When I go walking now, especially near sunset, the crisp (though not too cold) air; the smell of the drying leaves; bare branches, but green grass on the ground; the particular kinds of vegetation–these sensations all combine to make me feel as I did in high school, in college, winters of my youth, winters I knew before I left North Carolina 14 years ago.
In those years, I took so many melancholy walks alone in winter, and I always thought on those walks of who I would become.
"Void" is one of the pieces I'll have at the sale.
I entered five works in the Charlotte Art League’s December art sale / exhibit. While I was down there today, I switched my work to a different rental wall. My first wall was on the end of a side corridor; people didn’t come down there that often to look. The new wall is in a better location, along the main corridor, so I’m hoping more people stop to look at my work (and buy it).
The number of the new wall is 11D. Instantly I thought: 11D–11 December! My birthday! In the Tyranny of Jessica, 11 December is the 50th anniversary of the robot landing!
So I decided to take the new wall number as an auspicious sign. Good things are on their way, I tell myself. This is my lucky number.
This is the "Panis Angelicus" we always did at the monastery, and which we sang a few weeks ago at church here. So beautiful. I sing with the soprano part.
Our church choir meets every Monday night. We’ve been practicing music for Christmas. One piece we’re doing is the Ukranian “Carol of the Bells.” I’ve heard it lots of times but have never sung it: “Hark how the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say, throw cares away …” (Here’s a clip of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing the carol. We don’t have near as many people on our choir, but I think we still sound pretty good.)
We have a handbell choir for the Christmas season, too, something else I used to do at the monastery. It’s been five years since the last time I picked up a bell with my white-gloved hand (more…)
Today I found a reflection I wrote for the feast of the Assumption, August 15, 2005, when I was a Benedictine sister. Six years ago already. In it, I talk about wanting to visit Prague. I talk about Miroslav Paral, a sculptor in Cesky Krumlov who lost his life’s work when the banks of the Vltava River flooded his studio. I read about Paral in the newspaper in 2002. I never thought I would actually go to Cesky Krumlov and see one of Paral’s sculptures with my own eyes. That trip to the Czech Republic is now one of my best memories.
My last day of work here in Woodstock is June 10. After that, I’ll be spending time with my sister on her visit up here, and then getting ready for the move to North Carolina.
My last few weeks of work, so far, have been pretty low-key, now that the bigger projects have died down. I am spending the bulk of my time proofing e-books. I have to read the electronic versions of our books that have been recently converted to e-form, and compare them against the print editions to make sure none of the formatting has been lost, no dropped itals or hyphens, etc.
On Monday I finished e-proofing one of our Jewish Lights titles, God Whispers: Stories of the Soul, Lessons of the Heart, by Karyn D. Kedar. I found the following on page 11–and thought it was so compelling that I had to write it down.
“There was a story told by Rebbe Nachman of Breslov from the eighteenth century: (more…)