Fresh Courage

I have only this breath
and this presence
for my wings
and they carry me
in my body
whatever I do
from one hushed moment
to another - David Whyte



I spotted a bird lying on it's side outside my workshop door.  I slid my feet into a pair of converse slides and went to examine the bird.  I picked it up and sat with it cupped in my hands for awhile.  It was so weightless, so soft and very still.  Every so often it looked up at me with its dark eyes and blinked. I wasn't sure if it was seriously injured or just stunned from hitting a window, never the less it couldn't move.  After some time of just holding it and loving it, I took a photo then found a small box and gently placed it inside.   I left it on my swinging futon while I went back inside to finish getting ready.  I wanted to keep it safe from predators, but I wanted it to be able to fly out if it recovered.   When I came back to check on it, the bird was standing up.  With great delight I reached my hand inside and it jumped out then hopped away under a bush where it was well camouflaged.  I'm guessing it was only stunned after all and needed a bit of time and a safe place to rest.  I was so glad I found it before some other critter did.  

I sat there in the grass for a moment and remembered the time I was walking across Varick Street when something caught my eye as I was stepping off the curb.  It was a fledgling sitting in a puddle.  At first I thought it had drowned because its eyes were closed, but then I noticed a slight swaying so I scooped it up.  I kept walking with this tiny wet bird cupped in my hands not knowing if it would die right there in my palm.  Suddenly I felt it stir.  The warmth from my hands revived it.  I whistled and it peeked its head out between my thumb and forefinger and peeped back.  It reminded me of a cuckoo clock and I laughed.  I was not sure what to do exactly, so I hailed a taxi uptown to the Animal Medical Center on 62nd Street.  Every once in awhile I would whistle to it, and again, and again, it would peek its head out and peep.  When I got to the medical center I made them promise me that they would not destroy the bird, but release it into the park when it was strong enough.  Before I handed over the bird, I gave one last whistle and it poked it's tiny noggin out between my fingers and whistled back.  This time the docs laughed with me.  I will never forget the fluttering of that little bird between my cupped hands.  My heart feels like that sometimes.



If you ask me why I do this work I will say
because it blesses me
and if you ask me how it is that it blesses me
i will say that i have no words for how it blesses me
except that it feels like the time i found a tiny bird
in a puddle on varick street,
and thinking it might be drowned, scooped it up
and carried it away between my palms
and how when i was walking,
the heat of my hands warmed it,
revived it
and it began to flutter and peep .
that fluttering,
the way that felt,
that is how it feels in my heart
that is how it blesses me

Persisting Stars

the mischief from her eyes and fold

her

mouth the new

flower with

thy unimaginable

wings,where dwells the breath

of all persisting stars 

- e.e. cummings

I sit in workshop stitching Gemini and Libra onto a tote bag.  "It may just be my favorite yet", I say to myself as I reach for the sequins.

So easy that I dare not insult you with a tutorial, but here are the crib notes:

• Print your constellation
• punch out the stars with hole punch 
• transfer with with chalk
• french knots for small stars using white embroidery floss
• sequins for brighter stars
• use a ruler and chalk to draw lines
• back stitch using blue embroidery floss

One Hushed Moment: Mantids Emerge

I have only this breath
and this presence
for my wings
and they carry me
in my body
whatever I do
from one hushed moment
to another. - David Whyte


Today was the long awaited first day of his beloved nature camp.  





"It was a busy morning", he said recounting the activities in vivid detail, his best buddy interjecting in agreement from the back seat of our tiny car.   

"Sounds like a wonderful morning", I said, "and here's another wonderful thing...the mantids hatched...you can release them when we get home!"
 

Every summer we buy an ootheca and wait with much excitement for the hundreds to emerge.  It never gets old.  It's a tradition that we look forward to year after year.

Lavender Farm

At night, the scent of phlox curls
in the open window, while the sky turns red violet,
lavender, thistle, a box of spilled crayons.
The moon spills its milk on the black tabletop
for the thousandth time.   - Barbara Crooker

We drove out to the country to visit a lavender farm.  It was more like a lavender patch, but we enjoyed the scenic drive nonetheless.  We picked some flowers and ate lemon lavender cupcakes then headed back.  When we returned home, I hung our stems up to dry when our cat Mortimer started whining longingly.  Mort often accompanies me out to the deck garden where he buries his head in my lavender plant and nibbles the leaves.  We love lavender.  It's especially useful for stings and bug bites.  I carry a tiny bottle of lavender oil with me wherever I go.  True.

Halcyon Days

"Recall the way you are all possibilities
you can see and how you live best
as an appreciator of horizons
whether you reach them or not. - David Whyte 

We took a spontaneous trip to the Calvert Cliffs, a place we've never been.  We went in search of the infamous fossils, but found instead a beach picked over and a bay full of Jellyfish.  No matter to the boys who transformed themselves into jelly-hunters, building elaborate traps in the sand.

5th Annual Pursuit of Happiness Picnic

Fiends and neighbors gathered to join us in the pursuit of happiness.
5 hours
47 people
28 grown ups
19 children
Sacred and undeniable
(video below)

Photos by Melissa Stratton Pandina

Photo by Dr. Rosa Simon
Pursuit of Happiness 2013 from wendy cook on Vimeo.


Listen to the Pursuit of Happiness Playlist...
 

Mornings in the Garden with Graham

Last month I found myself in upstate NY to attend the wedding of one of my favorite cousins, Phil to his beloved Alice.  As luck would have it, they sat my trio at a table full of creatives and I spent the evening chatting with a poet.

"Who are your favorite poets", the man with long white hair and kind eyes asked.   I replied, "I love different poets for different poems and I love different poems at different times".

(He nodded)

There was a momentary silence then clinking of glasses.   The sound reminded me of celesta music, and I smiled for the knowing of that.

The sun set behind the mountains and there was dancing and laughter.  Ethereal wish lanterns floated off into the night sky and my little boy chased after them, his long hair floating in the darkness under his summer fedora.

Flash forward to this moment, a mysterious parcel arrived from the poet.  It is filled with soul food.  I smile, grab the stack and slip outside to the garden.

Imagination

The true sign of intelligence is not knowledge but imagination. -  Albert Einstein 

Sabine sent my son her new book and he loved it SO much!  SO....

Das große Buch vom BASTELN und SPIELEN from asieben on Vimeo.

he thought of a creative way to say thank you with a video of his own.  He used the pattern for her windmill to create a ninja star for fending off dragons and such.

 
ninja star from wendy cook on Vimeo.


 I stumbled upon Sabine's work some years ago and it has been a steady source of inspiration ever since. You can imagine my delight when, two summers ago, I found one of her early books at the library book sale. I introduced her work to Satch and he was instantly smitten.