Spirit Cloth

Somewhere quiet miracles

 

 

 

I have posted about Wendy's work before. It was Wendy Golden-Levitt and her work with children, and really the children themselves that inspired me to begin the Magic Feather Project.  For some time leading up to it all, cloths were sent  by myself and others, to that place where the children heal.  Magic seemed to happen.  I, along with other makers,  received this thank you note, in the form of a book. I have spent much time quietly looking, reading, imagining quiet voices and hands and cloth. And heart.  Listening to the wisdom in the healing words of these children. (The honesty might bring you to your knees) Holding it all, wondering what to say.  I have no words really.  What could I say that could add to this?  Instead I have been stitching it all into the cloth I call Home which will soon fly away, carrying love and hope from around the globe, to be part of this beautiful process.

Some old posts here, here and here, if you missed them.  And the links to Hand Eye Magazine, sorry, that place has become a bit too weird for me lately.  Or should I say slick, not much like the home it was at all, still Wendy's article is great...Real. Like this gift.  If you would like to contact Wendy to find out more about her work or anything else, I can share her email with you.

To Wendy and all you Beautiful Children, my pockets are full. My heart overflows.

 

 

Cutting through NoWhere

 After a little more talking to myself. I cut through some confusion.

I didn't want to do this.  I needed to.  To open a personal space not committed to either side.  Because it seemed 2 ways. I think there is peace now.

A third way.

And still Just Going. 

All the while considering the relationship between place and point of view.  Maybe redefining place as just that.

Meanwhile, this morning, Soul-o redefined hanging.  As opposed to this 

Just talking to myself

 

I keep folding this in half. It wants to be a long cloth.

Thinking how (miles from) NoWhere might turn into SomeWhere simply by being there.

I am drifting into something.

Moment to Moment

 

I have been outside all day. Thinking and working with earth.  At a loss for words.  Exhausted.  No stitching because I hurt my hand yesterday doing the same thing. My thumb. The swelling seems to be going down now. 

I have these two cloths touching.  On the wall.  I have been walking by.  Looking.

They are related. Or seem related.  I will allow the patterns to overlap.  Some already do.  But the pieces will remain separate. 

I've been remembering my symbols,  and as I repeat them,  noticing the pattern in that,  how they have become a language system. Useful.  A kind of alignment really. How they connect stories, small journeys.   Make them continue one into another.  I remember this wind, wing, motion symbol when it was developing here... and then the black and white, my symbol for magic.  Might I use color variation I am asking myself.  Would that expand my system of symbols?  Considering color and form?

I have a lot of questions today.  This is just one of them.

Considering pattern

 

How pattern is repetition.  How pattern might map growth.

How growth might make pattern less static. Yet still rhythmic.

But then, how growth might undo pattern.  The expected kind. Because of the unexpected. How that might happen, fit in, form another sort of pattern.

How we have a personal pattern.  How pattern  can change with context (point of view) or distance.

How pattern contains a sense of going.

All these things.

Doings aka UnDoings

It is almost May.

Yesterday we scrubbed the deck.  Once in a while we do this, as the seasons build  layers of moss and mold and  dirt , especially  because it sits beneath the oaks. Not so bad in recent years because of less caterpillars.  This morning April is giving it a nice rinse.  A shower  that lasted through the night actually.  A welcomed undoing of a long dry spell.  Unusual for April. 
I've nine more impressions of April on the wall today.  Numbered to make it easier to talk about them later.   A little game I have conjured.  Or REconjured.  A game of how to.  A game of Nine. This is a new process adventure.  I will test it out on all of you who have signed up for Diaries 2. (Thank you)  Because as always you are my lab rats.  But you might trust me, I promise not to hurt you.

Today the earth is warm and wet and I will play in it.

 

Ivy Leaf

Just following Susan's lead. Seeing where it might go.  I picked ivy, as I am currently trying to get it under control, pulling it off the young trees.  Got lost in the veins... and I think I might include the rotten spot somehow.  I used one of the more unidentifiable April impressions as a background.  Traced the outline from the leaf,  filled in the river of veins freehand... there is such an interesting logic to them if you look closely.  Love how their reach defines the form.

Comments seem to be working, let's try again.

 

On the Edge of Longing

Continued from here.

I simply felt like Longing has to do with change,  a sense of it that might include a useful change on some personal level.  Less like a want and more like a need.  Even though it doesn't always turn out that way, it seems like that in the beginning.  I used a thread color close to the ground color to accentuate the pull rather than the stitch.  Because longing is rather like that.  It begins with a shift, a pull.  I am beginning to see this stitch style as a symbol for a sense of something.  Here a full spectrum of sense has been born.

Then to take that thought further,  a shift is the beginning of a new alignment.  A re- alignment, and we all know how that might redefine everything.  And so, in the beginning, longing seems a simple thing, but in the end, realignment is no small matter. And should be considered.  Maybe even reconsidered.  Undoing it is no small matter either.

This morning, on the table, from yesterday, Wednesday, when I asked myself, What If the doodle comes after the stitch? The way the light fell, well, the day did that.

 

PS. I long to be able to keep a conversation going here, but Typepad is still not letting me.  So I will turn the comments off till May.  Give it some time.  Give it a rest. No sense worrying about it.

Colder in April

Chilly. Bleak.  But the dandelions provide some sunshine on this cloudy day.  And salad.  We'll need the fire in that room  today. Probably all day. And night with a possible freeze.  I was out early gathering kindling and dry wood before the expected shower.  We still have have a wood pile but  in this early spring I gather windfall instead, and fire building becomes yard clean up at the same time.

Found this piece of wood with a hole in the middle. The hole was quite useful.  It sort of acted like its own chimney stove. Placed over some smoldering twigs and paper it created a column of flame and the morning fire was a breeze.

So here I am.  Coffee.  No luck giving that up. Stitching on the Soul-o nine lives patch, thinking about safe and warm. I think I will call it that.  This little thing. Safe and Warm.  The man sleeps late. I am planning some flat bread making.  Maybe in a pan.  And some doodling.

Grateful that all seems well with Typepad today.

It's just a day.  Still, another day, not like any other.

 

ReConsidering Longing

 

Yesterday.  When I let fear go I uncovered  Button Face in the Wilderness.

AKA Miles From NoWhere and  now Longing.  The second cloth from here.  These two were rolled up together.  Inside the one I call Shelter.  

And now I am looking at this old thing.  Really Old. Found some old hair from some old cat on it.  Good old Nook hair.  Thinking new thoughts. Reconsidering Longing.  Thinking about it as a thread , sense, that runs through it all. Longing.

If you live long enough you might UnDo all things considered and then do it again.