The Peaceful and Ordinary

So much of my life seems ordinary… I do not live an extraordinary existence by any stretch of the imagination.  I am a student, I have a 10-hour weekly job, I occasionally cook.  And now, I paint once a week.

I enrolled in a studio art course at my university’s student center.  The classes are open to everyone—-you just need to make it to the registration period before the classes close.  I have now been painting on Thursday afternoons for two weeks.  The process has been slow-going, and has exposed to me some of my more impatient tendencies.  When other students do not follow directions, I think, “stop! you’re not doing it right!”  Then, with a suddenness that makes me chuckle, I wonder, “is there a right way to do anything? is my way more right than theirs just because I am following instructions from someone else?”  In this way, the classes have been freeing.  But they have also been frustrating.

The first week, we did studies in value: mixing burnt umber with white to get different values of color.  The second week, we mixed colors from the three primary colors: red, blue, and yellow.  We mixed secondary (green, orange, and purple), then tried tertiary colors (blue-green, lime green… when any secondary color is mixed with an adjacent primary color).  From there, we began tinting: mixing colors with more and more white to get higher tints of a color (pink is a tint of red).  We have yet to really begin painting anything, but the process itself is worthwhile… we need to learn (or in my case, re-learn) the basics of color theory before we can begin letting our imaginations run wild.

It is on this slow-going, often frustrating process that I reflect.  On the one hand, there are certain theoretical techniques worth learning; on the other hand, there is no one “right way” to do something.  I am caught between wanting to do more and acknowledging the necessary slowness of doing something well.  I invariably leave myself too little time to complete assignments because I just want them to be over with… I do not want to take the necessary time to do something truly well.

Thursday afternoons are a reminder to slow down and enjoy the process.

Quilted Lunch Tote

Nashville was closed yesterday.  There were between 2 and 10 inches of snow on the ground, falling throughout the day.  All my classes were canceled, and I had my first snow day in ages.

My day was spent making a quilted lunch tote.  Almost every lunch bag I have owned has lacked a quite necessary feature: you cannot lay an entree-sized piece of tupperware flat.  This, friends, is unacceptable, and leads to many more spilled pasta sauces and beet juice stains than is warranted.  So, I set about making a lunch tote that would be 1) insulated, 2) attractive, and 3) large enough to lay an entree-sized piece of tupperware flat.

Unfortunately, I was too distracted to take many pictures of the process, but the pictures I do have will give you a general idea:

This is the first time that I had a picture-worthy piece to show.

What you see here is the interior fabric sewn to the batting and exterior fabric, with the quilting lines stretching between 2″ marks along the edge of the fabric.

To do this, I first laid down the lighter color interior fabric.  I outlined a 11″ x 30.5″ rectangle, then marked all sides of the rectangle every 2″.  Then, using a straight-edge, I drew a fine white charcoal line diagonally between the 2″ markers: first on one diagonal, then its opposite.

Once all lines had been drawn, I used a large safety pin to affix the lighter colored interior to the batting and the darker colored exterior.  This, I hear, is what quilters call “sandwiching.”

With the fabric sandwiched, I took it to the sewing machine, and followed all my pre-drawn lines.  I found that the fabric was less likely to buckle and bunch if I first sewed a line crossing the middle of the fabric, then lines near the ends of the fabric.  Once I had sewn these three lines along one diagonal, I sewed similar lines along the opposite diagonal.  With those general guides, I then proceeded to sew along all the charcoal lines.  What you see above is the finished product of that endeavor.

Here you get a glimpse of the interior fabric, close-up.  The pattern you see on the fabric is a baby blue background, with white “circles” in the foreground.  Each “circle” looks as if it had been made from little grains of rice; the line of the circles is not solid.

Here you see the exterior fabric.  Unfortunately, I do not have an excellent camera, therefore it just looks like I’m trying too hard to be “artsy.”  Still, you can see here the dark brown background setting the stage for light turquoise flowers, outlined in a deeper turquoise/green.

As I was making this bag, I was obviously too distracted by the manufacturing process to bother myself with taking pictures.  Here you see the bag 90% complete.

The front, bottom, back, and top flap of the bag was made from the piece pictured earlier, sewn along the edges of two smaller, 7″ x 6″ sandwiched pieces.  Once the front, bottom, and back had been sewn on, I edged the sides to create a sturdier frame for the bag.  Then came the deep turquoise edge you see around the top flap, then the straps… made from the same interior fabric.

