Goals for 2023

I never make resolutions at New Year. Rather, I re-visit, remind, and hone intentions. I always think it best to do this regularly but New Year's Eve is a chance to really bite it off and chew.

So. Some revisiting:

Take more pictures of my projects and of the world around me. Post them.

I remember when I was social and how I enjoyed it. Now that that is possible again, don't let chances slip by. I do know many delightful people. Make more effort to be with them.

Write and write some more.

Some reminding:

I am happier when I take care of my health. A recent dental tragedy - yes another one - has made it impossible for me to eat mindlessly for about six weeks now. I have to eat very slowly and carefully and be mindful of getting as much nutrition as possible from soft foods that don't hurt my mouth. So, while this has been a difficult time, there has been a positive side effect. My digestive system feels much better than before and I'm generally lighter and less sluggish. I remember when I felt well because I feel so again. Keep this up. Eat delicious foods that are good for me. Life is too short to eat foods I don't like or want.

Also, remember that I feel best when I write regularly.

Some honing: 

Really be protective of my time to be creative. Carve out spaces for writing and reading and putting my work together. Getting published in a journal is a major goal for 2023. Keep working at that. Knit, cook, dance. Don't waste time.

There are other things I could focus on like work, looking for new work, money, and the like. But I want to be positive. I want good energy. Fretting about practicalities is best left for another day. Happy New Year everyone.

Subject To Dispersal

"One is not oneself. 
One is several, incomplete and subject to dispersal."

                                                                      Virginia Woolf

I have been struggling with my multitudes of late. There is so much I want to do, so many things I want to be. I am trying to knit, trying to write, trying to be a labour activist. Add to that my overriding, almost animal instinct to be a giving partner and mother. There are not enough hours to accomplish everything and I find that if I devote the majority of my focus on one aspect of my personality, I miss the others. So I practice a little of each and do none of them particularly well.

This feels urgent. Time seems to go faster as I age. Also, as I don't have what people call a "career" but rather just a boring job where I exchange my precious time for dollars, there is the shame and discouragement of that issue.

What's best? Should one focus intensely or be a scattered mess of activity? Where's the balance and how to find it?

This is just a meandering - an attempt to get it down. 

Here are some photos of weirdness on the Don Trail taken two Sundays ago when it was unseasonably balmy and we went for a muddy bike ride.

  

End of Year

Goodbye 2017. It is now 5pm our time Deceber 31. My lover is making us a delicious dinner and soon we will toast the New Year. What are you doing?

It's been a hectic holiday season with fractured family all about there is much driving and visiting to be done. Every year I wonder if it's worth it.

Yet, when I stop my complaining and really take a still moment, I see just how much I have to be grateful for in this past year. I took part in the Fight for $15 and Fairness, a movement that got raises and better working conditions for 1.6 million people starting tomorrow. So Amazing!

I travelled across the Atlantic for the first time this year. See me being happy in London in the photo above? The picture was taken by my friend Victor who I hadn't seen in 5 years and with whom we spent a wonderful day. That's pretty special. 

We also did spend some holiday time with those we love and who love us. The beautiful members of The Workers' Action Centre hosted a fun holiday party. There was potluck dinner and dancing to Elvis with families I've known since The Daughter's pre-school days. There was wine and risotto with some, wine and mussels with others, wine and lasagna, wine and beef stew. Food and company.

And then there's this one. My relationship with The Daughter is a source of great joy to me and I think maybe to her too. I'm so happy she is making the transition into independant adulthood while still being my friend. She even likes my knitting and sent me this photo of her wearing the Antler Hat I made her for Christmas.

There's also this one. He loves me. He doesn't just say it, he actually practices it. How wonderful to be in an adult loving partnership that we both treasure and care for. And to think it only took 50 years to find him.

Not bad, right? If that's all there ever is, that would be enough. I do feel there's more good coming though and I hope to be open to it when it arrives.

Happy New Year everyone.

