitude north and south of its equator. In that band, moderate temperatures, volcanic soil, few pests and frequent rains meant 3 good harvests a "year." The rest of the surface was covered with dense salt seas or deserts, largely impassable. They were a somewhat prosperous people, at least where they'd managed to avoid megacorporate control. It was the megacorps that caused Azu to find himself here, using the mischievous gifts of his line to rein in corporate power grabs and protect entrepreneurs and small cooperatives from being ploughed under.

"Is kind of a vacation," he admitted, feeding her a rompere, a food that nutritionally was a cross between a nut and an egg, with a delightful taste. "After the Athenian fleet beat back the Medraas at Inchon I travel the edges of the Neutral Zone for a bit, then caught a cargo ship bound here. Don't seem to be much need for Papa Spider in the old empire, nor the new one. Not yet anyway."

Qamala chuckled. "Give Aldeborahnn time. There's nothing better for the Duranaki soul than having a trickster around. By the old Gods, what a thoroughly unlikeable race!"

"Better than Medraas, yeah?"

"Human hubris, that. I wish I could say they know better now, but I doubt --"

Azu, Corcyon 4 and the taste of rompere tumbled away from her abruptly, their delightful love nest suddenly overlaid with a dank darkness, the stink of fear and pain, the sense of cold iron and hopelessness. She could taste blood in her mouth, feel where cruel hands had left bruises on her body. In the near-darkness there was little to see but she cast her eyes about anyway. Why was she here?

A door from above opened, the light from without blinding those within. Qamala forced her eyes to watch as more humans and a few Myri were brought into -- a prison? a jail?-- herded like animals by....

"Medraas..." she hissed. In the glaring light she recognized a male and female in the middle of the chain, both of them looking largely unhurt but unpleased by the turn of events.

The prophetic vision cleared. Her eyes refocused on the temporal reality where her body rested in a soft bed with a wonderful Magellen male. He was stroking her brow, watching with quiet patience while her vision had played itself out.

The next arrow had been fired.

"Well, this has been wonderful but I have to go now. I'm going to get myself thrown into a jail on Kapteyn!" Qamala knew she was smiling crazily, and Azu chuckled at her.

"That sound moderately entertaining. Why?"

"I have to rescue a Paladin."

The words he didn't say canted recklessly against the words he did. "....isn't that supposed to work the other way around?"

"Believe me," Qamala replied, laughing helplessly now. "He'll get around to that soon part enough."

*-*-*-To Be Continued-*-*-*

Writer's Block: Proven by Science

2009-08-13T04:10:46Z

Do you believe everything has a scientific explanation?

Submitted By mesnyder_92

View 512 Answers

Not yet.

It's just a flesh wound...

2009-08-04T19:11:10Z

Okay. It was more than that. Something in my lower spine went completely wonky -- that's the best determination I have of it at present.

I don't know exactly what it was because, of course, the idea of running to a doctor's office or ER or Urgent Care is right out due to costs. I can't afford them so they don't happen. Michael and I just did the best we could here at home, same as we always do. In fact, the main reason I'm disappointed in the Democratic congress just now is this notion of mandatory insurance plans for all Americans. :( I don't want your damned insurance, I don't want to pay into a system that's not only broken, it's almost completely dysfunctional. Why should I want to pay into that? What do I get out of it, the privilege of being ripped off and left hanging when I most need that kind of care? Just BRING THE DAMNED COSTS DOWN AND LET ME TAKE CARE OF THE REST!!

But I digress.

Whatever happened was caused by my sitting on the floor for hours at a time without any back support. First it was indexing all that inventory -- I noticed the crick in my back but just tried to let it heal on its own by not taxing it overmuch. Then I decided to sit down by the wood stove and burn off some of the trash that accumulates in what passes for summertime around here.

That did it. I felt it when I was straightening up from reaching for a box. I felt it again and again and by the time I needed to get up I knew I'd sincerely fucked up. The screaming, breathtakingly severe pain in my back told me so.

I've spent the last three or four days mostly on my butt with a heating pad on my back, taking homeopathic anti-inflammatories (Arnica Montana, for those of you who indulge). I've tried keeping up with my Blackberry but reception hasn't been that great, which made uploading entries here via datalink problematic. I mostly listened to music, cross stitched on Glastonbury Cross, and tried not to think about how badly I might be hurt (it's a thing I go through when I'm bed-bound for any reason. Fortunately I know that and can breathe my way through it, now).

And, Michael took care of me, the dogs, the house, the cooking. :) I do thank him and thank God for him. I healed faster because I didn't have to get up to take care of stuff!

Still achy-sore, but today I vacuumed and swept the downstairs. I'm keeping my heating pad close by to sit with while I rest, but on the whole I'm pleased that I'm so well on the mend.

