Anchor

Well, the time has come now to panic about my show a month away. I’m not really panicking, I'm just busy, and sometimes have the small, sour, fart of a thought; maybe I bit off more than I can chew. I’m sanding wood, fitting forty-five degree angles together that never quite fit right. I’ve got wood and supplies all over the place. I miss my friend Nori, who left on Sunday. I miss coffee and chocolate. I miss my family and friends. And I really want to draw a new graveyard drawing, but I just don't have the time. Or maybe I just don't want to get involved in another project until this framing business is done.

I finally finished the Ender’s game series. Highly recommend!


And, the other day after school I participated in the tea ceremony club, me and about five girls, and an old lady tea master. I have been a guest in a tea ceremony, but never have I learned how to actually prepare the tea.
The attention to detail…how you sit, which leg gets up first, how you place your hands when you bow. How you hold the teacup and bamboo whisk, how to clean it, where and when and how to place each item. There is a ritual hand dance with unfolding and folding the red handkerchief, wiping the teacup. My mind and attention were unable to wonder away from the present. The ritual was like an anchor holding my attention into the present moment, into my body and my actions. However superficial and controversial the actual origin of this or any other ritual or ceremony might be, the power it contains to anchor one into the present moment is undeniable.
And next to me, an old woman kindly but sternly giving direction in Japanese, sometimes touching my hands when I cant quite translate. In front of me, a single dying tree branch cuts into the space, out of an old brown vase, telling us all the truth.