Tag Archives: Patagonia

Hole Leads To Whole New Beauty

by Woody

Imagine a teenager looking in the mirror while getting ready for prom and seeing an eyesore pimple. That’s the kind of chill I felt the other day when I put on my favorite pullover and spotted a small hole, impossible to miss, in the front.

Understand, I have had this wool, olive green, quarter-zipper, vintage Patagonia pullover for close to two decades, and have babied it for half that time trying to extend its life as long as possible. As a result, it has spent more time inside a dresser drawer than out in the world, which is not a good thing.

Also as a result, it has made more than its share of appearances at happy gatherings and special events, which is a good thing. The unsightly new blemish, however, promised to retire Ol’ Green from marquee billing.

While age finally claimed its youthful beauty, I did not want the small hole to get stretched and pulled and torn into a larger one. “A stitch in time saves nine” but, alas, my skill with needle and thread is limited to sewing a button back on a shirt. Meanwhile, my wife felt the emotional pressure of a surgeon being asked to operate on a loved one and begged out.

My next thought was to ask my dear Betsy Ross-like friend Kathy. I wish you could see her handiwork on Ol’ Green. Darned if her darning isn’t masterful. The interwoven needlework is nearly invisible.

In truth, I’m actually glad the repair is slightly visible. I say this after thinking about the Shakers who were renowned for their furniture design and craftsmanship, yet deliberately introduced a “mistake” into the things they made in order to show that man should not aspire to the perfection of God. Flawed, they believed, could be ideal.

Ol’ Green is now similarly ideal.

Navajos, echoing the Shakers, purposely weave a single imperfection into their handmade blankets. To their eyes this makes the blankets more, not less, beautiful. In his terrific book, “Blood and Thunder: The Epic Story of Kit Carson and the Conquest of the American West,” author Hamptom Sides elaborates on this mindset:

“Navajos hated to complete anything – whether it was a basket, a blanket, a song, or a story. They never wanted their artifacts to be too perfect, or too close-ended, for a definitive ending cramped the spirit of the creator and sapped the life from the art. So they left little gaps and imperfections, deliberate lacunae that kept things alive for another day.

“Even today Navajo blankets often have a faint imperfection designed to let the creation breathe – a thin line that originates from the center and extends all the way to the edge, sometimes with a single thread dangling from its border. Tellingly, the Navajos call the intentional flaw the ‘spirit outlet.’ ”

Henceforth, I will take the Shakers’ and Navajos’ perspectives to heart when I wear Ol’ Green and embrace its repaired imperfection as a “spirit outlet.”

“Kintsugi” also comes to my mind, which is the Japanese practice of repairing broken pottery with seams of gold and, in the process, making the object even more beautiful for having been broken. That is exactly how I feel about my beloved pullover.

From now on, instead of saving Ol’ Green for special occasions I am going to wear it regularly. And when future holes and “spirit outlets” appear, and surely they will, I may ask Kathy to perform her seamstress wizardry with gold thread instead of perfectly matched olive.

Ol’ Green-and-Gold will then be even more beautiful than ever.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com

 

Column: Grads and Artisans

by Woody

New Grads Can Learn From Artisans

 

Graduation season is upon us and, since once again I was not asked to deliver a commencement address in person, I am offering one here in print.

 

Among those who will fling their mortarboards skyward in celebration this year is my youngest nephew from Camarillo High School. And so I will address my remarks to him personally with hope others may find wisdom and inspiration as well.1-quoteKnow

 

Congratulations, Rhett. Before continuing on your educational expedition and life journey, I want to tell you about the banana knife your cousin brought home from Sri Lanka last year as a gift for me.

 

            The curved eight-inch blade is not burnished smooth except for its sharp edge, yet it is still beautiful for its utility – it can cut a banana bunch from a tree, chop down bamboo stalks, slice open a letter with equal ease. In today’s world, having a wide range of skills will serve you well.

 

            Conversely, its lacquered native hardwood handle is art to behold – and hold. Adding to the sublimity is that your cousin watched the master blacksmith fashion this handiwork in an hour’s time.

 

He also saw craftswomen weave strands of colorfully dyed palm leaves into wondrous purses of varying patterns. Meanwhile, from earthen clay other artists created pots and bowls that are equally useful and attractive.

 

            These Sri Lankan artisans, it seems to me, serve as an instructive metaphor. Each day we all receive 24 hours like a new chunk of raw clay or a pile of palm fronds or a piece of metal. Our challenge and duty is to use our vision, talents and perseverance to create something meaningful.

 

           

Greg Woodburn gave new socks and running shoes as gifts to Sikoro villagers, including the Elder Chief here.

Greg Woodburn gave new socks and running shoes as gifts to Sikoro villagers, including the Elder Chief here.

Too, Rhett, I wish to share a story from a trip your cousin took a few years earlier to the tiny village of Sikoro in Mali, Africa. Because his luggage was lost, and because he had neglected to pack anything in his carry-on bag for just such a mishap, he spent two weeks with only the clothes on his back.

 

Yet instead of calamitous, the lost luggage actually proved to be serendipitous because he got a life lesson in experiencing how his impoverished hosts make do with very few possessions.

 

The people of Sikoro live in mud-brick huts, sleep on woven mats atop hard dirt floors and pump water from wells. They lack enough fruits and vegetables. Most do not have shoes.

 

Despite what to us seems a hardscrabble existence, they are extremely happy. They smile constantly, laugh easily, dance freely. Worries about car payments and job promotions do not weigh on their minds. They may not have much materially by our standards, but by theirs they have enough.

 

Rhett, you would do well to pack some of these values of the Sikoro villagers in your luggage, so to speak, as you travel life’s roads.

 

Speaking of packing, Rhett, I wish to close with a scene from the book “Repacking Our Bags” by Richard Leider. He was on a backpacking trek in Africa and the group’s Maasai guide, Koyie, traveled with only a spear and a stick for cattle-tending. Leider, on the other hand, was outfitted with a backpack stuffed with “necessities.”

 

After they made camp the first evening, Leider laid out all his fancy gear. He writes: “I unsnap snaps, unzip zippers, and un-Velcro Velcro. From pockets, pouches, and compartments, I produce all sorts of strange and wonderful items. Eating utensils, cutting devices, digging tools. Direction finders, star gazers, map readers. Things to write with, on, and for. Various garments in various sizes for various functions. Medical supplies, remedies, and cures. Little bottles inside little bottles inside little bottles. Waterproof bags for everything. Amazing stuff!

 

“I look over at Koyie to gauge his reaction,” Leider continues. “He seems amused but he is silent. Finally, after several minutes of just gazing at everything, Koyie turns to me and asks very simply, but with great intensity: ‘Does all this make you happy?’ ”

 

Pursue happiness, Rhett, but pursue it wisely. As Patagonia founder Yvon Chouinard has sagely said: “The more you know, the less you need.”

 

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

 

Check out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”