Labour Day~> a trio of UK Quilters: Alicia Merrett, Judith Wilson, and Ann Beech

Floating City - Daytime by Alicia Merrett of Wells, Somerset, UK

My fourth straight post honoring the labor of the amazing quilters that caught our eye at the Quilt Extravaganza last September in Oaks, PA. ending this run as I did the first night, with a trio.

On Green Pond by Judith Wilson of Wheathampstead, UK

Thunder Across the Beaches by Ann Beech of Daventry Northamptonshire, UK

 

Delighted: Alice Munro wins the Nobel Prize for Literature

Back in the day, a biology professor handed me a book of short stories by Raymond Carver. It may have been the first collection of stories I ever read. I was hooked. Two years later, I met Mosaic Woman, who introduced me to many things Canadian.

There was a writer of short stories in that introduction, Alice Munro. Her stories amazed me. Someone once said that Munro did not have to write novels because she could get more into a short story than what is found in many novels.

I have at times searched through fiction settings in libraries and bookstores for stories. I find novels and novels and novels... and then at some point a collection of stories. The pressure must be intense. Forget stories. Write novels. Munro just kept writing stories and that impressed me.

So, I was delighted. An author, who tells stories in short splashes of color and who reminds me of those glorious days of falling into love with Margaret, was on the news. Good news indeed reached my spirit as I commuted this morning.

 

J is for Joy and Jazz ~ two one word messages

Joy Mandala
Design, lettering, big pieces by Wayne Stratz
dark to light background by Margaret Almon

Jazz shimmers
letters by Wayne Stratz
shimmering background by Margaret Almon

Joy

• The most important moment in my teaching career was when I decided the number one thing that mattered in my classroom was the presence of joy.  Not that I have anything against peace, love, and understanding (and Hope!)
• Besides hope, no other word has emerged as many times from our studio.
• I have a splendid friend named Joy, who I miss and who I hope to see this June.
• Joy is a full immersion one word message.  It resonates from your heart and fills your entire body.

Jazz

• My 21st rule on my classroom wall ~ feel free to enjoy the jazz.
• My musical tastes have changed my entire life.  Who knows what the future holds, but for a decade plus jazz has ruled the day.
• Jazz concerts are joyful.  The musicians are truly playing with each other.
• The one word message.  Jazz unfolds with my life. It is in my classroom, my commutes these days (today I sat in a long line of traffic stopped by a train and enjoyed listening to Miles Davis), it is in my studio, and it randomly flows from six CD's when we have friends over for pizza. 

What brings you joy?

What word represents a presence in your life, like jazz is present in mine?

Rainbow by Margaret Almon
classic black by Wayne Stratz

background by Margaret Almon
peachy keen jazz by Wayne Stratz

one of our best
background by Margaret Almon
Youghiogheny Jazz by Wayne Stratz

small blue pieces by Margaret Almon
lettering and big blue by Wayne Stratz

Drawing Cards again and again

warm collection of cards
by
Wayne Stratz

My Lenten practice of drawing cards has led to new directions besides my surprise gifts at work.  Mosaic Woman has printed out the names and addresses of the 144 people, who not only gave us their e-mails but also provided things like their house number and zip code.  And there I go counting by 21's again and sending out surprise gifts  from the local post office.  Want to be on the list... sign up here (form is on the right above the floating testimonials).

At a recent craft show a friend showed up and wondered why I had shown up with none of my cards for sale.  So moving in that direction I decided to place something on etsy.  Do you know someone who could use one of my cards of hope or joy or love or peace?

... check out my listing and I will draw one especially with them in mind and spirit.

Mystical Mondays: a hope for true joy

Translations by Daniel Ladinsky

700 years or so ago, Meister Eckhart wondered about something.  So the question I have is this...   if worship does not bring us joy, are we at the right place?  

An Image That Makes Them Sad

How long will grown men and women in this world
keep drawing in their coloring books
an image of God that
makes them
Sad?.

Meister Eckhart

This is why ...

I pull out my cell phone and say I have someone to call, Mosaic Woman, who just helped me set up our booth is confused as I never use my phone.

The friend I call and his wife will have a hoot harrassing me for the next 30 hours because they keep seeing me outside of the booth and tell me I take too many breaks, but three times they stop by and and each time leave with something that speaks to them. Including two stained glass hearts, one for his meditation room.

Later I am awed by the fact that in the past year every heart I have sold big and small has gone to a friend. Our hearts.

