Inspire :: following a thought born from emotion

Many times over the last months I've wondered why I haven't

been able to bring myself back to this blog. In truth, I've missed it sorely.

This spot used to be like a favorite room in my house,

fairly comfy (without the dust) where I gladly resided with a warm cuppa

(or a wee dram) and a contented dog companion glued to my feet.

But gradually, I grew uncomfortable with spending

time here and rather than push the issue for the sake of continuity,

I simply left the room altogether.  Not unlike relationships in life, I suppose,

where the best move can be to offer distance and reprieve.

Finally, today, I've sorted the reason 'why' I left, after months of not knowing.

I simply got sick & tired of talking about myself.

I do a bit of it still, if I'm honest, over on Instagram, but in much smaller doses
where the emphasis always feels like it's more about the pictures -
for some reason that feels more palatable for now.

I remember when I first started blogging, how difficult it was to express

thoughts and emotions to some invisible audience "out there." A most uncomfortable

position for an introvert to be in, while at the same time a  most perfect

outlet for an introvert (if that makes any sense at all).

Over time - years, in fact - that uncomfortableness waned ... until it didn't anymore

and I found myself full circle, poised in front of the keyboard

absolutely tongue-tied.

So what this all comes down to is that I'd like to reshape a way to be around.

One of my most valued pastimes is perusing artwork produced by those who strike
some sort of chord ... work wherein I find inspiration and/or solace
and which can often produce a launchpad for new creative ideas.

Although any genre has the spirit to pull, my particular love & focus is on textiles
and remains an abiding constant. Gosh, truly, there is SO MUCH amazing work 

happening with cloth; from massive installations, to incredible books, to even
the tiniest bits of recycled scrap embedded in collage. Often this work is made
by names I barely recognize or have never heard of altogether.

I'd like to post some of that work here.

To no set schedule.

To no particular timetable.

I'll call the album, 'Inspire'
and maybe it will do so for some of you, too.
And maybe then we can get back to some jolly good conversations again,
like the ole days.
I've missed that.

More soon.

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Protection

Sometimes it's advantageous to set a project aside when it reaches an impasse.

I can't remember exactly why I stopped working on this series in the summer of 2013,

but I remember exactly why I started ....

beadwork on naturally dyed cloth

that hopefully could symbolize thoughts I was having about

how we humans guard ourselves.

Not only the different ways we protect ourselves from each other, 

how we wear masks so that our real selves can't be seen or fully known,

but also how we guard ourselves out in the world.

Somewhere there's a list - a long list of words I wrote to itemize all the ways we might do this.

Need to dig that out now

because I think the time is ripe for carrying on with this.

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Considering a world view

There are many ways to say a thing.

For those of us who don't feel particularly eloquent in the political arena and

are far more comfortable with other forms of expression,

perhaps we can look more closely

at our other ways of speaking.

Because it is my opinion that now, more than ever in my living memory,

we somehow MUST keep speaking  out loud.  It's of critical importance.

So we don't feel lost.

So we don't feel helpless. 

Even the quiet work of hands and heart is not to be underestimated during this time ...

this time of which  -  to some of us  -  is looked upon

as a frightening & uncertain period in our world's history.

Again, there are many ways to say a thing....

and I think we can be a mighty choir if we don't feel so afraid.

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Life is not lived in a straight line

"There isn't one right path for you or anyone else.

And there isn't a set of timelines of milestones ...

You're allowed to backtrack.

You're allowed to figure out what inspires you

at different stages of your life.

You're allowed extra time when you need it.

Life is meant to be a series of zigs and zags.

It should look like a mess, but a beautiful mess.

It shows that you have changed and grown.

You've had your ups and downs.

You went down one path, but decided to change course ...

perhaps on many occasions.

That's how life should be."

~ Angel Chernoff ~

First, I'd like to start by saying  Thanks  to each of the kind folks who've written

wondering where I'd wandered off to and why.

A disappearance wasn't planned, but it began and then it felt totally natural

and right to follow and to somehow trust that'd I'd know where I was meant to go

once I got there,

which wasn't to be here it seemed, blogging.

