I slightly overestimated how big this needed to be when I was making it last night. The little duckling will have to grow into it. Sweetie loves his lion taggie and has been bugging me to make one for his little sister too. He helped me select the ribbons and after he was asleep the other night I started stitching.
This is such a quick project, I was able to finish it with one eye on the tv (T20 cricket) while listening to J's commentary of the game. Having one of the bigs with me while I am making something for one of the littles is lovely. He chatted and shared lots of wonderful little observations with me. There is so much that he already knows and so much that he has yet to learn, it makes me think it must be both exhilarating and exhausting to be 9 years old.
While he spoke (an endless stream of quips, asides, questions and chatter) I was picking ribbons and stitching eyes remembering when I was doing similar things for him when he was freshly born, and marveling at just how close that feels. So much time has passed but I can still reach out and touch it. It is right here beside me, I can feel it. I berated myself for yet again losing myself in the drift and for not practising being present. I often remind myself of the quote 'wherever you are, be all there' (widely attributed to Jim Elliot) but reminiscences have a siren-like song that is very hard to resist.
I've just finished reading A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki which has a lot of zen and quantum physics in it and, whilst I am fairly certain that I missed the point entirely, having big kids and little kids does sometimes feel like living simultaneously in the 'many worlds' the physicist Hugh Everett wrote about. It is not the same of course but, as Jiko would have said 'it's not different either'. It was a great read. Very thought provoking and a little hard to classify. The main character's name is Ruth, a novelist living on a canadian island with her partner, environmental artist, Oliver. All of which can also be said about the author. The book is filled with footnotes that Ruth (the character) makes about a diary she finds washed up on the shore. It is hard to tell how much of herself and her partner she has put into the book but it is hard to read it without hearing their voices.
She doesn't seem to have much regard for blogging/online writing. The japanese schoolgirl, Nao, writes in her diary at one point "I'd post her stories on a blog, but actually I stopped doing that a while ago. It made me sad when I caught myself pretending that everybody out there in cyberspace cared about what I thought, when really nobody gives a shit. And when I multiplied that feeling by all the millions of people in their lonely little rooms, furiously writing and posting to their lonely little pages that nobody has time to read because they're all so busy writing and posting, it kind of broke my heart." There are two footnotes to this passage. The first reads: "I never think anyone gives a shit," Oliver said. "Is that sad? I don't think it's sad.". And the second reads: "Once the writer in every individual comes to life (and that time is not far off), we are in for an age of universal deafness and lack of understanding." - Milan Kundera, Book of Laughter and Forgetting, 1980.
You can see, dear reader, how this passage would not sit comfortably with me. Like Oliver, I don't think it is sad to not care if anyone gives a shit. This blog is more like an open journal than a cry for conversation so I am OK with sitting in my lonely little room writing and posting but I really don't like the idea of contributing to an age of universal deafness and lack of understanding. It would be great hubris indeed to believe that this blog stands apart from any others. I know it does not. The writing is haphazard and sporadic, the photos are predictable (feet in shoes, babies, close-ups of hand quilting, photos of flowers and beaches that look like everyone else's photos of flowers and beaches) and yet I persist. Perhaps I hope that an age in which the writer in every individual comes to life will also be an age in which the reader also comes alive and more people will be heard and considered than just those who speak the loudest and longest at the bbq.
But, back to the taggie: I used chenille and ribbons I had in my sewing stash, a little scrap of corduroy saved from an old pair of jeans that C loved so much she wore right through the knees and a special piece of ribbon that came wrapped around a gift. That beautiful rainbow ribbon is from Eleanor and her mum. Ruth Ozeki might not think that blogging offers anything of value but it has been a great source of friendship and community for me. Without blogging it is unlikely that Eleanor (and her mum) and I would have ever met.
* A Tale for the Time Being was shortlisted for the Man Booker prize in 2013.