finding joy in the small things when the world seems to be falling apart

it's been a lot lately. the land of my birth is busily being dismantled by a tyrannical minority, against the will of around 70% of the population. and it feels like there's nothing that can be done about it. apparently we weren't paying proper attention for the past 50 years. or we weren't willing to do something about it because we didn't really believe they would be that backwards or that evil. but they are. and then some. and it's very disheartening. i find it very difficult to listen to it. mostly, i feel shame. being american is embarrassing again. i remember when obama was elected, i rejoiced that i wouldn't have to hide my passport while i was in an airport line anymore, but alas, i need to hide it more than ever. or finally get that other passport. it's definitely time.

i find myself looking for around me at the little things to be able to find some joy, despite how disheartening and humiliating it all is. things like the baby chickens our chickens hatched out and which two hens are very dutifully tending (though only one of the hens is in this photo).

or our very cute, but very fraidy indian running ducks, who stay, as husband puts it, in an organized clump and have the cutest penguin-like walk.

or the four-leaf clover i spotted as i sat in the garden the other day.

or the daily walks i've been taking during most of june to keep a new back problem at bay and to spend some time in my body as well as my head while listening to the cozy daisy dalrymple mysteries. 

or enjoying a really good cup of coffee in my favorite handmade ceramic mug. and the fact that my peonies are blooming.

it helps me feel less helpless. i can have an effect on things. i can pull those weeds in the garden and tend to the plants, i can feed the kitties and spend time with them in a favorite corner of the garden. i can do interesting work with interesting people. i can look forward to my child coming home in a week or so. i can put new sheets on the bed and snuggle into them at night. i can take a long walk. i can have long, deep conversations with husband. i can invite friends over and enjoy spending time with them.  i can sit in the chair i recovered with handwoven fabric and have the privilege of working from home and making a good living. and i can vote. for now, voting matters and is something concrete that i can and will do. it's clearer now than ever that it's important, so let's remember this horrible time and get our asses to the polls come november. our lives and the freedom to live them on equal footing with all those old white men might very well depend on it. 

remember to irrigate your joy

several summers ago, we had some wonderful couchsurfers from the canary islands, who came up to bike around a cold, rainy denmark for several weeks. they stayed with us at the beginning and the end of their trip and we fell a bit in love with them and their positive, happy way of looking at the world. they introduced me to the wonderful phrase, "irrigating your joy," as well as teaching us how to make the delicious pepper-based sauce mojo, which has been, in the summer at least, a twice-weekly affair around here ever since. we've stayed in touch sporadically and yesterday, this delightful little watercolor arrived in the mail. i was so touched that césar remembered us and so many of the details of our life...husband was working on the treehouse when they were here, and sabin was riding over at the neighbor's house and i immediately planted some of the beautiful, special little black potatoes that they brought in our own garden, to see if they would grow. i loved being reminded to irrigate our joy (sometimes it's hard to remember that as you slog through your everyday existence).

i've got to get to ikea and get a frame, but until then, i've hung it above my desk with a bit of washi tape, where it will make me smile and remind me to irrigate the joy every day. i think remembering to do that is as good a new year's resolution as any.

magical early color photography

tolstoy

apropos yesterday's post on russian literature, i came across (thanks to melissa of tiny happy) this marvelous collection of color photos taken by sergei prokudin-gorskii in the decade before the russian revolution. yes, you read that correctly, color photos taken at the beginning of the last century.

jaroslavl

prokudin-gorskii used a special camera that took 3 images at once and he used blue, green and red filters, then projected the images together to make the composite color image. you can read more about the process here. aside: i do realize the first two images are not color, but i wanted to share them anyway (you'll see why below).

peasant woman

the library of congress has digitized some of the collection and you can peruse it online here. but do go look at the spread that boston.com did of them - it's breathtaking. i have left the edges here, as they are when you download them from the library of congress site, as i think the process by which the negatives are put together is fascinating.

in the urals

these images simply take my breath away. it's revolutionary photography from a pre-revolutionary time. i'm completely blown away by them.

along the volga

i think the fact that they're in color makes them so much more alive and says something about a basic human need for color. i relate to them so much more because they're in color.

