comfortable clothing and related thoughts

As summer was winding down, I finally got to make some tank tops I've been wanting to make for a while.  I used this pattern and made six.  It was such a great experience!  

I have a hard time finding clothes because when I go to the mall I tend to settle.  Things that are on sale aren't necessarily what I like best.  At thrift stores selection is unreliable at best.  However older things are often made better than what's available now.  Compare vintage L. L. Bean to the stuff made in China they currently sell.  You know, sweatshops are bad vibes as well as low quality.

So I struggle to put together a wardrobe that feels right for me, that looks like me.

Making these tanks feels like a breakthrough.  I have a pattern I've customized slightly, that I could repeat.  I can get one done in a day.  I have fabric for 2 more in the pipeline.

Having clothing that fits right and is of high quality makes you feel different.  Growing up I didn't often have those types of clothes.  I often felt uncomfortable in my clothes, and now, looking at people who appear to feel comfortable in their clothes, I wonder if that affected me.  

Those clothes made me feel that life was inherently uncomfortable.  

That's something I would like to change.  Starting with these 6 tanks.  And hopefully expanding to other items, whether purchased or made, new or used. 

I want to feel comfortable and well-equipped for my life.  

what i've learned--kitchens

Not my kitchen; from here

I've moved a lot.  I can look back and remember a lot of places, and what they felt like.  In my search for home, I'm looking for a place that reminds me of the best aspects of each place I've lived.

My tumblr page has a lot of images tagged kitchen.

We like to cook as a team so it's important to me that a kitchen functions smoothly with 2 or more people helping.  This is what I've learned so far about kitchens:

1.  Our current kitchen and the past 6 kitchens were laid out with the sink, stove, and refrigerator in a line.  In my opinion the best layout is a u shape that isn'
t too big or too small.

2.  There should be ample space between each work station:  washing dishes, prepping/chopping, and standing at the stove.  Our current kitchen has about 12 inches between the stove and the sink, so it's hard to wash dishes if someone is at the counter chopping vegetables.  I've read that 24 inches is ideal.

3.  There should be a suitable place to set things that you take out of the fridge.  The best arrangement we've had for this was a tiny kitchen with an extra small fridge.  It worked because you could sit at a chair (at the table) 2 feet from the fridge, and unload what you wanted onto the table, and then start chopping/prepping on the table.  The other person still had easy access to the stove and sink.  It's amazing that that tiny kitchen functioned so much better than the larger kitchens we've had since.

(That kitchen was also laid out in a line, but because the tiny table & 2 chairs were on the opposite wall, it formed something of a triangle.)

4.  Natural light is best.  Our current kitchen is quite fancy, with granite countertops and classy dark wood cabinets, but it has only 2 windows, one to the outdoors and the other facing a carport with limited light.  The dark cabinets seem to block a lot of light, particularly when cabinet doors are open.  I'd far rather sacrifice some storage and have more natural light, which is so much brighter than the overhead lighting.  It's really hard to see what I'm cooking, even with the over the range light on.

5.  Open shelves.  This works best if you regularly use everything that is displayed on the open shelves.  Otherwise, they do get dusty.  In our last place, we removed the cabinet doors from the upper cabinets and left the lower ones on.  (I'd love to do this here, but the cabinets are fancier and from my 1 day experience as a cabinet installer, I know this type would be very tedious to re-install.)

Open shelves means you can skip the step of opening a cabinet and directly reach for the bowl or mug you need.  Your plates, mugs, and collection of mason jars and spice bottles is rather appealing to look at.  You can keep the less beautiful things in the closed cabinets.

If you've ever bumped yourself in the face opening a cabinet too swiftly, you'd probably appreciate open shelves.

6.  Regarding counter height, I would like to copy the following snippet I found in a book recently:  "In rethinking the philosophy of the kitchen, I realized the need for a new approach to counterspaces in terms of height and materials.  First, there should be a stainless steel or granite cooktop that is impervious to food acids and can handle very hot pans;  then, two different heights for food preparation and chopping, made both of hard end or flat grain wood such as maple, cherry, or oak.  A water repellent teak or stainless steel surface that slopes surrounds the sink.  The sink itself should be at the highest level to make working in the basin (generally 8 - 10 inches deeper) comfortable.  The chopping block is then about two inches lower.  Finally, think about installing another counter six inches below that--or slightly higher than a table for such appliances as a Cuisinart, juicer, or coffee maker, that can double as a food prep area for children."  --Johnny Grey, custom kitchen designer

I'm already of the mind of having eclectic furnishings in the kitchen rather than a matching set of cabinets, and this suggestion works well with that.

