quiltersmuse.com Blog

Today, I have been feeling very appreciative of the differences in people. Each one of us on this planet is a product of genetics, and we each reflect the culture, the religious influences, the literature, the music, and the textiles to which we have been subjected, all of our lives.

This week, I have had the good fortune to correspond with someone who lives in a remote part of the world, remote to me; not to him – he lives there! He vends textiles from Uzbekistan, and he gave me permission to share his words about them, and his photos. What a kind person!

I have been thinking about the textiles I have collected from places outside the United States. I do not have a huge number of them, just a representative sample of goods that are important to certain cultures: Panamanian molas, Chilean arpilleras, Hungarian Kalosca work, Chinese appliqué work, Ukrainian counted thread work, Guatemalan fabric, and an unidentified piece, of unknown origin. Other foreign examples I have re-created myself, with needle and thread.

This week, I’ve been reading some books about world textiles and find them to be fascinating. The internet allows me (us) to reach beyond the black box on our computer desk and to become, suddenly, “citizens of the world.” When we reach out to anyone else, in any other country, and I do this all the time, it is a chance to be an arm-chair ambassador.

Personally, I have to hope that my friendliness and generous sharing of knowledge will improve the manner in which my fellow Americans are viewed. We make friends, one kind deed at a time, and to me, doing so is a very satisfying experience.

Check out the latest file about “Uzbekistan: Textiles and Embroideries”

Note: The just realized that the first time I posted this it was listed under “private access” only. I don’t know why. As I’d like to share these thoughts with you, I’ll try again.

Pat

Have you ever noticed whether or not you dream in color? I am wondering. It seems as though my dreams are like versions of old black and white movies. They move slow, are kind of disjointed and unsequential, and they keep going backwards as if being replayed, over and over. Actually, I suppose that is the definition of a nightmare. One feels trapped in a situation and can’t get out. The only way to do so is to wake up.

Sometimes, I have dreams for which I am embarrassed. They are bizarre, outlandish, and portray my doing things that I would never consider doing in real life. Sometimes my dreams are amusing, and I wake up laughing at the absurdity of them. Other times, dreams can be frightening, as in being on a train and being unable to get off; or feeling the threat of an impending disaster and being helpless, in its wake.

Each of us has our own “night life,” so to speak, one in which the subconscious plays out all the conflicts of the day, and does so without our permission or knowledge, until we awake, stirred by the inner workings of our own mind.

Whether or not we remember our dreams at all depends on the part of the sleep cycle in which they occur. Some people make a career of interpreting the meaning of dreams, and there has been a book or two written about that topic.

I have to smile when I remember my mother recounting her dreams. Clear as a bell, I recall my father saying, “Betty, just keep me out of your darned dreams!” Only, I believe he used slightly stronger language. Bad enough that he caught the devil for things he actually did, or more often, forgot to do, in real life, but to be part of a dream sequence in which he had no input … well, that was just too weighty a concept for him.

Some nights, I seem to have no dreams and when that is the case, I consider myself lucky. If I were to dream, I would choose to dream of pleasant things, like the art work of Spain, or the castles of Germany, or the green, green meadows and azure blue seas of Ireland. I’d prefer to dream of places. One person says, “I dream of Africa.” What a pleasant thought!

My new goal is to dream of places, not people, and to try to dream in color!

Patricia Cummings

Customarily, I think a lot about life, its meaning, and how relationships can be either enhancing or destructive. Maybe my age is responsible for thinking about these issues more frequently than many others do. I don’t know.

Today, I woke up thinking about sin. If that is a subject you don’t want to consider, then go wash the car, take a walk, or eat a banana. Right now, sin, in its various forms, is on my thought paths. If you are willing to listen, I am willing to share some ideas.

To me, there are two kinds of sin. Sin involves some kind of deceit to ourselves and/or others. When someone misrepresents what they know, they are telling a lie. For example, if a person says that he or she can speak ten languages fluently and in reality, can only speak one language, and two or three words of several others, then a lie has been perpetrated.

Sometimes, lies of that type temporarily enhance self-esteem, until the lie is discovered. In the end, the falsehood quickly comes to light when someone who does speak one of those languages approaches the person and begins to try to converse, only to get a blank stare in return. I have personally encountered this kind of deceit twice in my life. The liar is embarrassed and the result of the encounter is an attempt to totally avoid the other person who is actually fluent in the language.