And here’s a look at the interior!  You can see that the sides have been darted so that they naturally pull inward.

You can also see the darker turquoise edging that you saw earlier on the top flap.  To make the edging, I cut the fabric into 2″ strips, sewed them together to make one long strip, then ironed the strip so that it folded in half, then again so that each 1″ side folded in on itself.  In the end, the edging appeared to be 1/2″ wide; I then wrapped this edging along the sides of the fabric, then sewed it into place.

To make the straps, I cut spare pieces of the interior fabric into 3 1/2″ strips, then sewed them into one long strip.  With the printed side of the fabric facing itself, I sewed one long seam down the strip.  With a large safety pin, I pulled the now-sewn strip right-side-out, then ironed it.  After fixing it into place along the bag, I began hand-sewing the handles onto the bag.  I have yet to complete this step, but have only one handle remaining.

So there you have it!  A good, time-consuming project for a snowy day.  The only piece I missed was to find a water-proof liner.  Had I obtained this material, I would have sandwiched it between the interior fabric and the batting; this would keep any potential spills from leaking out of the bag.  As it is, I’ll just have to be extra careful with this one.

SNOW DAY!

Snow is rare in the south.  The only thing rarer are schools that stay open during snow.  Yay, snow day!

(Also, this may be the first of my attempts at “Photo Friday” blog posts.  Hold on to your hats!)

Here is the view from my front door.  Stepping out into the cold was surprisingly chilly, since I had run out the door with my camera and no coat.  You can see thin layers of snow on all the cars out front.

Looking to the right from my front door, you can see the busy intersection that I live by.  This is usually the best view during the summertime, and now is no different.

A slightly blurry image from my kitchen window.  Do you see how close I am to the train tracks!  Also, notice the pre-cut townhomes beyond the train tracks.  Even they look more quaint with a dusting of snow.

Here is another view of my “backyard.”  This was taken from my bedroom window; to the right would be the view you just saw from the kitchen window.  You can see the ladder-like staircase that leads up to the train tracks, and the signal lights that the conductors use.  Far to your right is a major train intersection.  Often, you can hear the trains come whistling and groaning to a stop because the intersection is busy.

And finally, Charlie the Christmas cactus!  This took me by surprise this morning.  I had been oblivious to this plant stationed above my desk for so long, that to see such bright, large flowers this morning was a shocking treat.  Even though it’s a snow day, there must still be brightness and loveliness in the world.

Update: The Next Day

Not to disappoint, the weather continued with this wintry mix into the night.  The next morning, there was an even more lovely blanket of snow:

Here is a look at the busy intersection next to my house.  Almost no tire tracks through the snow, and the lids of trash cans almost doubled with powdery snow.

Here are my feet, clad in shoes of course.  The snow that managed to fall on my balcony/walkway is much thicker than yesterday’s snowfall.  Delightful!

Living Now and Future, part II

Sabbaticals are best used when they are well planned, right?  At least, this is fairly common starting supposition.  As this semester winds up (down?) I am starting to get more and more of the common question: “so what are you going to do after you graduate?”  My response is based loosely on my plans to take a sabbatical (however, when responding to someone at work, I usually make something up about applying to Atlanta faith-based non-profits, which I suppose I could…)  Despite these facile attempts at planning out a sabbatical, the details have (not surprisingly) been hard to come by.

But the loving persistence of a dear friend has given me the impetus to think more concretely than even my co-workers’ questions.

I do know some of the general contours that my sabbatical will take.  I will be moving to Atlanta, Decatur actually.  I will be living with my partner/boyfriend in a small house on Columbia Drive.  I will be making use of my hands in more creative ways than simply typing essays on a keyboard… I will paint, I will sew, I will cook, and I will make.  Now, you may have wrinkled your nose at that last sentence.  After all, women have been the sewers, the cooks, and the domestic makers for such a long time in Western civilization.  Believe me, it has been a 26-year process for me to realize and rail against such imposed gender norms.  But these last three years have been a time of slow transformation for me.  I am certain that to paint, to sew, to cook, and to make are truly good things for me.  Of at least that I am certain.

