There is a ring of space on this cloth I still call Home. Where the little winged things will gather. Keepers of The Going. Carried by the wind. Today I have begun to detail the first one. Appropriate really since travel plans have been set and soon enough new wings will be tested. We are just going. I have decided to bring this cloth along. Add to it on the move.
So here we go. A few loose ends to tie up, a little packing. As little as possible. I am considering leaving the shop closed for now, having no idea about technology afar and how that might work for me. Or when I might return.
I am giving these little beasts fleshy faces. They shall evolve.
( I plan to continue with Diaries through the end of year, with a few gaps, but I will be talking about that over there, in the coming days)
The once named Magic Feather Coat, also known as Without End hangs there.
A small tear along the neckband needs attention. I am admiring its staying power just a little longer. I have decided to alter this garment a bit. Well, a lot. Let it become a curtain, maybe, or a blanket. Let it be more useful. I have too many robes.
The less I have, the less I need. (she thought to herself, finding the time to jot that down) Perhaps simplicity is all about transformation, the clarity in that. Perhaps transformation is simply making do. A form of recycling, re-self-ing, sympathetic evolution? Becoming what you need to. How is it we come to need more while celebrating less. In these years of the revival of mending and celebrating making do, it seems it has all become about art, business and money and not at all about what it is.
An unspeakable sadness washed over me while walking yesterday. Not the kind that poisons you, but the kind that enriches. Something quite clear but without words. It will stay like that I suppose, until it becomes something utter-able. Until then I will just try to keep wandering off. Walking about. Let my journey become itself. ( TYiBO 2013 j.a.h )
Saskia has been living her life and also letting her work become quite simple with a deepening sense of quiet and confidence I can clearly admire. She shares her work over at Diaries but also on her blog. I really like this. If you stop by, please do, say hi for me.
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.