John Ashbery: Jul 28 1927- Sept 3 2017

How do I write an appreciation of John Ashbery? He died this past Sunday at age 90 and was a writer always. I started to say, in my Facebook post about his passing, that his words were often comfort and joy to me until I realized this is a quote from a holiday carol. See how easy it is to fall into maudlin cliche and bad writing?

I first wrote of my discovery of John Ashbery in January 2013 after taking the self guided East Village Poetry Walk in lower Manhatten. As I said then, I was crossing the park with Ashbery's voice in my ear reading Just Walking Around (A Wave, 1984). It was a beautiful neighbourhood park full of families and dogs and a few bench lounging drunks. During what was often a lonely trip to for me, it reminded me of my heart's home.

"But you are too preoccupied
By the secret smudge in the back of your soul
To say much and wander around,
Smiling to yourself and others.
It gets to be kind of lonely
But at the same time off-putting.
Counterproductive..."

A big dog bounded toward me, all smiling legs and tail and I felt the tight spring inside me uncoil a notch. I've listened to and read that poem countless times since that day. I can recite it by heart.

St Mark's Place, NYC January 2013

Ashbery's 1991 book length poem Flow Chart was my near constant companion through 2014. It was with me most Friday nights at my favourite diner where I sat over greasy food and pints reading and reading and sometimes trying to write myself. I marked my favourite passages with bits of torn napkin, copied them into my journal: 

"...dig our heels in and ask the cliff 
to explain itself, and the ferns erupting from its crevices:  I too 
have stood here faceless and seemingly angry for a long time, yet for all that
don't feel it time to intimidate someone, make him or her feel lonesome just 
   because there is
indeed a horizon"

Or this:

"...And will my genuine if respectful indifference militate 
against the neutrality of my performance? Is a conflict of interest shaping up, or
     what?"

Or what, indeed?

Seems to be. Perhaps. You see. If so. I feel that. However...

He used common clauses to link lengthy yet individually simple, phrases into complex and famously "difficult" poetry. 
From The Guardian's obituary:

“I don’t find any direct statements in life,” Ashbery once explained to the Times in London. “My poetry imitates or reproduces the way knowledge or awareness comes to me, which is by fits and starts and by indirection. I don’t think poetry arranged in neat patterns would reflect that situation.”

I disagree with the difficult label. His writing to me, is the flow in the Flow Chart. One reads and an impression takes hold. His writing is a mirror to the way an observant mind processes the world. Music, visual imagery, snatches of news and conversation, all spool out to form an idea. It's stated then left there as another takes shape. Perhaps it will be repeated later or perhaps not. Like waves lapping on the shore, climbing and receding, if listened to long enough, the experience of the experience becomes clear to you, even if you you don't understand exactly why.

Well thumbed.

John Ashbery was, of course, incredibly erudite, well read and well traveled.  He was also a professional art critic. He often referenced specific art work and literature in his poems and why wouldn't he? From mention of the opera Orlando Furioso in Soonest Mended (1962), to the painter Parmigianino in Self Portrait in A Convex Mirror (1975), to the Sibelius Quartet in Hotel Lautreamont (2007), it was always done with relevance and without arrogance. I have found that knowing the references is not always necessary to the appreciation of the work, but hey, we live in the world of the internet and it's delightfully easy to look these things up. 

My signed copy of  the Pulitzer Prize winning book - a gift from my Love.

We have the internet to thank as well for access to many recordings of Ashbery reading from his work. He had a pleasant and clear voice and read aloud in my favourite style; straightforward and without unnecessary dramatic emoting. He let the strength of the words carry the piece. I enjoy listening to him while I knit or take transit. I've heard him so often that when I read his poems to myself, it is his voice that I hear in my head.

Yes, I'm a little sad that he's gone but he was ninety years old after all.  He wrote until the end of his long and graceful life so he left us much to enjoy and discover - profound yet simple phrases such as "The inside of stumbling. The way to breath" (Homeless Heart, 2012). His last new collection came out in 2015. Isn't that remarkable? Mostly I suppose I'm sad because no longer can I use 'America's greatest living poet' as answer to the question, 'Who is John Ashbery? '.

