new rhythms

As the seasons change, we find ourselves settling into a different kind of rhythm.  The whole house is opened up to the fresh air, and the breeze carries with it the promise of colder months to come.  Leaves change colors, and I pull out sweaters, slippers, and quilts.  Time seems to move more slowly, and we find renewed appreciation for late evening meals filled with the flavors that only the earthiness of fall can bring.

With all this change, our love remains simple.  A board spread over two stools, layered with vintage tablecloths, lit with candles, becomes our table tonight, and hopefully, for many nights to come.  I am grateful for the ease of knowing a partner so well that even when the seasons change, our love stays.  It is an evolving love to be sure, and it feels new at every turn, but it is also so simple.  We eat, we laugh, we savor the moments over food.  We are ourselves, together.

while on a hike

playing with light (no photoshop!)

two tiger swallowtails resting on the moss midday

tree blossoms mid-morning

blossoms early afternoon

hydrangea at dusk

hydrangea at dusk, back-lit by porch light

blossoms at dusk

hydrangea up close at dusk

blossom caught in the rain, early evening

hydrangea in the rain, early evening

hydrangea in the rain, early evening

storytelling

A couple years ago, I read a pivotal book about different cultures of food.  Growing up in a family with great food traditions, I never really had to think much about the type of food culture I wanted for myself and for my future family when the time came for me to spread my wings and leave my immediate family’s home(s).  In our house, food was meant to be shared: it was a way of inviting others into the intimacy of your life by enjoying time, food, and drink together.  And it didn’t seem to matter what the food was–it mattered more what the story was behind the food.  The point in my family, as was also illustrated in the book I read, was that the story we tell around food informs the types of decisions we make about what to put in our bodies and what types of food we offer to others.

This week, I’ve been reading a lot about literacy, especially as it concerns the possible differences and gaps in achievement between young boys and girls.  And for some reason, I kept coming back to this idea about the culture of food, which stems ultimately from our stories of food.  As I wrestled with some of the more difficult realizations I came to regarding how gender and other cultural biases influence the ways in which we prepare children as literate citizens in our country, I thought of my own life and how this idea of storytelling seemed to permeate the ways in which Kevin and I make choices.

A few years ago, for example, Kevin and I decided we would only eat meat if we had sourced it—we wanted to know where it came from, how the animals were treated, how the animals were slaughtered, and how they came to be prepared for our bodies.  We made this decision because we wanted to be able to begin telling a different story about the food we chose to consume.  I had been vegetarian for years, but my story of food as a vegetarian seemed incomplete somehow.  Growing up in a heavy agricultural state and then moving to another one, I recognized that in not eating meat, I was not connecting with local farmers who raised meat as part of the ecosystem of their farm.  Making the choice to be an omnivore again was not easy, but I feel like for now, I am able to tell the kind of story about food that fits more with my evolving family’s culture and sense of connection to the community.

Storytelling, for me, however, is not just about the food I eat.  It’s also how I make a lot of decisions in my life.  I use storytelling to make sense of myself in relation to the larger community, and perhaps most importantly, I use storytelling to break down this complex world in which we exist so that the children with whom I work can begin to think about the stories of their short lives to this point and how they want the story to evolve as they grow up.  I may not have the intricacies of gender and other societal biases worked out.  I may not have the capacity to make the best decisions all the time, or to teach every skill to every child who comes through my door exactly in the ways in which he/she needs it.  I can, however, through the act and art of storytelling, begin thinking more intentionally about the life I am living and about the ways in which the stories I choose to tell now shape the stories of my future.  As a teacher and as an individual, the most I can offer is my story and my ears to others’ stories, and hopefully together, we can embark on this lifelong journey of community.

on simplicity

In recent weeks, I’ve learned, or perhaps rediscovered, a hard truth.  I embrace wholeheartedly the Quaker ideal of simplicity, but the truth of this ideal that a lot of Quakers don’t talk about is this: Living simply is actually quite complicated.  And I don’t mean just in terms of clearing out the massive rubbish that daily life accumulates so quickly and so easily.  I mean from the harder aspects of letting oneself off the hook, letting stuff go, and just being.

As a perfectionist, I struggle mightily with all three of these things.  I wrestle with the yin and yang of striving for perfection.  On the one hand, I am thankful never to be complacent about my life in all its many facets.  I am thankful for an incredible work ethic.  And I am thankful for my persistence in building and maintaining relationships with others and with ideas.  But on the other hand, I wish, perhaps more strongly, that I could give myself the same gentle “it’s going to be okay” talk I give to so many others so much of the day.  I wish I could let myself just be, take problems one step at a time, and deal with roadblocks I put up one brick at a time.

So while on break the last two weeks, I’ve worked really hard to let myself be.  I’ve tried tackling projects around the house to simplify our material lives one step at a time.  I created two sanctuaries for us: one in our bedroom and one in our shared office/creative space.  And it feels good.  I still have the tendency to look at all the other projects left waiting, the piles of boxes to be recycled, the areas of the house still left to re-organize after yet another community member in our little household has moved out.  But I am trying to stop and breathe, to outline what it would take to solve the insurmountable problem step by step.

