Singing Woman of the Woman Series. (a series of Selves)
I darkened the edges of her world. The indigo vat was so ready.
I am going to set up a project page at the Forever Zone(part 4 of Patchwork in Perspective)for her. For selves. Because she is not done. Not even close. I suppose you might be able to relate.
She's back.
I just emerged from a series of routine medical visits. The first time I have been to a doctor in... wait for it... 42 years. I feel like singing because it's over, I like the doctor, and it seems I am ok! But mostly because it's over.
I have been trying to get a picture of the bobcat that has taken up residence beyond the stone wall here. No luck yet.
Newsletter at Feel Free...I think I can out a feed in the sidebar, let me try...
The big transition has begun. A blustery day.
Ushering in cold and the possibility of a bit of snow early next week.
The Japanese Maple is the star of the show at the moment.
Winter is around the corner. I expect most of the leaves to come down with this week's storms.
I've been quiet. A bit blue. Unable to catch my thoughts in words or stitch.
Then. This morning. A dark morning. Without turning on the lights. I sat with this one . Near the big window. So I could see the rain, hear the wind.
I renamed it. The Thread Dancer. It is, an older self. But one that remains focused on building, connection. I spent a lot of time trying to secure the fringe that extends from the woven mask-face. A bit like trying to catch the wind. I imagined myself as a thread, the thread, and that helped. The position of the fringe kept moving, like the wind, there could be no plan, just going with the energy at hand.
The porch roof, now protected with a tarp, will wait for repair until at least March. Still I think to myself, maybe it could be ok like that forever. A cheaper solution for sure. We'll see.
If you look closer, you might see the birdbox we created by recycling an old mailbox. I will weave a roof from windfall. And grapevine clippings. I make a note to myself, what if I could weave a roof for the porch. Yeah, right...gotta love imagining.
Mostly I planted perennials this year. They will return. And reseed, populate.
But I also did a lot of dead heading and trimming, I brought the spent blooms in to make pretty and and consider the in between. And then they dry.
Soul-O likes to sit near them. Likes the way they smell.
Likes them so much sometimes he butts them with his nose. Seeds fall out, if they are ready, I collect them. I lump them all together and store them in jars, put them downstairs in the cool basement. So many from one flower. I will plant them before deep winter, spread them around at wood's edge. And along the outside and inside the garden fence. Some down at the end of the road in by the mailbox. The deer will eat some of them. Hey ho.
And what has happened here? Playing with vertical and horizontal stitch lines, which is taking like forever, but then poof!, this old self has begun to have the feel of being woven in. I'm not done considering this and I will talk eventually.
Compose.
To begin with something. To make peace with it.
That is how I use the word.
There is a the physical thing. The need for it to feel right, and to hold together, at least long enough to reconsider. Letting it, helping it BE.
There is also the thought behind it. I always hope that might become a tool and not a weapon.
I make changes, often based on softening my original vision. Even though I was often taught the opposite. In this case my thought has softened as well, and this one has become more about that. How dark and light might lean into each other. Which is really quite a concept if you think about it. I remember how weaving taught me so much about that. Softening. The new form in that. Anyway, I am rambling today because that is how things come together.
Good Morning,
Soul-o likes the ledge that tops the half wall that looks down into the FireRoom. He is watching for the deer.
This part of the split level arrangement I like too.
The ledge begins soon after the sitting table area, which is a little box that juts out from the side of the house.
Any way, while sitting, there is another eye level for hanging.
I hung Lightning Woman. Woman Series. Resting. I just basted her to get the pins out.
Then zing, just a drawing over the photo, to catch that thought.
I think I might stitch on her today. Busy weekend, so won't be back till Monday.
Good Morning,
Fresh off the sheets.
Slept in. Ready for Birthday Pancakes.
Built from Scrap...
...and holding together.
Self Realization
That's what's left on the wall today.
And there is a new post up in Thought Catching...
Earth.
A stray cat, who has found a home, always has a loose connection with season...
I wonder, will it rain all day?
(New content for those enrolled in the Free Enough Series...)
How will it be to return to earth?
This works right now.
I need one. A path from one thing to another. To fill in a Widening Gap. Now I can imagine being one. My self as a bridge between selves. I worked from that digital drawing from yesterday. Without looking back at it. Her lower half, drawn in. Above her, stitched. I almost said "only sky". To myself. How one thing becomes another always seems quite simple but it's not. Not if you know the story.
Here I am, with a fine list of Piecemaker/Ragmates, already enough to build a ring of safety. I will go through my emails in the next days... and to keep it simple on this side, answer you only if you have had questions and give you mailing instructions if you need to mail a check. Just to be clear, you can sign up anytime, pay any time (or not)and passwords will be sent a week before the Series begins. If you want to attend, please remember to fill out the form by clicking the link in the Newsletter. LINK TO NEWSLETTER. And please only pay/sign up for Part 1 because the rest is still forming.
I'll be quiet for a while now.
Here is Soul-o becoming a basket.
If the path before you is clear,
you are probably on
someone else's.
-Carl Jung