Balenciaga as a means to God

I traveled yesterday to San Francisco to see the Balenciaga and Spain exhibit at the De Young Museum. Coco Chanel said of Balenciaga, “He is the only couturier. He is the only one who knows how to cut a fabric, and mount it and sew it with his own hands. The others are just draughtsmen.”  While walking through this marvelous exhibit and looking at all beautiful pieces that were representative of his long and brilliant career, these words came to life for me.  Balenciaga created clothes that are classic and timeless.  So many of his designs could be worn today.  He understood how to dress a woman's body.  He understood fabrics.  His clothes are truly works of art which reflect his deeply rooted connection to his country, his culture and his religion. 

Balenciaga created 93 collections before he closed his fashion house in 1968.  Just as Alfred Hitchcock made a cameo appearance in each of his films, there was alway one black dress that was cut and sewn entirely by Balenciaga.  One of the exhibit pieces, a jacket and skirt in the blackest black I have ever seen, was cut and sewn by him.  The jacket had only one seam!  The fabric was molded around the shoulders and had one zigzag seem in the center of the jacket.  I stood, for the longest time, in complete fascination.  How does one do this?  How does one even consider it?  

Balenciaga apprenticed designers that went on to become famous themselves such as Oscar de la Renta, André Courrèges, Emanuel Ungaro, and Hubert de Givenchy.  His creations, which often resemble sculpture, must have been created in much the same way.  I stood and imagined myself in Mr. Balenciaga's atlier watching the master at work. 

I next toured the Pulp Fashion - The Art of Isabelle de Borchgrave at the Palace of the Legion of Honor.  Ms. Borchgrave, who is a painter by training, has created a collection of historical costumes entirely from rag paper.  Her creations are taken from early European paintings or iconic historical dresses from museums around the world.  She paints and manipulates the rag paper into astonishing realistic renditions of original fabrics.  I was struck by the careful attention to detail, imagining how tedious and time consuming it must have been to create these amazing pieces.

Finally, I visited my favorite fabric shop - Stone Mountain and Daughter in Berkeley.  This store is a mecca for true sewists.  They carry everything from the simplest cottons to exquisite woolens.  They have an incredibly large selection of silks of all kinds and their linen selection is amazing.  I selected a pattern which was a recreation of a 1940's blouse (having been inspired by Balenciaga's earlier pieces).  I found an beautiful linen/cotton blend by Echino in purple which resembles a vintage print.  I am anxious to begin my project.

By the time I arrived home, the Sabbath was fast approaching.  It had been a day filled with physical beauty; of are and of creativity.  It was a healing day for me, a day that I was able to put aside my sadness at Boris' departure.  It was, it seemed to me, a day that which was not a spiritual one at all and I tried to quiet my mind and prepare to light the Shabbes candles.  I lit the candles and said the prayers but I was unable to completely remove myself from the beauty I had seen that day.  I wanted to escape to that world, to create something physically beautiful.  It felt very wrong to be thinking these things, yet the thoughts were inescapable.  I decided to sit and do some reading to try to focus on things spiritual rather than temporal.  I pulled a book from our library by Robert C. Fuller, and came across the following passage:

"Spirituality exists wherever we struggle with the issue of how our lives fit into the greater cosmic scheme of things. This is true even when our questions never give way to specific answers or give rise to specific practices such as prayer or meditation. We encounter spiritual issues every time we wonder where the universe comes from, why we are here, or what happens when we die. We also become spiritual when we become moved by values such as beauty, love, or creativity that seem to reveal a meaning or power beyond our visible world. An idea or practice is "spiritual" when it reveals our personal desire to establish a felt-relationship with the deepest meanings or powers governing life".

