Works of Art From God To God

Press play to hear Master Coltrane's 'Psalm' - a work of art from God to God. Can you hear the God in him?


So when the show wrapped, I was all out of sync.  First of all, I missed the people I worked with - without their enormously engaging conversation and antics, the Monday-after was flat.  However, I did have Christmas crochet orders and social activities and was forced to move on. 
Plus, one of the other sewers - a sewing magician, really - who collected sewing machines had sold me one of his babies (I went through an "interview" process in order to be matched up with one of the sewing machines that reputedly lined an entire wall of his apartment.  This Sewing Machine Whisperer ended up selling me a machine that is sheer beauty and precision in action; a Husqvarna Viking which, ironically, was one of their 'Vanessa' series.) that became my new obsession in what little spare time I had.
The following two weeks passed in a blur where I was barely sleeping again because I tended to burn the midnight oil to finish orders so I could fit in catching up with family and friends whom I hadn't seen while I was working the show, etc.  I was churning out orders like a machine,

This was the only original design produced during this time.  Oh, and there was a scarf that I forgot to photograph before delivering but all the others were all designs based on prototypes that can be seen here.



all force and dynamism but I was neglecting to 'be in the process' and ended up paying for it in spades.
The morning after I'd delivered my last order, I "ran up" to Manhattan from Virginia to visit a friend who'd been pushed down by a group of over-friendly dogs being walked by a dogwalker and found herself in the hospital for months. 
Somehow I'd squeezed in baking her a lemon pound cake from scratch and buying her pjs, a neck rest, funky Christmas socks - since she wasn't due to be released until after New Year's, and a fruit, shortbread, and sausage, etc. gift basket.
Except how many of you are thinking, "she's done too much"?
Which I further compounded by coming back to Virginia the same day so I wouldn't miss church the next day.  Suffice it to say that after getting home at three in the morning, I did not even budge until three o'clock in the afternoon. 
Although, even after all that sleep, I would have been better off remaining in bed because two hours later I had dislocated my shoulder and set my life off-course for possibly up to a year.
Except that what was off-course to me was on-purpose for God because after I had rehabilitated my arm enough to write (a whole month it took, during which, of course, my darkest fear was that I might not ever be able to do anything with my right arm again), I finished my first book.  A book I wrote in devotion to God with the phrase, "only what you do for God will last", floating around in my spirit.
And I am not a holy roller.
I still curse, and cackle malevolently before I can catch myself if I string together a particularly brilliant string of curse words.
And you read that I'm capable of sleeping through and beyond time for me to go to church - or even catch the last five minutes of it, for that matter.
I lie.  I mean, sometimes people just catch me off-guard with a question that galls me to have to answer.
And then sometimes find myself unable to "forgive (that person) as Jesus forgives me" for making me tell a lie.
Oh, it's a mess sometimes.  I am a work-in-progress moving with the speed of a tortoise in my spiritual evolution.  Plus, I care more about people than I do money and success and could give a hoot (I don't curse much in public) about making a lasting difference.
However, that phrase, "only what you do for God will last", gave me pause and still does.  Here I was, in the words of Rev. Dr. H. Beecher Hicks in his book, Preaching Up A Storm, continually ringing up God like He was my "spiritual bellhop" while acting as if I was exempt from the first of the Ten Commandments:

"You shall have no other God before me."



It seemed as if I had some priorities, activities, and people that I had made into gods beside/besides/alongside God.  Not all the time, but I could look back over the course of a day and be appalled at my lack of focus on anything God-related and so I decided to atone for this - to a very minute degree - by writing Kella of Opulent Faith. 
A work of art from God to God.

xo
Vanessa

Getting 'Spiritual' About My Time At The Kennedy Center (plus Crocheter's Notes on the perfume atomizer)

    

If 'Spiritual' by John Coltrane was the soundtrack for my experience working at the Kennedy Center, the clashing cymbals would sound to represent raw energy....

in the backstage operations of a premiere of a major production such as Little Dancer

of the performers with their sheer extremes of athleticism that it took for them to perform their roles

of the talent, production, principals, and audiences that created an all-consuming momentum and excitement.

Conversely, the wailing sax notes would have to accompany the miracle of ....

arising after two hours sleep (long commutes and mandatory soaking of muscles cut into sleep time) in order to work round the clock for another day

and "working out at the gym" which was backstage.  Up and down the stairs.  Down and right back up again, countless times each day

of course there was the elevator, which was virtually ignored when it came down to a matter of urgency - which was, mainly, all the time.

 

And the staccato, rapid-fire beats of the drum in 'Spiritual' would keep time....
with the costume changes - there were nights I would bolt straight up in bed in the middle of the night with a dart of fear in my heart that I'd missed a costume change
and the sound of dancer's running feet as they scurried to change costumes and get back on stage.
and the myriad microscopic stitches that went into the vintage perfume atomizer shown below that I was commissioned to refurbish
(Crocheters:  This was worked in single crochet with three strands of varying shades of beige sewing thread (to create a matte, aged look), and the world's tiniest crochet hook that doesn't even have a size on it (it's a very old hook I inherited - vintage hook for a vintage project).  Although, if I had to guess its size, I would say it was a 2.25 mm B hook.)

 



And, finally, the wonderful piano notes in 'Spiritual' would set the tone for the acts of kindness, and the overall sense of camaraderie that develops when a group works so closely together for so long, with the mournful bass sounds playing in the background during our final goodbyes when the show wrapped.

 

xo

Vanessa 





P.S.  I'm getting around to the book, setting the stage right now (so to speak, ahem).  Although, Kella, in Kella of Opulent Faith would definitely love Coltrane's 'Spiritual', and own at least one perfume atomizer...