Red Cedar
More apocalypse, less angst
Post #3014: Four minutes of me
I’m learning how to record and edit myself for the purposes of podcasting. Last night after lots of ums, ahs, false starts, and the telephone ringing (the phone never rings around here normally!) I dropped into a bit of a reflection about the sound of my own voice. A little editing in GarageBand and it’s a nice little vignette (if I do say so myself). Interested in hearing four minutes of me? Press play below (and I won’t be offended if you don’t).
And yes, I could speak a bit slower – but the truth is, I probably won’t learn how to do it now after forty-three years – so let’s all try to listen a little faster, shall we?
Post #3013: More things of spring…..
On the weekend I went to Victoria to see my family and took a hundred photographs of blooming flowers in Playfair Park – a place my mother lived next door to in the 1940s, and where a house my grandfather helped build still stands (his family did not live in the house, the lived in the apartment building of the landlord who was building the house). It’s quite a remarkable place at this time of year – in the 1950s, there was a significant volunteer effort which resulted in one of the most amazing rhododendron (aster, camelia, etc) gardens you can see anywhere in BC. It’s all in full bloom right now, so if you are near there – go and take a walk. I promise you won’t be sorry about it – there are many places where you are literally canopied by flowers – and it smells as good as it looks!
The spring weather and our impending move have me restless at the moment – to the degree that I am experiencing anxiety (the real kind) about all things. It doesn’t help that I find it hard to meditate in this state, which further compounds the anxious feeling, along with the fact that we are spending money on things for the move (something that triggers all sorts of weird feelings that stem from childhood about the ‘badness’ of spending money). I have a two day retreat with Norman Fischer coming up this weekend, and I’m curious about how it will be to sit still and focus on my breathing for two days in the midst of these heightened feelings of insecurity. Meditation retreats present differently each and every time (so says me who started doing retreats only a year ago!) – and are so influenced by the context in which we take them. I’ve just blocked off work time for two more (longer) retreats – one this summer, and one in November – as I am committed to practicing with my zen community when possible, even though I am moving off the mainland.
Despite this buzzing feeling (or perhaps because of it), I am ready for new creative projects. I’ve been putting thought into a new website for our home, music and podcast. I’ve started learning about podcast recording and editing, thinking about story structure, and all the like of that. Brian and I are well into planning two parties, one for the cabin (May work party) and our housewarming (August long weekend). And I’ve got six lengths of dress fabric sitting out on the ironing board waiting to be turned into tank tops, shirts and cycling tunics for summer. I’ve got just shy of six weeks until we move – five really until pack-up – and I intend to have all this sewn up before we go. I hope that’s really possible, but given the simplicity of the base pattern I am using, I think it is. Since I’m desperately in need of some new tops I’m feeling pretty motivated (this has the added bonus of being a procrastination maneuver).
And just in June I’ve got a full calendar already, a loom that wants refurbishing, a new home to organize, a meeting in Ottawa, and a wedding in Bella Coola to attend.
On the other hand, there is so much energy in this season that everything seems possible, colourful, and light.
Post #3012: Another ranch in the wilds.
On our last trip to the cabin, we took a drive out the Summerland way to spend the cool morning meandering and poking about. The drive from our cabin to Summerland is done on a secondary highway also used as logging road, and at a certain point not far from us, the pavement (and the powerlines) run out. For about 45 kilometres (and thousands of hectares around them) it’s off grid territory, where no building rules or municipal services apply.
Up until recently, there has been little for sale up through there. We know because we looked when we first bought our place three years ago. Though I am happy we purchased something on the grid (I feel a bit safer when I’m out there by myself) – it does seem like a lot of interesting property is suddenly available, including a 153 acre ghost ranch on the banks of the Empress Creek. It’s listed for far too much at $995,000 (they are billing it as a development opportunity which it might be, but not for a few decades) but it is a gorgeous piece of land. (Almost as nice as this one selling down the road, on the power grid, at $200k less for 100 more acres of land).
Anyhow – this piece isn’t about the price of land…. My point is that *every* time I see a big piece of land for sale – particularly one that has good water, and proper building sites – I want so desperately to move there and make a little home in the wilds.