In addition to removing stuff from our lives, I’ve also tried to put in place or back in place some good “me” habits.  One of which is more reading and writing.  I have already made two trips to the public library and now have a stack of books, with more on the way, to fuel my mental fire and inspire me to simply be with a book and a cup of coffee or tea.  I’ve written down my thoughts every day for the last four days, letting myself breathe on paper or on the computer.  I even finished a piece of writing I started back in January about my paternal grandfather.  It felt so amazing to give him the gift of my words—to know as I sent the simple piece on that I was showing him a piece of my soft, inner core.

I want to hold on to this feeling that while living simply is hard, hard work, it is possible.  You just have to do it step by step, word by word, and breath by breath.

starting over

I have struggled with this blog over the years—keeping up with it, deciding what and how much to include.  The truth is, I am interested in many things, but in recent years, as I’ve learned more about myself and who I really am (and more importantly, what I let myself be), my passions may be many, but they all tend toward one major part of my life: education.

I started teaching officially seven years ago, but my love of learning from a very young age put me on a path toward teaching much earlier.  Ever since I learned to speak, read, and write, speaking, reading, and writing have been how I’ve come to experience and make sense of the world around me.  Reading was my escape, my refuge—writing my way to reconnect with the larger world—speaking my way of challenging myself to keep learning, to keep engaging with my own thoughts as they interacted with the thoughts of others.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve gotten better at listening to others.  I am not, I will admit, a great listener.  Sure, I follow the usual conventions of other good listeners, but I am not truly listening as often as I would like.  I find it takes great mental energy to quiet a very busy inner thought cycle, to be in the moment with another speaker, and to just appreciate the words as they come out of the other person’s mouth, enter my ears, and are translated into meaning by my brain.

While working to actually listen to others, I’ve learned some things about myself.  As much as I would like to put many other interests side by side in priority and focus, education keeps surpassing all others.  I am obsessed with teaching and learning.  I talk about it all the time, and sometimes, with people I am told over and over by others I should absolutely not be talking to about education.  But I am glad, in this case, I don’t listen to that advice.

Here’s the thing about listening: when you start practicing it and working to improve it, you realize that some people and ideas are just not worth listening to.  It seems like a mean truth, but there it is all the same.  Not all things are equal in life—everybody deserves the right to be heard, to be listened to, but that doesn’t mean that everybody deserves to be heard and listened to all the time.

If I had listened to those who told me to stop talking about education, to stop talking about in that way and with those people, then I would have missed what was happening: because I was practicing how to speak, to listen, to engage with this complicated idea of education in our country, I was getting good at speaking, listening, and engaging with education.  I teach and have for several years, but that is not why I am good at engaging with education.  I am good at engaging with education because I have a passion for it and have dedicated some serious mental energy, hard work, and time.

So while I would like this blog to feature some of the other amazing and beautiful things that others’ blogs inspire in me, I must stick with what I am learning is my greatest love: education.  I don’t know yet what that will entail, but I am excited to begin again.

children’s craft project–washi tape quilt block

As a kindergarten teacher, I am always trying to come up with simple projects for my students.  In math this year, we are starting out with basic shapes, which we are then exploring further by making simple quilt blocks.  I came up with a way to make a simple quilt block using cardboard and Japanese washi tape.  I made a simple square design using small strips of washi tape, but you could easily expand the idea to make more complicated shapes.

Cut a small, square piece of cardboard. For an even easier route, I like to save the cardboard pieces used to package fat quarters as they are already in a great square shape.

Measure a half inch border all the way around the square. For younger children, you may want to darken the pencil lines using a felt-tip marker so they can see them easily.

Choose your first color of washi tape. Stretch gently across the entire width of the top of the smaller square (the one outlined in pencil or marker). Tear or cut with scissors when you reach the other pencil line. While cutting with scissors makes a cleaner edge, I find the tearing adds some nice texture to the piece. Tearing is also a great way to build finger strength and dexterity in young children.

Select your second color and pull the washi tape gently across the left side of the square. You will want to line up the top of the new color with the first color’s bottom edge. Stop and tear or cut when you reach the other pencil line.

Continue in a counter clockwise direction, changing colors as you wish. I chose a new color for each side.

Continue in a counter clockwise motion, with each new square getting smaller and smaller. I stopped after three little squares were created in washi tape.

I finished off my quilt block by filling in the smallest remaining square with a vivid color to make the quilt block pop.

 

 

 

 

 

 

art show and etsy shop update

Last Wednesday, I had the privilege of participating in RAW Raleigh: Mixology, an art showcase hosted by the national non-profit organization RAW.  It was a fantastic event designed to help aspiring artists promote their work, and I was honored to be selected to participate.  After many long nights working, I was able to pull off the showcase, and update my Etsy shop as a result.  Please check out http://rawartists.org for more information about the showcase.

rediscovering

In the past few weeks, things have been tough around here.  Life is stressful and complicated, and it can be difficult to seek out and hold on to those moments that make it that much easier to wake up each morning.  So, in more recent days, I’ve tried capturing little snapshots of the peaceful moments of life currently: rediscovering my love of creating things and finding solace and tranquility in the simple act of making.

one week left

A sneak peek at some of the things I’ve been making for the upcoming craft fair in Pittsburgh…