ikigai - or, a very fine week

 

what a week it's been.

last Sunday i decided in my infinite wisdom that a curtain originally belonging to one of my grandmothers needed cleaning.

someone (who shall remain nameless) had left it on a pile of other stuff where a certain cat had decided it was pretty comfortable.

my front loading washing shrine (so called because i genuflect before it every time i put in a load) has proved gentle on delicate things thus far so i didn't think twice about tossing in the curtain and choosing the handwash setting.

actually that's not strictly true. i did think twice. i thought that i didn't want to wash it by hand because i was a little unsure about exactly what the cat had been doing on the curtain in addition to slumbering.

a short time later the shrine was complaining of indigestion and upon investigation i discovered that all the fluffy chenille bits had completely clogged the space between the rotating drum and the bigger drum that keeps the water in the machine and stops it running through the house.

not good.

pulling out the filter at the bottom unleashed a replay of the shower scene from Psycho.

thick red dye gushed across the laundry floor and down the centre drain. it was only later, trying to rinse out the machine that i thought to take a picture of it. i hate to think what the emissions from the original weaving mill/dye house must have been like.

not a pretty sight.

three hours later and some very tricky (and repetitive) work with a Qantas stirring spoon and the wire handle of an old bucket (both discovered to be essential washing machine repair tools and now stored with the operator handbook and the dime i use to open the filter hatch) order had been restored. 

also i was filled with that singular sense of satisfaction that comes with having solved a problem without slicing my fingers on the razor sharp edges of the access holes in the drum.

except that it was now 4.23 pm

and

i had been planning to attend the 'unearthed' exhibition opening at the Barossa Regional Gallery at 3pm

no matter, i thought.

they will not have remarked upon my absence,

it's a group show after all.

wrong.

i received an email on Tuesday

telling me the work had won an award.

i was ready to sink through the floor at my unintentional rudeness.

not a good feeling.

but it was wonderful to have the work recognised and commended.

the piece is entitled 'open cut' and refers to the mechanics of extracting iron ore from the earth as well as to the wound left on the earth when the mine is exhausted

 and created from iron objects discarded by humans, found by roads and railway tracks in outback South Australia

+

other good things encountered this week include this book

it shows actual size photographs of leaves, together with an image of how they appear collectively AND a silhouette of the tree itself. it is exactly the sort of book that a bear like me needs. i foresee many happy hours with it and suspect it may be accompanying me overseas, though it is heavy. to this end i have ordered a new pilot case, with wheels. schlepping my essential reading material through airports is wearing out my spine.

+

the best thing of all this week has been your response to the wandercards

thank you

i'll be taking last orders soon

and am busy dyeing cloth and scarves to pack them up in

ready to mail them out in the last week of February

some of you have written so kindly about your workshop experiences with me,
or about your reading of my books.
it's been absolutely heart-warming.

one person did ask if i could just send a PDF
so she could print her own

but

one of the things i was particularly excited about

was the cardstock i've selected.

it's 100% post consumer recycled and dyes beautifully

so you should be able to have some fun with them.

(instructions for printing with plants on paper come with the cards)

by the time you receive them, the ink (vegetable based) will have cured sufficiently, too.

i bundled a set pretty much hot off the press.

even after curing i would avoid really fresh eucalyptus leaves because in my experience they always stick to paper 

 someone else suggested i should reveal what's on the working side of the cards, because otherwise it would be like buying a pig in a poke. but that would be like spelling out the fine detail of a workshop before it happens, which i think will spoil the experience.

the wandercards are a distilled form of  'being (t)here' workshop in a box that you can use at home or take with you when you travel. 

mine are certainly going to travel with me.

+

the other joy at present is minding my youngest grandchild.

i'm not usually a fan of selfies

but

 here we are, having a morning schnuggle.

so where is this long saga leading?

i've been thinking about ikigai

that wonderful Japanese word that means

'the reason for getting out of bed'

i have so many!!!
for me, my entire life is my ikigai.

but if you'd like a methodology to work yours out

you can always try this 

borrowed from Wikipedia

AWOL

on Thursday last week i filled a cauldron with bundles

set a fire underneath

and promptly absconded. 

i was in need of friend, dog and ocean therapy. 

happily i was blessed with all of the above. 