"And now that the end is near,
The segments of the trip swing open like an orange.
There is light in there, and mystery and food.
Come see it. Come not for me but it.
But if I am still there, grant that we may see each other"

Photograph: Eamonn McCabe for the Guardian

Second Verse for Bill

Completion is hard.
In a story or a poem, everyone starts with the understanding that
This is just a piece. A thought. A snapshot.
In a novel they expect an ending.
When you are writing a novel you have to decide
Where to stop. Though there is no ending really. The story
Always goes on. Even after every one of your characters dies,
Someone or something else
Continues.

After the show but before the babies
And long before we knew we could die
suddenly or otherwise,
you kissed me for the second time
under the streetlight by your apartment.
When you pulled away, you were smiling that gap toothed smile
that you never did get fixed.
We would always recognize you, you knew
by the space between your teeth.

Before long and longing and long before social media
could tell me you were gone
there was a streetlight and me on my bike.
Beer happy and twenty-five.
Facing home.
You OK? you asked and meant it.
Oh, don't worry about me. It's downhill from here.
I'll just point
and coast.

Just A Shawl

Yes, times are bad and seemingly getting worse. My struggles with job disappointment and poverty very much got me down over the holidays. Then the world went crazy after January 20. One bad news story appears after another and it's difficult not to despair for all our sisters and brothers. My daughter said she feels like she's living in a dystopian novel.

I do what I can.  I post flyers and send emails about migrants' and workers' rights. I marched on January 21 because how could I not? Yet, for comfort,  I turn to making and reading about making. Angela at Pans and Needles said it best describing wanting to see "something small to make me feel like there are still good things happening, little blips that remind me that beautiful things are still being made and put out into the world with love." 

Two years ago a friend in Victoria BC saw some hand-spun alpaca at a market stall and thought of me. He mailed it as a surprise. This year, one of my dearest friends turned 50 and celebrated with a dance party. It felt right to continue the gifting cycle by knitting this yarn into something special for her. Working the cables and short rows in soft and creamy yarn has been a great source of solace to me this month. Last night I received a text from my friend saying she was outside, warm and cozy in her new scarf.

Wild Plum Shawlette by Amanda Scheuzger
Knitscene Winter 2013

Two 50+ friends cut a rug because you must never stop dancing.

Me and 50 000 friends take over Toronto. Never stop marching.

New Year

The coming of a new year makes me feel somewhat obligated to write some sort of piece on the theme. However I find myself with little to say. Rather, I may have a lot to say but no appropriate words. The holiday season was exhausting, involving as it did a string of obligations mixed with disappointments. 
So I choose for now, to be quiet. I am however, making, making, making. Many projects are on the needles. I knit every day, sometimes for several hours and that's enough until my voice and other enthusiasms return. 

Creativity: Lace and A Blog

So we are at the height of summer which often means the knitting slows waaay down. This is even more true than usual for me this year. I have knit a total of three socks since May. This bothers me. I find I am doing many familiar activities less than I used to - less reading, less drawing and writing, less exploring new ideas via the library and the internet. 
Part of the reason is location. All that porch knitting and reading I've done in years past is over simply because I no longer have a porch. My new home is very small and affords little privacy. Part of the reason is time.  Being in a relationship, while wonderful, means I have much less quiet time alone. There are many new rhythms and patterns I am still navigating in my changed living situation.

Much of the reason is simple lack of mojo. My creative drive has dulled of late and I'm not sure why. I have been peripherally aware of its niggling lack in a non-specific way but it became more apparent this morning after reading Karie Westermann's excellent blog post about taking control of your creativity. I know how necessary it is for me and my mental health to explore and to make things (like socks and blog posts). I need to re-focus and recommit to doing so and to finding the joy within that pursuit. Find the space. Find the time.