It occurs to me that the love of beauty, in any form, is an acknowledgement of the abundant blessings which have been given to us by our creator.  Whether it is the beauty of creative mind, the beauty of a sunset, the beauty of a child's laughter, the beauty of the Torah or the beauty of tradition, recognizing that beauty is a way of saying, "Thank you for all blessings you bestow on me".  Perhaps God understood that I needed to focus less on what I had lost and more on what I have.  And while a museum exhibit of couture clothing might seem an odd way to interpret his message, I believe that my day of seemingly shallow pursuits was God's hand on the steerage of my course.  

Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything that is beautiful; for beauty is God's handwriting - a wayside sacrament.  Welcome it in every fair face, in every fair sky, in every fair flower, and thank God for it as a cup of blessing.  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Saying goodbye to Boris

In January of this year, I became a Member-at-Large of the San Francisco Samoyed Rescue Board of Directors.  While I have volunteered throughout my life for various animal welfare groups, this is my first foray into serving on a governing body.  San Francisco Samoyed Rescue was founded to help Samoyed dogs who, through no fault of her own and for a variety of reasons, find themselves homeless.  SFSR also helps owners who cannot afford veterinary care for their sick or injured Samoyed.  As dogs come into rescue, they are fostered by volunteer families until they can be placed in a permanent home.  Recently, we had a dog come into rescue who my husband and I volunteered to foster.  His name is Boris.

Every dog that comes into rescue has a story.  Most are sad, some are tragic.  Sometimes the dogs are unwanted.  Sometimes they are sick or injured.  Sometimes they are the victims of benign neglect.  One cannot help feel a variety of emotions during the rescue process including sadness, anger, hope and even rage.  Every dog that we rescue touches my heart in some way.  Mostly, I feel good about being able to place them in loving homes with people who can not only take care of them, but who understand the needs of this very special breed.  Sometimes you wish you could do more.  But as Edward Everett Hale said, "I am only one, but I am one.  I cannot do everything, but I can do something.  And I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do".  So, once a dog goes to his permanent home, no matter what his circumstances when he arrived, there is a collective "Woo Hoo" and we move on.  That was before Boris came to live with us.

Boris' owner was the victim of a reversal of fortune, an all too familiar scenario these days.  His owner had to move to his mother's ranch after losing his own home and Boris was banished to live in the barn after being a house dog for all of his four years.  His owner reached out to us and surrendered Boris, although it was extremely difficult for him.  When Boris was picked up, his owner was teary-eyed and looked as though he had been punched in the gut.  I suspect that Boris represented the last vestige of his former life and having to give Boris up was the final signal that the life he once enjoyed was now, officially, over.  I expected Boris to be lacking in house manners.  I expected that he would have forgotten any obedience or house-training he might have once known.  I expected the normal stressed, confused and distrusting dog that we often encounter in rescue.  I never expected the gentle soul that crossed my threshold.

Boris is a love bug.  He is gentle and sweet boy.  He looks up at you with eyes that are full of trust.  He is desperate to please.  He has impeccable house manners.  He doesn't jump on furniture uninvited.  He doesn't jump up on people.  He does not table surf.  AND he is completely housebroken!  He took to our female Samoyed and our two kitties right away.  Taking his lead from Sarah, our Sammy girl, he got the drill down pretty quickly.  Before we knew it, this blithe spirit had touched our hearts in ways we could not imagine.

Boris follows us from room to room.   He WANTS to be around us every second, lying at our feet softly snoring away.  Yet, he will go outside and stay if told to, finding nondestructive ways to occupy himself.   He hears the leashes being removed from their hooks and off to the front door he goes where he patiently sits, waiting for us to "hook him up" and walk out the door.  He adores riding in the car, and while he prefers to ride shotgun, he willing jumps into the back of the SUV.  He is extremely quiet with the exception of his soft "woo woos" when he tells us how happy he is - and he is happy nearly all the time.  He is just about the perfect dog.

So, hubby and I started talking about adopting him.  He fit so well into our "pack" and was just an easy dog to have around.  We talked about our upcoming trip to Santa Barbara for our daughter's graduation from UC and that we would have to make arrangements to board him with the same lady with whom Sarah was going to stay.  It just seemed, well. . .a given.  But then kismet intervened.

