Showing posts with label Holidays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Holidays. Show all posts
Sunday, December 28, 2014
Monday, December 22, 2014
Christmas presents
I decided I wanted to document how I wrapped presents this year, so here's a photo of the whole collection.
Saturday, November 29, 2014
Saturday After Thanksgiving: Christmas Tree Hunting
Winter recedes from
Late November each passing
Year, slush in its wake.
Sunday, May 25, 2014
Saturday, May 24, 2014
I am hungry, but I can say nothing of what they are
So it has been a very long time since I last wrote something long and driveling and soul excavating on this blathering blog home of mine, dusty, stale boot prints be durned.
Where to begin, little brother? Where to begin?
City people make my heart feel like a desert. First the Beehive Bazaar, and today, the weekend of Heritage (The thief of Memorial.) But today was different in that I spoke to at least two strangers who made me feel human instead of like a hot air balloon. All of the cotton-candy words I spin to keep these seemingly hollow people filled up... but of course, they aren't hollow. How could they actually be hollow? They must be human.
I am so tired and my legs are branches turned upside down. It was good to walk through rain-wet grass and alfalfa by the roadside this evening, it was good to renew my connection to the ground after a day standing and walking and answering questions and peering into unknown eyes.
Still, it was beautiful. Draining, but beautiful. Always beautiful, always an opportunity to learn and grow. Any dissatisfaction I experience would be an extension of my own yearning, my own wanting, my own missing. And, love, I miss so very much.
Where to begin, little brother? Where to begin?
City people make my heart feel like a desert. First the Beehive Bazaar, and today, the weekend of Heritage (The thief of Memorial.) But today was different in that I spoke to at least two strangers who made me feel human instead of like a hot air balloon. All of the cotton-candy words I spin to keep these seemingly hollow people filled up... but of course, they aren't hollow. How could they actually be hollow? They must be human.
I am so tired and my legs are branches turned upside down. It was good to walk through rain-wet grass and alfalfa by the roadside this evening, it was good to renew my connection to the ground after a day standing and walking and answering questions and peering into unknown eyes.
Still, it was beautiful. Draining, but beautiful. Always beautiful, always an opportunity to learn and grow. Any dissatisfaction I experience would be an extension of my own yearning, my own wanting, my own missing. And, love, I miss so very much.
Friday, February 14, 2014
Just tell someone how much you appreciate and care for them today
So yeah, happy valentines day, love.
Amoniel's yearly hipster valentine cards post. Yay.
I hope you have a good one, and may your heart be full and light.
Monday, December 30, 2013
Free-form Crochet in Digital Ink
Hello, it is me, come to visit this place of home.
There is a child hiding in my closet. I have no idea how there is room even for her small form in there, stuffed full as it is, as everything in my room is. I suppose I shall look back on all of this fondly someday, and indeed, I do not hate it terribly right now.
There is another child struggling to hide behind a dresser, but he has been found. The child in the closet is smiling at me from between the folds of a few dark dresses, and the child who was found is back again, hiding under my blankets and rocking my bed.
Apparently this is a game of hide and seek, based upon some sort of prison system.
The closet child has been found, a white arm and mess of hair were visible and the "warden" called her out. The child hiding in my bed has also been recovered and led to the next room, to return to "prison" once again. Now there is no one in here but me, and my sister who is actually in dream land still, so she doesn't really count.
I sit cross-legged amid mountainous folds of purple afghan and floral bed sheet, the corners of my laptop resting on my legs below my knees.
I'm kinda sorta lost. And I don't really know how to find my way back.
Never alone for long, a child darts into my room and onto my sister's bed pursued by the "warden" and is hauled off once again. My sister is sitting up, looking at me blankly, says "I hate getting up". And she lays back down, all yellow shirt and hair, sits up, blinks. I look at her, she looks at me, and says "what? what are you doing? what are you doing? Smiling so sneakysly."
I rather miss my school-time schedule. It's easier to write and remember to nap and exercise. I've given up on all else during vacation, but writing is life and nap-time, haha, makes life easier. I really am quite the four year old.
Never did it occur to me that I would be comforted by schedule and regularly ordered days, but I am, silly girl who thinks she's so very random. But ha, balance... Because yes, I can get very, very bored by too tight of a regimen.
How does this all fit together, I wonder? I followed the thread, but I also wound it. It is my making, so do I have the key to pulling it all tight and tying it neatly, or having been made by me, is there no answer nor key at all?
There is a child hiding in my closet. I have no idea how there is room even for her small form in there, stuffed full as it is, as everything in my room is. I suppose I shall look back on all of this fondly someday, and indeed, I do not hate it terribly right now.