7.  Eat in kitchen is desirable!  Even in my tiniest kitchens I've managed to squeeze in a small table which I've always used rather than a larger table in the living area (it ends up being the work/project table.).  In my dream kitchen I'd build in a booth next to a window.

8.  Access to the outdoors, preferably via a patio or deck.  I like to step outside and pick some herbs.  If the outdoors is visible and directly accesible, you're more likely to take breakfast or a cup of coffee outside.  If you have to step through 3 doors and a gate, it's easier to stay in.  The outdoor eating area would ideally be shady in summer and sunny in fall and spring.  You can get this with a removable canvas awning or a pergola with a vine (grapes, wisteria) that loses it's leaves in the winter.

9.  I like to hang pots & lids on the wall.  I also hung the biggest bowl and a colander over the sink where they can drip dry.  These items are harder to store in cabinets and they're easily accessible this way.

10.  Pantries and cabinets should have shallow shelves so items are not stacked in front of other items.  This way you won't lose track of what you have, and you don't have to move something to get something.  Also, if you're not using something, you can think about getting rid of it since you'll see it all the time.

11.  You can place a viney plant in the corner of the kitchen farthest from a window, and it will grow toward the light.  Place a few hooks in the wall to support it.

12.  I wash plastic bags and then hang them to dry using clips that stick to the fridge.  Then I have a storage system for the bags (a smaller card board box for regular bags and a clothespin for ziplocs) so that I can reuse.

13.  Compost.  If you compost, you can keep quart sized yogurt containers with lids on a counter.  Once they're full, place them in the fridge or empty them into the compost.  When we lived in an apartment and didn't have our own compost, we'd wait until we had 6 or more yogurt containers and then made a trip to the compost pile.

14.  Keep a stack of dishtowels (ones you like) for using as a napkin, drying rack, or to pile washed greens and veggies on.

15.  I have a cabinet dedicated to coffee and another for baking.

16.  Make a little cubby for a kitty to keep you company while you cook.

17.  Have a place for recycling.

This is my very personalized summary of kitchen design notes.  I may come back and add more if I think of it.  Otherwise I'll move on with my weird and wacky ideas about bedrooms and bathrooms.

making

we live in a house.  there are trees in the back yard.  the trees drop twigs, which we collect.  a flame catches on the wood.  this is fire.

flour, water, salt, and oil makes a dough.  the dough is cooked over the embers of a fire, and turned.  we add tomato sauce, pesto, cheese, and wait.  this is pizza.

i print a pattern and cut and glue the paper into shapes.  i pin the pattern to cloth.  scissors cut the cloth.  i will press it and sew it with a needle and thread.  this is a shirt.

life offers us objects.  certain tools cut materials.  other materials join them together.  being humans, we like to make things, so we learn the skills, and make things for ourselves.  this is my life.

thoughts on virtue

Photo taken at Botanical Gardens in Asheville, NC

When facing life's pain, I feel a need to commit to a belief system that grounds me.  I guess this is what religions provide many people.  I've found that my beliefs have come to me as I reflected on my experiences and sought goodness and clarity through much of the chaotic struggle of life.

There definitely were times that my personal philosophies were wayyy off.  But forming them and expressing them to myself and then realizing how flawed they were helped me to eventually discard them with conviction, and then replace them with more appropriate beliefs.  Here's an example.  It felt like I was called to be a strong, self-sacrificing woman.  I could tell (I thought) that I was stronger than those around me, so I decided I'd follow Christ's example in taking in all the evils and darkness in the world and giving forth love.  In my friendships I focused on being there for others, but felt uncomfortable leaning on them.  After spending time with others, I could only relax and care for myself when alone.  I kept my deepest joys private.

Then came marriage.  Living with someone meant that my fundamentally unsustainable approach to relationships (giving too much, not really knowing how to take care of myself when others were around) eventually had to fall apart.  This wasn't a pretty process, but I am grateful for it.  I'm glad that I have had to struggle through the discomfort of asking for things I needed.  Instead of keeping my interests and desires secret, I've brought them into the open and gained freedom and joy.

