The Other Side of the cloth I call Home is still quite raw. The inside of Home. As the details are added to the flying things along the flight path, the embroidery shows gently through. Like little bright spots in the vast chaotic space. Slowly a path is emerging. A way to follow. Threadcrumbs.
A center stone fell into place this morning. A warm one. I have had it in my pocket for a while. I remember it.
Home. Almost all the safety pins have been removed. It holds itself.
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.
Throughout this project, the Magic Feather project, I keep reminding myself what an honor it is to hold the wishes of others. What a difficult thing it is to be a parent (or even a good friend) then. How frightening it is when you are unable to protect someone from the awful moments when the simple path to becoming is lost. How many forms that takes, the holding. How the many forms of holding might simply evolve from that caring. How even letting go is a form of holding. How everything you do is meant to be that. Holding. How you wish that to be True. Possible .Acknowledged.
I will add some pockets to this cloth I call HOME. So some of the feathers might remain free. But have a place to come back to and hide. Or at least be alone for a while. To consider holding. Being held.
.
A pocket to gather them in. Along with a few walnuts.
Shelter is all about season, isn't it?
Today we will go walking.
add a little, take a little away. keeping balance is my biggest challenge. i practice on cloth. it's a big pocket, soft and safe.
i'll keep the pieces i take off in there
for later.
If the path before you is clear,
you are probably on
someone else's.
-Carl Jung
