A while ago, I considered parting with a lot of the scraps of self around here. As part of my lessening campaign. I had planned to put them in the shop. I reconsidered that idea. Sorting through this cloth that is so close to me, with a merchant mind, was not sitting well. Not at all.
This past week while it rained and rained, I rolled and rolled. It was quite exhausting really but at the same time quite satisfying. Really I was Undoing the kind of organizing I have kept up as a habit in the past. I rolled everything that could be rolled. Except the tiniest of scraps. Although some of those got caught inside as well. Big rolls, little rolls. No regard for color or fiber or what ever. No worry about what was where. Everything I have is rolled. Little packages that I might undo. And look at. And use. Freeing really. And when I tied the bundles, they looked like little figures, arms outstretched. Wings maybe. OK. I have a new idea.
Many cloth selves waiting, resting. For something I will call Small Journeys. It's about Scraps of Selflessness. I will keep you guessing for a while.