Because I can recall forming the idea of being a self-sacrificing Christ-like hero, I was able to see and reject that behavior.  I identified it as self-neglect, which fostered resentment and frustration about the fact that my life wasn't going the way I wanted it to.

...

Here's another belief I've held for some time.  We could call it "Virtue is its own reward."  Not in the smug, self-congratulatory sense.  To me this means that there is no external reward for 'good' actions.  Good actions benefit you and are good because they are beneficial.  Bad actions are those which do harm to ourselves or others (usually ourselves and others).  Calling things "good" and "bad" isn't really necessary but it is a common shorthand.  Is it morally wrong to leave garbage on the beach?  Is it wrong to constantly think self-critical thoughts?  Why worry about whether it's wrong?  These are not healthy choices.  

Believing this helps me because it's not fear of punishment that directs me to make 'good' choices.  It's knowing that good/healthy choices are better for me and for other people in my life.

This also helps me to deal with encounters with people who are unkind or insensitive.  Rather than seething over their inconsideration, and becoming cynical that there is no justice, I believe that justice is always at hand, and the person who acts unkindly is hurting themself as well as me.  Of course it may be their own pain that causes them to lash out as well.  But to respond with nastiness towards others only deepens the pain and the separation from fellow-humans.

On a good day, I can hold on to this and remain grounded even when bad things happen, when people are selfish, or refuse to respond reasonably to polite requests.

On a bad day, I feel separate from others, lonely in my misery, and am probably just as 'bad' as anyone else, kicking a flower out of unhappiness and the need to spread my pain.  Not a good approach, and it feels bad, too.

A married man who has a habit of flirting with other women is hurting his wife's feelings.  She has a right to be angry.  At the same time, this man is hurting himself.  He is weakening his relationship with the person who could be his strongest ally.  Why would he do this do himself?  There is probably a reason why.  Dig a little deeper and understand that these behaviors have roots and histories.  It doesn't excuse the behavior, but it helps to have a different perspective.  Otherwise it just looks like there is a jerk who hurts his wife and gets away with it, and she just has to put up with it.

...

I travelled to Asheville, North Carolina for five days last week.  Mountains, music, and art, with a lot of creative and spiritually minded people.

Hiking off the Blue Ridge Parkway near Asheville

values and other thoughts

It looks like I blog about once a month.  Let me write something here before May ends.  Below you see my little friend Wendell who is taking a look at some tests I graded as the semester wound to an end.

Wendell loves to climb into the middle of whatever I'm doing.  I'm sure your cats like to do the same thing.  

One of my themes this month has been searching for what my values are.

Maya Angelou said courage was the most important virtue, because without it you couldn't practice any of the other virtues.  I saw a quote recently attributed to Martin Luther King Jr. that said something like "Without justice there can be no peace."  I wonder as I work my way through this year what my values are, what my religion is.  A bumper sticker I spotted once said "My religion is kindness" which resonates also.  I've always felt truth to be one I placed a high value on.

Simplicity and plain living continues to resonate as one of my values.  I feel happiest when my day consists of simple chores such as washing dishes, making bread, doing laundry, sweeping the floor.  When my life is orderly, most tasks feel simple.  I can be focused and do one thing at a time.  

I just finished reading "Daybook" by Anne Truitt.  It inspired me to write more thoughtful journal entries of honest reflection.  Her journal entries are so enriching.  It is truly amazing what you can discover by simply writing down your thoughts.  In my head, I go in circles, but on paper, I can end up making a few steps forward.

I continue to do research about home design principles.  My most valued text is "A Pattern Language" by Christopher Alexander.  I began a project where I sketch out floor plans of all the homes I've lived in, and recall what was effective, what was awkward, what was cozy and immediately drew you in.  While buying a home and fixing it up is appealing, there is something about designing a home that I desire intensely.  It is one of my life's goals.  

Researching how homes work, finding out how furniture can or should be put together, how materials work, how humans feel when they interact with spaces and objects...all this fascinates me.  

Oh and I want to design my own clothing as well.  Perhaps I am a maker and designer first of all.

And I struggle with the fact that I am good at teaching math, but it seems to matter very little.  I try to have some fun with it, as much as I can.  But now that the semester is over, I am taking a hiatus from human interaction and trying to spend as much quiet time in nature as possible.

what is wrong with this picture?

I have this rant I've been holding in.  About stuff that seems to be considered normal, but doesn't make any sense.  I saw this cartoon in the New Yorker that shows I'm not the only one thinking about it, which is a relief.

