Beauty in the Darkness

When I listen to music on Spotify and the album or list ends, as I'm sure you may have also experienced, the music continues on. Spotify trying to find music I like to listen to, to keep me connected. I know it's all about money making capitalism, but I don't mind it. It can be hit and miss, but in October, after listening to a musical album (can't remember for sure, but maybe Ride?) it started spitting out musical tracks including this one from a musical I'd never heard of. 

Mythic played in 2018 at the Channing Cross Theatre in London. It's got a cast album recording, but not much else existing in the way of being able to see it. I was pretty instantly drawn to the lyrics of the song and looked up the album. 

It's based on the Greek myth of Persephone and Hades but is looking at it through the lens of the relationship between Persephone and Demeter. It's got lots to say about teenagers and growing up and making choices. Not as deep and challenging as Hadestown (which deals with some similar characters), but still meaningful and lots of fun. The whole album was honestly 90% a total banger, though I will admit the last two songs are not quite up to a big finish, but I feel like that's because everything that's come before is so hard to follow. 

I loved it and pretty quickly shared it with the girls, who are also very into Greek myths. That's thanks, in large part to Percy Jackson, but also the musical Hadestown and the plethora of Greek myth books we've got in the house. We are enamoured and I wish there were a way I could convince a theatre company in Brisbane to perform the show. 

In the meantime, I'm going to share with you the song that got me in - Beauty in the Darkness. Definitely worth a listen. Especially for the deep people who know that sad is happy. 

I saw the spires of Tartarus
Strolled along the Styx
Pet the great dog Cerberus
Who lay there scratching ticks
People say the underworld is cruel and dark
Did you know that deep inside it, there's a spark?

I found bliss among the ruins
I felt life within each tomb
I found shelter in the shadows
I saw light inside the gloom
There's a peacefulness in sorrow
If you stop and take a breath
There is beauty in the darkness
There is so much love in death

The spires are cracked in Tartarus
They're all in disrepair
The Styx is drenched in hopelessness
And swimming with despair
Only thing that's hopeless is your point of view
Everything has such potential, even you

'Cause there's treasure in the wreckage
Underneath all the distress
If you glanced beyond the mayhem
You'd see magic in the mess
There is mercy in the monster
Underneath his fiery breath
There is beauty in the darkness
There is so much love in death

There's redemption all around you
If you stop and take a breath
There is beauty in the darkness
There is so much love in death

Sashiko

I think I'm pretty in love with sashiko. There is something really satisfying about the simplicity of the plain fabric coming to life with the easiest of stitches. The four pieces I made while in Japan in April got me pretty inspired to do more, but what to do with them was a real issue. I like to make practical things, not things that just look pretty. 

So I just added designs to my Pinterest board and wished inspiration would hit. At last it did. 

In my classroom is an enormous wall that has been painted with magic paint to make it a whiteboard. This is all pretty fabulous, except that unlike a normal white board, it's not magnetic. This means having an eraser that just sticks on and is always easy to find is not really an option. I also didn't have any shelving at the white board side of the room, so even storing one was tricky. The kids have spent most of the year (to my shame) using tissues to clean it off. 

Half way through, grid lines are in place,
only need to sew along the circles.

When I was thinking about things that Japanese people initially made with their sashiko stitching, I realised that a dish cloth, for washing up, probably has the same properties that the white board cleaner needs. It's double layered for strength and durability and all the stitches gives it a good texture for cleaning. 

I grabbed out some darker fabric from my stash (figuring that it would be less of an eyesore than if I used a white) and got to prepping. I think this is the last of a dark blue pillow case from Lorraine Lea - you can see it in the first photo here though I can't think where else I've used it! Anyway, I had enough to prep two roughly square pieces. 

All done and looking good!
The threads are slightly different shades of green for the grid vs the circles.
I kind wish they were more different, but whatever. 

The first I did a grid and circles design to help practice getting my stitches the right length and work on curves vs lines. These only took maybe an hour each to sew; I did this one while watching Hidden Figures with the girls and Steve one Saturday arvo.

The second I didn't take any glamor shots of (so much regret now!) before I hung it up and started using it, but it is so beautiful and the design was heavily inspired by this image I saw on Pinterest. Both of these are at school pegged up on my whiteboard wall (pegs are stuck on with blue tack) and the kids who have the job of rubbing off the board say they do a great job (though they are a little surprised I'm asking them to clean with something that looks so pretty). 

I think I'll make more. Maybe a class set of smaller ones for the students to use on their mini whiteboards. 

Do I need to get out more? Perhaps, but even if I did, I'd probably take my housewife and sashiko stitching with me anyway. 

Tedama: Japanese Juggling Balls

I realised after my post on Street Camp, that I have never blogged about what has now become one of my favourite hand sewing projects. Tedama, are Japanese juggling balls. The word literally means hand (te) ball (dama). I learnt how to make these way back when I first lived in Japan 20 years ago. I had joined Japanese Culture Club (after the every day two hour training nature of the Volleyball club left me with zero joy) and sewn my first yukata there (I mention it here if you are interested). After I finished the yukata, the teacher filled in some time by teaching us how to make tedama before the school year was up. 

All you need is four rectangles of fabric that are a 1:2 ratio. So if you did 1.5 inches, the other side would be 3 inches. (Sorry Aussies, quilting has ruined me and I now often measure in imperial when sewing; horror!) I made a bunch way back then, and I think some more when I started teaching Japanese in 2009, but it had been several years since I'd given it a go. I will admit to googling the instructions to refresh my memory!

