I made this journal at my local museum's Vintage Collage Night.
I didn't go into the project with a plan so it really feels like a spontaneous invitation from my Self to notice:
What do you need today?
I made this journal at my local museum's Vintage Collage Night.
I didn't go into the project with a plan so it really feels like a spontaneous invitation from my Self to notice:
What do you need today?
There are times when I don't know what to do.
Something happens in the world that hurts to witness, and the distance between caring and being able to help feels enormous.
I've been thinking about this all summer. First as floods in Alberta and fires in British Columbia impacted the lives of my friends and neighbors. And lately, as I've watched what is happening in Nepal.
There are things I can learn about, things I can support. There are people and organizations doing work that I can choose to stand behind.
And then there is everything else.
So sometimes I fold.
Not because I think folding paper will change the course of events. A thousand paper cranes won't stop a conflict. A folded flower can't undo suffering. A prayer is not a transaction in which we perform the right ritual and receive the outcome we want.
I don't believe that.
But I have learned not to dismiss small gestures simply because they are small.
When I am overwhelmed, my hands sometimes find a way to recalibrate before my mind does. I can fold a crane. I can fold a heart. I can make a little flower and tuck it into my commonplace book.
Yesterday, I made a pink strawflower garland and chanted a mantra for people whose circumstances I cannot change.
It didn't make the situation different.
It made my relationship to my helplessness different.
There is something about repeating a simple action that gathers the scattered pieces of attention. One fold. Then another. Thread through a flower, and another, and another. One breath, one small repetitive action at a time.
The feeling doesn't go away, but at least it has somewhere to go. Sometimes that is enough to help me find my footing again.
I think this may be part of why origami has become such a meaningful practice for me. We tend to talk about making things as though the finished object is the important part. But sometimes the thing we make is almost beside the point.
The value is in sitting down. In putting our hands to something. In allowing our attention to become smaller when the world feels unbearably large. In making one deliberate thing when so much is beyond our control.
And perhaps, once we have done that, we are a little more ready to ask the difficult question:
What is the ground beneath my feet? What actually is mine to do?
Maybe it is to donate.
Maybe it is to speak.
Maybe it is to learn.
Maybe it is to accompany someone who is hurting.
Maybe it is simply to bear witness without turning away.
And maybe sometimes, for a little while, it is to fold.
I don't know whether these small gestures change anything beyond the small circle of our own hands, but I know what happens to me when I sit down and fold.
My breathing changes.
My attention gathers.
My hands have something purposeful to do.
And something that felt like it was breaking my heart becomes something I can hold, one fold, one breath, or one mantra at a time.
Maybe that is not nothing.
This one is particularly special to me because almost every part of it has a story.
The paper on the covers is a beautiful scrap that was brought home from Japan for my 50th birthday. The boards underneath? Recycled packaging from my favorite Quik Cardamom Tea. And the pages are sewn together with bright red thrifted crochet thread using a simple Coptic binding, leaving the spine open so you can see exactly how the book is held together.
I love that combination. Things that might otherwise have had very different lives: a piece of paper carried home from halfway around the world and a bit of packaging that would normally be thrown away meet blank pages waiting for a new story.
Maybe that’s one of the things I like most about making books by hand. They don't have to begin with precious materials. Sometimes the most interesting books are made from the things we already have—and the things that already mean something to us.
Sherwood Park's Strathcona County Museum and Archives kindly set out a tempting array of vintage newspapers and magazines, card stock and glue, inviting participants to snip and paste away.
Later, I cut my creation down to create front and back covers for this coptic-bound notebook, made to keep becoming.
The next event is on September 10th.
Should you be able to attend, I wonder which images and stories from the past might stick out for you.
This journal, collaged with beautiful bits of handmade paper from India, is part of my recent exploration into coptic bookbinding.
Made with simple materials: paper, glue, thread, and wonder, this multi-signature book feels like a cheerful place for bright ideas to land.
Can you spot the matching purple and pink corner bookmark peeking out at the upper right corner?