Corporations are certainly willing to bulldoze any pristine wilderness in order to create profits.  Environmentalists protest and are told that stopping the project will make a lot of workers unhappy--they need the jobs!

But all these companies are outsourcing jobs overseas, and lobbying lawmakers to pass more free trade agreements, so that fewer and fewer satisfying jobs remain.  The reason they do it is profitability, and an obligation to shareholders.  And who are the shareholders?  Well, anyone with a regular retirement fund, right?  So basically some wholesome middle aged person approaching retirement has a stock portfolio.  So the person's retirement fund needs to grow, but meanwhile, that person’s kids probably won’t be able to find meaningful work.

Am I missing something? 

I do not want any part in wall street and its sins towards the people and the earth.  so how can I prepare for retirement?  I’d like to own a home mortgage free—so I don’t make banks rich while paying off the house.  not sure if either one of these are possible, but maybe owning a home debt free is a way to care for myself in my old age.  or part of it. 

Modern life is such a trap and I’m trying to escape all the things that people take for granted as inevitable parts of the American dream:

1) college debt/loans

2) expensive wedding

3) mortgage

4) corporate job

5) retirement portfolio

I keep feeling pressured to capitulate, to join everyone, to not be such a weirdo and just be happier.  Of course I want to own a home, and to have a secure old age, not to mention to be able to buy clothes without agonizing over lives ruined in a factory in China to make my cheap t-shirts.

I read a profile of a Quaker, John Woolman, who seemed to agonize with many of the same dilemmas back in the 1700's.  In addition to being an early abolitionist, he was thoughtful how he ate, dressed, and worked, and how this impacted others.

The little I've read about him inspires me to stay weird and true to my vision of simple living in a way that is worthwhile.  

walking invisibly

"I now feel under-equipped if I walk out of my apartment without my mobile phone, but I used to travel across the world with almost no contact with the people who loved me, and there was a dizzying freedom, a cool draught of solitude, in that. We were not so monitored, because no one read our letters the way they read our emails to sell us stuff, as Gmail does, or track our communications as the NSA does. We are moving into a world of unaccountable and secretive corporations that manage all our communications and work hand in hand with governments to make us visible to them. Our privacy is being strip-mined and hoarded."


-Rebecca Solnit
From this article.

I like the feeling of walking, paying cash, and reading a book or having a conversation.  All of these are activities that aren't monitored by corporations. 

The feeling of doing something real is different than the feeling of doing something online that others will be able to monitor.  You feel real to yourself, absent any witnesses. At times it seems important to blog about or post the important events of our life.  That posting makes them more real.  But there is a realness that the internet can't bestow on our life.

This past weekend our internet was out for 2 days.  Weirdly and inexplicably, we had access to youtube, and nothing else.  No one was able to explain this.  Now it is fixed.  It helps to be able to look things up.  But not having internet is a wake up call:  my life can be real without the internet connection.

why does furniture matter?

At first glance, my obsession with interior design photos seems superficial.  I have a degree in mathematics--supposedly pure truth distilled down to its essentials.  Why is a math major scrolling through photos of people's living spaces and saving them to a blog?

Beautiful objects make me happy.  And I've learned to pay attention to the joy that springs up in the center of my chest.  

I took this photo while driving home in the snow yesterday.  This is the most lovely part of my drive.

But do things matter?  And why?

A handmade object made from wood tells a story of a craftsperson working with earth's materials and creating an object that has a place in a life of a human.

"The solace of physical objects"--this phrase jumped into my head one day.  When you have a real thing in front of you, it is evidence of the history of the object.  The object is made of materials, and it has a history.

What is it made of?  Who made it?  How was it made?  Even if specific facts are not remembered, the physical object tells the story somehow.  That's comforting to me.

When an object is made of a simple natural material such as wood, it tells of a connection to nature.

When an object is made by human hands, it speaks of time and attention, of skill and care, which is basically--love.

When you live every day interacting with something made of nature, and of love, your life is enriched.  It seeps into you without you even realizing it.

p.s. these wool socks that I bought for Adam are exactly what I'm talking about too.  100% organic wool, from Austria.  The only socks I could find that were all wool.  I live for finding these high quality objects.  oh yeah, handmade shoes too, and mine were made with undyed leather.

bench part II

My little bench is finished.  It is now functioning sweetly as a nightstand.

