Spirit Cloth

a shape's shift

So it is almost December, and the year of the square will move into a year of points and protrusions...which might be also the year of the triangle. 

 

Maybe December will be a shape shift month. By chipping away at the square

I might get to those points i am so interested in. 

A point could be just a

very tiny corner.

yes

!

nothing much on saturday

Nothing much has gone on here the past few days. Thanksgiving was quiet and simple. Mom and me. And the Man who decided to sleep most of the day. And  I am just so focused on those simple days. I am caught in small moments. Trying to find out why I see a kind of beautiful sadness in simple things. Not the kind of sadness that hurts. The kind that contains a sort of numbness. But not the kind of numbness that is unfeeling. The kind that seems to freeze time.  The kind that softens edges.  Maybe just the absense of the harsh frivolity that seems to surround us at this time of year. The kind that comes from the TV and well, just about every kind of media.

I am just doing. Doing little things. Noticing them in isolation. Marveling in that. Wondering whether sharing them changes them somehow. Just wondering.  I think the quality I find in some of the more primitive objects and cloth that I have around me is something to do with that sweet sadness, that numbness. There is some  memory of honest making. Hard to describe really. Perhaps just the making of something humble, from not much really. Just something simple. Motivated by giving. Some little things that might  be enough to express that.

So I am feeling a bit sad today. But it's not the kind to be bothered by. It is the kind I learn from.

thoughts about journey

I am taking a little time to travel. In my mind. And to enjoy a vegetarian thanksgiving. See you later.

cloudy but warmer and a possibility of more stitching

I just noticed how the light of the moon seemed to be embracing the darkness of the tree sillouette. Moving around it. As if i caught them in a dance. A spin.

This snail came all the way from Indonesia.  It was probaly a long trip. I wonder if she is homesick.

This composted sheeting was an accident. I like that kind of old cloth. The real kind.
  A square could be made from smaller squares which are only a product of careful reconstruction.

  She might be wondering  who is this new beast. And so am I. ? .

... as the world turns

Today was a shorter day than yesterday. And I really like this.