Turquoise doesn’t originate deep in the Earth as many precious minerals and gems do. It forms when certain chemical reactions take place during the weathering of surface minerals. Water is a necessary component of the formation of turquoise—no wonder indigenous people of the deserts connected turquoise with water and rain—it wasn’t just the color of blue or green—turquoise meant water had been there.
The surface minerals necessary for the formation of turquoise are: Copper, aluminum and phosphates.
Turquoise is a hydrous hydrate of copper.
Hydrate of copper indicates water in the latticework of the turquoise molecule.
Iron can substitute for aluminum and results in a color variation toward green.
In my research I learned the turquoise stones I’d found were technically not turquoise but chrysocolla which is a minor copper ore, a hydrated copper silicate restricted to a shallow depth of less than twenty meters. Volcanic disturbance is required to make the cracks and fissures that allow water to reach the aluminum and iron ores in feldspars. Turquoise, malachite and chrysocolla are often found with one another so they all were called “turquoise” in the old days. Some turquoise was harder and shinier while some was chalky and soft. “Chalky turquoise” was the term for chrysocolla. It is not as easy as one might think to tell the difference between the two without a chemical analysis in a laboratory.
I prefer the lovely sound of the word “turquoise” and even “malachite” to the sound of “chrysocolla.” Chrysocolla sounds like the name of a soft drink—”Chrissy Cola.” Turquoise comes from the sixteenth century French word for “Turkish.”
So I will use the word “turquoise.”
Ceramics Blog
The Day of the Dead is Better than Memorial Day
My Grandparents-in-laws’ grave, 2 November 2004 |
The curtains in my kitchen. |
Fall Color Peaking Fading Transforming Poem
Fall and Spring: paying attention to the between times.
Life is Short by Jenny Hoople |
There is a spiritual significance to fall and spring, they are the seasons of transition, movements between the steady states of life and death, between breathing in and breathing out. The spiritual importance of transitions is seen in meditation practice, where one technique is to pay attention to the breath, and especially to the space between breaths to more consciously dwell in the moment. The specialness of transition moments is also recognized in Wabi Sabi, the Japanese aesthetic of the poignant beauty of impermanence and change. Celebration of transition and change is also seen in the concept of reincarnation and rebirth, of the great cycle that we are all a part of. All of these transitions, including fall and spring, are reminders from the universe to pay attention because this moment is all there is.
One discipline used for discovering and dwelling in the moments of transition is the practice of meditation. As you try to still your mind, you’re really trying to find the moment between thoughts and to extend that moment for as long as you can. It’s the same for the technique of following your breath in meditation. The breaths are like thoughts, but the very sliver of a moment between breaths, where it changes from in to out and from out to in, is where enlightenment is waiting. I feel that way about fall and spring, they are so short, but so important. The only way to dwell in and extend them is to try to be fully conscious of them, to really pay attention at those times of year. I like to try to notice the first flight of geese, the first leaf fallen on the ground, the first new sprout of green. My dad always says that it’s easy to find the first robin of spring, anyone can see the first robin of spring, the real challenge lies in finding the last robin of fall!
Wabi Sabi is a name for the very poignant and urgent beauty that accompanies transition. Wabi Sabi is a Japanese concept, of which, like all of these ideas I’m discussing, it is usually said that the truth of it is impossible to express in words. So, the gist of this concept is that it’s a name for the very deep and bittersweet beauty that is associated with that which is temporary and transient. The beauty of lichen on a stone wall; of faded, weathered boards; of loss. The beauty of fall and spring are Wabi Sabi. The transition from the stagnant state of late summer begins so subtly that by the time you see all the trees ablaze with color, it’s almost over. There is one day, just one, when you can identify that fall leaf color is at it’s absolute peak, and then the very next day, it disappoints somehow and then so suddenly is over. Here, that day was Saturday. I saw two trees all ablaze with color, and when I went back Sunday to take their picture, they were still pretty, certainly, but the magic was gone.
All of these small examples of the melancholic beauty of impermanence are tiny reflections of the beauty of the greater cycle of birth and death. I don’t believe in reincarnation per se, I prefer to think of it in earthly terms of the great cycle of life and death that every day churns around and through and over us. Fall and Spring are excellent times to acknowledge and mark the passage and then the renewal of life. It’s so appropriate that el Dia de los Muertos (the Day of the Dead) is in the fall, a time to think about the passage of time and of loved ones who have left us. Here, in the northern states of America, it’s the time when our environment is shutting down for winter, in Mexico it’s the dry season, everything there is dry and brown and dormant, too. Spring is a time for celebrating renewal and rebirth. May day, Chinese New Year, and the winter solstice celebration, when the sun begins it’s slow return to long, warm, life-giving days, are all excellent examples of how we celebrate renewal in the spring.
Fall is such a brief time and it’s time is now. I’ll be striving to pay attention to every little sign: hearty soups, the fading flowers, geese honking, deer grazing in corn fields, frost on my windshield, people in sweaters, the sudden completion of road construction projects, fresh apples, too many pears, cinnamon sugar doughnuts. So much is happening out there! Enlightenment is now.
