We arrived at our friends George and Bonita's front porch at 7 PM sharp for the Thursday evening Devotional Meeting, even having taken a few minutes to drive around Robin Hood's Barn finding a gas station so I wouldn't have to gas up later in the dark. No George or Bonita, no van with the colorful wildlife stickers. Since I had neglected to call first, I wasn't disturbed. We agreed to eat dinner at one of our favorite dives, "Greek To Me" near Wright Park, which Enayat always translates into "Greek In Us", and stop by later.
Watching the exquisite sunset out the glass door and windows, and halfway through a Greek Garden pizza, I realized that since George phoned me on Sunday, I had his number on my phone. It turns out Baha'i Feast was tonight, in Tacoma, anyway. Out in Spanaway Feast was last night, when I was working, so I figured I had missed it.
Having blessed George and Bonita on their upcoming Pilgrimage, Enayat having finished the pizza and now heavily engaged in the heavenly green beans, I pulled out my tatting. There was another diner nearby, a lone woman, one of these people who seems light-filled. She asked about the tatting [and knew what it was] and we had a lovely conversation about her teaching work in this region, her having lived in Scotland, Turkey, and Greece, and her planting an organic garden in front of her house to help feed her neighbors. We talked about Iran, Sobhani Meditation, and mentioned the Baha'i Faith, though not in detail. We have her contact information, and a place to start to build a new friendship.
I guess that's where we were meant to be tonight.
Showing posts with label tatting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tatting. Show all posts
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
My Inner Crank
We went to a prayer service last week in northeast Tacoma for the Baha'is who have been arrested last year in Iran for supposed espionage, etc., and may be coming up for trial soon. This was held at the home of an Iranian couple and they had gone door to door in their neighborhood to invite people to come and pray. There was beautiful music and chanting, and I was touched by the fervency of the Christian prayers. As a Baha'i who has multiple prayer books full of revealed prayers available, I am always amazed at Christian prayers. They just open their mouths and make it up! In front of everyone. You'd almost have to set me on fire before I could do that. The unity was wonderful. My husband stayed for an hour after everyone else left, fitting in extra rice and tea, and chatting in Farsi with Bahereh's parents. He misses Iran very much.
I'm struggling with my character traits. Honesty is supposed to be a very good thing, but it needs to be balanced with kindness. I seem to be becoming increasingly direct as I age and become more confident. I seem to be channeling my inner crank. I also thank my father, Lewis Elwood, for my crank genes. He didn't pull too many punches. On the other hand, at his memorial service, I was impressed by the remarks from friends and neighbors who knew him well: most said that, with Lewis, what you see is what you get. Very upright, straight. I've been thinking about his mother, Bo Leta Elwood, who taught me to tat. She could also be very sharp.
But what I'm hearing come out of my mouth lately disappoints me. I seem to have little patience for people craving compassion, because it comes out as desiring confirmation for their self-pity. We aren't taught to just say, "help! I need caring and compassion!" Instead, we learn to try to wrangle it out of people with our victim stories. I need to learn to give people compassion when they need it, even when I don't appreciate their way of trying to get it without actually asking.
I've been feeling low energy, doing a lot of admissions at work, and today have a sore throat and fever. I reread Roger Reini's Pilgrimage story and kept bawling as I recognized the sites and events during Pilgrimage which I miss so much. I miss Haifa and Akka and the Shrines and the Mansion of Mazraih and the fragrant grapefruit at the Bahji Visitor's Center. And the fellowship of the pilgrims, and so many other things. I'm having Pilgrimage withdrawal.
Roger, your cat with the half-missing ear is still there, hanging around the PRC. It probably enjoys the Pilgrim vibes, as well as the attention.
