These ribbons of feathers will act as ties for the large cloth we call Home. And then who knows? I've enjoyed this final process. Making strings of feathers. Dreaming into them. Imagining them as representing the PieceMakers, hand to hand, reaching from here to there. Standing for hope and kindness. Ties that bind. Strong and useful. And then light as dreams. Blowing in the wind.
I have spoken to Wendy. I will send the cloth on Solstice. She will wait for it. Welcome it. It was a warm talk, this one. Filled with knowing each other better. She brings out the love in me which sometimes gets clouded by all the crap that makes up a life.
But I guess that is just what she is good at.
I've been working hard to pull the story of this cloth together in some cohesive way. No small task, this was one big journey. Tangled up in a life.
I finished painting the bathroom. Expecting guests this summer. I love to paint things white.
The old CD cabinet just fits there. A tiny space, this extra bathroom, more like a closet. This looks fine after some white paint. I don't have CDs any more anyway. Stored most of my music digitally and gave them away. And I don't buy them. No plastic comes with downloads. And less stuff. More space.
In some simple way. I sense something IN me. The part that endures. That which does not break but bends. Does not break because it bends. Remaining ever useful.
It's a been a long time since I began the cloth we call Home.
So much time has passed. One needle. I woke up thinking that maybe the witnessing of time passing is as important as the cloth itself. (The children have been watching.) To know that it, has in itself, taken on the shape of persistence. Which clearly , on this day, I sense, once again, is the key to new form. And how we learn.
These final days with the cloth, I feel them as the most important. The freeing of the feathers and stones from the main cloth. Being one with that will stay with me forever. There is something special there. I think they have become more immediate as dream catchers. Free.
How dreams bend our waking thoughts. Give us a glimpse of the power of imagination. New eyes.
I look at these strings of feathers. What if I had sewn them all end to end. Would they reach around the world? Probably not you say. In my dreams, most definitely. I wake up. Yes they do. In so many ways not yet counted.
A white stone in the center of this cloth thought is needed.
The rings of my basket are like ripples. In space. Like ghosts of breaths taken.
I will ease into Summer with fewer postings. More Space. I have finished the Feather Cloth we call Home and now I need some quiet time to prepare it for travel. Collect, recollect its story. I will share more photos before it flies. I have spoken to Wendy. How long it has been. How much of this crazy life this cloth holds. How this is good. We are ready.
A lot of things will keep me somewhat wordless for the summer. For those of you who are subscribed, I will set my Small Journeys postings for Wednesdays, What if Wednesdays. Small Journeys will continue through Labor Day (Sept 7) at which point the series will end. And I will embark on some bigger journeys.