Life is Too Short for Beige

Like many of you, I spend way too much time in my office. In my case, it's my home office, where I write this blog (still haven't figured out how to write from the kayak), prepare classes, and work with clients online and by phone.

I recently decided to decorate it. (What I'm doing doesn't qualify as redecorating, because when we moved in, I rushed to get my phone and computer up and running and get the office functioning as quickly as possible. No time for finer touches.

As with many great things, this project was born of necessity. My desk chair, having served me well for over fifteen years, had become an ergonomic nightmare. So on a recent trip to Ikea, I found myself a new one. With encouragement from my friend Jeanne, a talented graphic designer, I chose the red-orange chair over the dark blue.

That set off a chain of events. Before I left Ikea, I had a matching leather waste basket and some red stain to finish the frames around two new prints. I also decided to paint some of the trim in the office green. (A log home needs some diversionary color or the knots in the pine walls start to move.)


This is a long intro to what happened yesterday, which was that I decided to finish the job by making some cushions and pillows. Here's a picture of what I had completed by the end of the day.

In the past, I have stressed the importance of light to a person's sense of well-being, but I haven't directly mentioned color. If you've seen my quilts, however, you can deduce that pretty easily. I believe color is on a par with light for influencing and directing perspective, attitude, and mood.

Despite what some color theorists would say, I think each person reacts in a unique way to a particular color. Response to a color is not uniform. So it is important to study how each color affects you and use them accordingly. For example, red gives me a feeling of power and competence.

The impact of color on a person's mood cannot be underestimated nor overstated. I have friends who just love neutrals, and friends who love pastels, and I'm always struck by the sense of calm that goes with their color choices. But I also sense that people who are shy about color are also shy about living.

Having color around you stimulates your creativity, enhances your mood, gives you courage, changes your outlook. Dorothy didn't have ruby slippers for nothing.

So, if you're feeling depressed or merely wish to evoke a certain mood, try some color therapy. Unlike retail therapy, it doesn't have to be costly. A little paint or fabric will do. But forget the beige! Mood change calls for bright color. Try some red. Try some green.

Better still, make it vermilion and olive.


Copyright starfishdoc 2008

Beginner's Mind

My daily meditation book offered this quote for the day:

If your mind is empty, it is always ready for anything; it is open to everything. In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities; in the expert's mind there are few.
-Shunryu Suzuki-roshi

So yesterday I decided to practice my beginner's mind. And a good thing it was.

It started out well enough. I had a morning meeting to attend: one that does not always inspire. As I sipped my pre-dawn coffee, my expert mind not only reminded me that this meeting is often tedious but also predicted that today's meeting would be no different. But my beginner's mind said, " You might be surprised."

Indeed, I was. The meeting was lively, fruitful and informative. Cool. This beginner's mind thing is working.

Next, I headed off to Portland to teach my afternoon class. It's the week before spring break, and one look at the sea of faces in this normally effervescent group told me most of them were in the Bahamas already. My expert mind had a sizable lecture planned, but my beginner's mind said, "Let's just see what arises." A lively discussion resulted, one more valuable than the planned lecture. Beginner's mind works again.

Here are the characteristics of beginner's mind.
1. It is not already made up.
2. It is not compelled to know something ahead of time.
3. It is open to possibility.
4. It is empty of preconceived notions.
5. It is ready to see what arises.
6. It is curious.
7. It is present to the experience at hand.

As I drove home that day, I thought more about beginner's mind in relation to the quilt I just finished. I realized that beginner's mind comes much more naturally to me as a quilter than as a teacher. I suppose the difference has a lot to do with the fact that I've been teaching for 30 years and quilting for less than 2. But the point is well taken: the longer you've been doing something the more essential beginner's mind becomes.

Beginner's mind contributes to mental health. Many of the emotional problems people have are obsessions and ruminations that they gnaw at like a dog with a bone. Somehow they believe that more gnawing will bring the resolution they seek. Actually, what will bring relief is clearing your mind so that you have a chance to look at that bone in a new way.

