Exhausted. The Fresh Leaf Indigo Vat that is.
And the last of the home gown indigo. Because the deer ate the last clump. Before it bloomed. No seeds. They ate the daisies too. Before they opened. That's it. The last garden. The planted kind.
I'm not exhausted, just Tired. Tired of dark days. But let's not dwell on that. Mom's words, don't dwell on that.
Ok. I noticed again the seasonal deck shibori. I closed my eyes and said across moons quietly to myself.
Consider how one thing becomes another.
And so with the last dips, that always work themselves more towards turquoise, I began to consider how one thing might become another. The indigo over rust. Moonish, but a bit like a world. And then I thought about worlds apart. Focused on the space between worlds. But then the line emerged on the fold that seemed to highlight the in between. And then, all the while trying to engineer a blurred edge. To soften the difference between what is and what isn't which always encourages what might become...I returned to some old considering of wings, how becoming is about living in between. Embracing not this or that but reaching outward in all directions blurring the edges of that and just going.
On thing might become another if there is enough time.
Vibrating outward is life.
SunMoonStars is a home base for witnessing change.
If we have enough time will SunMoonStars become anything. Everything?
Is focus really limited to itself, or just an anchor to the that which moves through us?
Can focus add the not just going to the just going. Intention?
And, in a way, it is a star.