I don’t usually have much interaction with the anthroposophist (Rudolf Steiner devotées) communities which abound in this area. I like the people, usually, very much, but the dogma is too heavy for me. Camphill is a Steiner project that cares for developmentally disabled adults in a village setting, where they live and work side by side with normally-abled adults and their families. Its presence here (about 10 miles from my house) means that we often see the residents out and about, which I think is a great thing for my kids, and for me. (In California, I now realize, I almost never saw disabled adults, and rarely children. Where were they?)

Anyway, the people at Camphill tend an herb garden and make wonderful teas (really, tisanes) with lyrical names like Douceur de Fete (one of my favorites.) They also make the prosaically named Tea for Colds, which seems to actually help. So, with my head stuffed and snotty with a cold, I made myself a cuppa just now, using my newest (non-local) fave acqusition, my Tea Stick. (Pricey, but genius. If you drink loose leaf tea, get one.) And I poured the nearly-boiling water into my favorite new mug (one thing you may not know about me is that for years now, I’ve been searching for the perfect mug. It’s more challenging than you might think, but I think the search is over.) My mug was made by a potter/friend down the road who gave it to me in exchange for using my home as a location for a photo shoot for her new website. So my soothing tea was in my perfect mug, which soothes the palm of my hand in addition to holding my medicinal tea, and I thought: this is all from right.here. If I had a younger horse (and, let it be said, was a better rider) I could get to both of them in an afternoon. And that thought just made me so happy that I live in this random, odd, lovely place.

Meanwhile, last night I made a discovery that also has everything to do with where I live and what I do here, and it also made me shiver with quiet joy.

Mary Oliver is one of my favorite contemporary poets, but I only recently discovered this work of hers. To make it even better, I found it on a work of art made by my teachers and friends Karen Arp-Sandel and Suzy Banks Baum. If you live near me, check out their collaborate mail art show, Femail, at the Berkshire Art Kitchen.

Praying

It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patcha few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorwayinto thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak

~ Mary Oliver

“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” ~ Albert Camus

What is it in the universe that’s sending so many words of wisdom my way lately?

Maybe I’m just paying attention. It’s a good time to be observant, at least here in my corner of the world, which is blessed with white snow covering the scars on the ground, blue skies that range from palest aqua to intense, nearly purple depth, bare trees that reach up up up like so many finely wrought sculptures. The beauty here, as it almost always does, stuns the eye and the mind, and especially this week, when we’re all wrung out by powerless sympathy with the too-traumatized people of Haiti, it provokes intense attention and gratitude.

I wrote a post a while back on The Sister Project about the tradition of the commonplace book. Also known by the insanely evocative Latin phrase silva rerum, meaning ‘a forest of things’, these are journals of bits of found wisdom, collections of quotes and sayings and our reactions to them. We do this now, of course, whether in our Moleskines or our Facebook pages or our blogs, but the naming of the practice is all but lost, and I think that’s a shame. How do you keep track of the words you discover that move or provoke you? Can you share some of them with me, here, or over at The Sister Project?

Don’t move. Stay still. Once you find a place that feels halfway right, and it seems time, settle down with a vow not to move any more. Take a look at one place on earth, one circle of people, one realm of beings over time. ~Gary Snyder