It's a modular, self-locking origami star by Brian Beitel, taught by the designer himself on a recent Origami Maniacs YouTube Live.
Feel free to leave me a comment below if you give it a try. I hope it helps you find your calm too.
Take a look around the blog and check the origami links page for more inspiration and resources.
Each of these workshops stands on it's own but they're also part of a larger collection of hands-on learning experiences where origami becomes much more than a playful craft.
It's a way to explore creative thinking, mindfulness, nature, and meaningful conversations.
Every workshop is designed to leave beginners and experienced folders of all ages with something they make and something they discover.
The collection includes:
You can learn more at Amnesty International Canada.
From their website:
"Red Dress Day matters because it makes the invisible visible. It forces this country to confront the truth. It reminds us that every single life matters, that these lives still matter, and we will never stop fighting for justice."
I folded this red dress based on a design by Gay Merrill Gross.
With it, I remember and honor the precious lives we have lost in Canada and around the world to violence against women and girls.
Origami Circle: Craft, Connect, Create
A Community Garland
Tonight, using simple materials—paper, string, and care—participants of the Strathcona County Library Origami Circle will fold, reflect, and contribute to a collaborative garland, each piece made by hand and joined together as a shared artwork.
Why?
To gather in creativity, to slow down, and to experience how small, individual gestures can become something meaningful when held together.
Because connection is something we make.
A relaxed, social evening of folding and creating together, led by Tara Woltjen—yoga and origami instructor.
Together, we will contribute to a community garland, each piece a small act of attention, creativity, and care. As we fold, we reflect on connection—to ourselves, to one another, and to the wider world we share.
Inspired by the spirit of collective exploration and the reminder that we are part of something larger, this gathering invites simple making, meaningful conversation, and a sense of belonging—one fold at a time.
Note: This workshop is full. If you have registered and can't make it, please let the library know. There is a wait list of people who would love a chance to attend.
The Origami Circle is currently full (which honestly makes me so happy), but I want to gently encourage you — if you’re feeling the pull — please add your name to the waitlist.
Here’s why it matters:
Sometimes spots open up. Life shifts, plans change, and waitlisted folks often get a chance to join after all.
And just as importantly, waitlists tell the library, there is a hunger for spaces like this. For quiet creativity. For shared making. For moments of being human together.
So if you’re curious, even a little, add your name.
Even if you don’t get a spot this time, you’re helping plant the seed for more gatherings like this in the future.
I’m looking forward to sitting in a circle with you enjoying paper folding, stories, and small acts of care for what we carry together.
More soon,
Tara
(Paper will vary from the image - each garland is unique to the group that creates it.)
I was committing to all the challenges of an intensive daily practice — of maintaining attention over time, and of meeting ahimsa not as an idea, but as something alive in my mind, my body, and the world around me.
I wanted to explore it with the depth and nuance laid out by the Mahatma Gandhi Foundation. To question it. To be shaped by it. And however imperfectly, to complete the framework of prompts in a way that felt authentic to my own contemplative and creative practice.
Each post became a doorway to enter that practice more fully through my chosen mediums: origami and writing — to make gentle, respectful contact with lived experience and reflect on it in a way that embodied the values of nonviolence.
For me, origami and writing were never just tools to make art. They were the art itself.
Each fold needed presence.
Each word required honesty.
Together, they became a way of thinking, feeling, and responding — one small, deliberate act at a time.
There is a quote often attributed to Mahatma Gandhi: “There is no way to peace, peace is the way.”
In the unfolding of this series, I felt the echo of that truth in my own practice.
There was no point at which I would arrive at a perfect origami model or a perfect understanding of ahimsa.
The folding was the understanding.
The writing was the understanding.
Not completely, but sincerely. And that sincerity mattered.
Over these 64 days, I wasn’t just completing posts. I was staying in relationship — with the 64 attributes of nonviolence, with the discipline of daily attention, and with noticing how these qualities live (or don’t yet live) in me and around me.