One thing that's helped is picking up again the Peacock Feathers Stole on which I have been slowly working for over two years. Lace knitting has always been a meditative act for me. It can calm my anxiety, which is very high lately. I find that knitting a few rows in the morning instead of reading the newspaper, starts my day from a much more centred place. The silk/merino yarn is beautiful in the morning light. I'm only on row 220 of the more than 600 but this project is definitely more about the process than the product.

My January 1, 2016 Facebook Post

2015 was the year I became involved in the workers' rights movement, saw my lover through major surgery, ran the main gate at The Indy for the first time, marched with 10,000 others for the climate, had and healed from a serious cycling accident (and first ever ambulance ride!), decided to move in with Michael, ate oysters for the first time, deepened my friendship with my adult daughter Leah , loved my friends more than ever and danced a lot!
My intentions for 2016 (because I never make resolutions) are to continue to embrace change and opportunity and to make the most of every day by being good to my body and spending time with good people. Love you all. Happy New Year!

Holiday Greeting

My Christmas season is about loving my real family. There may be some debate about the definition.

Family is the hours spent and the care.

Here is part of my family. Beautiful girls in matching beige coats.

The Little Korea festive tiger by Christie Pits.

It Turns Out That

Post As Much As You Can means not very much at all. Well, that`s OK.

Last night after dinner we were sitting at the table when a song comes on. James Taylor - one I`d never heard before. He declared he loved it and turned it up. Proceeded to sing how he feels well when I`m around while I lay my head on the table and tried not to weep like a sentimental fool. When I raised my head, his eyes too, were full of tears.
"You`re a hard hearted Hannah," he says.

Yard Sale!

It's hard to believe I don't own most of this stuff anymore. Even harder is that I owned it all in the first place.

Last weekend, on a beautiful Thanksgiving holiday, I hauled my belongings onto the front lawn to be viewed and pawed and (hopefully) bought by passers by. This isn't even all of it! I sold a bunch before I thought to take a photograph.

Notice the large amount of what I call "pretty but useless". So much china, shiny glass, cute collectible and antique pieces. Some of these were my parent's and grandparents'. Much more of it I gathered myself along the way. I thought long and hard about letting it go. When my marriage ended seven years ago and I got my first single place, it was very important to me to create a pleasing, comfortable space. I filled my apartment, somewhat unconsciously, with pretty girly things. Being surrounded by so much that is visually pleasing and entirely my own, has made me feel safe and comfortable for many years. Now that I've grown and am moving on, I've decided that I don't need to be defined by my stuff anymore. Time to downsize.

Of course I still have my favourite pieces - a lamp, a plate, a clock. I'll never fully renounce my love of all things rose-covered. And though I sold the bulk of my doll collection, most of which is not pictured, making many little girls happy in the process, I did take the four Beautiful Crissy series dolls seen below, back into the house. I decided no one can love them as much as I do. I intend to knit them all new dresses.

My Birthday Trip

So, two weekends ago I passed another birthday and my fella took me on a little trip to celebrate.
I gather from rumour and hearsay that planning weekend getaways to celebrate the occasions of loved ones is a common occurrence. Well, in my first 50 years on this planet, such trouble had never been taken for me. Imagine my delight, my gratitude, my happiness. 

It was a simple trip. We decided to visit Kingston. Though we didn't know each other back then, we are both graduates of Queen's and thought it would be nice to see it again. On the way, we stopped off at a winery in Prince Edward County. In Kingston itself, we went for walks around town and campus, did some shopping, ate and drank. My favourite part of the trip? Sitting in the hotel lounge on Saturday evening overlooking the harbour, drinking wine and doing the crossword together. Yes it was a restful and cheerful and entirely special weekend. Happy birthday to me.

Norman Hardie Estates

The pizza oven at the winery.

Checking messages in Prince Edward County

Kingston limestone

Theological Hall, Queen's University: home of the Drama department.