So as I drew closer to home I came to the conclusion that beginner's mind needs to be part of my daily practice, not just one day's meditation. Good thing, too, because what greeted me upon arrival was a leaking roof and a broken toilet. (I have no choice but to be present to the experience at hand, but I'm not sure I want to see what arises.)

Oh well. I'll let you know what happens on the home repair front. Meanwhile, here's my latest quilt. As I reflect on its construction, I recall that all 7 characteristics informed its creation. That's why I'm calling it, "Beginner's Mind."




copyright starfishdoc 2008

Time Out For Fish

I have many serious things to write about and that will soon follow. But right now I'm giving myself (and you) a break from the serious to attend to the whimsical.

That I am a serious quilter is no surprise to readers. But I've recently become a whimsical quilter, and I'm finding that to be quite a different and important experience.

Early this month, I attended a lecture and slide/trunk show by artist, Susan Carlson, who specializes in fabric collages. I was so taken by her work that I bought her book and followed her guidelines to make a fabric collage fish. I say "guidelines," because Susan isn't fond of "rules." She breaks all the rules perpetrated by the quilt nazis. She even glues pieces of fabric together. (No stitching? Mon dieu!)

All of my quilting forays to date have been satisfying. But this was satisfying in a new way. As I auditioned little pieces of fabric to represent fin and tail and eye, I heard myself laughing out loud at the results. I've never laughed while quilting before.

Look closely at the fish's mouth. That was my greatest victory. I found a single piece of fabric that had just the right shape to it. On its original cloth (in another life, you might say), it was the pant leg of a man in a tribal scene. One thing you learn from Susan is to look at fabric in a whole new way.

So what's all this have to do with you? Well, a few things. (I make the promise here and now that if this blog ever becomes all about me and offers you nothing, it will be time for me to stop. And I will.)

First, throw out most of the rules. If there are ten rules, it's likely that you really need only one or two of them. Failing to question the prevailing wisdom (the rules) will lead you straight to mediocrity.

Second, put whimsy into your life. Something or someone needs to tickle your funny bone (or fish scales) every day. Laughter is indeed the best medicine for maintaining mental health.

Finally, and most importantly, learn to look at things with fresh eyes. Go find the fish mouth in the pant leg of life.

Copyright starfishdoc 2007

Blessings Come When You're Not Looking

I've been braiding rugs for our log home ever since meeting my braiding teacher at the 2005 Common Ground Fair. (Yes, that was the same day I took the mushroom class that turned me into a forager.)

This picture is a sample of my work. Like two lovers, rugs and quilts compete for my creative time and attention.

One morning last December, I was surfing cyberspace looking for rug wool. Wool has been replaced by synthetics in recent decades making it more expensive and increasingly difficult to find.

This particular day, I stumbled upon a Yahoo group for rug braiders. (Who knew?) A new post had just come in. It was from a widower whose wife had been a rug braider. He was looking for a local braider to give his wife's stash of wool to. (I know, don't end with a preposition.)

The operative word here is "give." With wool increasing scarce, "give" is not a word commonly associated with it. And seeing as how he lives in the Midwest, I did not even faintly resemble "local." So I wrote and offered to buy his wife's stash as well as pay for postage.

A deluge of Yahoo responses followed from other wool-starved braiders. I suspect he was overwhelmed by the numbers, since he posted a message to all saying he'd think about our letters and get back to a lucky recipient. (Sounds like the dating game, doesn't it?) Ever the loser in any game of chance, I forgot all about it.

Then in March an email arrived. The name of the sender did not ring a bell, but as I read the message I recalled the widower with the stash. He made a proposition (not that kind). He asked if I would finish a rug his wife had not completed in exchange for a box of her wool. He further offered to send the remainder of her stash once the rug was returned to him. I accepted.

A week or so later, a very large box arrived, containing beautiful wool in assorted colors, and Meg's (not her real name) little rug, with one unattached round of braid. That weekend, during a Nor'easter, I sat and butted that final round onto Meg's little masterpiece. Anyone who has ever finished or repaired the handiwork of someone whose creation has outlived them, knows what a spiritual experience this can be. Here's a picture of Meg's rug completed.