I'm struggling with my character traits. Honesty is supposed to be a very good thing, but it needs to be balanced with kindness. I seem to be becoming increasingly direct as I age and become more confident. I seem to be channeling my inner crank. I also thank my father, Lewis Elwood, for my crank genes. He didn't pull too many punches. On the other hand, at his memorial service, I was impressed by the remarks from friends and neighbors who knew him well: most said that, with Lewis, what you see is what you get. Very upright, straight. I've been thinking about his mother, Bo Leta Elwood, who taught me to tat. She could also be very sharp.
But what I'm hearing come out of my mouth lately disappoints me. I seem to have little patience for people craving compassion, because it comes out as desiring confirmation for their self-pity. We aren't taught to just say, "help! I need caring and compassion!" Instead, we learn to try to wrangle it out of people with our victim stories. I need to learn to give people compassion when they need it, even when I don't appreciate their way of trying to get it without actually asking.
I've been feeling low energy, doing a lot of admissions at work, and today have a sore throat and fever. I reread Roger Reini's Pilgrimage story and kept bawling as I recognized the sites and events during Pilgrimage which I miss so much. I miss Haifa and Akka and the Shrines and the Mansion of Mazraih and the fragrant grapefruit at the Bahji Visitor's Center. And the fellowship of the pilgrims, and so many other things. I'm having Pilgrimage withdrawal.
Roger, your cat with the half-missing ear is still there, hanging around the PRC. It probably enjoys the Pilgrim vibes, as well as the attention.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Pilrimage Day #8 February 9, 2009, Part 2
2-2-9 Monday 1450 Pilgrim House
We borrowed key for the Monument Gardens [Tip # 5: look for black box on wall to the right of the gate and swipe the key across the box.] We found a miniature orange on the ground by the monument for the Greatest Holy Leaf and obtained it without leaving the path. Later we crossed Hazionut to the gate and visited the Pilgrim House. I ate the orange, carefully saving the peel and five seeds. It was as sour as a lemon. The floor of the Pilgrim House is also paved with red tiles.
I've been contemplating how tatting [my home made lace] could be used in constructing bookmarks, also edging scarves.
2130 Monday Nof Hotel
Enayat returned to the camera shop while I stayed and prayed in the Shrines. I ate dinner in the PRC. I took out pita bread and warmed it up, warming up the foil-wrapped cream cheese on my skin, then opened it and spread it on the pita bread, whereupon it melted and turned into butter. So I cut up some cabbage, put it into a ceramic cup with water and steamed it in the microwave and ate pita pockets with butter and steamed cabbage. Then Emily took pity on me and gave me some hummus, which they are heartily sick of.
Tatting some more. It's addictive. I called Enayat in our hotel room to see if he would come to the evening program. He said he would come, but did not. I slept through the talk, an energetic exhortation to do more for the Faith, teach more, etc, and rode home in a sherut with people I didn't know well.
We borrowed key for the Monument Gardens [Tip # 5: look for black box on wall to the right of the gate and swipe the key across the box.] We found a miniature orange on the ground by the monument for the Greatest Holy Leaf and obtained it without leaving the path. Later we crossed Hazionut to the gate and visited the Pilgrim House. I ate the orange, carefully saving the peel and five seeds. It was as sour as a lemon. The floor of the Pilgrim House is also paved with red tiles.
I've been contemplating how tatting [my home made lace] could be used in constructing bookmarks, also edging scarves.
2130 Monday Nof Hotel
Enayat returned to the camera shop while I stayed and prayed in the Shrines. I ate dinner in the PRC. I took out pita bread and warmed it up, warming up the foil-wrapped cream cheese on my skin, then opened it and spread it on the pita bread, whereupon it melted and turned into butter. So I cut up some cabbage, put it into a ceramic cup with water and steamed it in the microwave and ate pita pockets with butter and steamed cabbage. Then Emily took pity on me and gave me some hummus, which they are heartily sick of.
Tatting some more. It's addictive. I called Enayat in our hotel room to see if he would come to the evening program. He said he would come, but did not. I slept through the talk, an energetic exhortation to do more for the Faith, teach more, etc, and rode home in a sherut with people I didn't know well.
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