While this project was rather tiny and extremely simple, it was rich with learning experiences.

1.  I designed this bench by starting with a single board I must have picked up some time ago.  The board has functioned as a shelf for us (with the help of a couple of brackets).  After considering a 1:2 ratio (favored by some designers) and the golden ratio (closer to a 1:1.6 ratio), I made this bench with width:height and height:length ratios closer to 1.4.  I'm pleased with how it looks.

2.  Some Japanese woodworkers chose to leave their wood unfinished.  I have found that some pieces I've made have begun to age nicely with no finish at all.  This approach is better for pieces that won't come in contact with food or water.  Over many years, as a piece is handled and used, it develops a unique patina.  Only a long-term commitment to a piece of furniture will yield this look--unless you buy a pre-aged piece at an antique shop.  I have grown fond of the idea of keeping a piece for life, and then passing it along.  The rich patina would be accompanied by many memories associated with that piece of furniture.

(Perhaps a future post would describe some pieces of furniture from our home in Bolivia that live on in my mind and perhaps still influence me to this day.)

3.  Angling the legs outward (forming a 95 rather than 90 degree angle with the top) proved to make this project much trickier.  I had cut the pieces before I had finalized the design, and my cuts were made at 90 degrees.  I used a block plane and chisel to angle the top and bottom of the legs so the bench would rest correctly on the floor and meet the top snugly also.

With a power circular saw, it would be simple to set the angle precise and re-make the cut.  Having handicapped myself by getting rid of my power saws, I learned how best to correct my error with hand tools.

4.  I cut the pieces in order to be able to play with the design by physically positioning the pieces and seeing how I felt about different arrangements.  Having the design finalized before making the first cut seems very challenging to me.  However, in time, I hope to come up with a standard design that can be repeated.



5.  Cutting the notches first with the saw and then chiseling them out worked very well.  I have now prioritized having a sharpening system for my chisels.

6.  I don't know how I would feel if I made many multiples of the same piece.  Part of me thinks I would find the repetitiveness relaxing.

7.  It is important to me to make sure the piece feels good to the touch as well as looking nice.  I sanded every piece so there are no rough edges.

8. The joint above is imperfect!  Ah, imperfection.

9.  I chose to use glue and nails rather than screws.  I wanted this piece to be solid and I don't see a need to take it apart.  I have used screws with larger pieces and it's been convenient to dis-assemble a large table for moving.  However, the stability suffers.

two woodworking videos

I finished my bench today!  I'll post with pictures later.  Today I have a beautiful video to share.  As you watch it, image you are smelling the wood shavings.



The Wood Turner from Elliott Forge on Vimeo.

 I also really relate to this guy:

little bench in progress

Today before the snow got too thick I drove over to the hardware/lumber store near by.  The man in the basement section of the store is a woodworker.  I asked him for a 1x2 that was about 28 inches long, and he found a scrap for me.  You can see it behind the bench assembly on the table.  

I'm still working on putting the pieces of the bench together, but I asked him about a device that would enable me to drill a hole at a precise angle, say about 85 degrees instead of 90, in this case.  I'm pretty sure the stability of this little bench will be enhanced by having the legs angle out slightly instead of forming a perfect rectangle.

So he loaned me the tool you see in the back ground.  He wasn't sure what it was called, but when I explained what I was trying to do, he knew right away what I was talking about.  I promised I'd get the tool back to him in a week--which will be a stretch given that this is finals week and I'm supposed to write and grade tests this week.  We'll see.

Below you can see some of my sketches for this project.

When I was making furniture in the past I worked with found wood.  My designs were dictated by the dimensions of the lumber I'd collected.  I was pretty fast & loose with the way I put things together.  During my time away from woodworking I've looked at a lot of pictures (some of which you can see here).  I've read about design, thought about the golden ratio (about 1.61:1), or about 2:1 rectangles, which other designers have preferred.  I think I'm ready to embark on a slightly different approach to woodworking.  I'm drawing and planning more.