Except now it  is.

Have I confused you completely already?

To backtrack: I resorted to a few fairly strict measures to bring my body back to

some semblance of rightness, and again, I felt inclined to keep my concentration there

and not out here telling everyone about it.

Which is not my way anyway.

So while that was on the slow road to sorting itself out

I unexpectedly found myself on a new threshold

- literally -

when a space I'd put my name on a waiting list for suddenly became available.

This was a dream come true.

A small space for a textile / beading / photography studio ... at last.

Room to stretch my wings, dive into multiple projects at a time, close the door

on big beautiful messes  without having to clean up first  and then 

return the next day to pick right up where I'd left off.

And one of the best bits is that I can bring my dear doggy.

That's her new sleeping spot over there on the left wall

although I think she prefers the little rug by the door actually.

That quote up top from Angel popped into my email this morning and

as I read it, I knew today was the day to say a little something here.

I'll keep it short for the moment

[in truth, I am feeling somewhat rusty at this]

but I have quite a few tales to catch up on,

many pictures to share,

and I'm greatly looking forward to being out here with you all again.

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She can't eat what?

Sometimes your body screams at you so loud 

there is no choice but to listen

and take heed.

I've long held the belief that the majority of modern day ailments in

Western society are, without a doubt, strongly linked to what we eat.

Or don't eat in some cases.

In the last 10 years or so I've had this belief put to the test within my own framework a

time or two, and if my current health adventure provides the same positive results that I

was blessed with before, I shall be kicking up my heels quite well thru this decade.

You know that expression about making lemonade, right?

A short tale follows ....

While over in America the other day (that's what we islanders call the mainland)

I found myself driving around in circles.  Was a hot day (for here), just past 80F, 

and I had my dear woofie with me in the car.  She loves to travel so she goes 

with me whenever possible.  Anyhoo, on this particular afternoon I was taking

care of some body testing & adjusting and my fluffy one was in need of

a cool place to be parked while I was otherwise detained.

Hence the driving in circles.

Finally, rounding a corner somewhat near a park, I spotted a wide leafy stretch

of available curbside underneath the most magnificent trees.  I was gonna

have to walk a fair bit to my destination, but the deliciously cool shady spot for my 

dear fluffy one was absolutely worth the trek.

As I got out of the car and looked up to actually identify the gorgeous 

canopy we were parked below, I stopped dead in my tracks.

For there we were underneath two enormous black walnut trees

which happened to be dropping all their fruits over sidewalk & parkway

in great profusion.

Now the backstory to my stopping dead in my tracks is that last year

I looked high and low for one of these trees because I wanted to try my hand at

brewing some black walnut dye - deep, dark, tannin-rich goodness.

I asked around amongst all my island friends - and they of their friends - and

even went so far as to place an ad in the local online news rag ...

"Who's got trees??"

Nada.  None to be found.

Some suggested I go to eastern Washington where they're farmed in abundance

and then there was the ever present option of mail-order.  But I was keen for local so I

finally put my little dream on the back burner & moved on to something else.

So this particular day, which could very easily have been viewed as one filled

with one lemon after another, suddenly had me grinning like an idiot on the roadside,

chuffed to no end that this part of my particularly grueling adventure had brought me to

the very trees I'd been seeking for so long.

All this to say (in my somewhat roundabout sort of way) there will be

a slight delay to my next posting of the  52 weeks : bead sketches  installment.

I've been somewhat sidetracked by the inner voices so I'm more than a wee bit behind

although my iron cauldron is gratefully, now quite full.

I'll be calling this my black walnut "lemonade."

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Despite everything

the amphibian inside us

Because it's summer.  Because the air is heavy with heat and nostalgia.

Because this is what we have to keep remembering, the way our bodies

know the waves, the amphibian inside us unafraid of going under,

of what ripples beneath the surface.  Because waiting on the dock

for the signal to jump is like thinking someone else is responsible.  Because

there is no one else responsible.  Because despite the current,

it is possible to swim against it, or even stand, inverted, balancing

on a slippery mulch of murk and mud, and stay perfectly still.