There were many moments that felt uncannily aligned with my personal life and the wider world. I could have written an entire second journal just tracing those connections!
There is more here, I can feel it — threads worth following, patterns worth gathering, a deeper harvest waiting within the field and fodder of all those images and reflections, and the ones that didn't get picked this time around.
But for now, I want to pause.
To celebrate not just that I completed this series, but how I completed it:
With intention.
With consistency.
With curiosity.
With joyful enthusiasm and a willingness to let the practice itself be both anchor and inquiry.
I set out to explore ahimsa through origami and writing. In doing so, I found myself more fully in resonance with both. Not as a means to an end, but as my own way of being.
Thank you for the framework, Mahatma Gandhi Foundation of Canada. I look forward to returning to this.
For now, I fold this season closed the same way I began it — attentively, curiously, and with deep respect for what can emerge when we meet even the simplest and most common moments and materials with care.
Celebrating wins builds momentum, boosts confidence and fosters gratitude, acknowledging that small steps can lead to big achievements.
Today I'm celebrating by looking back at all the posts in this series and marvelling at all I've learned, all I've folded, and how much I've enjoyed the process.
Today, I feel like a winner.
Thank you for helping me make the Season for Nonviolence 2026 something to cheer about!
Penguin designed by Gay Merrill Gross
"The greatest effort is not the fight, it's the letting go."
- Rumi
Release is how nonviolence becomes possible. When I loosen my grip, on anger, on fear, on control, I create space for gentler choices.
Release interrupts the chain; it defuses tension before it turns into harm.
This little cat, eyes closed and body at ease, reminds me that inner peace often begins with a simple exhale. He is a tiny embodiment of de-escalation, a playful little being teaching a serious truth — that harm often comes from what we hold too tightly.
Today I'm practicing release, beginning in my body, by consciously tensing and relaxing my muscles.
Cat designed and taught by origami_ishibashinaoko on YouTube
"Fall down seven times, get up eight."
- Daruma
Commitment isn't necessarily proven by the performance of intensity.
It is demonstrated by tenacious determination — returning to the task over and over again.
Today I'm practicing commitment by keeping this promise to myself.
Want to make your own commitment? Fold a Daruma doll with this video from Kamikey Origami
"I will write peace on your wings and fly you around the world."
- Sadako Sasaki
Peace, like balance, isn't something I arrive at once and for all. It's something I calibrate constantly in subtle, persistent gestures.
Just as a bird needs two wings to fly, that calibration requires the coordinated effort of love and wisdom — and as this Season for Nonviolence has shown me in depth and nuance, so much more.
Today I'm practicing peace by adapting, adjusting, and accommodating.
"The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command."
- George Orwell, 1984
Witnessing goes beyond seeing. It asks me to stand firmly present in a moment — joyful or uncomfortable.
It asks that I remember, honor, and perhaps even speak on behalf of what deserves to be acknowledged or what must not be forgotten.
Today I'm practicing witnessing by staying rooted — to expose and humanize truth, and also to rejoice in the astounding unfolding of life.
Ema by hiroko_daichan origami and tree by origaminojikan, both on YouTube
Origami embodies nonviolence through intervention.
It's a gentle, intentional art that changes something — a piece of paper, a mood, a mind, a space — without aggression.
It can take grand forms, like the 1000 cranes installations in Hiroshima, displayed in a public memorial space dedicated to honoring and healing, inspiring reflection and solidarity.
But it can also be:
Symbolic: Folded hearts or flowers left in public spaces for people to find, or community garlands made for a cause.
Environmental: Transforming waste materials into decorative or useful objects, or using compostable and recycled materials as an intervention against overconsumption.
Personal/Mindful: Origami can interrupt spirals of stress. Each deliberate fold is a mini-training in nonviolent, thoughtful intervention.
Social: Origami fosters connection, cooperation, empathy and communication. It can express care or solidarity when words fall short.
Today I'm practicing intervention by letting the deliberate, mindful, act of folding shift my own mental state.
"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."
