Kimono Sanctuary
If I weren't makeup-less, I would take a picture. I've never taken a picture of myself in full kimono.
This is sort of a continuation on my previous post (which was written at work and emailed home, although I never write blog junk at work anymore). I arrived home only to be alone again, basically, for reasons I wont get into. No fault of anyone, really, just very bad timing. I don't expect the world or anyone in it to arrange their time to suit mine, so that's no biggie.
But, when I am in a bad mood, I find wearing Japanese-looking things very soothing. Why is that? Does it instill in me a sense of "wa"? Perhaps that's it, at least to an extent. It reminds me to ask for less and enjoy the minimal things. Also, it is a matter of doing/being what I want (by wearing what I want) despite the world around me... a world that makes little sense and is mostly cold, vain, and empty.
I was just going to slip into a silky kimono and read, but I ended up putting on the jyuban, kimono, tying the extremely complicated nagoya obi, and completing it with the obijime. I skipped the tabi and geta, as my feet like to be free, bare, and natural. This is how I embrace being alone and how I can come to love it.
When God (or nature, if you refuse to think of God) made tiny little worms that spin tiny little threads that, when painstakenly woven together, can make a natural human-size cocoon of smoother-than-baby-skin wrappings... that was one amazing gift. To put real care into the craft of silk is to appreciate that gift, thread by tiny thread, process by tedious process. When I wear a very old vintage kimono, made the old fashioned way with hard-working and patient hands, I am wrapped in the calm of humans loving a gift of nature. That is a mentality that makes sense to me and soothes me. All paths, all crafts and works, lead to enlightenment according to the old Japanese way, so long as you take extreme care in every step and treat your work, your art, as if it is far greater than you are. In this way, a samauri would respect his caligraphy as much as his swordsmanship... in this way, a poet, seamstress, and a trusted consultant of the rulers of the "island of the gods", are all on equal ground. In this way, we are all nothing, and yet all hands that shape something divine.
Although I am no disciple of the religions of the east, I think God could want little more than to see us all embrace the beauty of our existances, and the humble way of putting our works before ourselves, in this manner.
There are 5 layers of silk around me, now, not counting the obi, obijime, and whatever you call the other belts. Layers of time have spun the work of tiny creatures of nature in to a swaths of earthy womb for me to rest in, and I am grateful for that.
If I ever get married again, IF, then I would like to wear a kimono. After all, I would only want to be with a man who understood my excentricities, and would not question my love of such things. He would not think "shouldn't her dress be white and poofy?", or "what is that blonde white chick think she's doing in a freakin kimono?". He would only think "Doesn't my little Morkiko look beautiful in all that Japanese silk?". I would also only get married in the woods, where I belong and where I feel whole. Heck, I might even walk down the "isle" (or path) barefoot. Why the heck not? This is my life and I am me, myself, the wild-flower-eating, kimono-wearing, spanish-song-singing, italian-cooking, german-beer-loving, book-gluttoning, typeaholic, tree-hugging creature that I am.
Anyway... so here I sit in a kimono, drinking a beer and rambling on my blog. I think I'll go read a book in bed until I fall asleep. Good night folks.
This is sort of a continuation on my previous post (which was written at work and emailed home, although I never write blog junk at work anymore). I arrived home only to be alone again, basically, for reasons I wont get into. No fault of anyone, really, just very bad timing. I don't expect the world or anyone in it to arrange their time to suit mine, so that's no biggie.
But, when I am in a bad mood, I find wearing Japanese-looking things very soothing. Why is that? Does it instill in me a sense of "wa"? Perhaps that's it, at least to an extent. It reminds me to ask for less and enjoy the minimal things. Also, it is a matter of doing/being what I want (by wearing what I want) despite the world around me... a world that makes little sense and is mostly cold, vain, and empty.
I was just going to slip into a silky kimono and read, but I ended up putting on the jyuban, kimono, tying the extremely complicated nagoya obi, and completing it with the obijime. I skipped the tabi and geta, as my feet like to be free, bare, and natural. This is how I embrace being alone and how I can come to love it.
When God (or nature, if you refuse to think of God) made tiny little worms that spin tiny little threads that, when painstakenly woven together, can make a natural human-size cocoon of smoother-than-baby-skin wrappings... that was one amazing gift. To put real care into the craft of silk is to appreciate that gift, thread by tiny thread, process by tedious process. When I wear a very old vintage kimono, made the old fashioned way with hard-working and patient hands, I am wrapped in the calm of humans loving a gift of nature. That is a mentality that makes sense to me and soothes me. All paths, all crafts and works, lead to enlightenment according to the old Japanese way, so long as you take extreme care in every step and treat your work, your art, as if it is far greater than you are. In this way, a samauri would respect his caligraphy as much as his swordsmanship... in this way, a poet, seamstress, and a trusted consultant of the rulers of the "island of the gods", are all on equal ground. In this way, we are all nothing, and yet all hands that shape something divine.
Although I am no disciple of the religions of the east, I think God could want little more than to see us all embrace the beauty of our existances, and the humble way of putting our works before ourselves, in this manner.
There are 5 layers of silk around me, now, not counting the obi, obijime, and whatever you call the other belts. Layers of time have spun the work of tiny creatures of nature in to a swaths of earthy womb for me to rest in, and I am grateful for that.
If I ever get married again, IF, then I would like to wear a kimono. After all, I would only want to be with a man who understood my excentricities, and would not question my love of such things. He would not think "shouldn't her dress be white and poofy?", or "what is that blonde white chick think she's doing in a freakin kimono?". He would only think "Doesn't my little Morkiko look beautiful in all that Japanese silk?". I would also only get married in the woods, where I belong and where I feel whole. Heck, I might even walk down the "isle" (or path) barefoot. Why the heck not? This is my life and I am me, myself, the wild-flower-eating, kimono-wearing, spanish-song-singing, italian-cooking, german-beer-loving, book-gluttoning, typeaholic, tree-hugging creature that I am.
Anyway... so here I sit in a kimono, drinking a beer and rambling on my blog. I think I'll go read a book in bed until I fall asleep. Good night folks.
posted by TwistedNoggin at 10:15 PM
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