Now I just have to wade back through I don't know how many LJ posts on my friends list... ;)

Monday Mondays

2009-07-27T17:42:16Z

As I said much more briefly in my latest Facebook update, I have a huge cup of hot coffee and classical Minnesota Public Radio -- in time for Performance Today, no less. Contentment abounds.

I'd link you to my coffee too, but alas, no one is actually selling Spark Roast yet and that's what I'd prefer to be drinking (who wouldn't?). As yet another hat tip to Girl Genius Online, Agatha finally decked Princess Pinkie, who's been manipulating Gil (the perpetual rescuer) for all he's worth. :) I'm rooting for you, Agatha! What did you do with your Death Ray, anyway??

I don't have much to say here today. It was a quiet weekend. I survived "Death by Inlaws" on Saturday in pretty good spirits -- my younger son (TiggerKid) called me with a "Get Out of Jail Free" card (his words!) that allowed me not to have to stay for very long after the meal itself was over. He so rocks -- I have found I like my sons much better now that they're grown men. :) I always loved them, but actually liking them wasn't much of an option when they were boys and teens, I'm afraid. I still can't take more than a few hours of their company without getting restless, but hell, that's true of most people I know.

Except for little_wren82! Who's coming to visit in September! For OVER A WEEK!! YAY! *flailing muppet arms* I'm so stoked. And because we know each other so well I will build some private time into the visit for both of us. :-D In addition to a Medford road trip... and I think a picnic in the redwoods someplace where we can relax in the warmth (not heat!), stitch, and just enjoy each other's company. Also a few hours to pick out the woods she wants her floorstand built from. Not sure what else yet, I'm sure we'll come up with lots of somethings.

Sunday... was TiggerKid's 21st birthday, though he's coming down for dinner tonight to celebrate. He always wants my fried chicken for his birthday. *shrug* At least he's easy to please that way. The rest of yesterday was spent tending the roses and herbs out front and playing with my new software, KXStitch, which allows me to create cross stitch patterns from scratch, or convert images into same. I started with that Spark Roast panel (did you click on the link?) and got a preliminary version I really like. I intend to play with it a bit before I actually try stitching it -- just the utter JOY of having some Girl Genius stuff to stitch gave me giddy shivers all day yesterday. :)

My body clock is confused. Either that or I'm moving into that "older people don't need much sleep" stage of my life already. I'm wide awake at my formerly usual bedtime, staying up 'til after midnight, and really not sleeping in all that much later (like 9am or so, usually). *shrug* If it continues I will start putting the time to good use -- probably stitching. ;)

This week? I'll schedule that interview with Elaine from the McKinleyville Press and see what else I can do to contact some stitchers in the local area. :) I still have inventory to finish cataloging and I'd like to get more progress on the BoINK before August 1st and the sixth block is released. Other than that? :) Who knows? One think I enjoy about my life is its occasional spontaneity -- lots of room for God to move!

What there is, is joy.

2009-07-24T00:38:04Z

So dinner needs to happen shortly. Lucky you all. This won't be too long. :)

I was just musing to dancing_ashes that I'm breathlessly anticipating what channels are going to open up to get done all the things that need to be done by the end of the month. This is typical of most people, nothing unusual really -- my car's registration is up on 7/31, and we've an insurance payment due. It also needs new tires and the requirement for signs for my business just shot RIGHT UP to the top of the list of things to purchase. :)

Because a reporter from a small local paper wants to interview me about X-Stitch Xpress, that's why. With photos -- so having a sign for my business to put on my car would just be so helpful. :) Not necessary, I don't suppose. But helpful.

Oh. And there's also the payment for the phone book listings, due on 8/1!

Income? LOL -- no idea. There are some small things heading our way, we think. What I know about income doesn't come close to matching what we'll need to do all this. Hence my remarks about universal channels.

Holy cats, this is gonna be EPIC. :-D

Xposted from cross_stitch

2009-07-22T01:48:32Z

XXX pictures for your viewing pleasure.

10 things I have now that I didn't have when I wrote my last post

2009-07-20T04:59:09Z

A rented copy of Kung Fu Panda (it was .54 cents!)
Five books on Mary Magdalene
A sunburn
A sore arm (dunno what happened, it just hurts)
A repaired Book of Ink Project and the fourth block about 1/4 complete
A living room (mostly) clear of needlework inventory
Part One of a pirate story complete!
Chocolate (Ghirardelli's 60% Cacao Bittersweet Chocolate Chips, to be exact)
Two more sets of Libby-claw puncture marks on my skin
A sense of being rested up and happy and ready to start the week!

whew

2009-07-17T03:43:57Z

This is Thursday, right? Tomorrow's Friday -- not that the self-employed have to pay attention to wage-slave work weeks or anything. I could take tomorrow off if I wanted to do so -- but the desire to get the last of this inventory done is driving me pretty hard.