Months ago a friend suggests a design in certain colors. Finally I take her advice and show her a photo on facebook . She tells me she will stop by and when she does I am not on break. But when I take a lunch break I run into her, and who else, my friend and his wife.

A very young boy enters the booth and announces he is going to buy something. I say, "OK," and glance about for a parent. He points to one, but it is too expensive. I point to one that is as cheap as I go and he digs it. Two crumpled bills appear in his hand. They look not quite right, but then I realize they are two dollar bills. Then a roll of coins emerge. Quarters????

No, it is a coin I have never seen before... Canadian money? He starts counting by ones. He hits 11 and the coins and bills fall to the ground.

I form a cup in my hand and when the counting hits ten, I whisper in his ear, "If you don't tell anyone you can have it for ten." He digs it.


I hold the piece up to the light:



He says, "My dad likes green," and leaves our booth.


This is why I do craft shows. See you at the Water Tower in Chestnut Hill this coming weekend?

moved by the spirit?

Who knows, but there I was just a few minutes ago, back in my studio after two days of mostly napping and reading. After missing the Eucharist two straight Sundays, I made my way down for our Monday of Holy Week service. Simple. No music. Scripture, liturgy, prayer, then we passed the bread and wine... the body, the blood.

I stood asking to be renewed. to be cleansed.

I came home saying howdy to neighbors on front porches and made my way to the studio. cut out pattern pieces and cut and ground smooth 12 pieces of orange glass.

I want to write about the show we had in Kutztown. I want to write about our big date in Philly. and I may... but for now you can go over to Mosaic Woman's blog and see what she had to say about those two events. I am so glad she found an image of a print we saw called Strata.

But for now I just wanted to share the joy of moving out of sluggishness, which had a hold on me for good reasons.

singing an old friend

It is through hymns that I often have the most emotional response to God, it happened the other day.



I know the hymn from the New Century Hymnal, which was used at the UCC church where I first returned to such places 11 years ago. Isaiah says that God sees us as precious and that mountains cry for joy when we return from far away. It is healing that happens along the way and I am in the mood to celebrate where my life has come to at this point in time. And if I was to celebrate the healing that destroys what keeps us from experiencing joy, peace, hope, and love.... I would want this hymn to be part of it.



The music is old. Beach Spring is a tune that comes from the Sacred Harp tradition, but the words by Ruth Duck are newer...



Lyrics:
1. Healing river of the Spirit, bathe the wounds that living brings. Plunge our pain, our sin, our sadness deep beneath your sacred springs. Weary from the restless searching that has lured us from your side, we discover in your presence peace the world cannot provide.
2. Wellspring of the healing Spirit, stream that flows to bring release, as we gain our selves, our senses, may our lives reflect your peace. Grateful for the flood that heals us, may your church enact your grace. As we meet both friend and stranger, may we see our Savior's face.
3. Living stream that heals the nations, make us channels of your pow'r. All the world is torn by conflict; wars are raging at this hour. Saving Spirit, move among us, guide our winding human course. till we find our way together, flowing homeward to our Source.

I love this hymn and the healing power that inspired it.

being a sponge... more thoughts on Wernersville

I am telling my spiritual director about my time in the cemetery, and she feels I had a sponge moment.

Ignatius said that when we are with God, we are a sponge catching a drop of water. Other times we are a rock. She believes that what I experienced is the joy of the resurrected Christ, and even mentions the phrase, communion of saints. We talk more and then we offer to pray for each other, a deal sealed with a hug. 24 hours ago we had been strangers.

Mass is about to begin when a Jesuit sits down next to me. He was to lead the mass the day before, but is suffering from shingles. One of my favorite memories is this quiet man giving a homily as a boisterous group of women shouted out AMENS. Another Jesuit stepped in for him on Saturday and preached on how difficult it can be to feel the joy of Easter, especially if we expect the wrong response. I guess it can be more like the appreciation of hundreds of years of men choosing to be Jesuits than like a big rolling laugh emerging from one's gut.

Two hours after being told about sponges and rocks, I am once again told about sponges and rocks in the homily. As I leave the sanctuary, I am next to my director who agrees with me that God just may have wanted me to get the sponge message down before I left the retreat.

Joy came in many ways ... Before I headed to breakfast while the only blue sky on Sunday glowed outside my window, I turned on my I-Pod to find Ella Fitzgerald singing Blue Skies .