There is another child struggling to hide behind a dresser, but he has been found. The child in the closet is smiling at me from between the folds of a few dark dresses, and the child who was found is back again, hiding under my blankets and rocking my bed.
Apparently this is a game of hide and seek, based upon some sort of prison system.
The closet child has been found, a white arm and mess of hair were visible and the "warden" called her out. The child hiding in my bed has also been recovered and led to the next room, to return to "prison" once again. Now there is no one in here but me, and my sister who is actually in dream land still, so she doesn't really count.
I sit cross-legged amid mountainous folds of purple afghan and floral bed sheet, the corners of my laptop resting on my legs below my knees.
I'm kinda sorta lost. And I don't really know how to find my way back.
Never alone for long, a child darts into my room and onto my sister's bed pursued by the "warden" and is hauled off once again. My sister is sitting up, looking at me blankly, says "I hate getting up". And she lays back down, all yellow shirt and hair, sits up, blinks. I look at her, she looks at me, and says "what? what are you doing? what are you doing? Smiling so sneakysly."
I rather miss my school-time schedule. It's easier to write and remember to nap and exercise. I've given up on all else during vacation, but writing is life and nap-time, haha, makes life easier. I really am quite the four year old.
Never did it occur to me that I would be comforted by schedule and regularly ordered days, but I am, silly girl who thinks she's so very random. But ha, balance... Because yes, I can get very, very bored by too tight of a regimen.
How does this all fit together, I wonder? I followed the thread, but I also wound it. It is my making, so do I have the key to pulling it all tight and tying it neatly, or having been made by me, is there no answer nor key at all?
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Monday, December 23, 2013
Book binding Projects as of late
And because I'm honestly a little ridiculously pleased with how I wrapped the last one, here are some photos to document it by;
Monday, December 16, 2013
Quest and Weave, Crest and Wave
I have spent today doing the things I enjoy, and yesterday I did the same.
It would seem that I turned nineteen at five in the morning a great many more than 24 hours ago, one more year spanning across the ages in this grand, small life.
That's the age two of my best friends were, nineteen, when we met one of them, and really started hanging out with the other. They made being nineteen look absolutely awesome, and I seem to remember and hang onto weird little things about other people, remembering conversations and idiosyncrasies and outward appearance and small details of lives and being at certain times.
This is a year I've been rather looking forward to, for abstract and intangible reasons. This is an age and birthday that arrived gracefully, fitting and flowing freely. Still, I never really think of myself as just one age. I am many.
I had no expectations, though many hopes for my birthday, however, hope is more flexible than expectation, and doesn't fall as hard when it is not met. Everything was perfect, which I guess is just how life has been lately, perfect as it is, perfect day by day, nothing amiss, though, yeah, there are still things I wish would happen or happen more, and it's not like I'm just blithely happy all of the time.
I am exploring life and being, and rather liking everything I find. There's not much of a concept of good or bad in my head anymore, which in itself, isn't necessarily great or worse. I mean, I do things that don't strike others as kind or safe, but I see no "wrong" with them. Maybe I'm overconfident. Part of the problem with being in the moment, I guess. But I still feel that I straddle past, present and future in my life. I'm getting more and more independent, even though others' still matter, other people still have wisdom and can offer guidance. It's confusing though, because I look at my grandmother, who asks for advice often, and voices her grand dreams, but she doesn't necessarily actually listen to the advice and guidance she gets. I don't really want to do that, because it makes people feel ignored and ill-valued.
I dance around the concepts in my head, as well as the things in outer life, looking carefully at every side of all the dimensions I sense. This can make for confusion, or at least, confusing writing. I look at every side, up and down and in and out, and I can see how I could go spinning off on the tangent, but I hold my core still and continue to observe the thing I am exploring; I want to see it all. Like the blind men and the elephant, except I want to feel every side of the elephant, and I want to know what others feel, what the elephant is to them, and then I can fit it to what I know of the elephant and know the elephant a little better.
I want to choose, not just fly off at the most opportune sound or sight. I guess that's why I don't really get mad anymore, at least not lately, not necessarily never --stretching of into the future-- There are so many sides to everything, and so many sides to every person who, themselves, feel so strongly. And the why for their feelings, oh, that could be explored forever too.