Because when the world tips from view, we have to do everything we can

to tip it back.

~ Maya Stein

:  :  :

from Maya Stein's "10-Line Tuesday" poetry series

... the backlog can be enjoyed  here

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The most important voice

~ Dream Boat, River Tay, Scotland ~

START CLOSE IN

Start close in,
don't take the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don't want to take.

Start with
the ground
you know,
the pale ground
beneath your feet,
your own
way of starting
the conversation.

Start with your own
question,
give up on other
people's questions,
don't let them
smother something
simple.

To find
another's voice,
follow
your own voice,
wait until
that voice
becomes a
private ear
listening
to another.

Start right now
take a small step
you can call your own
don't follow
someone else's
heroics, be humble
and focused,
start close in,
don't mistake
that other
for your own.

Start close in,
don't take
the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don't want to take.

~ David Whyte, from "River Flow: New & Selected Poems"

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This moment in between

Winter Solstice

Thinking only makes the heart sore.
I Ching
when you startle awake in the dark morning
heart pounding breathing fast
sitting bolt upright staring into
dark whirlpool black hole
feeling its suction
get out of bed
knock at the door of your nearest friend
ask to lie down ask to be held
listen while whispered words
turn the hole into deep night sky
stars close together
winter moon rising over white fields
nearby wren rustling dry leaves
distant owl echoing
two people walking up the road laughing
let your soul laugh
let your heart sigh out
that long held breath so hollow in your stomach
so swollen in your throat
already light is returning pairs of wings
lift softly off your eyelids one by one
each feathered edge clearer between you
and the pearl veil of day
you have nothing to do but live 


~ Anonymous  by Jody Aliesan, from "Grief Sweat" (Broken Moon Press, 1991)

: : :

Update on solstice morn:  overnight, a friend sent a sweet note.

She wondered if perhaps the "anonymous" poem above had been written by me ...

Although I'd like nothing better then to claim that gem as my own, it troubled

me that such fine words had no author.  So I went back to Google where I'd initially

found it and kept searching, but this time using the first line of the poem and not

the key words  winter solstice  for the search terms. 

And there it was - reprinted in the book section of 

the Los Angeles Times newspaper in the summer of 1991.

I also discovered that the first two lines of the original poem

had been dropped from all the copies circulating the internet;

I have added them back.

In addition, the original contained no capital letters in the body 

and no line spaces - I've revised those as well.

So .... here is the poem in its original, true form.

Thank You to my friend for raising the question that sent me on

a quest for ownership.  Ms. Aliesan deserves this credit and now I can give it.

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Riversong :: Being (t)here, again ... with India Flint

I've had trouble writing about my recent time in Scotland.  I've been home

well over two months and I'm still struggling to find words

to explain that place, the people, and what happens for me when I am there.

It's proven difficult to describe how completely that country has stolen my heart.

Yes, the breath-taking scenery is a huge part of the equation, but all told
it is the breath it gives me back that keeps the calling acute.

When the thought first came to return this year and re-enroll in the 'Being (t)here' masterclass
tutored by India Flint and offered at Big Cat Textiles, I wondered
if maybe I was being a bit looney ...

yet in the end I felt I wasn't anywhere near done with spending time by the great River Tay.

So much good came from slowing down there, wandering along her banks with an eye
to detail and a heart set on paying attention.

I knew that although I'd be repeating a workshop I'd just recently taken

there was no way it would be the same.

By the completion of day one I knew this to be fact, for India
had taken what I'd thought was already a perfect course and bumped it up by a couple
dozen notches. This time around was going to be altogether different.

This little bell nudged us to attention innumerable times over the

five days together - I grew very fond of its sound.  Although I wasn't expecting to have
the company of so many pleasant classmates again, just like before these gals
were a splendidly supportive group who shared, inspired, cajoled, laughed
and even splashed about in a great deal of river mud,
all with immense amounts of joy ...

and this time there was also a great deal of singing!

