Shakespeare Quotes about Knitting

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together:
our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not;
and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our own virtues.
-All's Well That Ends Well

I mean, that my heart unto yours is knit, So that but one heart we can make of it;
-Midsummer Night's Dream

To hold you in perpetual amity,
To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts
With an unslipping knot, take Antony
Octavia to his wife; whose beauty claims
No worse a husband than the best of men.
-Antony and Cleopatra

I've never been more proud.

We learned this dance to send as a video Christmas present to our brother Jeffrey serving as a Marine in Afghanistan over Christmas 2011.

Great advice for people in their 20's.

Excerpt from Relevant's article 11 Things You Should Know at 25(ish)

"There is a season for wildness and a season for settledness, and this is neither. This season is about becoming. Don’t lose yourself at happy hour, but don’t lose yourself on the corporate ladder either. Stop every once in a while and go out to coffee or climb in bed with your journal.


Ask yourself some good questions like: 'Am I proud of the life I’m living? What have I tried this month? What have I learned about God this year? What parts of my childhood faith am I leaving behind, and what parts am I choosing to keep? Do the people I’m spending time with give me life, or make me feel small? Is there any brokenness in my life that’s keeping me from moving forward?'


Now is your time. Walk closely with people you love, and with people who believe God is good and life is a grand adventure. Don’t get stuck in the past, and don’t try to fast-forward yourself into a future you haven’t yet earned.

Give today all the love and intensity and courage you can, and keep traveling honestly along life’s path"

On Monday, she writes a poem.

Someone's writing "forgive" all over Chicago

November 21, 2011

Someone’s writing “forgive” all over Chicago:

on the urban reservoir between 18^th and Ashland

on the sidewalk outside Steppenwolf

on my Lake Street walk to the elevated train

in front of the yarn shop where I work with my hands
along the great lake which can be mistaken for the ocean
outside of the only bar in town which sells our favorite beer

Someone’s writing “forgive” all over Chicago

and I wish you could see it.

I don’t mean to say I wish you had come here too

(we’re past that)
 and I don't mean to say I wish you would forgive me
(although I do)
It's just that someone's writing "forgive" all over Chicago

and I really wish you could see it.

But I read somewhere that Patti’s dreams for Sam weren’t his dreams

and I know the dreams I had for you weren’t yours.
So it occurs to me that maybe
someone’s writing “forgive” all over Chicago for me.

Maybe I have to forgive myself

            for leaving

            for lying

            and finally, for telling the truth.

Maybe my poetry has too many maybes,

the water tower doesn’t say “maybe forgive,”

god didn’t say that either.

Along Lake Shore

"You know, the dreams you had for me weren't my dreams. Maybe those dreams are meant for you." 

Just Kids by Patti Smith

Poem for not letting the Robots get you.

and then I heard the boom boom

Can you hear the terrestrial heartbeat?

I heard it only once.

Mostly I hear the whirring of the broken air conditioner

creating clouds in the classroom with no windows,

the tap-shhhh-tap of the bicycle with broken gears

which I bought for two day’s pay,

the orange hum of Tapioca Tan

which dries out my neighbor

until her skin looks like cracked desert clay,

the brshhhhhzzzz of the phone

I wish I hadn’t put on vibrate

during the meeting I was late to,

the flicker buzzz of my neighbor’s tv

and I wonder what he’s watching

instead of looking up at the stars.

Are you pale sickly for want of the Sun?

The earth groans for its children.

We are zombies, the undead, interlopers between two worlds

and the buzz-shhaaa-creak-ding-ring-ping-don’t fucking miss the bus world is eating me alive.

I will never forget jumping off

a cliff in South Carolina into a rock quarry,

wearing pink Converse sneakers

so the water, hard as concrete, wouldn’t break my toes.

I jumped

fell

forever

shattered the glassy surface…

My ears filled with water

and I heard it.

boom boom.

boom boom.

The terrestrial heartbeat.

Cliff jumping in South Carolina, 2007

Poem for a Monday

A blue whale’s tongue weighs as much as a full-grown elephant.

The blue whale does not think

he is god

as he sings his whale song,

though his low hums

rock the whole sea.

But you clench your fists

for the illusion of control,

and fight the currents around you,

dragged down heavy by

your head full of trivial pursuits

and delusions of importance.

Tension is a good way to drown.

You fool!

You wonderful, stupid fool.

Don’t you know how little you are?

Revel in your own smallness.

Let god be god

just as the whale is the whale

and you are only you.

A Tale from the Pink Line: Riding Trains in Chicago, Episode One

Maura set out from her home in little Mexico wearing a new red dress she’d bought for $3 at a thrift store; it was the perfect compliment to her black velvet knee length jacket her dear friend Tina had helped pick out. She had a scarf wrapped around her head, as she is want to do, because it was raining and windy and because she enjoys dressing like she is in a play. She boarded the train going to the Loop. The train was very crowded and she stood next to a kind looking man who was seated along the window. Maura felt the older man’s gaze looking up at her and they exchanged a glance and a smile. He was about forty, clearly foreign with graying hair.
    
At one of the stops, more people boarded the train and Maura moved further into the car. She was now standing directly behind the seated man. Another young woman, with tan skin, curly hair and a leather briefcase, took Maura’s place beside the man. As the train rumbled along, the man stood up, turned to Maura behind him and said sweetly, “Would you like to sit down?” with a Middle Eastern accent. Now Maura was faced with a dilemma because clearly the available seat belonged to the woman standing beside it, not Maura behind it. But he had offered it to her and she felt it rude to refuse, so she thanked him, eased around the other woman and sat down. Maura felt slightly guilty but smiled at the man and took out her knitting. The kind gentleman began to make his way toward the train door to exit at the next stop. Out of no where, the other young woman raised her over plucked eyebrows and said to the man in a superior tone, “If you wait till the train has stopped to move, you won’t bump into people as you leave!”

Maura was shocked. Who did this young woman think she was? What right did she have to educate other passengers on her version of train etiquette? Maura didn’t think that anyone had the right to impose his or her opinions or preferences on strangers. Perhaps where he came from, the polite thing to do is to ready oneself to exit the train as to not delay departure. Perhaps he wanted to look at the map above the door. Perhaps his foot was asleep and he needed to regain blood circulation before setting off on his journey. Or perhaps he wanted the pretty girl in the Victorian traveling costume to have a seat on the Pink Line, since she was obviously exhausted from all the time travel she'd been doing recently.
  
Maura was now assuaged of all guilt. This snooty woman did not deserve a seat on the train at all. Maura thought the best way to counteract the other young woman’s negativity and general nastiness was to enjoy the seat as much as possible. She stretched out her legs, adjusted her kerchief, smiled once more at the man and knitted happily away until the train reached Clark and Lake.