A Contemplative Life

I was fooling myself last week, assuming I could have the rainbow quilt on the living room sofa, all ready for me to hand-quilt. Conveniently I forgot about securing the perimeter, that I prefer to do in our guest room, with said quilt spread out on the bed. That imperative fact somehow slipped my mind, or I blocked it. Either way, for the next few days that precious quilt will loiter in its own space, and eventually it will meander to where I am currently seated, typing this post. One reason I didn't make the quilt sandwich until today was that yesterday I attended a protest/rally to denounce the murders taking place in Minneapolis, as well to honor Keith Porter, killed by ICE in Northridge on New Year's Eve, 2025, and others harmed and slain by ICE in the last year. This protest was announced in our local news and on Reddit late on Saturday afternoon. Less than eighteen hours later over one thousand people stood in front of the Humboldt County Courthouse seeking justice, peac...

New mug rug. Fabrics are those I'm considering for the quilt explained below.... At times, this life feels, seems, looks UNFATHOMABLE. Regardless of how faithful we are to a creed, how at peace hearts remain in abject misery, how unshakeable love dwells within us, and despite the FULL SUN we're seeing here on the North Coast, the tyranny and horror and anguish and death suffered by others hits our chest muscles like we are right in the thick of all that darkness. I'm not merely thinking of what's happening in America, or the oncoming winter storm that will cause severe distress for millions in my home nation. There's Gaza, Ukraine, Sudan, Iran.... Massacres in Iran have quelled the protests for now. Yet thousands, perhaps upwards of thirty-three thousand, have died in one government's attempt to throttle democracy. Scores more have perished in other places, I don't wish to diminish those atrocities. But this uprising in Iran is a month old, or it was. And ot...

On this first day in Lent, I continue to pray for common sense in accordance to American guns laws. I pray for those injured, for the family and loved ones of the person that has died. I pray for peace in hearts and minds, and for human beings to matter more than weapons of mass destruction.

Over an hour ago I snapped the photo above. I was going to write a post about completing the binding on this quilt, all to remain being the rest of the hand-stitching, both for the binding and quilting. I tacked on that binding, then did some laundry, made a cup of lemon tea, then sat down to write this post. But first I felt compelled to check Wikipedia, which never happens when I'm ready to write an entry. I merely sit, type, clean up.... I had already read my Wiki for the morning, hours ago. Hours ago Wikipedia had yet to put on their In the news column the latest mass shooting, this time in Lewiston, Maine. But now I know what happened there last night, and writing about quilt bindings seems rather useless, pointless, irrelevant. Once again many people are dead because someone had an assault rifle and employed it not only as a wide-scale murder device, but as a weapon of terrorism. Some of the dead weren't shot, but killed in the stampede that followed the shooting. I have...

My heart aches for what has happened in Colorado Springs; another attack on LGBTQ Americans, another mass shooting. Another example of extremism within this nation that seems unable to wrench itself from gun violence and intolerance. The question of why is complicated, also in my opinion frighteningly simple; people are fearful and at times they choose to assume a mantle of power to combat their insecurities. Weapons of instantaneous destruction are readily available. And another community is shattered. Slogans are rife, social media full of condolences and some backbiting. But what doesn't change is how fragile are human beings, ripped apart by bullets and loathing. Murdered by rifles and prejudice. In a week where we as citizens of the United States are to give thanks, a dark cloud hovers, and perhaps the most important element regarding our gratitude is our lives. Freedom and liberty are bandied about but not all experience that sensation. This is one nation, allegedly under God...

For days I've been trying to write a post-vacation entry. Part of my hesitance has been trying to clear the backlog of things to do ; laundry and gardening have taken precedence, a little housecleaning, some editing and sewing which have been necessary for my mental well-being. Because much of my silence here is related to how relevant is this blog to what is happening in America concerning mass shootings. It seemed inappropriate to start a post about writing fiction when again people have been murdered. What does it matter how hopeful are my novels when guns are so easily accessible and politicians so unwilling to enact the proper safeguards regarding that accessibility. I grew up on a ranch, my dad hunted deer. Some of those deer heads adorned our living room walls and I never gave that aspect of life a second thought. When I was sixteen my dad's girlfriend took her life with a gun. I don't know what kind, a handgun I assume, but the deer heads remained although my father...