- Margaret Mead
How we approach citizenship is how we share space, handle conflict, and shape what we all live with.
To that end, nonviolence isn’t necessarily avoiding disagreement. Often, it's finding ways of changing things in ways that don’t destroy the people and systems we will still be in relationship with after.
Similarly, when I fold, I can’t force the paper without weakening it. I have to work with the constraints of the pattern and material limits.
Respect them, and my actions support a beautiful end result. Disregard them, and both the form and the pleasure fail.
You could say life comes to us “pre-folded” with our country's unique history, laws, and tensions — we don’t start with a blank sheet. As such, if citizenship is our part in the shared shape of things, nonviolence is how we change that shape without breaking it.
Today I'm practicing nonviolent citizenship by attending to the way I participate when there is disagreement in my community.
An umbrella can provide shelter from the rain — it can also block out the sun.
The same object, the same gesture — helpful or harmful depending on what is actually needed.
In nonviolence, service isn't about rushing in to provide what makes me feel useful, it's more like attending to the changing weather of someone else's life.
Sometimes a person, or a situation, needs cover. Sometimes they need warmth, light, and space. If I open the umbrella without really paying attention, I might protect or I might dim what's helping them grow.
Service needs to be responsive, attentive to the moment and the person standing in it.
Today I'm practicing asking what's needed before offering solutions.
Umbrella by origaminojikan on YouTube
"Do what you can, with what you have, where you are."
- Theodore Roosevelt
Self-sufficiency is providing for myself, and trusting that I can work with what I have.
I have folded the masu box so many times I know the sequence by heart. Still, it never ceases to amaze me.
The folding pleases me because it feels so elegant and efficient.
Plus, the uses are practically endless — from biodegradable bone-catchers destined for the compost bin on wing night, to pretty desk organizers and gift boxes, I can no longer imagine my life without knowing how to make these.
There's a quiet confidence in knowing that I can turn almost nothing into something useful — that I can meet a small, real need with my own hands, and that I have the ability to customize the measure of what that needs to be.
The paper I chose for this box features the traditional Asanoha pattern which represents the hemp leaf: vigorous, resilient and able to meet a multitude of human needs.
Today I'm practicing self-sufficiency by affirming: I can produce what I need, measure what is enough, and carry it myself.
"There is fortune in leftovers."
- Japanese Saying
This little pouch, called a Fukubukuro or Lucky Bag feels like a symbol of what I hold: choices, responses, care, and consequences.
Today I'm practicing responsibility by asking myself two questions:
When I'm "left holding the bag," what happens to my compassion?
And "What have I been entrusted with, by choice or by circumstance, and how do I want to carry it?"
"It's not how much we give but how much love we put into giving."
- Mother Teresa
Giving is about what leaves my hands. It's also about the attention I bring to the offering.
This pretty box was folded for a celebration and will hold something small but meaningful. It has been lovingly shaped to honor both what's inside, and my esteem for the receiver.
Today I'm practicing giving by reflecting on what it means to wrap something — an object, a moment, or even a feeling — with care.
"We are clearly in a lot of emergencies right now. They demand action. But action demands thought and thoughtfulness: who are we, what are our values, our goals, our allies, our possibilities, and our powers?"
- Rebecca Solnit
In my origami practice, the action begins the moment I stop deliberating and start making thoughtful decisions.
This little heart, folded from a dictionary page, started as a way to use up a scrap of paper. But when I finished and saw the word pulse on it's surface I felt like it was also a message to my Self: action is the heartbeat of nonviolence.
I started to think about all the ways nonviolent action is like a pulse:
Today I'm practicing action by letting the answers to these questions guide my choices and evolution: Who am I, what are my values, goals, allies, possibilities, and powers?
In modular origami, equality isn't an idea — it's a requirement. It's material and measurable.
When folding modular or symmetrical forms, the beauty comes from balance.
Every module has to start out exactly the same size, be folded with the same precision, given the same care. If I rush one unit, the whole structure tells on me.
Equality here shows up as patience, as repetition, as willingness to offer the same respect again and again.
