I was knocked down by a couple of things this week. Good friends gave good advice, "don't let this flatten you"... "write it down & look at it".
I wrote, began to gain perspective, but couldn't pick up a needle.
Grace said, "...if you DO lift a needle, something always happens".
Last night, sitting on the couch, noticed a few small bits of fabric on the window sill, wove them, too done in to even get up for scissors, used teeth to tear, pinned them down, went to bed.
Today the needle was lifted, stitched this scrap with straight lines, then zagging...
then just stabs all over, crossing and piling.
I'm done with it. It's called "shutting up". I'm going to carry it for a while, for something to hold on to. Maybe dented and bruised, but not flattened.