A tidal river seems to me to have its own particular song, rising & retreating
as it does, like clockwork.  Add the voices of women who are happy to be (t)here
and the effect is close to sublime.  I'm not blessed with a singing voice
(those who know me well will know to find me singing in the car)
so I was especially moved by these impromptu choirs taking place
(even in the classroom).
Thank you all for that!

Hear for yourself.
Tracy McConnell-Wood made a lovely three minute video of our group mudlarking
and breaking into song:
Tay Tide Cairns

Newburgh is such a beautiful locale for giving oneself the permission to take time
for personal work.  There are ample opportunities for scenic walking ...

and for me, studying the ways of water ... exploring edges as I like to do.

Looking for ways to translate a notion of distance
or interpret a sensation of walking ...

You are a sage,

a river at its deepest

and most nourishing.

Sit by a river bank some time

and watch attentively as the river

tells you of your life.

~ from Lao Tzu ~

We ebbed and flowed in & out of the classroom not unlike the river's currents.

  Days were intense in meaningful and productive ways: Poetry was read and written,

bundles wrapped & dyed, mark-making explored & discovered, stitching techniques shared,

and all the while India responded to a thousand questions with patience & gentle humor.

We took breaks as we needed them. One of the delights was 'local shopping' ...

Alison & Jeannette, owners of Big Cat Textiles and Hat In The Cat (in Perth),

 look after the students in countless ways and I must admit

one of my favorites is all the lovelies they keep on hand for purchase.

That's the entry hall above which is chock full of vintage linens & clothes, 

baskets of hand-dyed yarn, roving, bits of this & that - everything useful for workshop supply needs

or to bring back home.  Some may have jumped into my suitcase.

There's even more in the adjoining studio ... racks of pre-loved clothing, beautiful finished

knitwear including cowls & socks made from local wool, countless notions

including buttons, trims, threads (many repurposed), even feathers; every kind of embellishment for

textile work that one might imagine.  I discovered last year that the displays can change daily

which makes it quite the dangerous place to wander through.

Sorry, is a wee bit blurry, gals ... sure we were giggling

and I shook the camera.

There they are - the special ladies who look after everyone so well.

Alison (on the left); thank you again for the glorious & nutritious meals;

Netti, thank you again for loaning the dog-less aunties your sweet Jazz

and for the comfy night's sleeps and car taxis ... and ... and ......

To you both: I sincerely appreciate the environment you've created that's so nurturing

and encouraging and filled with both of your good vibes - it doesn't get better than you two!

In the span of a week there were many walks taken down to the river

& ofttimes our dog pal led the way.  I'm quite fond of this image of India & Jazz

having a saunter one evening - one reason is that it shows off the quite incredible apron 

India wore to class.  If I remember correctly, I believe there was a collective gasp

when she first put it on ....

Look at the magnificent detail. 

Such a fascination has grown surrounding this garment, including a general clamoring to learn

the construction techniques, that now a workshop has been formed around it:

The Amuletic Apron

October 8-10, 2016

All the details over on the Big Cat Textile Masterclass Schedule

Student tables were looking more like museum collections by week's end. Some of the found

objects developed deeper meanings after being immortalized in poems or

used as utilitarian drawing tools.  Objects buried in the river scooped up at low tide

became special keepsakes to all of us.

~ student work ~

Perhaps because I'm in my 'older' years now, I'm especially appreciative of a tutor

who guides rather than directs; who presents options & inspiration rather than 

written in stone how-to's.  The voyage of discovery then becomes no one else's but my own.

It's more personal because I've found my own way of stepping through a process,

one that suits my own hands, my own particular way of seeing, and my own heart.

Thank you, India, for that freedom.

So it went.

(t)here on one of my favorite seats in the entire world I whispered a farewell

to the Tay ... "See ya later, my friend."  I always say it that way when I don't want to say "goodbye"...

always to people I'll miss and I guess now, even to rivers.

   

Then I photographed the lichen patch growing on the wall just off my right shoulder

so I could compare the growth rate from now to when next we meet.