The challenge is consistency; the delight is when the whole becomes visibly balanced.
Today, I'm practicing equality, in origami and in life, by meeting repetitive tasks with curiosity and patience.
Illusion cubes designed by David Mitchell. Published in his book, Sticky Note Origami.
Advocacy isn’t necessarily noisy. It can be a quiet acknowledgement of something noteworthy.
Take this note pad sheet folded into a speech bubble. It isn’t shouting. It’s held open for something kind or helpful to be said.
When I fold, I practice care for attention itself. I make something slow in a fast world, tactile in a complex one.
When I speak about it, it’s not to assert or assign — it’s to say: this has given me focus and joy, maybe it could for you too.
The nonviolence aspect here is deliberate. Choosing words the way I choose folds: on a good day, that means with patience, respect, and an eye toward what could become without being forced.
This is soft advocacy, certainly. Not a push, but an invitation. Not a demand, but a demonstration.
Because some things don’t need defending. It's enough to make them visible, and trust them to speak for themselves.
Today, my practice of advocacy includes inviting, tending, making space, and letting people discover what fits.
Speech Bubble designed and taught by Kamikey on YouTube
"May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears."
- Nelson Mandela
Choice shows up even in the most structured moments. In origami, every fold is a decision: this way or that.
This traditional masu box has a divider insert folded from a separate square of atlas paper, making it a perfect vessel for presenting a variety of treats or cherishing a collection.
What would you choose to fill it with?
Today, I’m practicing choice by noticing the direction I take — and why.
“The way you do anything is the way you do everything.”- Thich Nhat Hanh
Honor in origami is how I treat what’s been entrusted to me.
Every choice — the paper, the pattern, the folds, the time — matters.
Each square, each hand that will receive it, each minute spent folding is part of the offering.
Today, I’m practicing honor by giving this practice—and the sharing of it—the care, gratitude, and attention it deserves.
"The way we see the world shapes the way we treat it."
- David Suzuki
Ecology reminds us: nothing exists alone. We’re part of a vast, buzzing web.
I recently learned that flies aren’t just clean-up crews — they’re pollinators too. Apples, grapes, even hops for your beer? Thank a fly.
Today, I’m practicing ecology by noticing the world from a different perspective.
Kitty and basket designed and taught by origami_ishibashinaoko on YouTube.
"One love, one heart"
- Bob Marley
Those words feel like the perfect companion for this folded heart today.
Visually, this heart is two halves not quite meeting in the middle, holding tenderness even when things are cracked or split.
Compassion is like that. Not shiny or perfect, but steady, warm, and willing to frame what’s fragile. It is the quiet work of helping the two halves of the heart — or two people — find their way a little closer together.
My blog name, One Love Origami, was inspired by this song. At the time it simply felt good and sounded beautiful to me.
Over the years I’ve come to see not only how creative expression can help mend a broken heart, but also how beautifully folding paper brings people together across languages, cultures, and differences. It generously and inclusively extends an invitation, much like the song: “Let’s get together and feel alright.”
Today I'm practicing compassion by meeting my own missteps with kindness — noticing my inner critic and softening its tendency toward prosecution, practicing a little non-violence toward myself so that I can also meet the world with more love.
Heart designed by Fumiaki Shingu
Frame designed by Kamikey
"If people knew how hard I worked to get my mastery, it wouldn't seem so wonderful at all."
- Michelangelo
Mastery isn't a leap; it's a scaffold - built layer by layer, block by block, through practice, repetition, mistakes, and refinements that stack up over time.
Like these cubes, progress isn't always linear. Sometimes it's offset, or looks awkward mid-build. But slowly, the structure begins to support itself. What was once uncertain becomes stable, experiment becomes evidence, effort becomes fluency.
There's a lesson in perspective here, too: the same structure can look different depending on how you're viewing it.
Mastery isn't just about adding more techniques. It's about learning to see possibilites, constraints, and patterns in new ways.
It's about building something that can keep growing.