You see, my years in high school, college, and now graduate school have been sorrowfully devoid of much physical creativity.  Sure, there has been imagination and intellect coupled with good grades and compliments; there has even been the occasional creative “project” (making stoles for LGBTQI divinity graduates, painting picture frames, decorating my small apartment) but such projects have never been encompassing or anything more than mere hobby or distraction.

What of the raw, repetitive creativity of making things with one’s own hands?  What of the life that springs forth from work?  I think the monastic principle of work and prayer has more truth to it than our modern skepticism would like to admit.

Over the winter break, I marveled at the sly, seductive power of the smell of garlic that lingers on one’s hands after making a meal.  I wonder at the delicate strength of one’s fingers as they guide pieces of fabric through a sewing machine, or as they guide a brush, pushing paint across a canvas surface.  I am even awestruck at the theological significance of laundry: to make dirty things clean, and to provide ourselves and our loved ones shelter with clean clothes.  What comes from the use of one’s creative, creating body when we allow our physical natures to participate with the imagination of our minds is… spectacular.  It is tremendous, prayerful.  It is no less than a miracle of our human nature that we are able to be both created and creator; it is a gift to be cognizant of our physical participation in the ebb and flow of the world’s movement.

This kind of creative activity has been largely elusive to me in these past eight years since high school.  And when confronted with the despair that comes from trying endlessly to define one’s self outside of relationship–relationship to others, to one’s body, to one’s creativity–this kind of activity has been wholly absent.

This will be the content of my sabbatical: painting, sewing, cooking, creating.  If I must be practical in my planning, I will accede to not knowing many of the details.  As far as money, I will be temporarily dependent on the goodwill of family, friends, and intentional non-attached living: taking on a more monastic, subsistence existence.  I will be planting vegetables and herbs and making meals from scratch.  Phone bills will be paid, but with what (whose?) money I do not really care; I only use my phone to talk with out-of-state friends, anyway (the friends who are in-state, I expect to talk with face-to-face).  I will set up a painting studio.  I will buy canvas and paints and brushes.  I will make things.  I will sew stoles and tablecloths and things that people need.  I will write.

My time line is as yet undetermined.  I expect that I should set some time line.  Perhaps one year?  Give it one year to create and make and be.  Without expectation of academic achievement, without creating anxiety over my “professional” or “more important” identity.  Is a year long enough to repent of the over-indulgent, self-actualizing fantasy that I can possibly thrive without the creative faculties of my physical existence?  This will be an exercise of intentional anxiety-letting.  I have become too invested in the public/private split that honors the public, professional, and academic over the so-called private, inner, home life.  It is time to repent of this despairing posture.

This is not a reversion back to oppressive gender roles, but a realization that I have for too long tried to live out in public while neglecting the inner life of the Spirit that moves and gives me life.  This will be a time to give thanks to that Spirit, trusting that the same Spirit that has guided the saints will also guide me.  After a lifetime of trying and trying to determine my own future, this sabbatical will be an exercise in hopefulness and praise.  To see what future comes.

Tidbits

Hello Folks.  It’s been a while, and you are not caught up on my life.  To ease your anxiety, here I am.  Don’t you love me?

It’s been a relaxing and, well, inspiring few weeks.  The last semester of my Divinity School career began last Monday (a whole 8 days ago…), and already things are off to a swift start.  I usually reserve my “snowball-rolling-down-a-hill” analogy for coursework until after Easter break, but this time, it’s already begun.  This will be a rough and rowdy semester.

But I won’t bore you with the details.  At least, not the details you might want.  Instead, I will captivate you with the otherwise unnecessary details: those tidbits that may not mean much at first, but are more and more important the more you consider them.

Case in point: garlic.  Do you like the smell of garlic?  Well, if you’re human, of course you do.  Who am I kidding?  But not many people like the smell of garlic that lingers on their fingers after mincing a clove or two.  Me?  I can’t get enough of it.  Over my three-week winter break, I cooked so much with garlic, my fingers perpetually had that sharp, sweet, almost rotting flavor of garlic.  Every morning, I would wash my face and revel in the slightly off smell of garlic on my hands.  It may be strange, but I grew to love that smell in a relatively short period of time.  It reminded me of the nourishment that my hands had a part in providing, and excited the promise of as-yet-untried recipes.  I get the same way about rosemary (did you know I have sprigs of fresh–now dried–rosemary above my car vents?  The smell gets into the fabric of the car, and I can’t help but be happy when I start my defrost).