I won't be away for long, Scotland.  You have my heart.

:::

Night and day the river flows.  If time is the mind of space, the

River is the soul of the desert.  Brave boatmen come, they go,

they die, the voyage flows on forever.  We are all canyoneers.

We are all passengers on this little mossy ship, this delicate

dory sailing around the sun that humans call the earth.

Joy, shipmates, joy.

~ Edward Abbey,  The Hidden Canyon - A River Journey ~

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What do you do for love?

nourish, tend & care

keep watch & protect

bless the ground whereon I walk

make & give away what is in my heart

play, with wild abandon & great joy

nurture optimism with an eye on many fine tomorrows

This is what I do.

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Moon watching

What a moon we've had developing the past few days ...

clear, star-filled nights make for contemplative viewing;

being out late with the dogs, a delight for stargazers like me.

A few days back, while it was waxing,

I posted this image on Instagram

"what night feels like towards the end of winter when spring is on the cusp

but wearing her icy mantle ..."

because although nights still call for two layers of warmth,

daytimes are for shirtsleeves and wide-brimmed hats already.

The full moon last night was glorious and I was extremely grateful for a kind winter

with very few dark days ... both in the weather, and in my mind.

I'd like to share today's "mindfulness poetry" originally posted on A Year of Being Here,

for the record - my record.  My winter of eleven winters here ... the first without seasonal angst.

Because it just might have something to do with acceptance.

: : :

Dear Ezra

I have to confess:

there are abstractions

I no longer go in fear of.

Take loneliness.

I've started calling it solitude.

It feels so new and improved now,

I can honestly say it soaks up time

better than a sponge soaks up water.

The other day I actually washed this poem with it.

Ez, let me tell you,

aging is a Laundromat,

and eventually you find yourself

watching what you spurned

and dreaded for years

spread out in widening gyres,

like sheets fluffed in the dryer.

Life is quite a bit cozier

when you let all the bugaboos-

you know- say, sadness and fear

crawl into bed with you.

Pace them with your breathing

and they fall asleep

fast as a couple of kids.

The other night we huddled together

staring at the moon

as it slid past my window:

big-bellied sail on a wet black sea.

~ by Eileen Moeller. Text as published in Poems of Awakening: An International Anthology of Spiritual Poetry.

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Tweaking ones perception

The possibilities are endless.

Whenever I begin the editing process, I just fly ...

rarely do I venture through with a preconceived notion of how an image should look

but rather

an aim towards a feeling or some sort of emotional response to the moments

of being there.

This quote by Ansel Adams remains one of my favorites:

You don't make a photograph just with a camera.

You bring to the act of photography

all the pictures you have seen,

the books you have read,

the music you have heard,

the people you have loved.

Here's another fine one, from the great street photographer, Elliott Erwitt:

To me, photography is an art of observation.

It's about finding something interesting in an ordinary place ...

I've found it has little to do with the things you see

and everything to do with the way you see them.

When I stood next to this wall in my friend's garden, I literally had a gut reaction

to the armature of this vine.  I'd only ever seen it during the leafy months

when it's so covered with greenery the exquisite structure is hidden.

I immediately loved how it showed its age, how carefully tended & tied to the wall it was,

how gnarled, twisted, interwoven and even fragile it looked [ but wasn't ] ...

and later, working through the edit, I realized my response was also sparked by

a longing for other gardens I've known, or tended, elsewhere in the world

that I probably won't ever see again.

The bottom photo was the first edit & was yesterday's post on Instagram.  I thought

I was done.  But for some unknown reason I just kept playing ...

With the addition of a 4th app, my perception jumped into another realm entirely

and suddenly two symmetrical versions have added to the story

in quite unexpected ways.  Which, as it turns out, is

precisely in tune and apropos to my feelings about

that vine

on that wall

in that moment.

Memories can be fierce

even if they're buried and one hasn't thought of them in a long time.

: : :

I wasn't going to write a new post until I finalized a fresh blog layout.

HA!  so much for that idea.

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