(that dress has special pockets for my Sabahs) 

and now back at home i have a cauldron full of bundles to unroll...

but i think i might give them another night's sleep.

happy [and dreaming of another roadtrip]

today is one of those days

on which i really really love my day job

doing what makes me happy

even if it does give me cracked hands

and appalling fingernails

the thing about my day job

is that it funds the indulgence of exhibiting

and

to a certain extent

my teaching

travel does not come cheaply

and workshop fees do not always

cover the spaces in between engagements

but [despite bringing me into disfavour in some quarters]

i love to wander

being

a wanderbear at heart

i had such plans to take a sabbatical

but teaching is fun

and

so is wandering
and wondering

and so is

patience with bundles

taking time to open

is rewarded

with slow magic

which leads me to think

that 

while i really love teaching four or five day retreat classes like 'being (t)here'

perhaps it is also time to offer some one-day workshops

because not everyone has the time

to take the time

and

as my friend John Parkes so beautifully writes

"strange that time is more uncertain than water"

+

so

i am considering offering a retreat

that would begin in the early afternoon

which would mean that

the dyeing has the benefit of a restful night

and

we can share a leisurely evening meal

which i will very happily prepare

also

the cocktail hour can be appropriately acknowledged

without having to rush back to work

and then

next morning

not too early

allowing for a lovely walk after breakfast

[and time for yoga]

we would gather again

to open the bundles

and wonder at their beauty

+

the benefits of this structure

would be many:

less rush to get to an early-start class

one night of retreat away from home

in the company of like-minded souls

not having to forage for supper in a strange place

and

going home with something beautiful to remember it all by

+

i can think of quite a few places i would like to take this...

among them

lovely Lopez Island, that magical wee house in Inverness (California)

Fort Bragg (in the same state), anywhere in New England in the fall 

riverside in New Orleans, outback Australia, an Oregon beach

Tayside in Scotland, on an island off Tasmania

somewhere up near Cairns (Australia)
as well as possibly

Germany, Austria (in which case the workshop language will be German)
and Japan (where the workshop language might have to be sign language)
oh and i'd love to visit Ireland too

and that is just the very tippity tip of the iceberg

but 

i would also be happy to hear from any kindly souls 

who would like to host this kind of retreat

 because

i think i feel another roadtrip coming on

+

did i mention that i have been working on a new cocktail too?
allow me to present my
'ginger bear'

ingredients :
gin [preferably that nice one from San Francisco that has a bear on the label]
ginger beer [in Australia, use Ginger Joe]
some fresh ruby grapefruit juice
and the zest of the fruit also
freshly grated ginger root
wild strawberries
  
method :
shake gin and ice and grapefruit juice
strain into well chilled glasses over more ice
dilute slightly with ginger beer 
garnish with grapefuit, freshly grated ginger and some slightly crushed wild strawberries

fabulous chia smoothie

it's lovely being home for a bit
enjoying this glorious summer of much content[ment]*

i am rebuilding my relationship with the whizzBizzer
[NO this is not a personal titillation device, it is the name i give to the thing in which solids are placed and then liquified/made fluffy]
and back to having my standard summer breakfast : a smoothie

the smoothie has as many variations as there are plant-dye possibilities
so is the perfect breakfast for a Sagittarian

this morning i experimented by leaving my chia seeds soaking in water
whilst i went for the early morning totter
and being organised paid off, as by the time i'd returned
the seeds and water looked like a lovely jellyish cup of frogspawn. yum.

and when i whizzed up today's ingredients :

mango, banana, yoghurt, pineapple juice, ice, honey, two big spinach leaves + grey-jelly-seeds

the mix turned into a wonderful wobbly fluffy mess that needed eating with a spoon rather than slurping from a cup. with the added bonus that the seeds didn't stick in my teeth.

next i think i will do what my gorgeous friend Claudia does
and make chia bubble tea


oh and a word of caution. yesterday i used raspberries with spinach leaves. tasted lovely but looked as though the mix had been through a cat with tummy troubles. not something you'd want to serve your beloved....