Boris accompanied me to a Samoyed specialty show where our rescue had a booth.  Samoyed are always their own best ambassadors and we like to have potential "adoptees" with us at our booths.  I told the two other board members who were helping to man the booth that Darryl and I were thinking about adopting Boris and they both encouraged me to do so.  But in the late morning a couple came by our booth and asked if they might "meet" Boris.  I took him out of the exercise pen and I could see at once that they were quite taken with him.  But gosh...who wouldn't be.  I spoke at length to this nice couple and learned that they had previously owned Samoyed.  They had also recently lost their 15 year old Collie boy and were still grieving his demise.  I then learned that the lady had worked with her dogs in therapy, visiting local hospitals.  Suddenly, I realized that this was exactly what Boris needed.  He needed a job that would take advantage of his sunny disposition, his gentle nature and his love of human contact.  The couple asked if they might fill out a pre-adoption application.  I told them it would be a great idea, and I made an appointment to do a home check.  This was wonderful, amazing, perfect. . .and my heart was breaking.

The home check could not have gone better.  The couple had the financial means to provide the best of everything to Boris.  The home was clean and spacious and the grounds, of nearly a half acre were beautifully landscaped.  Lots of trees for shade and a huge lawn to run and roll in.  They would, without doubt, provide a excellent environment for Boris.   More important, they obviously were smitten by him and he seemed to like them as well.  We made arrangements for Boris to return in a few days where he would take up residence in his "forever" home.

Today was the day Boris went to live with his new family.  Hubby and I took Boris to his new home.  We spent some time watching him check out his new digs, and play with his new "sister", Dee Dee, a blind 8 year old Collie.  We completed all of the "business" of the adoption and then I picked up my keys to leave.  Boris, who loves to ride in the car, ran to the door after me.  He sat, looking up at me with his big round eyes in expectation.  I bent down and hugged him and told him that he could not go.  Of course, he did not understand.  And it broke my heart.  I got out the door as quickly as I could because I could feel my eyes stinging from the tears that were about to erupt.


Hubby and I didn't talk much on the ride home; each of us lost in our own thoughts about this special boy that had lately inhabited our home and our hearts.  My intellect understands that this is absolutely the perfect situation for Boris and that his new "parents" will love and care for him in the manner he deserves.  I just wish someone could explain all this to my heart.  I feel like crap right now.  


Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.  ~Kahlil Gibran   

A begining. . .

In the liturgy of Yom Kippur there is a passage that speaks of they ebb and flow of our lives.  The passage tells us that getting from the beginning of our lives to the end of our lives will not be easy.  It is a caution and and an encouragement for the road ahead.  It reads:

Birth is a beginning
And death is a destination.
And life is a journey:
From childhood to maturity
And youth to age;
From innocence to awareness
And ignorance to knowing;
From foolishness to discretion
And, then, perhaps, to wisdom;
From weakness to strength
Or strength to weakness -
And, often, back again;
From health to sickness
And back, we pray, to health again;
From offense to forgiveness,
From loneliness to love,
From joy to gratitude,
From pain to compassion,
And from grief to understanding -
From fear to faith;
From defeat to defeat to defeat -
Until, looking backward or ahead,
We see that victory lies
Not at some high place along the way.
But in having made the journey, state by stage,
A sacred pilgrimage.
Birth is a beginning
And death a destination.
And life is a journey,
A sacred pilgrimage -
To life everlasting.

I always find this passage comforting because it reminds me that we are all travelers.  It reminds me that whether by design or by accident my journey has taken me places that I never thought I would go.  It reminds me that who I am at this moment is not who I will be tomorrow, or perhaps an hour from now.  It reminds me to take a deep breath, close my eyes, still my heart and just be in the moment.

And so, I begin my blog - my postcards from home - to memorialize my musings, to laugh at myself and to share my journey with those who care to tag along.