The dimensions of the width to the height of my bench are closer to the golden ratio.  I'm using an old piece of wood for the main portion of the bench.  The gentleman at the hardware store identified it as old growth douglas fir.  By looking at the grain, he said it was probably from a tree that was 100-150 years old.  The cross brace is newer douglas fir, and the grain is pretty different (more curved, with lines farther apart).  The color is significantly lighter.  

close-up of the older wood--you can see how straight the grain is

I'm planning to finish this bench with either a walnut oil/beeswax blend I put together some time ago, or maybe just going with pure oil of some sort.  I've read some about how certain japanese woodworkers leave their wood unfinished.  I have pieces that I've left unfinished and liked them, but others got ugly stains.  I'm not sure if different varieties of wood age differently when left unfinished.  I like letting wood age, darken, get banged up, and generally show signs of age (kind of like an old person with gray hair & wrinkles can look so beautiful).  

Even with a project this small and simple, there are so many design decisions.  I just love analyzing something to death (some have identified this as an annoying trait of mine).  In this case it's just a delight to decide on the most beautiful angle for the legs, the ideal finish, the positioning of the cross-brace.

at the bottom of fear

Is it possible to make a break from the world of 40 hour weeks, benefits, monthly rent in excess of $1000, and 45 minute commutes?

I have a tenure-track position at a community college.  I think that tenure track is a term that indicates I could get tenure.  I don't have it yet, but I think I'm close.

I work with really nice people, and I'm reasonably good at what I do.

It's hard to make a break from this when I don't have a solid sense of what it is I'd rather be doing.

Fear comes up when I think of quitting.  Fear of what?  I decided to examine my fears more closely.  What it is that I'm truly afraid of?

1.  Loneliness (finding myself isolated as I become more unconventional)
2.  Poverty (not the elegant, monk-like poverty, but the stressful kind)
3.  Failure, and subsequent judgement by those who think I'm crazy to want to do this.

In thinking of how best to face fears #1 and 2, I imagined what the opposite of such fear would feel like.

It feels like surrendering into the arms of the earth, of mankind, and trusting that I would be cared for by people around me, and by the earth, and its bounty.

(As I write these words, I hear voices pouncing:  how irrational, delusional, and irresponsible!)

I imagine that the perfect experiment is to set forth into the world with very little.  The image is walking with a backpack on.  A relatively small backpack.

In "Without a Map", Meredith Hall describes a point in her life in which she is walking alone in Turkey (I'm pretty sure it was Turkey) with basically nothing but the clothes on her back.  She is lost, disconnected, and stripped bare of protection and comfort.

I related to Meredith's memoir for a number of reasons, and her description of that moment seemed to describe a fear that has subconsciously haunted me.  Isolated by judgement, and owning nothing.  Reliant on the goodness of those around not to harm her.

At the same time, it seems like the ultimate freedom.  You have nothing, and you survive.  After that, how could you ever be afraid again?

Isn't finding that fearlessness the ultimate reward?  If I can find that at the bottom, there is nothing to fear, then perhaps there is nothing to hold me back from setting out into the world to find what is there.

meaning and healing

a weekday evening--getting set up to grade some papers

5-6 years ago, in conversation:

"What is the meaning of life?"

"To figure out what the meaning of life is."


Recently, in reflection:

"What is the purpose of our lives?"

"To heal our wounds."


Which is validated by this quotation:

"...healing the soul and healing the world.  Ultimately there is no separation between them."

from "Integrity, Ecology, and Community:  The Motion of Love" by Jennie M. Ratcliffe

1.  School's back in session.  Caught back in the turning week of the weeks that follow one another.

2.  I created a blog with pictures of things that inspire me.  Here.  I named it analysis and synthesis, inspired by a Fourier Analysis class where we take functions apart and put them back together.  Well, this is not math related, but the idea was to try to find what it is that inspires me in the pictures.

3.  I've been reading.  Just now:  Steppenwolf by Herman Hesse.  Before:  The Solace of Open Spaces by Gretel Erlich.  Before that:  The Little Bookstore of Big Stone Gap, by Wendy Welch.

4.  We watched Tokyo Story, right before my parents visited.  Weird timing.

5.  I'm using my sharpened chisels on scraps of to make a practice table leg joint.

6.  The more sketches I make of furniture and joinery, the more inspired I am to make simple crates and peg boards for the wall.   When I saw this picture (source), my heart became happy.  So simple!  So lovely!

Timber Framing

At the end of June I took a class at Heartwood School for the Homebuilding Crafts, in Massachusetts.  It was a fabulous week.  Timber framing is a really elegant way of working with wood, and this school focuses on only working with hand tools.  Our class was a group of 26 people from various backgrounds, ages, and locations from across the country.  I highly recommend the experience.