My brother, who reading a piece out loud during the Christmas organ recital, mispronounced a word. This, along with the absolute beauty of his tone and inflection while reading, striking every word in gold and mahogany, sent me and my sister into a strained giggle fit. It wasn't meant to make him uncomfortable, and it wasn't even entirely because of him, but also of the absurd beauty of the entire program, the emotion and setting and remembering there, everyone singing lovely songs off-key but whole heartedly and in easy companionship. Beautiful things can be amusing, you know, and I am elvish, fairy-kind, Gwragged Annwn, seeing the world at odd angles which can elicit strange reactions and emotions from me. It was exhilarating, in a way, and uncontrollable, I knew it wasn't a good idea, but it was nigh unto impossible to stop. I kept bumping up next to and careening off of my sister's giggling. We did eventually get a hold of ourselves, though, when the next carol finally started.
The whole thing was kind of embarrassing, and I apologized profusely to my brother right after and multiple times over the course of the evening.
Somebody asked that evening, after the program was over, whether I felt more mature, it being my birthday and all, and I said yes, though inside I was remembering the giggle fit and how childish that was. It was embarrassing, but it doesn't actually bother me a lot, it was what it is and will be. I am forty and four and nineteen, you know; I'm not sure how it all meshes together, but somehow it does.
It would seem that I turned nineteen at five in the morning a great many more than 24 hours ago, one more year spanning across the ages in this grand, small life.
That's the age two of my best friends were, nineteen, when we met one of them, and really started hanging out with the other. They made being nineteen look absolutely awesome, and I seem to remember and hang onto weird little things about other people, remembering conversations and idiosyncrasies and outward appearance and small details of lives and being at certain times.
This is a year I've been rather looking forward to, for abstract and intangible reasons. This is an age and birthday that arrived gracefully, fitting and flowing freely. Still, I never really think of myself as just one age. I am many.
I had no expectations, though many hopes for my birthday, however, hope is more flexible than expectation, and doesn't fall as hard when it is not met. Everything was perfect, which I guess is just how life has been lately, perfect as it is, perfect day by day, nothing amiss, though, yeah, there are still things I wish would happen or happen more, and it's not like I'm just blithely happy all of the time.
I am exploring life and being, and rather liking everything I find. There's not much of a concept of good or bad in my head anymore, which in itself, isn't necessarily great or worse. I mean, I do things that don't strike others as kind or safe, but I see no "wrong" with them. Maybe I'm overconfident. Part of the problem with being in the moment, I guess. But I still feel that I straddle past, present and future in my life. I'm getting more and more independent, even though others' still matter, other people still have wisdom and can offer guidance. It's confusing though, because I look at my grandmother, who asks for advice often, and voices her grand dreams, but she doesn't necessarily actually listen to the advice and guidance she gets. I don't really want to do that, because it makes people feel ignored and ill-valued.
I dance around the concepts in my head, as well as the things in outer life, looking carefully at every side of all the dimensions I sense. This can make for confusion, or at least, confusing writing. I look at every side, up and down and in and out, and I can see how I could go spinning off on the tangent, but I hold my core still and continue to observe the thing I am exploring; I want to see it all. Like the blind men and the elephant, except I want to feel every side of the elephant, and I want to know what others feel, what the elephant is to them, and then I can fit it to what I know of the elephant and know the elephant a little better.
I want to choose, not just fly off at the most opportune sound or sight. I guess that's why I don't really get mad anymore, at least not lately, not necessarily never --stretching of into the future-- There are so many sides to everything, and so many sides to every person who, themselves, feel so strongly. And the why for their feelings, oh, that could be explored forever too.
My brother, who reading a piece out loud during the Christmas organ recital, mispronounced a word. This, along with the absolute beauty of his tone and inflection while reading, striking every word in gold and mahogany, sent me and my sister into a strained giggle fit. It wasn't meant to make him uncomfortable, and it wasn't even entirely because of him, but also of the absurd beauty of the entire program, the emotion and setting and remembering there, everyone singing lovely songs off-key but whole heartedly and in easy companionship. Beautiful things can be amusing, you know, and I am elvish, fairy-kind, Gwragged Annwn, seeing the world at odd angles which can elicit strange reactions and emotions from me. It was exhilarating, in a way, and uncontrollable, I knew it wasn't a good idea, but it was nigh unto impossible to stop. I kept bumping up next to and careening off of my sister's giggling. We did eventually get a hold of ourselves, though, when the next carol finally started.
The whole thing was kind of embarrassing, and I apologized profusely to my brother right after and multiple times over the course of the evening.
Somebody asked that evening, after the program was over, whether I felt more mature, it being my birthday and all, and I said yes, though inside I was remembering the giggle fit and how childish that was. It was embarrassing, but it doesn't actually bother me a lot, it was what it is and will be. I am forty and four and nineteen, you know; I'm not sure how it all meshes together, but somehow it does.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Photo essay of a sort
(Click on the last three to make them bigger. One of these days I'm going to have to figure out how to get a template that's friendlier with photographs...)
