Spirit Cloth

October

 

A bit like these tomatoes, that's how I feel.

The ones that struggle between seasons. Trying to hold on and let go at the same time. It's getting cold and I picked everything down below in the raised bed, so I can let go of the stress about critters and just let them roam and graze and ready themselves for winter. I will just watch.  There is still stuff growing up on the deck planters.

Japanese Indigo setting seed. We'll make it they said.

I did some dyeing yesterday, but I'll save it. Trouble loading photos today so I will leave it for another day. It's crisp and clear and I will mend the sweaters. The moths have been busy.

 

What if

When what you have imagined, begins to take form...

You can rest for a while before continuing.

...in the spaces in between...

The time in between is the time so telling.

The breaks from what needs to be done. Calls to be done. When you come up for air.

Why do I call this my work?

Suddenly it is quite the opposite.

I have stitched quite deliberately, but without drama. In rows, and then sections.  I tacked the sections to the deck rail. To get to know this deck.  Forgetting the order of the design. Sensing the beauty in that. I fall back into the simpler time before art and judgement. And I am refreshed. Spaced out like this, the pieced sections have become, again, loose patches. Or even long cloths. Path-works.

The clothesline is temporarily out of reach due to some forest management. With the advisement of a new friend. 

Splitting needs to come soon.

When we first moved in, I dumped my kitchen scraps on one corner of the existing  raised bed because it was the only spot I could find where the soil was soft enough to turn over. 

The soil is good. What a gift, the soil is good. Even though I have decided that this will eventually be a dye garden,it looks like, for now, we have some bonus potatoes, tomatoes, onions and squash. I will space them out a bit today. Madder has been planted on the other side. That will take more time.

Yes, I feel torn apart.  Don't we all?

Piece.

What Runs Through my Mind

There were long wild dreams.

I woke up and spoke the words, The Spell is Broken.

I lost part of the thread in waking. I guess there was a story.

There was a bit of work on this in the evening before sleep. Some thin silk to fill in the whites of the new eyes. I will work the third one in stitch. I like variation in technique in one piece. It raises the awareness of change in the expected. This split image is interesting. It would be interesting to see both side of things at the same time, not thinking about them as separate. We may say we do, but we don't. We, by nature, are divided.

I'm churning today. Unsettled. 

Hunker Down Non-Sense

When someone asks, how did you think of that?

Where did the idea come from?

(I wanted to talk today but my batteries are dead.) 

Well sometimes I think I make up a story that might seem a little simpler than it is. More like something I can take credit for. Some thing I can own. Instead of telling the story as is. Because honestly, how it happens doesn't always make the kind of sense I expect. It's not a straight line or a path so easily followed. That is why process is so interesting to me. And why I tend to honor the in between more and more. Letting it be on its own. Because it is what I don't expect, or always give value to, that helps me understand how new form emerges. Eventually.

 

Loose thoughts. Loose patches. Loose implies free. Free to realign. Alignment implies a kind of useful harmony. Peace. Peace is a temporary state. It wears out. Must be mended. A life's work.

You can't teach creativity.

It's just there. You might simply try to make it more obvious how to find it. Demonstrate the usefulness of thought. 

If it's too large to grasp, make it seem smaller. Perspective. 

Today is an in between day. Letting thoughts out.

Wednesday is now Robe day.

Saturday is now quilt/Blanket day.

All the other days are like today. 

That's about as clear as I will get.  I have been listing Hunker Down posts in order in the sidebar under Hunker Down Diaries. Enough of that, the list might go on forever. No matter what they are telling us.  If you are following, you are following. I'm tired of organizing. Day by Day it is, till it isn't.

 

Part Everything

Late posting today, I spent a good part of the morning staring out the window. Trying not to check the news.

She is part of the Story Card Series.

I talked about it a while back, but now it has begun.

Just a little talking, probably just rambling because I am thinking and talking to myself anyway.

Link to audio if you see no player.

Getting used to the habit of putting it here. 

Ok, so, five minutes later after trying, I learn Typepad will not let me do that comment reverse thing and still leave the reply to comment thing in place, and I think we need that, so NOT. Let me think some more. Probably this will all become confusing if I talk to much. Yeah, probably. Maybe I should keep the chaos to myself? Nah, it's me, not sorry.

Meanwhile, you know, the little pieces of garlic that break loose and sprout at the bottom of the garlic keeper. Yay! The cat does not chew on these.

 

a path to Balance

What is balance?

For me it is not holding myself steady so I do not fall over. Instead it is a sort of dance, a rocking inward and outward, a stretching exercise where the goal is to constantly reconsider center while pushing limits. To Understand center as fluid. Knowing it's changing position.  Managing shift. Reach. A constant in-between.

It is so personal really. It's definitely not about following any one else's lead. It's inside.

I cannot really explain except that it is shapeless. And there is no fear of falling because I can fly.

This is one of my favorite photo collages. I cannot explain. And I feel no need.

Last night, power up on the porch.   

This photo taken from inside The Big Sleeping room, it was cold. Windows need cleaning.

The porch runs across the back of the house and spans both the Room With the Big Table and the bigger bedroom. Sliding glass doors from both rooms, but a wall in between.

Some bulbs replaced, fixtures repaired. The old wicker hanging lamp was left here but not working. So far we have been making repairs ourselves. The Man is pretty handy when he feels like it. The table has a story, will get to that.

My pace has improved. Slower and distributed through the day with not too much sitting. I spent time weaving her, Lightning Woman,  into the sky yesterday. A few minutes here, a few minutes there.  Taking her off the wall and putting her back. While dreaming of warmer days. And making pizza. And training Soul-o to come in and out from the porch. I put the litter box out there.

 

 

Day 3

 

Here I am.

Again.

(loving this,how much the paper seems like cloth)Wondering where I begin. Or not.

With the box I put myself in, looking for another way out.

Over the next month I will work on all the existing small works here. Touch them. Let them go, finished or not. I think one final Spirit Cloth Shop update for small stitched works when Spring begins.  I know that once the season changes, I will be outside. Clearing paths. Trying to grasp my new sense of personal space.

Just to clarify, I am now 69. And I have entered into my 70th year on earth. This being Day 3. 

I do not feel particularly physically challenged. I feel good. Strong. It's not difficult for me to continue as I have for so many many years here. But my focus is shifting. I sense that. My thoughts are leading me astray. I am a stray at heart, in that regard.

I We moved to make things easier, especially financially, as we age. We may do that again. But for now we feel free enough to change our minds. I do not miss the old place. I thought I would. But Poof, it's just another day.  What else is there?

 

Building with nothing

 

The word Poof.

For the magic of appearing and disappearing. Though, I think, basically a kind of sudden unexplained change in what and where without a lot of why. And perhaps, a bit later, wondering how.  More commonly though, linked to the disappearing part. As is nowhere, nothing. Gone.

I stitched a little patch of Poof back here. And I was gone for a while. But was I?

I worked around the patch "log cabin" style (which is like building a basket). I guess, because, for me, poof is a place. Maybe it's an in between place where I need not explain.

Anyway, a larger cloth. I had the 5" puzzle pieces prepared to be a frame of mind. And built the 3" poof to fit in the middle of a blank 9. A safe no place. 

Comfort Zone. Sanity Series #?, I lost count.

It's hard to read. It was difficult to make the word appear. Like a new language. 

January is passing.  I hope to get a new Feel Free Newsletter out by February. Many things have changed. I heard the coyotes here last night, wow.