My first tenon!  Love that hand forged Barr chisel.  Note the antique boring machine (for making mortises) behind me.

I'm working on a mortise here--sideways is not recommended but my partner was working on another joint on the end so I did this anyway.

Putting up the timber frame on Heartwood School's deck

Assembling the timberframe--one of the corner posts is mine :)

Working with green pine (wood that has not been kiln dried) smelled so good!  I'll never smell fresh pine again without being transported to Heartwood's shade dappled driveway where we worked outdoors all day.

Except for the last day, when our teachers had to pull out power tools to finish on time, there was just the sound of friendly conversations, hand saws, chisels, and mallets.

We built two small structures which had been ordered by clients.  The beauty of timber framing is that you can put the structure together first, to check that everything fits.  Then you can pull the pegs out, take the pieces apart, and load them onto a truck to be assembled at the client's property.

Working with a quality, well sharpened chisel was a revelation.  I can't wait to get my smaller chisels sharpened so I can make furniture sized mortises and tenons.

journey into the unknown

Writers do not write to impart knowledge to others; rather, they write to inform themselves.

--Judith Guest, from the foreword to Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within.

When you write, you lay out a line of words. The line of words is a miner's pick, a wood-carver's gouge, a surgeon's probe. You wield it, and it digs a path you follow. Soon you find yourself deep in new territory.

You make the path boldly and follow it fearfully. You go where the path leads.

The writing has changed, in your hands, and in a twinkling, from an expression of your notions to an epistemological tool. The new place interests you because it is not clear. You attend.

--Annie Dillard, The Writing Life


As I read these words, I realize that writing is most interesting to me when it is an investigation, a search, an attempt to explain something or to find the truth.

It is truly amazing that in the process of laying down words on a page, gradually you find yourself making progress, you get somewhere you couldn't get by simply thinking, which tends to go in circles, wrapping around points of frustration or trailing off into dead end side tracks.

In each moment, write the truth you are sensing. Each moment recorded is a step. The best you can do is follow your nose. You are almost blind, but not quite.

learning about simplicity

I've always been a fan of orderly and simple environments.  I feel at peace when dishes are washed, clothes are folded, bills are paid, and the table top is clear.  

I'm discovering another type of simplicity.  If, in an effort to arrive at an orderly environment, my actions are hurried and unhappy, there is a lack of simplicity within me as I attempt to gain simplicity around me.  

Reading Thich Nhat Hanh recently has helped me to understand what slowing down means.  The book has been returned to the library, and I don't remember the title, just that the cover is battered and worn.   There is a chapter in the book where he suggests assigning a day every week to not speaking, and to doing things very slowly.  He describes what this day might be like:  bathing with care, boiling water, brewing tea, then drinking it slowly.

“Drink your tea slowly and reverently, as if it is the axis on which the world earth revolves - slowly, evenly, without rushing toward the future.” 


Rushing toward the future--that describes me in a nutshell!  In a way, I often live about 3 steps ahead of my body, which can't walk fast enough to keep up with where I wish I was.  

Finding simplicity in my life might mean inhabiting the present moment as fully as possible.  "Slow down" and "Live in the present" sound like cliches--I've heard them so often and thought they'd be something I'd have time for at some point, preferably once I achieve my ideal life.

In the moment when my mind is four steps ahead of my hands, I tremblingly inhale, exhale, and look down at the still life (still, very still) before me.  It is beautiful, in this moment, and I have permission to enjoy this moment, to see its beauty.  

Making supper tonight--I want to wash some greens.  I take down the big bowl to put in the sink, but a dirty dish is sitting there.  This is the moment where I choose.

I set the big bowl aside.   I'm eager to wash the greens, but I can take this moment to wash the dirty dish carefully, and enjoy seeing it become clean, and setting it to dry.  I'm not rushing to end this moment--I'm inhabiting it.

The moment before the one I am striving toward is a moment also.  I can miss it, or resent it for getting in the way.  Or I can experience it as fully as possible.  And the only way to do that is to not wish I was some place else.  

To actually enjoy this moment?  I feel a burden lifting, as if I was being granted permission to be here now, instead of rushing to somewhere up ahead.  A great gift--it feels like a vacation, because the present moment is so much simpler than racing through the obstacles toward the goal up ahead.  Maybe the only true beauty I can find, the only true simplicity, is simplicity of the present moment.

ups and downs and a parable that gets me through

We've been through a lot of changes in plans lately.  One plan disappears, another appears, disappears, the other plan reappears.  A dizzying, mental whip-lash-inducing series of changes in the imagined landscape.

