Over the quiet time in December, I stitched a little on this cloth. It is an oldie. Goes back to a simpler time, one of my earlier what-ifs. Like many cloths rolled and stored, it surprised me a bit. It is not large, about 22 inches square. And it is more "quilterly". Like things I was making back then, I put it away for that reason actually. I felt I had outgrown that I think. I was swept up into something and lost touch with work that didn't seem to fit that ideal. Still, after sitting with it for a few days I came to know it again. As me. And wondered who was I? Who am I? Who will I be? I added to it. Like the line of text above. It once was something about edges. I can't remember exactly but the edge that was is no longer the edge that is now. Which makes the words edge that are floating around rather funny actually. Some of the other edge words were removed and used for edges of other things as I recall. So it was edgeless for a while as I was on to something else...Many something elses.
Thinking about edges today. How sometimes we use them to define finished. In between. Use them like fences. To mark a safety zone. A boundary. To compare. Measure. To stop. To accuse. To reassure. To look back. To go forward. And even to make time stand still.
In this year after The Year I Became Old I feel the need to erase my sense of edge. The line, that is, that separates things in my mind and encourages fragmentation. Comparison. Judgement.
I only have a sense of this. So that is all I can say.
Except I added this today. And made a note to self...I am the edge....