Sunday, January 22, 2012

Isabella Hat Teacosy: January 18th to 22nd.

What is a teacosy but a very small hat with slits for spout and handle. My work colleague (the same one who has dubious Scrabble adding skills—its happened twice, this is probably libelous (sorry)) wondered if the hat on the recipe could perhaps be adapted to a tea pot. I thought, why not? The tea pot is 'so' big [hand gesture of guestimated proportions]. Turned out it fitted not too badly. I used an angora acrylic blend that I unraveled from a jumper I had. It's beautifully soft. I have great plans of how to 'personalise' it but just have to find the where-with-all to do it. It's that old chestnut of shopping for an idea rather than shopping to find an idea—I'm chasing a cloud. I'll catch it, but in the meantime there is a naked teapot in the suburbs. I won't keep you long teapot!

Discovered over the duration of this project what a good place to knit the long-distance drive is. We went down to Point Roadknight for a boogie-board. The waves were about as big as the amount of knitting I was able to do on the trip: in knitting speak it was lots, in wave speak it was not even enough to get you to shore if you couldn't just stand up and walk out. But so beautiful. The little-over-an-hour drive is worth it for the sparkling blue clearness of the waves and the amazing light effect of the sunshine of the grains of sand caught in the (tiny) surf. The more I venture there, the harder it is to walk into the oily, murky, bits-of-icky waters of Port Melbourne (ah, the lamentations of the privileged).

If I am a capitalist swine with access to a vehicle (even if I don't, in any way, own the mean of production), it is because that is a role I play given the live I life and the place and time I live it in. But it isn't me. I am playing out a script I have been given in this drama of 'life' Osho says. Remember a couple of techniques back how there was the gap between the two breaths and it touched down to your very center, the center that is the true you? This is effectively the same technique, but done in activity. If you can be aware of the gap and the center through every waking minute, while you go about the minutiae of daily living, you feel what is center and what is periphery; you feel the difference between doing and being, between center and script.

Osho says that the reason to do this is that by practicing this technique you are able to see your life as if it is happening not to you, but to someone else. I'm not sure I like that idea: it displaces. Why 'do' the life of someone else? Why do anything? It's not practical for everyone to be a guru—live in cave, meditate all day. What is probably more take-away from this idea is that if the doing part is all an act, then your center is not affected by what happens in the act (and to not take anything away from Osho, he does touch on this). If something bad happens to you, if you make a mistake, it is just a part of the drama, not a part of you. You can't feel guilt or anger or hate in your very essence if it is caused by an actor in a play. Conversely, and maybe I'll understand this more later, how do we then feel love?

This item has been bartered in exchange for the year long use of a large box of knitting needles. Thank you to its recipient (when they eventually get it that is)—saved me a pile in needle purchasing!


  1. Bizarre that I bought a book from the Salvo's yesterday and the first chapter was about Osho, who I have never heard of before, and now today, I am reading about Osho again on your blog.

    My advice, acknowledging that you never asked for it, is to stick to Pema Chodron (The Places that Scare You, etc). No so much navel gazing.

    Who was the Isabella this teacosy hat was named after? I'm wondering whether it was Isabella Blow, but it all seems a bit tame for her.

  2. I think it may be the name of a knitting granny from Alabhama who submitted the pattern to the publisher. Spooky about the Osho connection!!