This story struck me when I first read it (not in the same form, but the idea is the same).  It really helps to ground me and get me through excitement, disappointment, and anxiety in waiting for answers.

A man who lived on the northern frontier of China was skilled in interpreting events. One day, for no reason, his horse ran away to the nomads across the border. Everyone tried to console him, but his father said, "What makes you so sure this isn't a blessing?" 

Some months later his horse returned, bringing a splendid nomad stallion. Everyone congratulated him, but his father said, "What makes you so sure this isn't a disaster?" 

Their household was richer by a fine horse, which his son loved to ride. One day he fell and broke his hip. Everyone tried to console him, but his father said, "What makes you so sure this isn't a blessing?" 

A year later the nomads came in force across the border, and every able-bodied man took his bow and went into battle. The Chinese frontiersmen lost nine of every ten men. Only because the son was lame did the father and son survive to take care of each other. 

Truly, blessing turns to disaster, and disaster to blessing: the changes have no end, nor can the mystery be fathomed.  

The Lost Horse,
Chinese Folktale. 

As told by Ellen J. Langer, in" The Power of Mindful Learning," Reading, Mass: Addison-Wesley, page 99-100. (1997).

Truly, life is a mystery, and we can just open our eyes and watch how the mystery unfolds.  Maybe we can detach from labeling each event as good or bad, and just see what happens.   Whether an event is good or bad is something that changes with time, anyway.  It's a grand experiment.

simplicity

The word simplicity has always given me a euphoria.  By nature I feel overwhelmed a lot.  I can't keep up, and my life is already pretty simple.

The idea of simplifying further energizes me.

If we decide to live in a tiny house, perhaps 200 square feet or so, would our lives be simpler or more complicated?

I've never agreed with people who get rid of too much, and then don't have pots and pans to cook in.  I believe in keeping the tools of a handmade life.

But I wonder how much electricity I need.  I've recently become aware of EMF's and how they aren't very good for the electromagnetic currents in our bodies.

We like to listen to music, and who can live without the internet these days?  A fridge seems tough to live without.  That and a few (LED) lights.  Well we do still use a toaster although it uses a lot of electricity.

Do we need running water?  Yes, I think so.  Washing dishes should be enjoyable.  Heated water is also a good idea.  Constantly heating water on a stove top feels like a waste of time.

That said, there is a part of me that would like to live in a chop wood and carry water type of simplicity.  Candle light, fire light, pump and carry water, heat on a stove, take a bath in a basin that can then hang on the wall.  No wiring, no plumbing.

I would like to try this for a while as an experiment.

It's quite hard to envision transitioning to a life in a more rural place.  We live in a nice small town that is nestled between town after town.  (There are so many towns here that it is possible to live for 10 years in an area and not know the names of towns 15 minutes from you.)

I started looking at land for sale.  You really can't get much of an idea by reading a realtor's brief description and examining a few photos.  It's overwhelming to consider buying land that is 4-5 hours away.  The wise choice would be to rent in an area before buying, of course.  It just annoys me to enter into a rental contract and spend more money on rent from our savings.

In order to move, we'd cut off income.  We'd have to a) find a place to rent, b) look for land for sale, and still be thinking about c) what is our long term plan for income?

Image from http://www.econesthomes.com/

The long term plan for income would be dependent on the area we'd move to, because I'd like to do something connected to the local economy and local resources.  

However, it does seem unwise to purchase land before knowing what exactly we'd like to be doing.  So perhaps what we want to do should drive the decision about where to relocate.

I have started thinking about timber framing.   A school called Fox Maple in Maine teaches a week long workshop.  And a company called Econest in Oregon that specializes in timber frame houses with clay/straw walls.   Their houses and philosophy are Asian-inspired and the pictures are breathtaking.  They offer workshops too.

Finally, a type of building that truly agrees with me down to my bones.  I look through the many pictures I've saved in my inspiration folder, and suddenly I see that timber frames are all through it.  

And I hear that timber framing is like making furniture--and I think that maybe after I build a house for us, I could apply the same skills to putting furniture together.  Without nails or screws, with handtools.  In an ancient traditional way, built to last for a century or more.

I must chase down guides into this new life.  If anyone has suggestions about courses they'd recommend or other resources, I'd love to hear from you!