Today I'm practicing mastery by remembering that every single step counts.
Necker/Illusion Cubes designed by David Mitchell, featured in his book, Sticky Note Origami
"The powerful have their power. But we have something too - the capacity to stop pretending, to name reality, to build our strength at home and to act together."
- Mark Carney
Cooperation requires shared effort. My hands are guided by the paper's limits, and the paper responds to my hands.
This particular form cannot exist without collaboration between parts.
Like this modular ring, peace cannot be imposed. It must be assembled.
Today I'm practicing cooperation by remembering that the strength of the whole depends on the care of, and from, each part.
"Today you are you! That is truer than true! There is no one alive who is you-er than you!"- Dr Seuss
In real life, elephants are known to have individual memories, character, and presence; each one is recognized and remembered by their herd.
In the context of nonviolence, uniqueness invites us to honor the irreproducible nature of each being — each story, each history, each environment, and each situation.
This little elephant reminds me that being different is not a flaw; it's the whole art.
Today I'm practicing uniqueness by celebrating all handmade objects as delightfully one-of-a-kind.
“When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe.”
- John Muir
My choices don’t live in isolation — they live within relationships, systems, ecosystems, communities, continents, the world.
I feel like a better global citizen and steward of my environment when I choose reclaimed paper for folding.
These stacked masu boxes also nest, interconnected — each one precious and unique, despite being made from atlas paper that was discarded, unwanted, obsolete — the collection forming something greater than the sum of it's parts.
Today I’m practicing accountability by owning what I bring to the work.
"There is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in."
- Leonard Cohen
Openness isn't the absence of boundaries; it's the presence of room to breathe.
This structure literally holds its shape by leaving space.
Folded by my origami teacher more than 25 years ago, this woven cube is still letting light in - on the benefits of cultural exchange, learning through experience, the joy of folding, and expanding attitudes and possibilities.
Today I'm practicing openness by remembering that a strong form can still be open.
- A phrase popularized by Jawaharlal Nehru, and inspired by the ancient wisdom of the Rig Veda
Unity doesn’t have to mean sameness.
In many societies—and in many moments of daily life—people belong to one whole while carrying different traditions, viewpoints, and histories. Diversity doesn’t weaken unity; often, it enriches it.
I’m usually a bit timid when it comes to aesthetic risks. I tend to choose familiar color combinations and make sure everything neatly “matches.”
But when I took a chance and folded this modular box using four different patterned papers, I was surprised and delighted by the result. The colors settled into harmony, creating a charming patchwork effect.
Today I’m practicing unity by celebrating the many parts of my life that come together in harmony—despite their differences, and sometimes because of them.
"Every little thing wants to be loved."
- Sue Monk, The Secret Life of Bees
Dialogue is one of nonviolence's quieter tools: listening, responding, and letting ourselves be changed by what we hear.
Origami teaches me this.
I can't force the paper without damaging it. I have to work with its grain, its thickness, its size. Each crease is a kind of proposal. The paper answers by holding, resisting, reshaping.
That's a conversation.
Folding feels like that. It's a practice of shaping without coercion. Of staying curious about what this material - or this person - can become.
Nonviolent communication isn't about winning. It's about tending the space between us - like a small field where many little things can land, hover, and be heard.
Today I'm practicing dialogue by working with different papers and attending to how they respond.
Origami Bee: Designed by Leyla Torres of Origami Spirit, based on an Origami Fly by Angel Ecija
“Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible.”
- Dalai Lama
"Your graciousness is what carries you. It isn't how old you are, how beautiful you are, or how short your skirt is. What it is, is what comes out of your heart. If you are gracious, you have won the game."
- Stevie Nicks
Graciousness shows up most obviously in how I respond when things don't go as planned.
But it's not just about perfection, it's also about timing. About knowing when to speak, when to listen, and when to pause.
This bookmark, made from old sheet music, reminds me that even silence has a place in the score. A rest is not for nothing. It's part of the music.
Today I'm practicing graciousness by resting when I'm tempted to react.