Knitting

One of my favorite creative things to do is knit. Unfortunately I don't share it here as often because knitting takes a lot of time. I'm in the middle of a sweater right now, and can't wait until I can post it here, but until then I decided it might be fun to make a record of some of the projects I've made and loved in the past. So, here is a scrapbook page of some of my knitting.

I thought of this today especially because it was surprisingly cold today, so I was thrilled to be able to pull Pete (the orange sweater at the top) out and wear it.

-Kat

The Counselor's Waiting Room

So, every week I sit in one of the most uncomfortable waiting rooms in existence. It's the waiting room at the student counseling center. Think about it - with the stigma we have in our society about getting help for your mental health, it's not a place you where you want to run into someone else. The scene seemed like a good one to write, so here I go.


The room is small, with room for only seven chairs. The lamps cast a softer tone on the room than the florescents would. The magazines on the table are so old, they're not worth reading. The first thing that distinguishes this waiting room from the multitude of others is the white noise machine next to the ancient periodicals. It's supposed to give the room a calming feel, but it seem to utterly suppress conversation as well.

It's all well and good when there's only one person here but when a second enters, awkwardness enters with them. Both people know why the other is here, but it seems taboo to bring it up, even in the office. Each person is afraid the other is trying to figure out what's wrong with them, as if you could tell that by a face.

As a third person enters, the awkwardness only becomes more palpable. No one is willing to make eye contact, so their eyes move anywhere and everywhere else. The air in the room suddenly makes the simple still-lifes on the wall more fascinating than anything Picasso ever held in his imagination. One person becomes a connoisseur of shoes, suddenly riveted by the curve of a sandal or the sole of a tennis shoe. The third picks up a pamphlet about something they don't need in an effort to look busy. Silence reigns, made so much more palpable by that dratted white noise machine.

These painful moments can only be broken by each person being called out by a professional, when they will take all those suppressed thoughts and pick through them until they can make sense of their lives.


-Kat

Lots of Green

Today I tried out a new recipe. I made beef teriyaki, although the recipe called for soy sauce. I thought that was weird, and I like teriyaki more, so I substituted teriyaki sauce instead. I think it turned out quite well.

Mmm... Broccoli

-Kat

Senses

Today I was hanging out at my favorite spot in the library and I really didn't feel like doing any work. So, after spending about 10 minutes in quiet contemplation of the day I decided to try my hand at poetry. Unfortunately I'm really terrible at most forms of poetry, so I went with Haiku which is the only one I've ever been able to pull off in any way.

Meditating on
the verdant library lawn.
I wish I could paint.

Hints of cinnamon,
coffee flowing down my throat.
It tastes like Christmas.

Faint as a whisper,
sounds come from across the lawn -
the band practicing.

Soon as I walk in
it hits me like an old friend.
The musty book smell.

Stretching arms and legs,
feeling the leather chair sink,
I sink farther in.

-Kat

Early Morning Stillness

Today my church choir started singing in church again. Due to the fact that I walk to church and I hate to be late, I am always there rather early. This morning as I sat in a nearly empty church I picked up my notebook and a pen and I came up with this.


Gerry is practicing for the service. He barely looks at his hands and never at his feet - the music he plays is magical. The organ and the cross compete to be the tallest items in the sanctuary, anchoring it at each end. The sunlight falling on the cross matches the music of the organ. With no one here to disturb the air, it's an ethereal place.

People will be here eventually, filling up the columns of pews. Their voices a multitude of whispers, discussing everything from this week's football game to where they're eating after church. People always throw the symmetry off - one side holding more than the other - but everyone has "their" pew and change does not come easily. Beautiful windows of stained glass flank the pews, telling stories and providing distraction for restless children. The colors mingle, moving from warm to cool, telling wonderful stories for generations.

The altar is simply clad - only two candles, a chalice, and the missal - with touches of green to denote the season. The communion robe waits patiently on the rail for the part it will play toward the end of the service. There are a couple of papers on the pulpit to prompt the priest through her sermon. There are sunflowers behind the altar today in honor of someone - it'll say who in the bulletin.

The musical stillness is broken as the choir begins to fill in the balcony. People settle in, greeting one another and stacking hymnals. Many clicks sound as they open their binders and prepare the music of the day. The early morning quiet is gone, and now the best part of the day begins.


-Kat

Downward Facing Dog

I am in the middle of working on a project for a course I took this summer. I am writing a creative non-fiction piece about a sport in connection to British culture. I know next to nothing about sports, so I'm writing about yoga and British colonialism. Today I wrote a piece that might become a part of my final paper.



Holding downward facing dog, I have to remember to not look behind or around me to check my form against the others in the class. Waleah reminds me, speaking to all of us, "your drishti is your navel." Drishtis, or gazing points, are what yogis use to focus on their own body and practice. They are one more thing to remind me that yoga is a non-competitive sport. I focus once again.

Arms straight, fingers spread wide on my mat, I push the front of the mat away toward the mirror. I keep my back straight, and lift my "sit-bones" toward the ceiling. The backs of my legs strain a bit as I try to push my heels to the ground, even as they stay resolutely two inches above my mat. I can feel every part of my body moving, holding position, and I relax my neck and let my gaze fall on my bellybutton. A year ago I wouldn't have thought it possible to look at my bellybutton in down-dog, and I just settled for the tops of my legs. Over time, however, my body loosened, especially my neck, and I found my gaze where it was supposed to be.

A year ago I also hated downward facing dog. It was difficult, and I often couldn't hold it for more than a few breaths. Down dog is a resting pose, but not one I found particularly restful. That is where the transformative nature of yoga can be seen in the most difficult poses. Each class I attended my arms got a little stronger and my body more used to the idea of being still in an inverted V. Eventually I did find down dog to be a resting pose - one in which I could restore my proper breathing and take stock of my body.

Now as I rest in downward facing dog I take in the benefits of my practice and I continue to try to touch my heels to the ground. It will happen someday.



So, that's what a minute of yoga is like for me.

-Kat

Dreaming

The past couple of days I've been thinking a lot. Too much really, and to avoid rumination I often turn to meditation or books. Books are wonderful, because they provide a means of losing yourself in another world, and the plot actually hangs together, which is often hard to discern in  real life.

To remind myself of that I made this:

It should go great right next to my bookcase.

-Kat