I know this is a romantic impulse – but it doesn’t stop me from exploring it pretty much all the time, and Brian too! Though we are both long-time urban dwellers, we have a strong affinity for quiet and remote places, and love exploring the possibilities even though we know they will not come to pass.
Just a couple of months ago, a piece of off grid property as desirable and (more) remote as this ghost ranch came across my Facebook feed. As is our usual habit, I sent the link to Brian with a “Wow, look!” attached and didn’t think much more of it. But….. it proved fodder for turning over while sitting in bed drinking coffee the next morning. This one was not an interior property – but a beautiful little eco-lodge on the edge of the sea, boat access only, with everything all set up for bringing in a small income – enough to support basic needs. Enough that it begged the question, would it be possible to do if we sold our East Vancouver home and had money to spare.
Truthfully, it was probably the first time in our off-grid-dreaming-lives that an opportunity was there to actually pull up stakes, leave our community, and disappear into the edges of the coast with enough money to live on for several years at least.
But (as anyone could predict), we balked. We didn’t want to be so far away from our daughter, our parents, a night out on the town every once and awhile. We didn’t want to leave the security of jobs with pensions – or remove ourselves from our fields of expertise in which we would be forgotten in no time. We thought about how great things look in the first rosy sunrises of spring, and how hard it is at this latitude once the darkness of winter sets in. In the interior it’s boatloads of snow, on the coast – driving wind and rain. It’s one thing to be off grid in good weather, but B. and I are a little too soft for the hard turns that weather can drive.
I am always the one to say no to these fantasies first, and this time was no exception. I said, “let’s just be realistic and acknowledge that we aren’t going to do this thing,” to which Brian looked utterly crestfallen – his disappointment greater than I had ever seen before. Agh! I was being such a meanie and crushing the dream again!
So instead of letting the conversation go, I turned it in a different direction and started asking questions. Was he really ready to move from the city? What would our objectives be for a new place? Could we keep our jobs and make flexible arrangements happen? What other things would we need to do to make it work?
And through that 2-hour conversation we became unstuck together. We realized that it was not either/or – the city or the middle of nowhere – but that we had a lot of privilege available to us to start making different decisions about our lives now. Possibilities that were not even available to us a year ago were suddenly right out front. What had been a defeating conversation became one of “what if”, as if we were suddenly free to explore real options. Options that included our community and our family.
*This* more than anything else I’ve said – is the why of the move to Gabriola. It’s the dream-stopper if you will. The place that is not the overly-romanticized other world, but is also not the hard grit of sun on concrete and noise.
Which doesn’t mean that the dream will ever die – because at every ghost ranch and acreage for sale I come to on the dusty back roads of this province – I get out and take a look. I always do, and I always will. I’ll fantasize about where the house would go, and the mico-hydro in operation right on that creek bank over there. I’ll dig root cellars and plot a kitchen garden. I’ll put a shotgun by the front door just in case the bears come up in the cool light of morning and thump on the door.
And then I’ll leave that place and tell myself that when the collapse comes, that’s where I’m returning to. As a way of letting myself believe that one day I’ll find my way to a piece of land as remote as that. But in the meantime I know that even though this dream isn’t fully realized, it’s one that has inspired the place of change in me over and over again.
Post #3011: Spring time energies (bring on the dresses)
Recently a friend of ours wrote this to me:
“….you two are at the height of your creative edge. I keep thinking about you these days and say: “They are totally TURNED ON!” I hope you’re enjoying the ride.”
He was responding to our decision to sell the house and move out of the city, in addition to all the other things that we’ve got going on. Have I mentioned how much I love this friend? He has been in my life a long time, and seen me through many crazy life changes.
Anyhow.
I bring this up only because it is spring and I feel like all my energies are totally turned on at the moment. I want to make things, I want to learn things, and most of all I want to get on with setting up our new life on Gabriola! But since that’s two months away I am sticking to the first two items on that list of wants (and trying to discard the excesses of our life in the city before we pack up to go in June).
This weekend was pretty good for that as far as it goes. I put up six jars of pickled asparagus, and three jars of asparagus soup base – in addition to working on my latest sewing obsession: the perfect cycling dress.