Later in mass, the Gloria was just a hoot to sing...

who out there is shocked I found joy in music?

OK, so there was also the woman from South Carolina, who says to me on Friday when we are yet to be silent... "I loved the pile of sticks you made in August... you are always here when I am here... what did you write on the path?".... IGGY WAS HERE

The white-breasted nuthatch that stopped by when I paused on a walk.

The tree that caught my attention as I sat looking down at the Jesuit cemetery.

Sunday night the last thing I hear before I fall asleep ... Mosaic woman says... "I am glad you are back home." and my stoic self melts into a sponge that soaks in that drop.

life with and w/o Mosaic woman

last weekend I am charged to find out something about the Metta Quintet. All I need to see is that Helen Sung is their piano player and the idea of driving an hour to hear jazz on a week night is perfectly logical. I walk back into Foy Hall from a bathroom break and stand in awe to Body and Soul, then return to my seat next to Mosaic Woman.

The Day before we had commuted together, it saves some gas and we don't mind each other's company so we try to do it once or twice a week. We brainstorm vacation plans all the way to Norristown, I wish her a good day and am off to work. I am planting pansies we started from seed....


I cheated and took this photo inside so I didn't have to get on the ground

standing outside watching students I am filled with joy. Meanwhile my assistant has another crew making fresh bread with our rosemary. How blessed am I?

I leave work to retrieve Mosaic woman.

By the time we get home we have changed directions and have decided to take separate vacations this year. This makes sense. She will go to Boston. I may go to Rochester.

Today we commute together again. At 1:30 I call her and say I have been asked to take food to a friend and colleague who has cancer. She, who only met him once years ago in a chance happening in a pizza place, says she will go with me. It becomes a date. For an hour we chat with my friend and his wife then we head to First Friday in Mount Airy. There are posters up that not only are stores open later, but John Swana has brought his quartet to play jazz. After dinner and some strolling, we listen to the man play. This was our third time...

100th post and I am almost ready for Easter

I am tired, and a bit frustrated with technology, but I do believe my (first ever) powerpoint presentation, which is on hot peppers, is saved on a CD... I enjoyed the project up to this point.

Saturday was a day when I planned to do everything I had put off doing on my week off, so when I sat down and read that I was to rest with those who were facing the longest Sabbath of their lives, I was defeated. How was I to give Peter the time as he faced his pain of having denied Jesus? Mary was being comforted by John, but he seemed a bit overwhelmed by this new role. Mary Magdalene was in tears as were most in the room. Jesus was dead.

The paper in my hand said to do this for a week. My spiritual director told me to do it in a day. I was defeated. I chose to keep busy, but I did skip going to the school.

Easter I drove to the school to check on things. Near full moon in front, sunrise behind...






The seedlings were fine. Moravians sang out Jesus Christ Has Risen Today, but unlike the last time I sang with them in Bethlehem, PA; it did not quake my soul... the doxology from my childhood did that. Family feasted.

Easter evening I sat to pray. I was still with the mourning believers in Jerusalem, and I was celebrating with Moravians. But I was not ready for Easter, and decided to wait on that celebration. I will explain that decision to my spiritual director tomorrow. For the last few nights I have gone back to that sad place. I need that sadness to fill me, then I will be ready to feel the joy.

Joy emerges

This is the story of a stained glass, it may have started long before I start the story, but most stories do. Tomato seedlings emerging at work were in my head when I headed to Telford, PA a few weeks ago for my Lenten retreat. Reflecting on Isaiah, the image of God holding me in the same manner as when I hold a seedling in the palm of my hand as I move it to a larger less crowded home. Then given some tools to play with, I made these prints....



since the previous week retreats had inspired stained glass (here and here) I imagined making a stained glass that spelled out JOY, but I didn't. The next week in Telford I was directed to do a collage, so being a good student.....




Then I was told to use my scraps to make a collage. The other man in our group had three pieces to work with, but I had plenty and it was a hoot. I loved the result more than my original...



A friend, and co-leader of the retreat, asked me to turn it upside down. A voice rang out, "I see a J." Others agreed, now I had two weeks to get JOY done. Yesterday, with 15 minutes to spare, I took this photo of the result before I headed out to my last Lenten retreat in Telford.....



I took it out of the box and hung it in a window and practiced taking compliments, and thanked them for inspiring me. The piece made it home and has been hanging in a window, which is just to my left. It did make a journey upstairs last night, and with the lights out in my studio, JOY shines out.