along the volga

the color also gives them a kind of timelessness that black and white photos of the same subjects simply don't have (see the top two).  many of them, i feel as if they could have been taken yesterday.

monastery

i realized also when i stumbled across them that i had been positively LONGING for some truly breathtaking photography. i'm really tired of that over-exposed, false-vintage look that's so prevalent everywhere in the blogosphere and on flickr.

windmill houses

and these magical little windmill houses provoke me so much more than all of the slick architecture magazine photography that abounds on pinterest.  and they're about as far as you can get from the "achingly poetic" shots of toast crumbs and empty coffee cups that are so in vogue.

peasant girls

and these girls? yes, they're posing for the camera in a way that's most decidedly not in fashion at the moment, but aren't they marvelous?

peasant woman

these photos (and the many more i perused on the library of congress site) fed my soul and irrigated my joy today and i hope they do yours as well.

happy weekend one and all!

thankful thursday

rainy days (yes, you got that right).

because with the rain comes mushrooms and that means dinner!

yellow swamp brittlegills (russula claroflava) - absolutely delicious with our pasta dinner. and absolutely free from our very own forest.

special black canary island potatoes - growing in OUR garden! now that's what i call well-irrigated joy!

happy visitors on a sunny day

rainbow fingernails

real rainbows (you need a little rain to have a rainbow)

for more thankfulness, check in with miss buckle.  and please do play along, it makes a nice change from the madness of the world...

couchsurfing and the irrigation of joy

i'm back in love with couchsurfing again. that weird freeloader guy was a total couchsurfing anomaly.  in the past couple of weeks, we've had a most delightful retired teacher from norway and a lovely couple from the canary islands. with both sets of guests, we had the most wonderful, deep, philosophical, existential conversations. conversations that play in my head long afterwards and resonate with me, giving me much to think about.

a long discussion of self and ego and whether happiness comes from the self or through others highlighted a discussion that stretched long into the warm summer evening with the retired norwegian teacher. peppered with quotations from philosophers and life experiences, it was one of those evenings you don't want to end. both husband and i have been continuing the conversation long after - in our own heads and together.

the couple from the canary islands brought some fantastic black potatoes from their father's garden. we will try to plant some of them, as our sandy soil is good for potatoes. and we will enjoy the rest of them with the mojo sauce they brought - cooked in salty water as we were instructed before they continued on their bicycle journey. their sunny attitude and accepting and happy way of looking at the world were infectious and i felt reminded not to have so many expectations all the time. sometimes you just have to accept life and people as they come. i am grateful to them for this reminder.

and so i think of all of the joy that has come to me through my online life (spud wrote a great post about it not long ago) - because couchsurfing is a corner of my online life...you put your profile there, you describe yourself, your area, your couch and people get in touch and ask if they can stay. then the virtual intersects the real and you meet them in person - people you wouldn't otherwise have met. the vast majority of which you feel privileged to have met. people who you remain friends with - exchanging emails and photos that inspire - people you'll definitely want to see again and maybe surf their couch one day.

i suppose what i like about couchsurfing is that it makes me more open to the world - it enables me to shed a different light on my world for a day or two. to encounter other ways of thinking and being that leave me feeling richer for the experience.  it most definitely irrigates my joy (thank you for that phrase césar and nuria).

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and speaking of irrigating joy - beth has made blog badges in memory of char, using some of char's beautiful images. please go here to get a badge to remember char.

irrigating my joy

a couchsurfing couple from the canary islands who will be biking to our house on july 1 (that's quite a trip!) sent me a message yesterday. at the end, they thanked me for irrigating their joy. and i fell in love with the phrase and decided it's going to be my theme for the summer. any activity that doesn't irrigate my joy will have to go.

here's how i intend to irrigate my joy:

~ writing
~ taking photos
~ spending time with sabin and her horse
~ working in the garden
~ processing the garden bounty
~ sewing
~ making things
~ meeting and talking to new people
~ long, laughter-filled evenings with friends and good food
~ getting involved somehow in my local area
~ follow through on a few of the balls currently in the air

and i'm looking very much forward to meeting these enthusiastic people who came up with such a phase.

what will you do to irrigate your joy?