Another form of falsehood is deceit by action. When a person cheats on his or her spouse, chances are good that the truth will eventually come out. Dishonesty never pays off whether the action is illegally selling patterns to which you are not entitled, on eBay, or not providing full disclosure on your income tax form, or spreading information that is a personal attack on someone else that is simply not true.

In today’s world, part of the nastiness of “competition,” a word that I dislike, is the out and out willingness to be personally destructive by the perpetration of viciousness and unwarranted allegations. In groups, we call this being part of the closed circle, the clique, as it were. People like to feel exclusive and that they know “more than” someone else. Most often, they know “less than” the people they would criticize.

Sin is being uncharitable, but mostly, sin resides in telling ourselves that it is quite alright to only look out for our own selfish interests. Sin is sin because it hurts someone else or yourself. Human nature and what we “want” are not reliable indicators of what is good for us. The results can be unwanted babies, std’s, AIDS related cancer, and so many other rotten, terrible things that happen to us when we just “do” whatever we want, with no regard for the consequence.

Positive relationships are built on respect, on love, and on telling the truth. In my own life, I have experienced the worst and the best of marriages, and the worst and the best of relationships with relatives. Without respect, love, and truth as the components of interactions, admittedly, I have abandoned not one, but many relationships. I have zero tolerance for being treated poorly. On the other hand, with respect, love, and truth, safely in place, long term relationships are a breeze, and a joy!

Be truthful to yourself and to others. Falsifying any part of your life is a sin, and will result in unhappiness.

We are called to be all that we can be. Do yourself a favor. Do your best.

Patricia Cummings

With the holidays fast approaching, I’ve been giving some consideration to what we could give to our grandson, Patrick, who will be one year old, (already!), a few days before Christmas.

Here he is, sitting on a tractor, in Indiana.

Today, some kids have everything! Patrick will not recall the events of his early life and will only re-live them later, in photos, but he’s already been to Denmark, Sweden, and England, and to many places in the United States. He has had the chance to go swimming in a lake, and in a pool. He has been on a boat and in airplanes. He has a dog and two kitties. His every need is anticipated by watchful parents. He is fed, kept warm, and his legs and arms are strong from exercise.

By comparison, my life as a child was dull and boring. I had dolls that I would line up like schoolchildren on chairs in the basement of the family home, so I could “teach” them how to write their letters and do math. No wonder I became a teacher. I had lots of experience!

I also was given a bicycle when I was eight, courtesy of a former neighbor. As I got older, I took horsebackriding lessons. However, for everyday entertainment, I had to content myself with playing in a sandbox, building a snowman, or playing “tag” or jump rope. I also embroidered until my eyes almost crossed. I made bureau scarves, doilies, and a Sampler.

Of course, hoola-hoops were “in” when I was a child, and being able to buy a few of the latest 45 rpm records, of folks like Elvis or the Beatles, was also a treat, when I advanced to the early teen years.

I never owned many plastic toys. Neither did my brothers. Their toy cars and trucks and fire engines were solid metal and very heavy. You wouldn’t want to drop any of them on your big toe. They had a railroad track, too, that was a challenge to get running.

Thinking back, it is refreshing to realize that we amused ourselves without expensive Nintendos, playstations, ipods, our own cell phones, etc. Trying to climb a pine tree without getting full of pitch was a goal, and going for a boat ride at Massabesic Lake in Manchester was a fun thing to do, after church. That was before anyone realized that the gas emissions polluted that lake which is, after all, the water reservoir for the city.

As I have aged, I find myself “gift-challenged.” I never know what to give anyone. We all have too much stuff. I have to chuckle when I hear the expression, “A person spends half his life accumulating material goods and the other half, trying to get rid of them.” It’s bad enough that we collect various things because it is our choice. Personally, I have come to own a few things that are too good to throw away, too sentimental to give away, and too cumbersome to try to sell. I digress.

I suppose I’m back to square one. I’m still stumped as to how best to honor my grandson and celebrate his birthday and Christmas through the presentation of some obligatory gifts. I can’t think of a thing he needs or would enjoy. He is already the best cared for and doted upon child in the universe. He has my total love. I just wonder whatever happened to LOVE being enough? All suggestions welcome.

Muddling through,

Grammy Pat