Happy Hearts

I've been crocheting little hearts lately.  Not something I ever would have thought I'd do...using tiny crochet thread and a wee hook made of steel.  Deadly on the eyes.

I saw the pattern on A Foothill Home Companion and since Valentine's Day was coming up, I thought, why not?

They became little gifts for people.  I like making little things that I think will make someone smile.  Valentine's Day is a weird Hallmark Holiday. I've never been too into it.  I like chocolate, though.  Any holiday involving chocolate has to be good.  But, this one, can incur sour grape-like feelings if you're single  (which I am currently) and you are tired of all the coupledom around you.  However, I'm not feeling that right now.  I'm liking reading all the crafty blogposts with Valentine crafts.  I'm liking all the hearts. I'm liking all the red.  I think after the snow and the bitter cold in Chicago, I want red.  I want the illusion of heat, the suggestion of fire, the illusion of happiness.  I'm ok with illusion. Sometimes, the illusion is just what is needed to get you through February and March in Chicagoland.

So, anyway, I made crocheted hearts.  Chains and stitches.  Winding the hook, pulling it through, weaving the ends.  It was meditative.  It required a bit of tedious work (dislike weaving in ends).  But once completed, they were recognizable as hearts.

So, here's my heart.  I'm giving it to you.

The Love Poetry of Aikido

Two hours of aikido tonight and my mood has drastically changed for the better.  I've been moody.  Crying.  Sad and silly.  Tonight I was tossed about and maybe that knocked some sense into me.  Or got my endorphins going.

Watching Sato Sensei demonstrate, I started to feel myself turn all poetical.  I thought, tai sabaki is practicing the same pattern over and over again...like love...

You reach for someone, they deflect, they block, they turn you around, spin you on your axis then toss you.

You get up.  Go at it again.  Maybe believing that the more you fall, the more tenderized your heart will be.  Or perhaps because your body is dumb.  Or is it your heart, that learns so slow...?

Then, the tables turn.  Someone reaches for you.  You deflect them, you block, you turn them around, spin them on their axis then toss them away.

Over and over, until the technique changes.  Some fancy switch-o-change-o of hands behind your back. Some jazzy snazzy magic thing.  You do it over and over just because you like the feeling that you can.

Hmmm....

Then another change.  Not so easy.  Everything changes when there's a weapon in someone's hand.  Or does it?  The stakes seem to change.  Life is more serious.  Life is precious.  Take things slower now. Pay more attention.

How silly that a wooden sword or staff should seem so scary.  A heart is vastly more frightening, either way.