The Chez Piggy courtyard from above

The view from our hotel.

Things That Make Life Easier

Things That Make Life Easier

Sunshine, blue skies and warm temperatures.

Riding a long distance with my loved one on this beautiful Sunday.

This beautiful day cost exactly $6 - the price of two ice creams.

Ya, I'm getting older but I can still do this!

Warm

Re-reading my last post it occurs to me that it might be perceived as being just about me, me, me! After all, it wasn't me with the traumatic incision. the loss of movement, the future weeks of recovery. Who am to whine about being "stressed out" and crying in the bathroom?

It begs the question: Where is the line between self aware and self centred? Between conscious introspection and navel gazing? Conversely, when am I simply telling my story and when am I intruding on another's privacy by presuming to tell his?

I've come to the conclusion that, in the end, the only experience upon which I am qualified to comment is my own. I am constantly surprised and intrigued by the odd, unexpected, thoughts and feelings that arise in the circumstances life decides to throw. It is about the observation of such things that I choose to occasionally write. This in no way diminishes the experience of my people. Their stories are their own and are precious. My story is one that sometimes intersects with their's and it is consequently made more precious.

Also I knit. My 2014 Gift-a-Long Sagano Shawl was 5 weeks late. In that time I fell so deeply in love that it is no longer a gift. (Not to worry, I already have another knitted gift project in mind for the intended recipient). 

My new shawl has come in handy. Recently, I returned to the tradition of long walks in the park. It was bitterly cold, cold, cold last week and I had to wrap my new shawl tight around my nose and mouth while I walked. The Indigo Dragonfly silk/wool blend yarn knit into the dense daisy stitch pattern, kept me very warm. The unblocked ribbed pleats of the border makes a striking frame around my face. I love lace as you know but I also love that Laura Chau designs these thick, warm, decidedly un-lacey, shawls.

My camera has a mind of its own and randomly takes these blurry, over-exposed photos. 

I've decided to go with it. It's a design feature!

Care

Where you get off when you miss your stop on the 172A bus.

What's it like to withdraw from reality and move in with someone you love to take care of him after major surgery? What's required? How does it work?

Well, you get less knitting done than you thought you might. There's the odd row here and there but mostly there is just too much else to do. What with all the laundry and the food preparation. The bandage changing. The linen changing. The bathing. Managing the medication schedule alone takes a surprising amount of time and energy. Five different drugs all with different timetables!

I missed my cats less than I thought I would. The Daughter took them to her place and I had expected to be constantly worrying about them. I wasn't. See above.

I've always been remarkably good at the nitty gritty bits of life. At heart I am a deeply practical and organized person, especially in moments of crisis. Still, in the midst of all the pragmatism and the "getting it done", there was a myriad of emotions. Big ones like the terror of early morning fever and uncontrollable shaking. "Should I call 911?" There was that warm feeling of gratitude toward ER staff the day we did have to go in with scary post-op complications. There was the evening I found myself sobbing in the bathroom for no apparent reason. There were also some embarrassing, seemingly petty worries. "I haven't worn makeup or shaved my legs in days. He's never seen me like this." And there were spontaneous silly outbursts like when I said he made that walker look sexy. "Ladies!" he cried, and we laughed and laughed.

Thankfully, he's out of danger now. I've moved back home. I still go every day and spend some nights but I'm slowly emerging back into reality. The thing is, "reality", such as it is, doesn't feel very real. Buying coffee, sending emails, even shaving my legs - it's all very nice. It just seems a whole lot less important right now.

Except for the cats of course. The cats are important. They told me so the day I brought them home.

Another New Year

In a little more than 24 hours a new year will arrive. I guess that means it's time to reflect and write the year end blog post. Recently, going over old posts, I see that I have written less and less about my personal life here. Now, I'm a private person at the best of times but I've been positively silent lately. Perhaps there is some sort of odd inverse relationship at play. It seems the more that is going on, the less I am likely to say.