I took a break from pattern indexing today and dove into the fabrics. :) In a word -- Yum. In two words? Orgasmic Yum. I ended up with a really good variety of weaves and colors for sale, plus taking a few pieces for me and projects I've got lined up in the very near term.

My grief for my benefactor's upended life gave way to some momentary frustration today as I found several pieces of expensive fabric she's cut up or into for no reason I could see. The best of the pieces are sale-able, some of them. Most of the smaller pieces are going to be relegated to the mini-kits I'll be putting together, which isn't a bad thing, I guess. Oh, and I did find a chart for one of her unfinished projects! :) It's a street scene (named "Street Scene," I believe, a Bette Ashley chart) that depicts a row of houses with a church at one end. I'm not sure what she intended to do with it, since the fabric it's on is nowhere near big enough for the whole piece -- maybe that's why she abandoned it, I don't know. I think I can salvage at least part of it by stitching perhaps three of the buildings and I intend to do so as time allows.

I've finally found enough space in all this to get back to my own stitching, which is indescribably good. While M was up visiting with his brother (home visiting from Chicago) I took up my little "in hand" project
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and got the second one going. I'm going to stitch them together biscornu-style when it's done, I think. Then attach some cording or ribbon and hang it from Maggie's rear view mirror. :)

My intention is to get back to work on the BoINK this weekend. I'm now 2 blocks behind -- unacceptable.

Happy puppies, happy kitty. Goodies from the salad garden to eat. New friends to make, new places, new spaces... :) Life is good.

"One more scar to wish upon...." Wow.

2009-07-15T17:15:18Z

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): Don't leave me hanging, Sagittarius. What happens next? How could you even imagine you've wrapped the whole thing up? According to my analysis, you've got at least one more riddle to solve, one more gift to negotiate, one more scar to wish upon. (Yes, that says "scar," not "star.") To stop pushing for more adventure at this pregnant moment would be a crime against nature and a whole chapter short of a bestseller. Get out there and bring this story home.

Two in a row for Rob, here.

And yes. I know. Working it. :)

File under: Typical backward-ass Humboldt County Bullsh*t

2009-07-13T20:51:57Z

I've been a member in good standing of our local Freecycle list for years. I've posted OFFERs and WANTEDs and never, ever had a problem with any of the owners/mods with anything I've posted. Until now.

Apparently our local Freecyle list has been inherited by a Nazi who objects to signature files being on emails. Now, here's an example of mine:

==Alesia Matson
YIM: vibesgoddess
ICQ: 23026132

http://MetaphorsForLife.com
http://Xstitcher.webs.com -- X-Stitch Xpress online!

We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves
awake, not by mechanical aid, but by an
infinite expectation of the dawn.
-- Henry David Thoreau

This was objectionable because IT CONTAINS ADVERTISING.

I shit you not. She rejected my OFFER post because my sigfile has a couple of website URLs in it that might cause someone to click over to one of my websites. That's ADVERTISING, here in fucking backwards-ass Humboldt County.

Neither of them are overtly commercial. You have to click in pretty deeply on either to find me "selling" anything on them. But -- they're still ADVERTISING!

Mind you, if they'd been for someone else's website, that probably would have been okay. But because they're mine, on my sigfile (which I was taught was like a business or calling card, and just polite to include on email) THEY ARE ADVERTISING.

It's ADVERTISING, now. Don't forget that -- someone might click on one of those sites and know something about you they didn't know before.

Grrr... these are the moments I absolutely LOATHE living here.

Fucking Humboldt County. Jesus!

For creativedv8tion and waiwode

2009-07-13T16:42:38Z

Zombie Apolocalypse!

Click through. Read. Laugh on a Monday. :-D

Forgot to mention yesterday:

2009-07-10T17:43:41Z

There are new posts on the blog over at X-Stitch Xpress's website. :)

As a note to those of you who do cross stitch, I'm going to be listing all the back issues of the magazines I acquired recently. "Treasure trove" is too mild a term to describe the wealth of charts and information in those stacks. Cross Stitch and Country Crafts, Mary Hickmott's New Stitches, For the Love of Cross Stitch, Leisure Arts, Just Cross Stitch, Cross Stitch Crazy, The Cross Stitcher -- and more, issues of publications I'd never heard of until I started sorting through these boxes.

I don't have all the back issues, but I have A LOT of them, dating back to the early 80's in some cases. If you're looking for a back issue or know someone who is, ask me -- I've got them all sorted now so it's only a moment or so to look. :)

Now I really, really need to get back to sorting and pricing... :)