Whatevers

It has been a dastardly long time since I’ve posted. Frankly, I’ve been going through some interesting internal changes and haven’t known quite how to communicate them in blog format.

First the report:

Randy and I went to the zoo to visit the monkeys & the butterflies, both figured prominently in a rather vivid brain manifestation during meditation one day. It seems my subconscious is a monkey trying to keep my higher consciousness (a swarm of monarch butterflies) in a cage. Monkey was not doing a really good job. Needed retraining to release the butterflies. So off to the zoo for some research.

discovered the macro setting

all looking at us because of a sound from Randy's Polariod

A brief but hilarious and nourishing trip to Desert Hot Springs with my ladies, facilitated connecting with my inner 80 yr old retiree.

Leslie with palm wings

Horrible photo of me but you get the idea of the shangri-la setting

And before I knew it we were off again this time to Indiana for a family visit – both Randy’s and mine. Every year his Mom’s clan gathers at the “peach tree house” in Elkart County Indiana for a week or so of family and fixing. Everyone pitches in and works on something. I know that the ladies in his family are big quilters, so I though they might like to help me with my first attempt. Boy did they ever!

Randy's mom and aunt pinning the quilt sandwich into the frame

Randy's Mom & I discuss how to bind the edge

Lucky for me the peachtree house is just about an hour and a half from my Dad’s place in Indiana, so we got to soak up some of his brand of country living too.

I try not to miss farmers markets while traveling, Dad's is a winner

My sweet friend Cedar from high school got married in Los Altos, CA this summer so we were off to spend some time in the Bay Area, which was a lot like a home coming for me. Reconnecting with some of the people and places from my pre-grown-up life was incredible and confirmed for me how important it is for me to listen to my heart and go where it tells me to.

Me holding the kite at Natural Bridges State Beach

And just this week, we went to Chicago for the premier of my talented, smart, funny, charismatic brother’s play: Heros and Villians.

And now I’m ready to just be here. At the begining of the summer I realized something really important about myself. Something I’ve known in my head for a long time, but just finally got in my gut. I am a maker of things, but I am not a seller of things. In fact, I don’t really want to have anything to do with the buying or selling of anything any more. At least as far as my occupation is concerned. I resist it, I sabatoge it, every time I have an opportunity to sell things I make, somehow I thwart it either conciously or unconciously. Why am I fighting this clear truth so hard?

So I made a decision. I want to be a hospital chaplain. I know it might seem sort of random. But I don’t really care how it seems. The Church of Craft, the weddings, the joy I derive from everything about them, point clearly in the direction I need to go. I want the way I make my way in the world to be about serving others, not selling them something. I’m in for some re-training and a journey whose path and distination are nebulous to me right now at best. But I’ve set off. My interview to begin training is next week. I would begin the week after that. I can’t wait.

I am beside myself with my newest Esty purchase. These incredible custom fit jeans made by the incomparable TrapperJane. I am one of those women with a body that just defies ready-to-wear, so when I found these jeans on Etsy almost a year ago I lost my mind. I’ve saved my pennies and finally bought them. The photos only tell a fraction of this story. The details and craftsmanship are beyond any clothing item I have ever owned, and those who know me, know I have some doozies.

About a year ago (right around the time I first spied these jeans) I made a commitment to consume dramatically less than I had grown accustomed to. This was both a financial decision, and a political one. One of the “rules” I made for my self was not to purchase any new clothing made in a factory. It has been really hard!! I still do get some underwear, socks, shoes, & coats new on a very limited basis, and even that is becoming less and less as I get better at knitting socks and closer to that illusive perfect t-shirt underwear pattern.

I love this life where the things I do purchase with my precious (few) pennies are worth so much more to me.

I’m off to Craft Con 2008!! You can expect a full report after I return (and recover). I’m looking forward to lots of feisty discussion and giant burritos.

My Dear friend ScottiRobotti on his Brooklyn rooftop. Can you believe he wants to move?

If you could have it be however you wanted, how would that be? It is perhaps the hardest question I’ve ever asked myself, and this is not the first time. When I was young and impressionable my Grandfather sat me down very seriously and said “As an old man, this is the best piece of advice I can give you: avoid work at all costs.” He cackled at his own absurdity, but I, being impressionable, took his advice to heart. I mean come on, working is not usually fun. I recently decided that jobs (i.e. working for a company rather than yourself) are tools of the man. Looking through those job listings on the NY Times it dawned on me how much the whole concept of “job” is designed to make you feel like you need to work for someone else to make a living. Not true!!

Ok so we have that established: no jobs. What do we want? I’m using the royal we here because I have recently realized that I am trying to do at least five careers at one time these days. I’m designing and sewing my own usable objects and selling them. I co-founded and am the NY minister of the Church of Craft. I’m a landlord. I teach crochet. I perform wedding ceremonies. I design crochet stuff. Okay, that’s six. And I also have a great full incredible life that mostly I just want to live as much as I can! So this is the pickle. How do I make enough: a living that is comfortable; and still do all the things I want to do, am compelled to do, love to do, without having a job? It is an old saw amongst my folk, and it feels indulgent and even immature to think I can have it how I want it. But why not?