As I have confessed to a couple of people recently – with the weather getting warmer – I am all about cycling in “regular” clothes. But more than that! I am all about cycling in dresses, skirts, and my decent work shoes (with low heels even) because changing before and after work drives me a bit batty when I have to do it every day. Also, I want commuting to be something that I don’t always need specialized gear for. In the winter, we can’t help it – rain gear and warm layers are essential – but now that it’s spring? I’m all over riding in dresses when the weather allows.
So I’m working out what it is that I feel best riding in and I’ve decided that ideally, it’s a dress made of a knit fabric that comes to the knee, and is sleeveless – to be dressed up with a cardigan or other shoulder covering at work (tattoos doncha know) – but allowing for maximum flexibility on warm days. It shouldn’t chafe at the waist. And I should be able to wear it with leggings, tights, or bike shorts without looking ridiculous. Also – I’m looking for easy sewing and endless options for trimming something out.
Basically, what I have been looking for is an A-line dress for knit fabric and voila! (Thanks Internet) I have found such a thing in the Coco Dress by Tilly and the Buttons.
This dress is so straightforward (two main body pieces) that it takes less than two hours to put together (finishing all the edges and everything). It’s easy to custom fit because it’s a knit. And it includes sleeve variations and a funnel collar if such a thing is your bag — but is just as easily made sleeveless and one could design endless collar options as well (it’s a basic boat neck, easy to modify).
On Friday I finished my first version of the dress (my camera is missing in the move mess and my tripod is outside so we’ve going with badly angled mirror selfies here – sorry):
This first version was made with two and half yards of some bamboo fabric that was sitting around in my stash from a few months ago when I bought it wanting to make I can’t remember what – and it turned out to be the wrong weight and hand. For this project, however, it was almost right. Perhaps a bit more stretch than I wanted, but good enough to fit a pattern by making a wearable muslin. You can see here that although the dress fits me overall – there is a tremendous amount of neck gape which wasn’t really a surprise since the full bust creates a hollow above it that needs to be fitted for. Someone suggested to me that it’s fine because it looks like a cowl neck – and it a does, a bit, but those lines coming down the shoulder indicate too much fabric in that area overall. Additionally, there was a little gaping at the armholes. Again – that’s a bust fitting issue.
But never mind those things! I finished this in time to drive up to the cabin and wore it all weekend with a pair of leggings despite the gaping neckline and tacked in faux-darts at the armholes.
When we got home yesterday, I had it in mind to grade the neckline of the pattern down in an attempt to clean up the top, in addition to putting in darts at the bustline to fix the armhole gape (this pattern – btw – does not come with a sleeveless version so this is not a pattern fault, sleeves would fix the armhole problem without darts normally).
Again, I turned to a cotton knit in my stash that has been kicking around for awhile and made my alterations. Re-grading the neckline put an extra inch of fullness into the skirt when I centered it back on the fabric fold (first rule of pattern alterations – when you take fabric out of one part of a pattern, it has to go somewhere else) which was just fine with me as I like a fuller skirt. You can’t really see it in this photo, but the skirt is just a tad more kicky as a result of that. What you can see is that the neckline looks a lot more like the boatneck it is supposed to be:
All that extra drapey fabric is absent from this neckline, and the darts worked to shape the armhole easily. I am very happy with the fit of this dress. Also – with a cardigan, the fabric pattern will break up nicely – though I think it looks a lot nicer colourwise in person than in this photo. I am going to put some front pockets on this one, and possibly some decorative neckline buttons to finish it later today.
I have three more yards of knit fabric sitting on my ironing board at the moment, which will comprise a third version of this same dress – this one being a polyester knit and I suspect, a tad more clingy. I’ve also got my eye on a sleeved version of this for fall, as well as a couple of shirts made with the same pattern.
With the alterations – I think I’ve managed to find the perfect cycle dress – not to mention an all round easy dress to make, alter, and stylize. When sewing is this simple, it’s easy to get energized about doing more of it 🙂
While I don’t feel exactly like I’m at my creative height, I am full of ideas and plans at the moment. Some for right this minute, and some for the summertime. I’m thinking about new projects that involve other people – I’m collecting bits and pieces for my new studio space – and I’m feeling the renewal that comes with spring (not to mention moving house). So huzzah! Bring on the new dresses!
