I imagine that someday, sometime, what I expect to happen just might not. For now, I am grateful to have these ripening tomatoes. And the reassurance of their continuing.
I stitched this early this morning. It is not a 9 patch, but I really like these colors together. I am looking and thinking how one thing might replace another. How that might be less obvious over time. And simply seem like continuing.
From here...since it seems to me that the tendency to lean implies flow and sympathy with that.
I find myself taking the opportunity to condense what I have here by putting, now stitching, one thing that I might like a lot over another that I need to let go of. In this way nothing is really lost, but there is less. At least it seems that way. Therefore feeding my tendency to crave more space. And the tendency toward being obsessed with one thing becoming another. Over and over.
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.