What does fall mean for all of you? I’d love it if you’d add a comment about what makes this time of year special for you! Happy pumpkin-carving everyone!!
Why do I DIY?
My husband with a freshly caught trout-snack. |
Scoutie Girl sends out another call to arms! In her We Scout Wednesday blog post this week, she answers the question of why she DIYs. Every one of her responses applies to and inspires me!
I would add that the reason I DIY is because it brings me closer to the real business of life, which increases my sense of fulfillment.
Every act that I take out of the hands of big corporations and put back into my own or even into the hands of another soul that I can connect with personally (like my husband who hunts and fishes meat for me or that farmer down the road who grows eggs for me, or even that fellow Etsy crafter who hand-dyed embroidery thread for me and whom I told all about the project I’ll be making) the closer I grow to the collective life force and the more engaged and fulfilled and purposeful my own existence becomes.
In my life, this living closer to the business of life materializes in many forms. Whether from something as simple as cooking my own dinner instead of purchasing ready-made food, or drying tomatoes from my own garden to a more complex, and even more fulfilling, scenario of me creating jewelry from natural stones and seeds I grew myself and then getting money from selling them to buy eggs from the aforementioned farmer.
Thank you, universe, for bringing me to a place where I can create something with my own two hands and connect personally with the people who trade some of their life force back to me (in the form of money) for those creations. It really brings me closer to life and to having a purpose.
Colorful Things – understanding cultural differences.
My Mexican sister-in-law’s colorful dishes, just washed. |
Why are bright, colorful things so cheerful and why is America so afraid of them? I’ve spent my whole life becoming fascinated by color and it’s combinations, from fingerpaintings to oil paintings to colorful gemstone jewelry. I’ve often wondered why so many cultures embrace and celebrate color while my own seems to suppress and marginalize it. In Mexico, colorful living is standard practice, a way of releasing control over their lives and giving it back to God. In America, only the fringe live colorfully: artists, bohemians, hippies. Here, a colorful outfit is a sign of a dangerous mind, of an impulsive rule-breaker, of someone who’s not afraid to stick out.
My mom had us playing with color as far back as I can remember. She’d set us up at the kitchen table with watercolors or crayons and we’d just go to town for hours! I remember that new boxes of sharp crayons or pristine, unmuddied watercolor sets were the most exciting presents. I used to get so distressed when, in my haste, I’d muddied up a once bright yellow pan of watercolor. Mom would always swoop in with a napkin and resuscitate my sunny friend. I suppose that this early training predisposed me to a love of colorful things.
Now I know that color exists in America, but the “adult” and the “professional” and the normal rhythm of our society lean toward quiet, somber, dignified colors. The next time you’re in a crowd – look around – most outfits are composed of dark blues, greys, blacks, white, beige, khaki and forest and olive greens with the occasional red accent thrown in. Take a look at all those cars out on our roads – they paint the same picture. The next neighborhood you drive around – check out the house colors – equally drab. A culture of people who, by and large, play it safe and follow the rules and believe in protocol and proper conduct. Good news for personal safety, bad news for beauty.
By contrast, in Mexico (not the only colorful country, but it’s the one I know best,) color runs rampant. There are just as many pink or green houses as white ones. There are even houses painted all three of those colors! Color is everywhere, even the normally boring plastic housewares are a riot of pink, purple, orange, red, blue, yellow and green. I read somewhere that this flagrant use of color in Mexico started as a way of living closer to God. “Let go and let God,” if you will. It’s a letting go of control over your environment, an act of recognizing that existence is, ultimately, out of our hands. The wonderful colors found everywhere in Mexican society are a natural extension of their whole cultural attitude of freedom and taking chances.
It’s strange to me, how in America, “colorful” is at once marginalized and admired. When children say they want to grow up to be artists, most parents try to steer them toward something more “respectable” with tales of the starving artist and of doing something with your life. (Thank goodness my parents aren’t like that, because they would have been awfully disappointed!) People in really colorful outfits are seen as eccentric at best, freaks at worst. While at the same time, works of art are bought for millions of dollars and people lament their inability to be artistic (as if it was the exclusive dominion of a few gifted souls.)
Boy am I glad I married someone from Mexico so I could be closer to such a colorful culture. I need color like other people need T.V. or heroin. Funny thing is that my Mexican is actually quite fond of subdued colors for big things like walls and vehicles and for his own outfits. His American wife is always sprinkling the house with orange afghans and lime-green pillows and pinning magenta silk flowers to his nice, brown, deer head. Poor guy.
How do you all feel about the cultural color divide? Am I completely off my rocker, do you think that America is plenty colorful (thankyouverymuch)? I don’t mean to say that America is devoid of color or lovers of color. I’m simply suggesting that the whole of our society tends to lean toward a more homogenous and safe color pallette. Tell me what you think, leave a comment 😉