Spirit Cloth

Wind and Ice

This winter seems the coldest I remember, maybe because we chose to face the cold in a more head on way.  Knowing its presence with every choice made in a day.  These icicles on the roof actually changed direction in the wind. I like to look at them, trying to catch the slowness in that. Slow Flow. The sympathetic evolution of the form. Still icicle, but new.  And knowing  only for the moment...

There is a snow line that forms a horizon like ring around the Wind Robe.  I found it last year right around the time that mom became really ill. The icicles formed here and there.  I remember a lot of meltdown then as well.   I've been working to secure some of the meeting points near by.  Some left over wishing stars hold tender places. At least for now.  White can be cold and warm I think.  I am letting my mind wander today. Back and forth. 

House guests are gone. I am caught up in a week past filled with questions about people. How do they get all twisted up? And how nature's answer to that might simply be season.  How we might embrace the beauty in that.  It might soften hardened opinions and frozen hearts.

I look forward to this spring like no other.

This room we are heating seems much bigger today.

And we are three again. Just going.

 

How it might seem

 

Looking back and looking forward at the same time left her suspended. Suspended in December.

Wrapped in winter's coming.

Not yet needing spring.

Left her able to rest in just the sense of season.

That Just Going that has found its perfect direction. 

She hoped to learn this way that one thing becomes another without judgement.

Yet not without unspoken  choice.

She felt close.

She had no bible.

She hung by an invisible thread.

There was no falling.

 

 

Only wind.

Good will

and a winter moon.

 

 

 

The wind might redefine a wishing star.

Poof

still.

a doodle from wednesday titled still in the wind.  as i work my way back from silence, i notice how stillness and silence change one's sense of time.  which seems to be the sense of all things and how they appear and disappear.

poof.

bear with me, a blog redefine is in slow process. 

and so the wind returneth, as promised

 

I am here.  Why am I here?   A change in travel plans.  Maybe just inspired by a breeze that's slightly cooler than 101 degrees. .  Just filled to the brim and spilling over.  Or that habit of sharing moments.  Hi.

Season has inspired some thoughts on color. On dyeing.  Asking  some old questions about that.  Maybe answering some of them.  What if, what if, what if....?

...Glimpse on the edge of stillness

 

Not a breath of wind here

Imagining some.

 

I spent a lot of time  stitching this piece in place.  No easy  task to catch the wind.  Even on cloth. I do believe Wind is the next element here.  Fanning the flames that will probably get larger in this section.  And to  facilitate the movement  in the flight path section.  Whoosh.

I am here on Thursday, because I cannot be here tomorrow on regular Feather Friday.   Actually I am a bit confused and lost as to what day it is.   The stillness has left me with a lack of direction.  Wind then. Even if just imagined.

 

There are links to the Magic Feather Project up top and in the sidebar if you are not familiar.

the first time

 

Last night, right before a big rain and a huge wind, there was a white sunset.  Never remember that.  Maybe it struck me because I have been thinking about white a lot.  Looking for it.  That white band  just reminded me of the emptiness than can move through us. Sometimes.  Like, well, not nothing, but nothing we can recognize.

I couldn't sleep after thinking that.  So I lay there for a while and then got up and  drew this while it was still doodle Wednesday.  

And then I fell into a dream. Which I can't remember.

I find it useful to record first impressions if I can.  Before considering  too much. 

Looking through Wind

 

 

The What-iffers and I , we have spent a bit of time slowly thinking about white, the sense of it, as light and  looking through.  Cloth as a dream state.   I am caught in  the thought  this morning that something as  invisible as wind has come to have a texture.  Still as light as a feather....

The Wind robe has been a curtain these last days,  but it is a Summer Robe and it might be time  to tie up some of the looser ends and prepare it for the garden strolls  that might happen if  the chill ever leaves this part of the woods.   This chill is lingering a bit too long.  Even the most practiced grow impatient.

a scrap of white

Carried by the wind no doubt.

Love this.

More wind

With gusts at 65 mph early this morning,  we huddled in the memory of the last storm.   Wind in the dark.   The song of the wind has changed  as it moves Across the water.  And then unobstructed   by missing trees.    There is more of  a warning of its coming.   Luckily only parts of trees have fallen here this time.   

I have placed a new wind catcher on the back of the Wind robe.    An ancient  wiser fringe.    I have renamed this  robe, that Dances in Sympathy with Wind,  Across and Through.  It moves  with it.

I will not be saying much here and around the web for most of February.  Taking care of Mom,  finishing part 1 of Diaries,  and this robe  among other things.      Things are a bit confused at the moment,  but with Spring will come that seasonal clarity.   New beginnings.    

I will update my newsletter mid-month to keep you posted about goings on.    Thanks for hanging in there with me.