Post #3010: In which I ride a bicycle while saying a zen chant…..
(Feature photo today is not mine – I swiped it off the VanCityBuzz post about cherry blossoms from a couple of years ago – but this is pretty much what Vancouver looks like at the moment.)
Yesterday was an okay day at work. In fact, this whole week has been okkkkkaaaay…. but on the other hand I’ve been feeling old/fat/tired-looking and everything else that comes to mind when I look in the mirror. Everything in my life is just *fine* but sometimes I feel bad about things anyways.
Anyhow, as I was saying – yesterday was an okay day, except at the end of it, I went to get my bike out and because our bike lock-up is full on sunny days in the spring, someone had locked their bike in a way that made mine almost impossible to unlock. It was almost as though this person had intentionally locked their bike in such a way as to impede me from removing mine – so ridiculously intertwined were the pedals/spokes and the handlebars – not to mention that their wheel blocked my u-lock in such a way that I had to wedge my arm into a two inch space while holding the key to get it out.
Okay – so fine. I wrestled the bike out and only said fsck once (though it was in front of a somewhat gentle and conservative co-worker so that wasn’t so great).
Got on the bike, rode through a crosswalk which is not a spot where bikes are required to stop, but is a yield to pedestrians spot. A woman crossing, who was about ten feet away from me said “you have a red light” as I crossed – which was not in fact true, and if she had been any closer to me – I would have yielded but there was no danger of running into anyone. Trust me, I cycle slow (downtown especially) *and* I follow all the road rules. Basically, this person was angry that I cycled near her (and was likely also grumpy from something that had happened in her day).
So then I was cycling home, and I was fuming – about the bike lockup and the crabby woman, and how I’m old/fat/tired these days and blah blah blah. It’s of course the most beautiful day in the world, and the cherry blossoms in East Van make riding the most glorious experience right now (I mean, this is hella good riding time, you almost cry from the beauty of the dark clouds and the pink blossoms sometimes, not to mention the view of Mount Baker through the condos on the clear days and, and, and)…. but instead of taking it all in, I’m in a mad loop about all the things that are wrong.
Somewhere around Clark and Adanac the phrase “all my twisted karma” popped into my head. Which is a zen phrase that is used to think about difficulties and our response to difficulties – that our lives are the result of all our ancient, twisted karma. This sound superstitious and magical – but really, it’s a way of saying that we inherit a lot of things that become ours to work with. Perhaps we inherit crappy (fat) genes, or we are descendants of colonial settlers, or we have a history of mental illness in our family that impacted our upbringing – all of these things are the karma into which we are born, and thus must address in our lifetime (and even if we can’t fix or change them, we might atone for or repent them in various ways by doing good).
That phrase itself is chanted as part of the Zen Buddhist Repentance chant which goes:
“All my ancient, twisted karma
from beginningless greed, hate, and delusion
borne of body, speech, and mind
I now fully avow.”
As soon as the first phrase of the repentance popped into my head, so too did the lines that followed – and I found myself crossing Clark on the light with the beginning of the chant building in me. By the time I was one block towards the big hill, I was whispering the chant to myself in time with my pedaling, and by the time the hill began to build I was chanting these lines outloud to myself over and over (though lowering my voice when I got close to anyone else). As I crossed Commercial Drive (where the hill starts to get steep) and slowed down, so I also slowed down the chanting – allowing the words and the remembering of them to in some way “power” me into joy. I was both pushing myself physically and laughing at the ridiculousness of chanting the repentance outloud while cycling uphill, and the sun was shining, and I had released the negativity from the first half of my ride, and by the time I crested the steepest part of Adanac Hill I realized that I had gone all the way up in nothing less than third gear (until yesterday I have granny geared near the top to make it through).
And from there I sailed home, chanting under my breath the whole way – and came into the house laughing, transformed.
Which is all to say that so much of what we think matters doesn’t, and it’s just a matter of remembering that.
Red Cedar 