So, as it turns out, the small details–like the smell of garlic–make a huge difference.  Memory, promise, care, love, and excitement… all rolled up into one tidbit.

Some other tidbits?  I cannot help but buy canned vegetables in twos.  I have a glass jar of wasabi peas on my desk.  I listen to NPR on the drive to and from school (in fact, I know no other radio station in this town).  On long drives, I often prop my left knee on the driver’s side door.  A favorite go-to dinner?  Peas and corn.

I’ll save the rest for later.

Holidays Schmolidays

Ho hum, the holidays.  I’ve spent the past few weeks entirely offline (only hopping on to check last semester’s grades), and I only return now to check email before classes begin again next Monday.  I’ve also spent this time away from my school home in Tennessee, instead spending some lazy, lovely days in Atlanta.  It’s been blissful.

Some things I’ve been able to accomplish in the last few weeks:

• New tires on the car
• Cooking, cooking, cooking!  (Recipes include salmon with tomato cream sauce and peas, veggie lasagna, turkey lasagna, chocolate pudding with berries and orange whipped cream, and many many breakfasts, etc.)
• Re-read the last two Harry Potter books
• New Year’s Eve in North Carolina Smoky Mountains
• Gain a few well-loved pounds
• Host an 11-person dinner

And that’s about it.  Nice, isn’t it?  To have almost no responsibilities is a luxury of vacation that we seldom allow ourselves.  Here’s one little reminder to myself (and to you) to treat yourself well every day, especially when responsibilities seem to nag.

In the meantime, I’ll be dreaming dreams of souffles, tea, loosing myself in books and winning myself back again on scrap pieces of paper.  Happy New Year.

Living Now and Future

Tomorrow marks 5 months until I have my M.Div degree.  Crazy.  Seems like only yesterday I was brimming with excitement, ready to move all my belongings to Nashville to come to school again.  Now, I stand on the threshold of obtaining my degree… but I still have some papers and a test to take before I move into my last semester.

Which has gotten me thinking about the future.  Now, I know how awful life can be when you’re constantly thinking about the future and begin to forget about the present: often you end up living in regret at not having done more with your time or feeling sorry for yourself at not living that future now.  Still, I’ve been pondering what I will do with myself when I graduate.

I don’t have any immediate professional plans after my degree.  I think I’ve become so overwhelmed with all the work work work of this degree that I’ve lost hope that I can be professionally successful.  That is why I need an intentional sabbatical.

What will this sabbatical consist of?  I’m thinking that there will be lots of painting, lots of cooking, lots of reading, and lots of building a home.  I’m starting to compile my reading list for this sabbatical time period, and it includes a lot of Henri Nouwen, some Patristic Fathers, some art history, and some poetry.  I am looking forward to a fertile time of creativity, hospitality, and rejoicing in routine.  Let’s see how it goes!

Until then, friends, we need to keep hope.  We keep hope by living in the present.  Yes, it’s good to think of what I want to do after my degree, and it’s good to plan ahead for other things.  But it’s also devastating if that’s all we do.  So live in this moment, right now.  Appreciate all that is good about right now, realizing that it doesn’t have to be perfect in order to be good.  And keep hopeful that yes, things will continue to be good—if we are only brave enough to look for it.

Preparing for the short haul: 17 days until the end of the semester.

Admit it.  It’s been far too long since we met here.  Alas, my fault.  But, I am back from a restful and restorative Thanksgiving vacation and with only 17 days left to go before I am a mere one semester shy of my degree (read: 17 days before this semester is over), I thought I would take a moment to regroup, breathe, and prepare with you.  So as I eat this bowl of soup, let me fill you in on the next 17 days of my life.

December 16, 2009.  That’s the day it will all be done.  Yikes!  Between now and then, I have 8 discrete assignments to complete: (in order of appearance) 1 case study, 1 lecture, 1 paper revision for a course in Jewish/Christian Relations, 1 M.Div thesis (no pressure, no pressure), 1 evaluation of my experience as a teaching assistant, 1 paper for ethics, 1 paper for a community organizing class, and 1 (yes, only 1) final exam (Jewish/Christian Relations, if you were curious).  If I counted correctly, that will be 8 tasks, papers, and assignments due in a little more than 2 weeks.  When I say it like that, I’m a little frightened.

