Yesterday, I became obsessed with this gape in "2013". It probably would have gone unnoticed, but just in case, I carefully finagled a tiny scrap of matching fabric into the space. Invisible basting stitches held it, making it disappear all together. I don't know why I didn't stop?
Maybe my old comfort zone is knocking at my new friend, serenity's door?
Some other things are beginning to crack, too.
My spinning wheel and I visited Pre-K yesterday. They have been thinking about spiders & Rumpelstiltskin. After talking about wool, carding, twist and spin, they each took a turn at the wheel. One little boy dressed for the occasion.
While sharing with them about the how and why of spinning, and of the way I came to it, I heard myself saying, "When I twirl a spindle, or sit down to my wheel, I feel like I've come home." I hadn't put words to it before.
I'm going to miss the sharing and self-discoveries that come from being with a class of children.
After I left, their teacher talked spirals and webs with them. She shared these images of their creations.
Up close . . . all kinds of wonky,
But really, in the big picture,
things matter less and less.
This . . .
From this (from here). . .
In spinning yarn, there are so many possibilities. I suppose, that if I learned enough about it and color theory, I could predict and control the outcome. Not at all what I'm interested in these days.
During this time of transition, there have been lots of questions from others- "Why are you going? What will you do? Do you have a plan?" And offers of ideas- "You could....You should...Have you thought about....?"
I answer . . . "It is time. I don't know. No. Maybe. Maybe. Not really." Sometimes I just look at them silently, knowing their good hearts, and knowing it's all ok.
I do not ever recall feeling serene . . . but I think this is it.
Recently Jude left a comment that I've been carrying around in my mind like a piece of chocolate that is slowly melting into my mouth and being . . .
"and it all formed as it might."
Isn't that delicious?!
Going along, wobbly and uneven, not even wearing my glasses.
Just stitching.
Wanting to spend your birthday in your pajamas . . . ALL day.
Wanting to play Mega-Monopoly . . .
For hours.
Wanting doughnuts . . . not cake, not pie . . . doughnuts.
Outside the front door this morning . . . about an inch long . . .
They mesmerize me every year.
(clicking on a photo will take you closer)
For good or bad, one thing about me is that I don't end things. Whether it comes from fear, loyalty, or stubbornness, I don't know. Probably all three. Things fade away, run their course, etc., but I don't initiate the changes. Until now. After twenty-three years, I will not return to the school next fall. I am sad, excited, nervous, relieved, etc...and sure. It is time.
I have spent the last three days, since making the announcement, stitching together big chunks of cloth. Just reaching into the box and taking out what is on top, not thinking about how it will look or fit together.
Yards and yards of running stitches and Jude's "glue-stitching" on the seams. Holding things together.
I have absolutely no idea what comes next, but I can wrap up in cloth, and wait for things to settle, and for new paths to make themselves known.
I had a dream the other night.
I found myself in the middle of a race. Not being a runner, it felt like a nightmare at first, but then I began putting one foot in front of the other.
The other runners began to fall away, ahead and behind. The road turned into paths through a forest. It was beautiful, unknown. There was a worry of not knowing which way to turn, but that was let go of.
"It will become clear," I told myself, and ran slowly on.
