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“Keep me fully glad…”
- by Rabindranath Tagore -
Keep me fully glad with nothing. Only take my hand in your hand.
In the gloom of the deepening night take up my heart and play with it as you list. Bind me close to you with nothing.
I will spread myself out at your feet and lie still. Under this clouded sky I will meet silence with silence. I will become one with the night clasping the earth in my breast.
Make my life glad with nothing.
The rains sweep the sky from end to end. Jasmines in the wet untamable wind revel in their own perfume. The cloud-hidden stars thrill in secret. Let me fill to the full my heart with nothing but my own depth of joy.
The senses. I revel in them throughout my days. . . no matter where my physical body finds itself, there is always something beautiful to fall a bit in love with. I have never, ever appreciated the term ‘ugly’ as I believe that truly nothing is. There may be certain places or scents or sights that are less pleasing than others. . . or that create a feeling of discomfort and make me seek out something to counteract that unease. . . but really everything is truly beautiful at the core.
At a class last night on transforming negative energy. . . a core Buddhist teaching was brought to our attention- that the antidote to fear is beauty. And I realized how very true that is in my own life, when things are not quite right, or there is an element of unrest or fear. . . I look to all my senses to provide beauty of every kind.
I think scent is my favourite. . . as I’ve delved into a bit here and as people have pointed out- I seem to have a very strong connection to the smells of the world and a very intense appreciation for most of them. They are linked to joy, love, nostalgia and promise. I adore words, and thoughts and even whole books on the olfactory pieces of the world.
Especially descriptive words. . .
“U.S. wine critic Robert Parker, who in the 1970s invented the now-ubiquitous 100-point scale for rating wine. For decades, Parker’s approval and florid descriptions (“sumptuous aromas of lead pencil shavings, crème de cassis, incense, black tea, flowers, and sweet cherries”). . .”
Photo by Lyn Hughes
The event that we’ve been working towards ever since I arrived in Berkeley at The Tibetan Aid Project, Taste & Tribute New York had an incredibly successful turnout on June 19th. . . and above is a link to New York Magazine’s food daily- Grub Street. . . where Joel Ozersky posted his writeup of the night.
For more on the Taste & Tribute events , definitely check out Tibetan Aid Project.org
On the West Coast, we’ve jumped right back into the work of putting together the next event to be held in San Francisco this coming November (it will the the 8th gala event and the turnout and funds raised keep increasing which is simply wonderful!). . . as well as the proposal writing and general nonprofit work that is ongoing. I have two weeks left here. . . and while I’m in love with the Bay Area and all of the amazing people I’ve been around, I’m also looking forward to heading back east.
There are weddings to attend, lots of trips to various places, my studio beckons and there’s plenty of work to be done before fall shows and collaborations. Woven into this web will be digging in sweet smelling dirt, planting and harvesting, building rock walls and pergolas, days upon days spent at the ocean smelling of salt and sun. . . mmmmmm.
So soon I’ll be blowing parting kisses to all the goats who wander the Berkeley hillsides in the morning, as I pack my duffels full of summer skirts and an owl feather to head back to the heat of Maine, knowing that I’ll most likely be back someday. . .
This is an excerpt from Treehugger regarding Chicago’s “Read Green, Live Green” Summer Reading Program. . . reminding me of the stacks upon stacks of library books in the house, on the porch, at the beach all summer long. The mornings that were already hot and hazy, flipping through garden books in the garden, reading Blueberries for Sal and One Morning in Maine while eating homemade peanut butter and honey sandwiches with bits of crushed shells imbedded in them while at the beach, Bernstein Bears and Goodnight Moon while camping in the backyard or climbing up in the treehouse. . . so many wonderful memories and thousands upon thousands of books. . .
“As with all summer reading programs there’s a focus on getting kids to read, but here they’re also offering adults the opportunity to take part in a series of discussion groups aimed at celebrating nature while exploring the threats to it.
“Read Green, Live Green” Program Highlights
The program itself runs through August and offers books, reading tours and performances for both adults and children on such critical environmental issues as climate change, energy conservation and even farming.
And the folks behind it are quick to point out that roughly 45,000 kids read more than 1,000,000 books during last year’s summer reading program, which means there’s a terrific chance that a whole generation of Chicago school children will be reading about going green all summer long.
So hats off to the city of Chicago for making this summer reading program a green read indeed. Perhaps next year other cities and towns will pick up the ball and run with it, as a summer program like this can have an impact on kids for the rest of their lives.”
So I’d like to send this out in part to the local library I remember growing up in Maine, and also to libraries and children everywhere who are unconsciously being green while living in the most beautiful worlds that books introduce.
From Glass Petal Smoke, which I’m so in love with
“The life of a pencil is clear from the beginning. After seven inches all that is left is a disposable relic. A pencil doesn’t tell you it will love you forever. Its ability to commit is obvious from the moment you place it in a sharpener.”
This was written to my soul. The impermanence and the lovely nomadicism (yup a new word- try it out) feel like a beautiful and comforting validation of the state of my days. . . and how I hope they continue for days and days to come.
