Yarn Along

Sigh.  So our internet has been less than desirable again.  It took me 30 minutes to upload the above photograph.  I just pressed the load button and walked away, checking back every 10 minutes or so.  Oh the joys of country living.  Hopefully they get it fixed soon.  I have lots of photos to show you.

My book pile is getting uncomfortably high.  I could show you that but it would be misleading, because these 2 are the ones that are actually getting read so far.  I’m still working on Parenting is Heart Work, which has been one of my favorite parenting books I have read to date so far.  I’m so grateful I picked it up.

I also am reading A Circle of Quiet which is a journal of Madeleine L’Engle’s.  You know, the author of one of my favorite children’s books, A Wrinkle in Time?  I remember giving that book to Silje and I barely saw her for 2 days.  She finally emerged from her room clutching it to her chest, with a stunned look on her face as if she had just been on a whirlwind of adventure.

I love Madeleine L’Engle’s perspective on things.  She is a Christian, though I would say theologians would call her mystic-leaning Christian.  Actually, I see her as a Christian who sees her faith through the lens of her art, for good or bad.  Her writing always stretches my mind and makes me examine my faith in new ways.  So reading her writings about her own life is just as delightful.

Last night I read this passage, which gave me pause:

I was trying to think out loud about the concentration essential for all artists, and in the very little child I found the perfect example.  The concentration of a small child at play is analogous to the concentration of the artist of any discipline.  In real play, which is real concentration, the child is not only outside time, he is outside himself.  He has thrown himself completely into whatever it is that he is doing.  A child playing a game, building a sand castle, painting a picture, is completely in what he is doing.  He self-consciousness is gone; his consciousness is wholly focused outside himself…

When we are self-conscious, we cannot be wholly aware; we must throw ourselves out first.  This throwing ourselves away is the act of creativity.  So, when we wholly concentrate, like a child in play, or an artist at work, then we share in the act of creating.  We not only escape time, we also escape our self-conscious selves.

The Greeks had a word for this ultimate self-consciousness which I find illuminating: hubris: pride in the sense of putting oneself in the center of the universe.  This strange and terrible thing is that this kind of total self-consciousness invariably ends with self-annihilation.  The great tragedians have always understood this, from Sophocles to Shakespeare.  We witness it in history in such people as Tiberius, Eva Peron, Hitler.

I would love to have Ms. L’Engle over for tea, and I would say, “Madeleline, since we humans are made in the image of God, and when we create, we are reflecting that image, isn’t it interesting how the very act of creating is also mirroring giving up of oneself, that Christ did for us?  Oh, Madeleine, your thoughts are piercing me deep.”  She and I would have been kindred spirits, I’m sure.  We would not always agree, probably, but our discussions would be deep and meaningful, and full of awe and all things holy, that’s for sure.

I’m nearing the end of this marathon shawl project.  These last 6 rows are so long.  My goal is to do half a row a day now, because it takes me a good hour to do just that, and that’s perfect for sitting in the little girls’ room waiting for them to fall asleep, and making sure they stay in their beds.  By next week, I’m really hoping to show you finished pictures.