Inspired by a friend's post. Thoughts of symbolizing sound in cloth. The sound of shaking things up. A new component. The rattle. And rattle and basket seem right. Basket might hold rattle. Rattle might complete basket. I will be talking more about this over at Diaries later, and while I am on the subject, the basket (self) as a vessel. that holds and gathers, I think it all fits to a future plan that includes one thing into another, one thing, one place. In the new year of the basket, I begin again and gather all the scraps of self I can hold, together in one place, which becomes all things. Still with plenty of space to breathe. Lots of that. A new sense of that.
As a tree. As a river. A mother. A large cloth becomes a world. I feel smaller when I sit with it. Yet safer.
Sitting yesterday, with some thoughts that often come quietly. The enormity of this project, How to get there. Life, death, change. And now the cloth itself has body. It comes together but It is not easy. It is carrying me. Through my own life issues. As I transition to a new place. Perhaps I am testing the cloth's power to heal, to hold, to become a flight path. To say it's OK. I look and touch and sense evidence of great goings. Flowings. Transformations. Shared. The load lightened.
And it came back. The reassurance. That it is not about Art. No, it is about Heart. She cut that string. She did not fall. What a relief.
It was no longer laced with fear, this going, that flowed like a river though her. She felt no obligation to stay too long in any one form. It would all be woven together into something useful. A vessel, a boat perhaps, that might carry others even after she was gone. Spinning is force like no other. It holds even before it becomes visible. Apparent.