The goat reference is from the beautiful start to my morning. . . and it’s making me want to get a few goats when I return to the east coast, to wander through the garden patches and chill with on the rocky ocean beaches. My friend Lisa used to have goats growing up and they would hop in the station wagon with the family dog to drop them off at school or go on vacations. . . I’ve had dogs, now I want goats.
So this morning, I hiked up to the huge C above the UC Berkeley campus – you can tell from the cityscape below what the weather will be like- fog covering San Fran and it’s going to be chilly, clear and blue over the Golden Gate Bridge and it’s going to be gloriously hot!
. . . and I stumbled onto a hillside of goats! They let them roam and munch all summer below the lab (i shudder to think of what the lab leaks on them though, and come to think of it all of us. . .) and under the sweet eucalyptus trees. . . there must’ve been a hundred of them and they were all different colors- brown, white, grey, black and spotted. . . yawning and blinking sleepily at me. . . making grumbles and pawing the grass. . . I was the most delighted girl in the world. . . especially since some had grandfather beards and were too adorable for words.
Last but not least. . . after a long absence (anything over a week is too long for me) from my beloved stretching of mind and body, I’m headed back to the studio that moved to Berkeley just a bit before I did- both of us from the East Coast and both random, open and unique.
“this yoga is for Mothers, Brothers, Sisters and Grandmothers. Poets, Bakers, Painters and Artists.”
Hell yeah. I’ve loved being a part of this growing community. . . and wish it would spread like wildfire everywhere, even back to Maine. . . where I’ll be cranking out projects and digging happily in the garden again for a bit very soon. It’s just another place to stop when I’m in New York!
And my reward for those challenging flow sequences are thoughts of make-your-knees-weak ice cream or smoothies from Cafe Gratitude. . . and honestly sometimes focusing on the breath or calming my thoughts during the core work just doesn’t do it like the promise of a delectable treat in my favourite cafe.
But my nomad energy always finds what it needs. . . and every single moment is full of lovely thoughts, chocolate scented pencils, and things to make me smile. . .
facing this day (and all the rest to come) with determination, joy and bravery. . .
. . as it starts to play, keep in mind that i tend to drip in sarcasm. . . and it’s my birthday, i’m sunbaked and giddy. . . full of raw ice cream, dripping in birthday necklaces and generally effervescent. . . and how does the song go? it’s my party and i’ll dance if i want to?
off to dance and drink raw cocktails. . .
Summer has arrived in Berkeley. . . the fog has dissipated, skirts and browned skin are so very welcome. . .
and along with the soft breeze there are new plans and whispered ideas;
i’m heading eastward in a month and cannot wait to be in the garden and by the Atlantic. The smells of jasmine and rosemary will remain in my memory and I’ll most likely be jaunting back here sooner rather than later, but projects and thoughts are wrapping me up and bundling me home for awhile. Travel plans for the summer are full of wedding celebrations and visits with kissable babies and friends, and relationships that are intriguing enough to explore further even if it means a few plane journeys to various locations. . .
life is meant for exploring and adventuring and my mantra that I recite with the flip flop of my sandals is “i let life flow through me with ease”. . .
I stumbled upon Glass Petal Smoke and have fallen in love with the stroking and fluffing of all my senses: she writes “We daydream in scents; those that have passed, those still with us and those that are yet to be” and I get weak in the knees. . .
I’m sewing and wandering. . . reading and napping. . . working at the computer (not so romantic) and catching up with emails, phone correspondence and actual mail. . .
this weekend promises a birthday spent at the crashing ocean- and the most decadent of raw cake and ice cream. . . and some surprises have been alluded to. . .
from last night, dear Rosamund (the 70 year old woman who reminds me so much of my grandmother, and who I will most definitely be visiting and rocking the hours away with on her Alabama porch off the grid and in a straw bale house with organic gardens and a creek) was Devoted and I was Innocent. . . and we savoured the warmth of the Gourmet Ghetto. . . then walked back up the hills chatting and smelling wild roses.
happy thursday. . .
a multitude of books. . . it’s a constant juggling act and keeping my very few and far between free moments filled to the brim.
Jhumpa Lahiri’s book of stories Interpreter of Maladies which I absoluely can’t put down
The Moosewood Restaurant Kitchen Garden (using their illustrations for my own sketching inspirations, and it makes me think of being small and pulling that original and dog-eared Moosewood cookbook down for cozy memory-making with Mum. . . with fresh garden meals, and decadent but nourishing treats- always with honey and carob, never processed or packaged. . .)
The Secret Teaching of Plants (wow)
On the Road: The Continuous Scroll (Jack Kerouac makes me feel like my younger self. . . angsty and poetic, breathless and wandering. . . wait how is that just my younger self?! It’s now too. . .)
Night and Day, Virginia Woolfe. . . (written for my soul at this very moment)
The Organic Lawn Care Manual
My neighbor in Berkeley Michael Pollan’s Second Nature: A Gardener’s Education
these are mixed in with various Time, C, Nylon and indie publications I find lying around. . .
it’s a juxtaposed mix, so whatever mood I find myself in at the moment. . . there are reading passages to fit.