Hermeneutics of Antipathy

Pileated Woodpecker
Originally uploaded by ann j p

this is stage one of five during which I will travel with the help of some new big words provided from my professor at Chestnut Hill College. Ok, so I am blogging to get started on a paper due any day now.

When I was an undergrad in the early 80's I was given a paper to read in one of my environmental science classes that stated with some certainty that the mess we humans had created were all caused by Christians. It was all because God told us to subdue the world. At the time Ronald Reagan was president, James Watt was by his side, and I was an angry young man having just experienced a general lack of joy for three semesters at a conservative Presbyterian college. So it made sense to me. The Christians that made it into the media truly did seem to have a lack of concern for the ecology of the planet.

So, I became a humanist and saw more and more "deleterious consequences for human life" perpetuated by the Bible. Apparently this is what a hermeneutic of antipathy sees and looks for in the Bible. I still see it, but I see more.

So, why a photo of a Pileated woodpecker. The first one I ever saw made my heart leap for joy, something my stoic self tried to prevent. I was an undergrad. My love of nature had warmed my heart. My association with a group of like minded students had led me to the Smokey Mtns and there I saw this woodpecker the size of a crow. I have seen many in Pennsylvania since then, but that was my first sighting, and the joy leaped through my body. An early seed to break the antipathy.

gifts of love

What smells better than a Sweet Pepper grown in Lansdale, Pennsylvania

Yesterday I smelled joy. It has been pointed out, that I make a noise of sensual ecstasy when I smell fresh peppers from my garden. At work, I strongly require my students and assistants to take a sniff.

The peppers, the smell, and my noise will hopefully always remind of AC, who worked with me for a year or so and laughed at me every time she heard the noise. Where does this joy come from?

I am thinking of the joy brought out in receiving and giving love. Recently I asked Julian of Norwich to be my guide as I prayed through John's telling of the Samaritan woman meeting Jesus at the well. Asking help from a saint was new ground for me to walk on but every time I turned to Julian she provided me with some insight that took me deeper into the gospel story. Julian shared her visions with us through her writings. The woman who met Jesus at the well shared the messiah with her community.

Then there is the story of Hannah who is loved dearly by her husband but is mocked by his other wife for being barren. She prays so hard that Eli, the priest, accuses her of drunkenness. She pleads with Eli to hear her prayer and not to judge her as a drunkard. God and Eli bless her, and a son is born. In prayer she had promised God this miracle, and she follows through by delivering Samuel to Eli at the temple when she has weaned him.

In all these cases God provides joy and the gift is shared.

In his book, Here and Now, Henri J.M. Nouwen writes: "Joy is the experience of knowing that you are unconditionally loved and that nothing- sickness, failure, emotional distress, oppression, war, or even death- can take that love away."

Ok, so God loves me and I love the smell of peppers. Why is the scent so pleasing? Evolution has taken our brains in a direction that scents produce emotions and apparently causes spontaneous sighs of joy when it is pleasurable. I am loved. God has guided me to garden so now I have peppers and I experience the joy of creation at work and home. But what do I do now with that pepper. What do I do with that great gift?

The pepper shown above was used in making dinner, fake sausage sandwiches as we call them. At work, students get to smell what doesn't exist in grocery stores. Then I send my students out and my co-workers get to buy heirloom veggies grown organically. I have been doing this for eight years now and I try to sell for less than what they would cost at a store. I want the gift that brings me joy to become a bonus and blessing to those who work at and attend my school.

At work on Friday, thoughts of total chaos entered my mind, I could have become scared, negative, and down hearted, but it was time to cook. I led the students across the dry grass to the kitchen and we made brownies with fresh mint, and fudge with dried lavender. One student hated mint, but took a sample anyway. After he darted to a trash can to spit out the mint brownie, I gave him a handful of chocolate chips and told him to hang on, the fudge will be set on Monday.

With five minutes left in the school day, I walked back across the dry grass. We had less flour and chocolate, but we had three 9x13 inch pans of joy. That is when another student came running up to me and said, "Stratz, I have been looking all over for you."

I said, "I bet you have," while expecting the student to make a plea for a brownie. Instead he said, "Can I have a pepper?" I said: follow me. I set down the tray of brownies, and pulled a plastic bag from my fridge. Inside were three peppers and I passed the joy on.