The wind blew strong across the fields this evening, drawing down the last breath of summer in the rustling of golden leaves. I’m tired of wearing shorts and tank tops in October, when the joy of jeans and sweaters is usually upon me. I’ve finally traded in my camisoles for t-shirts, and bermudas for long denim, by the time night falls — at 6.30pm these days. The windows are only open a sliver, enough to let in the breeze without freezing the plants. I’m hoping for a frost soon like the one we had two weeks ago: gentle but with a bit of sting. That was the frost which hurt many of the local farms. It’d be okay now, with the season almost finished.
My fingers have been itching for yarn lately. It’s not uncommon for me to crave knitting, but this time it seems an uncontrollable desire, an overwhelming urge to create, to take one piece of string and fashion a remarkable work of art. I’ve had my eye on this sweater for quite some time now, and I’d really love to knit it. Even the color of the sample is the perfect color for me. The magazine has been near my makeshift workspace (the corner of the sofa) for days, and sometimes I even take it with me to work in order to stare at all the pretties.
It’s sad when you’re so wanton to knit, and yet just about can’t. It’s a good thing I’ve some stash tucked away. I thought I had lost one of my wristwarmers while on retreat, but it mysteriously appeared in my suitcase while I was unpacking. I had pulled out some Cascade 220 in a heathered/multicolor purple, and I’m thinking I’m going to knit some wristwarmers with a nice cable along the back of the hand. I’m thinking I actually want to make them a flowing cable on an all-knit background. They’ll be slouchy and comfy and just perfect. Yum!
The grad school applications … Well, they’re coming along. I’ve got some time left before I really have to solidify my statement of purpose, but I have narrowed it down to those four programs, and I’m actually really focusing on the top three, and my general statement can be basic with some slight tailoring for the department, and I only have two essays to write for departmental requirements, so I’m not feeling so bad about it all.
Lately I’ve been reading Long Quiet Highway, by Natalie Goldberg. In it she talks a lot about her time in Minnesota, and about beginning her time studying with Katagiri Roshi at the MN Zen Center. It is about leaving New Mexico, and coming back. It’s about finding her center, finding her spark, finding her core.
It’s about everything I’m experiencing these days.
I just can’t seem to put it down. I mean, I’m reading it nonstop, I carry it with me, I even sneak it onto the sales floor with me while at work. I read it before bed, and in spare moments upon waking. Since I’m nearing the end, though, I’m a bit sad by my voracity. It means the end comes sooner, which is not something I’m looking forward to. I haven’t really had a big awakening, and I haven’t studied with any one teacher for long enough to comment on my deepening with them, and sometimes I wonder if I’ve learned anything at all. But I think I may just write Ms. Goldberg a letter one of these days. I’m sure she gets them all the time. I don’t know if she reads them personally. I don’t even know where to send it. Regardless, I know that I — as a writing teacher — love hearing the impact my work and my teaching has on others. I wonder if Natalie Goldberg is the same way …
The sun is long gone, the moon well across the sky. I’ve another early morning at work, and another long day on my feet. I think I’ll curl up under the covers with the window cracked and Katagiri Roshi and Natalie Goldberg and a kitten or two and perhaps even paper and pen, something to distract my mind and lead the way to center.
Maybe not every highway is a paved road …