Namaste y mae govannen to every and all
- Beauty in everyday life, spontaneous and immediate. If you wait, it will always come, heartbreaking and eye-opening. I am always a little bit less blind than I was before.
- Yo, my best friend and love.
- My lovely, still growing family.
- Every single one of my siblings, adopted, blood, and soul-relatives.
- All of my friends, which usually translates into siblings.
- Fantastic food and teamwork.
- Snow.
- Music, musicians, and musical instruments. Also, the music of the natural world in all senses.
- Memory.
- Writing.
- Doctor Who, in all of it's complexity and simplicity, intertwined duality. Funny, beautiful, heartbreaking.
- Enlightenment and transcendence, the unattainable, ever-won quest and weave.
- Emotion and expression, creativity and god.
- Skin.
- The space between the ears, all at once infinite and perfectly encapsulated.
- Life, always
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Just a Thought on a Holiday Long Past
I really like the spanish translation for Valentines day in my textbook, "el día del amor y la amistad", in English, "the day of love and friendship."
This better fits my personal interpretation of Valentines day, that it's also for friend and familial love; not just for romance, but for the recognition and appreciation of ALL the people in your heart and life.
This better fits my personal interpretation of Valentines day, that it's also for friend and familial love; not just for romance, but for the recognition and appreciation of ALL the people in your heart and life.
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Happy day unto you
'Tis Groundhog Day, this 2nd of February.
Not really very exciting until this evening when we shall watch the brilliant movie of the very same name.
Until then, today is really just a regular old Saturday; no school (yay!) but not really anything to do (boo!).
Not really very exciting until this evening when we shall watch the brilliant movie of the very same name.
Until then, today is really just a regular old Saturday; no school (yay!) but not really anything to do (boo!).
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
The Ten Things I'm Grateful For This Thanksgiving
1My family
2The Gs, Dreamer and Kathryn, Raven, and Sea eyes
3God
4Discovering the song in my heart
5My progress
6Orson Scott Card
7Love
8Writing
9Travel
10You, my love, you.
2The Gs, Dreamer and Kathryn, Raven, and Sea eyes
3God
4Discovering the song in my heart
5My progress
6Orson Scott Card
7Love
8Writing
9Travel
10You, my love, you.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Too Young To Complain
Years and years and years
Pass away,
Fly away,
Slide away
I have no fingers on my hands,
Otherwise I would be able to catch hold of
Lingering strands as the rope of
Time slips past
Seasons and seasons and seasons
Turn away,
Spin away,
Die away
It was still Summer just yesterday,
But today the ground has been draped in white,
And I've been thinking of gingerbread houses
And what I will give this Christmas to represent my heart
Hours and hours and hours
Gallop away,
Run away,
Hide away
They leave me standing here,
My head in a whirl from the lingering traces of memory
From faded years ago
And bright, fresh yesterday
Pass away,
Fly away,
Slide away
I have no fingers on my hands,
Otherwise I would be able to catch hold of
Lingering strands as the rope of
Time slips past
Seasons and seasons and seasons
Turn away,
Spin away,
Die away
It was still Summer just yesterday,
But today the ground has been draped in white,
And I've been thinking of gingerbread houses
And what I will give this Christmas to represent my heart
Hours and hours and hours
Gallop away,
Run away,
Hide away
They leave me standing here,
My head in a whirl from the lingering traces of memory
From faded years ago
And bright, fresh yesterday
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Some Happy Thoughts from the Happy Box
Subject: A roller coaster for Amoniel.
Listening to and watching an incredible piano video on YouTube, my heart soaring, doing the [emotional] yoyo all through the video. Better than any roller coaster I've ever been on.
8/7/12
I am just happy right now; I got everything I need to done, my dresser's clean, Princess is all ready for bed and tomorrow's Independence day! We have one thing we're definitely going to do and a few others we might.
7/3/12
*Hey, full moon tonight.*
Subject: Camping at the lodge.
Last night, hiking in the dark with the big kids and J. and B., camping out in the open. Watching the stars and seeing a comet!
7/23/12
Listening to and watching an incredible piano video on YouTube, my heart soaring, doing the [emotional] yoyo all through the video. Better than any roller coaster I've ever been on.
8/7/12
I am just happy right now; I got everything I need to done, my dresser's clean, Princess is all ready for bed and tomorrow's Independence day! We have one thing we're definitely going to do and a few others we might.
7/3/12
*Hey, full moon tonight.*
Subject: Camping at the lodge.
Last night, hiking in the dark with the big kids and J. and B., camping out in the open. Watching the stars and seeing a comet!
7/23/12
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Thursday, January 12, 2012
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