Much happened in 2014. My daughter moved out on her own. I turned fifty. I lost a job under difficult circumstances resulting in great financial hardship and an uncertain future. I met a man I have grown to love and who loves me; the one who is my person. 

Unexpectedly, the event that should have been the most demoralising, is the one that has been the most empowering. Being wrongly dismissed from my job in a humiliating manner, instead of crushing me, rallied my strength in a way I did not know was possible. With the help of a great non-profit organisation, Worker's Action Centre, I've been fighting this wrong and actually winning some small victories. The support of my daughter, my friends and my wonderful boyfriend has buoyed me, made me feel strong.

Another first in 2014? I knit a scarf for a man! The linen stitch, Sherlock inspired, coat scarf was done in time for Christmas. The full 164 cm was achieved and my fella wears it all the time. It turned out pretty well I think!

I am looking forward to 2015 and all the challenges it may bring. My Freewill Astrology horoscope says this is the year I will "learn more than ever before about what it's like for all the different parts of you to be united". How very exciting! Bring it on.

Happy New Year everyone!

A Gratitude Post

I posted this earlier on Facebook today and am re-printing it here because I am feeling uncharacteristically gushy today.

As many of you know, I have been involved for some time in a labour dispute with my former employer. One thing I've learned on this journey is that there are people who have the power to be nice - to "do the right thing" as Spike Lee would say. Yet they withhold help that could be so easily given. Then there are other people for whom being helpful and kind is actually a great deal of effort and hard work. Yet these people give support with such grace and good humour. Thankfully, I have met a lot of the latter group in the last months. Feeling very grateful today.

 It's been a rough two months. Today there was a small victory and I am feeling like my choices have been validated. A good day.

Me at 50

Last Friday I turned 50 years old. That damn number has been hanging over my head for months now. I've been obsessing over ageing and all that it brings. I've been fretting about where I am in my life. All my cousins are talking about retiring and here I often feel like I never even got started. No house, no career, no lover. None of the things a a successful woman of a certain age is supposed to have accomplished.

So, what else to do but buy a red dress and throw a dance party? No one was going to do it for me so I did it myself. I got a friend to DJ at my favourite restaurant and I invited everyone I know. I made loot bags from the dollar store and thank you notes on bright pink paper. Twenty-five people came! Some dropped in for a quick hello and others stayed and danced the night away with me. My 20 year old daughter brought her two best childhood friends and they brought their moms and the six of us danced to MC Hammer. Hilarious! My knitting friends gave me yarn and yarn bags and gift certificates for yarn. Other friends bought me drinks. Gave candy and hand crafted jewelry. I was stunned and touched and had such a good time.

So. Here I am at 50. I know that I am lucky. I have an amazing daughter and many wonderful friends. I am healthy enough to dance until 2AM and I still look good in a red dress. Not bad.

Who me, 50?

Well I Tried

It was all going so well too!

Sadly, my Ravellinic cardigan came up short. There was a schedule and goals were set that were attainable. Unfortunately life got in the way.

On Sunday we met for brunch, the closing ceremonies, and casting off. We ate a ton and cheered each other's accomplishments. How lovely to sit knitting with the same friends with whom I cast on during the opening ceremonies. How lucky I am to be able to tell them freely that the reason i couldn't finish is that I spent most of last week very ill. My anxiety order flared up big time. My job went south and my hormones went crazy. Whether any of these things was the cause or the effect of any other, the result was the same. I spent much of last week a nervous mess. Knitting is so often the thing that calms me down. You know it's bad when you're too sick to pick up the needles. Oh well. I could still make it to brunch. Being with friends is one of the things I trust when I'm down. As I told a fellow knitter, I know I can be with these people as I am - act like a goof or not say anything at all. It will always be OK.

Onward. Feeling a little better today. The neckband is the only thing left to do on my lovely cardigan. FO pictures are forthcoming!

The beginnings of brunch. The coffee is on, waffles are being made and the potatoes are in the oven!