a woven life

a parenting and lifestyle blog

Meditating on Love [With a Capital L].


WaterInPlant“To love people we need a loving mind more than we need people to act lovably.” -Sarah Napthali

The above quote. It is wonderful. It is taken from a book I thumb through every third day or so, The Complete Buddhism for Mothers. This quote speaks volumes of truth. For me it  is put most easily into practice with my child, for though he is 97% lovable joy, he is 3% frustration, and I love him no less for this 3%. This practice is difficult with strangers, acquaintances, spouses, friends, family. We can’t surround ourselves with only those who fit a profile we deem worthy. I’m not suggesting that we be okay with surrounding ourselves with those who are toxic to our lives. I am trying to express, however, that we shouldn’t wait about for people to be lovable to be worthy of our love. 

If we aim to view the world through a lens of compassion (a practice every wisdom tradition advocates) then we can begin to open our lives to the cultivation of a loving mindset. Do try. As an illustration: I don’t always turn right on red, I don’t find it mandatory and I don’t like to creep into crosswalks. Yesterday, a person driving a truck felt the need to honk at me for this. As in, “hey, right on red, it’s a given, go”. It wasn’t an angry honk, it was an encouraging honk, really. None the less, my heart rate elevated. Instead of becoming angry at this fella (an inwardly selfish reaction), I meditated on loving-kindess for him, an act that forces one outside of their self. I am pro-selfless, but it is a battle that I am working on, and I want to share it.

In life news, the weather here is giving me whiplash. Snow. Sun. Wind.

What am I to do when I need both a sun hat and ear coverage? I become more aged every day.

And my fingers are cracking from winter again, I thought we were past this (right thumb, I’m talking to you). I am embracing that this rough-handedness is a sign of their use, I am letting go of the dream of hand modeling (my sister is cackling).


Oren and I went out in the above photographed weather, wind and sleet pounding our faces. We didn’t last long, but in those twenty minutes Oren encountered his first puddle. As we walked along the sidewalk, he pointed it out. He vacillated between crouching down and splashing with his mittens, and stomping through it. He opted for testing the waters with his feet. So. Pleased. He would walk away from it, satiated, only to turn around, proclaim it’s wonder, and head back in for another splash.



Some pictures of or row markers: sticks and cut-out plastic shapes covered in electrical tape. So far, it is working. As for the heavy-duty machinery, the garden received a grant, thanks to our members in taking the initiative to locate and apply to said grant. We are putting in a fence, a shed, accessible beds, and some beds that will grow food for local shelters and food banks.


Mister grin. Mister sun hat. Mister wind breaker. I really have no idea how to dress a tot for this season. Layers. If I could have fit a stocking cap under or over his sun hat, I would have. Though it nearing  the sixties yesterday, we had wind gusts of 40 mph. Oh, Kansas.

It smells like I need to change a diaper, and Oren is looking for somewhere to plug in a defunct coffee grinder.

With love,





Author: Nicole

Hi there. My name is Nicole and I have an affinity for fiber art and home grown everything. I am a mother, seamstress, maker; so on and so forth. I'm here to share my escapades in sewing, parenting, and sometimes marriage (and infrequently, knitting). You can reach me at Nicolesheree@gmail.com. G'day.

2 thoughts on “Meditating on Love [With a Capital L].

  1. a lot to ponder here. wonderful heart compassion. sometimes easy sometimes not. daily hourly practice momently. I have two bandaids on my right thumb–cracked right down the middle top skin part

    • Oh thumblings-get it together. Oren is yelling from the gate as I cower in the bedroom with the computer: “momommomommoommomom”. In increasing pitch.

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