Tedama usually look beautiful because they are traditionally made out of the scraps from old kimono. I had some of that exact kind of fabric that had been given to me by a friend a while ago, but I also picked up some when we were in Japan earlier in the year. I initially started making these to increase the amount I had on hand at school this year, but it's becoming quite addictive and I may not stop. I just do a cutting session so I have all the little rectangles ready to go. They fit easily in my housewife and are so quick to make while listening to the sermon at church or the minutes and reports at the P&C meeting. 

Anyway, I do have a goal for this year because I want to use them as an activity in my school Japanese festival in March, which means I need to have at least a class set ready to go for then. At a base level, that's 25 - one for each student. But if I want to let them have two to practice with, I'm going to need 50. And really, three each would be ideal... 

Heavy

It's hard to put into words what I want to say but I'm noticing the weight of life more as the years go on. This year the heaviness has come and gone several times. Being able to look back and recognise that while the feeling is uncomfortable, it doesn't stay forever has begun to give me some clarity over it. Almost like when it comes I can allow it the space to visit, knowing that eventually it will pack its bags and leave again. 

Strange to think that we become accustomed to the feeling of weight. Wearing the sorrow and carrying the grief around as part of us while our lives continue on. I'd like to think I've never been one to wear a disguise to hide what is under the surface, but maybe I'm getting better at sharing with other people in a way to make them less uncomfortable. I don't know for sure. 

Earlier this year I picked up an extra days work at a second school to take my three days part time up to four. Fully aware that I am in a very privileged minority who has the option to work part time and choose my three or four days, I wanted to be sure I was contributing what I could to our family's earnings, not just coasting by on Steve's hard work (my mind, not in any way a reflection on Steve's stance, which, was just the opposite). I was feeling like I had a bit of spare time and thought that one extra day at another school, much closer than my current one, would not add an excessive load and be worth the added income. 

Boy was I wrong. The expectation of work (teaching prep to grade 6 in four hours with no scheduled prep time) was immense. At the end of the day, I'm not sure the school would have minded if I just did colouring in with the kids each week and recycled the same lesson for all six periods (grades 5&6 were a composite class for those who noticed a discrepancy in the text there). But I'm a passionate and committed educator who not only wants to deliver meaningful and engaging lessons, but I would be so bored if I recycled anything more than once. 

Not only the work load in terms of lessons, but just the sheer amount of effort it takes to get to know 150 student names and personalities is incredibly taxing. Don't get me started on the school systems and all the wonderful paperwork and mandatory training (student protection, code of conduct, cyber safety to name a few) that comes with a new school. 

I was doubling up on things I planned at my original school to try to cut down on my planning time, but then I'd need resources that I'd forget at one school when I needed them at another, or at home, or have to make two sets of to be sure I had them on hand for the right class. Definitely not ideal.  

In the second last week of term three, I was really feeling that weight, and after an incident at the new school involving some pretty terrible student behaviour, I was done. It took me a week (maybe more) to even talk about the experience without tears. I'm not ashamed of crying, especially when it comes from such a raw experience, but it does make processing, sharing and moving on somewhat difficult. 

Yet, God is good. With some very sound advice from other teachers who I was trusting to see the situation clearly when I had lost all confidence in trusting myself, and finally listening to Steve (who had told me it wasn't worth it way back after the second week I was there), I wrote my resignation email. Though I was still somewhat broken, the weight lifted. The last week of school and first week of holidays did a lot to help put me back together, especially Street Camp. Oh, how perfectly timed what that little getaway. 

But life continues. I ended up in hospital in the second week of holidays, having some straightforward emergency surgery. Healing of all kinds is a process that takes time and my journey involved daily doctor's visits to change dressings and check the progress. I was surprisingly more ok about missing the first week of school than I would usually have been. Then again, term four is always a much calmer term for me, despite the report card deadlines that loom ever closer. 

Second week and I was finally back at work when we had news that again caused me grief; from a number of places. That's not my story to tell, but again the weight sits with me. It reminds me of our broken world, of the way we need to cling to Jesus for hope. When I was younger (oh, how old I sound now! Maybe I'm trying too hard for wisdom?), I feel that the sadness was something that just needed fixing. That all I wanted to do was patch it back up and move on. 

But we can't patch everything, and sometimes we can have forward motion even as we carry the cares that try to hold us down. So I'll let the heaviness sit with me. I'll be ok with the grief. There is a time for everything, and if this is one of those times, that's ok. This is surely teaching me something too. 

"Consider the birds," Jesus says, "They don't farm or store away for tomorrow, and yet God feeds them. Are you not worth so much more than they?" (Matthew 6:26 Paula paraphrase)

Do I believe this? I do. 

Even in the grief of sorrow for people close to me, for people everywhere struggling, I cling to the hope I have of a God who loves us and considers us precious. In our broken and sorrow filled world, I know there is light, and good. Even just writing about Street Camp last month reminded me of all these things. 

This may not be a post for everyone to enjoy, but in my desire to be authentic and contain more than just shallow experiences on my blog, which is such a huge a reflection of my life, here it is. Reminding future Paula (and anyone else who needs to hear it) that the grief is not forever and the weight won't last. Love always wins.