*sorry, Bill [Shakespeare, that is].

shapeshifting in paradise

imagine a wild garden with twenty five ENORMOUS mango trees

[bigger than those oaks and buckeyes in California, to put them into perspective for those reading on the other side of the pond]

and

a rosa mutabilis, a persimmon, an abundance of citrus

ferns growing with weedlike vigour

bougainvillea, eucalyptus

Avril's garden was frankly heavenly and it was unalloyed joy to be in it for three days.

we worked on a beautiful porch

supervised by Winston

who sometimes found the responsibility exhausting

we had a quiet but curious visitor

who may have been attracted by the dressmaking tools

that were being made

[a whirled without string is a whirled in chaos]

i was introduced to the 'ice cream bean'

whose botanical name Inga edulis sounds like she could be Latvian :o)

there is fluffy stuff inside

which is fabulously delicious

 

 

the usual suspects

which opened up to

the 'shapeshifter' class really keeps me on my toes

because everybody arrives with different cloth

and their personal collection of pre-loved goodness

ready to transform 

and

it is my responsibility to make sure that everybody goes home happy

with something beautiful

the Dogs Above were kind

i wore my hoodie because it was cool

[i meant the weather, but the hoodie is too]

and that gave some people ideas

i usually frown on people bringing tumeric to class

but those yellow spots there

were from the home-grown variety

[curiously that fern print later oxidised to a golden brown]

 my grey cells had a lot of exercise

and

i had a very happy three days

thank you, everybody

happiness + hey ho, hey ho, it's off to work i go

driving to the airport this morning

through swirling fog and mist

watching the dawn light break through to the treetops

i realised that what my work is about

is happiness.

i might be pootling off to teach people how to shapeshift in cloth

or make an ecoprint bundle, or felt a landskin

or magic colour into paper and make a book

but no matter what the subject of the class

the outcome is happiness

which comes from the magic that mother nature creates

when we set the stage in a certain way

by paying attention to small things

leaves, sticks, stones, a rusty bottlecap or a shred of aluminium foil

and wrap those bundles that are really presents to ourselves

and by coincidence, this morning's mailbox had something from
Zen Habits ...The Little Book of Contentment
you may want to have a look [confess i haven't read it yet
- will do that later in the day]

wishing y'all a happy day

....i'm optimistic for mine!

happiness

walked old haunts gathering splendid windfalls

followed trails and found amusing and useful treasure

went to favourite caff for a sit down

and because it has nice big tables where you can spread out and do stuff

made bundles while sipping at africanos

had amusing conversations with other patrons

then

a guitarist wanders in, gets coffee, begins to warm up his guitar

minutes later he is joined by friend with ukelele

[i twitch, not, in general, being enamoured of ukelele]

the two begin to play

and it is like heaven

their repertoire is B I G

mostly they play swing with a haunting gypsy lilt to it

presently the ukelele player takes the lead

improvises exquisitely on Gershwin's "embraceable you"

the woman working on her laptop to my left

begins to sing sotto voce

i wish she would sing louder

she has the voice of an angel

my inner hyperactive mutters about spending time indoors

when outside there are things to be done

i tell the inner voice to be quiet and stay listening

they play for an hour and a bit

i take another walk

much later

at sunset

i sit in a favourite spot 

out of the wind on those lovely steps in the aquatic park

and make more bundles

somewhere up behind me

someone begins to blow a tenor sax

very, very beautifully.

my cup runneth over 

and then when i think it really doesn't get much better than this

i find a heart

in San Francisco

if you lost one*, let me know

[or just sing it in the shower]

*like this one, i mean

[i hung it on a glass for the snap...was too dark in the park]