Fortunately, this restful and restorative vacation has filled me with a sense of optimism!  I am rested, I have perspective on this 17-day period in my life, and I just know I can do it.  May not do it spectacularly, but I sure as heck can do it.

Also, the theologian in me is peaceful and encouraged by the current liturgical season.  We are in the first week of Advent, which the the season meant to remind the church to prepare a way for Christ in the world, in our hearts, and in our relationships.  I am encouraged to know that I embark on these 8 assignments during a season in which I reflect on the presence of God in my life and actions.  In a small (but significant) way, I am grateful to ponder the reality that I am preparing a way for God.  Whether I prepare a way through the content of my assignments or simply by the sheer force of will I must exert in order to accomplish all 8 on time, I still prepare a way.  It may be small, and it may be unnoticed by many, but I’ve never had much luck finding God in grand gestures and momentous occasions.  I’d rather continue to find God in the small, apparently insignificant moments and actions in my life (and with any luck, in these next 17 days).

I Want to Paint

Lately, I’ve been wanting something creative in my life.  The ebb and flow of paper writing, reading, more paper writing, etc. has been a little draining.  Let’s just say I’m aware of burn-out and it’s sometimes steady, sometimes swift approach.  And I feel it on it’s way.

Then about a month ago, someone at my school was putting on a “Love Your Body” day event–spoken word, song, music, art… all around loving your body.  I was reminded of a painting that I did in my undergraduate stint in art classes.  You see, when I first arrived at college I wanted to be a Studio Art major, but something made me choose a more academic field of study.  I’ll never be quite sure why my artistic side took a back seat to my intellectual mind, but goodness gracious it’s been almost seven years and I’m feeling the need for that artistry to return to my life.  I want painting and art to be the product that I produce, not paper after paper after old worn-out paper.  It’s time for a change.  And I realized that change was so desperately needed when I submitted this painting to “Love Your Body.”

As you see it here, it sits upon a row of thumb tacks above my dining/sewing table.  Painted in pallet knife, it’s loosely conceived as a self-portrait (but it makes some intentional stretches of reality).

Seeing this painting on display was one thing, then actually drawing again was something else entirely.

Today I stole away from work for an hour to take part in my school’s weekly worship service.  This service changes every week, and this week was a communion of artistic improvisation.  I drew.  Good lord, did I draw.  Oil pastels swept onto a piece of white butcher paper taped to the tile floor as folks sang, drummed, tapped, grunted, and whispered together in an impromptu communion of creation.  I lost track of time; I saw colors move before me and I felt my legs go numb from crouching low by the paper.  As I walked back to work and re-entered “reality,” I could palpably feel just how much I wanted that to be my life: a life of creation and of artistic expression.

It may not be practical, and it may not be lucrative, but I need it.  Goodness, I only hope I can make it through the rest of this degree and not get lost in this desire for creativity.

What Weekends Are Good For

I don’t know that I’ve ever really appreciated just how fabulous weekends are… that is, until I went two weeks without a proper weekend.

Don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t forced to work these two weekends in a row.  I just didn’t get time to breathe!  Weekend one was full of concerts, charity walks, and church.  Weekend two (last weekend) brought a picnic, a wedding, a lunch, and eight hours of driving.  Is it any wonder that this most recent week was pretty much a failure?

I can confidently say that I accomplished NO work this week, despite the great necessity to do work.  Ok, so I did the minimum to get by, but I spent far more time alone, asleep, watching t.v., and hanging out with friends than doing the work I should have been doing.  Case in point?  I have 15 tests waiting to be graded on my coffee table (those tests were taken this Wednesday, and I have only read through one).  Case in another point?  A paper (which is due on Monday) is still waiting to be researched.  There are cases and points all over the place.  I won’t bore you with more.

Even with this slightly grim picture, all is not lost.  I don’t know where it’s coming from, but I have a burgeoning sense that I can accomplish everything that needs to be accomplished.  Can I do it perfectly?  No.  Can I do it at all?  Yes.

Suffice it to say, though, that I am taking advantage of THIS weekend to the best of my ability.  It may be a bad move to take [even more] time out for personal self-care, but one of the “sleeper effects” of the past two weekends without rest has been a downed immune system.  I am nursing myself through a head cold with plenty of fluids, more sleep, and decongestants.

After all, it’s not the worst thing in the world to give yourself some rest on the weekend.