I returned the rug to the sender and as promised, two more cartons of wool arrived in a couple of weeks. What had I done to deserve such riches? How does someone take such a leap of faith to send a precious artifact and valuable goods across miles to a perfect stranger? And why did he choose me from all the respondents?

He told me he visited my website where he read my statement about placing a high value on creativity as a source of mental health. That made the difference.

So what's the point of this story? First, isn't it amazing that people interested in one of the earliest American crafts are using such seemingly contrary modern technology to find one another? And isn't it fascinating that you can put out some aspect of yourself not knowing how or when someone else will resonate with it?

So, maybe the lesson here is: allow yourself to be known to others. Let them know how you think and what you feel, and most importantly what you believe in. They will do the rest.

Copyright starfishdoc 2007

Quilt Lessons, Part Two

Picture this. There are forty women assembled in this room to spend the morning learning a technique called, "Quilt As You Go." We gather with all our quilting paraphernalia, each having carted along her best sewing machine (quilters tend to have more than one). The temperature outside is 98. The air conditioners are fired up along with the sewing machines and flat irons. Collectively, we are an energy consumption nightmare.

Each of us has her own level of skill and her distinct approach to the quilting process. There are the obsessive-compulsive types who mark, measure, pin, and baste everything; and the rest of us who merely eyeball and stitch. Despite our differences and the fact that we have never met, we are an instant community. We are quilters.

There are many steps in the technique we have come to learn today. Our teacher leads us through them one at a time. We complete each step at differing rates of speed. Small groups crowd around her asking questions.

Suddenly, she stops and addresses the entire assemblage. "Everybody come up here and see what Mary has done." Translation: Mary has goofed, and the teacher is about to turn her blunder into a lesson for the rest of us. "Remember to fold the two bottom layers back before you stitch." And, "Remember the solid line is the sewing line, not the cutting line."

You might think Mary would be crushed. Not at all. She's smiling and taking a bow. That's because tradition here calls for a round of applause for anyone whose mistake benefits the rest of us.

Consider this. What if you got a standing ovation for every mistake you made in life? Suppose it was commonly understood that we owe a debt of gratitude to mistake makers for helping us avoid the same pitfalls. If we thought of our mistakes as a service to humankind, would we stop feeling ashamed of them? Isn't goofing up life's little standard operating procedure?

So thanks, Mary. My hat is off to you. Take another bow.


Copyright 2007 starfishdoc

Quilt Lessons, Part 1

I spent the weekend taking classes at the annual Maine Quilt Show. I went last year as a casual observer and got hooked right then and there. I've been a quilt junkie ever since.

Like anyone who takes up a new endeavor later in life, I feel a certain envy for those who have been quilting for many years. I know I'll never reach their level of competence: there's simply not enough time left! But despite my late start, I'm content to learn as much as I can, enjoy the process, and satisfy myself by surpassing my personal best.
Above is a picture of my very first quilt.

Age (nor anything else) has ever stopped me from pursuing something new, no matter the perceived degree of difficulty. Other things I've started well past 40: earning a Ph.D., teaching myself to play the accordion (I see you wincing), rug-braiding, and studying Italian.

So why am I making such a big deal over this? Well, because I'm tired of conversations like this.

CLIENT: I'm bored with life.
ME: Do you have any creative pursuits?
CLIENT: Well, I play the guitar but I'm not very good.
ME: When did you last play it?
CLIENT: Two years ago.
ME: Why so long?
CLIENT: I just don't think I have any talent.

It has been said by many others more clever than me that becoming accomplished at something has very little to do with talent. It has everything to do with sweat and putting in the time. Anyone who hasn't pursued something really hard is losing out on experiencing that deep satisfaction that can only come through self-challenge.

The fear of failure keeps most people from even getting started. We hear those little I'll-never-be-good-enough voices, and we give up before we start.

So, take a tip from me. Invest yourself in doing something really hard. If you can't get over the fear of failure, here's a suggestion from Benjamin Zander, conductor of the Boston Philharmonic: start out by giving yourself an A. Now that you don't have to worry about the grade, you can drop into the groove of possibility.

Here's a picture of my most recent quilt.
I give myself an A.

Copyright 2007, starfishdoc