handstories

sunshine & stitches

    Seattle is beautiful right now.  My eyes are very grateful for the bright sunshining days to stitch in.  On the way to school, the lake sparkles in the morning light with Mt. Rainier majestic in the distance.  Walking in the arboretum, I keep stopping to admire the pretty Magnolia blossoms and cherry trees that line the paths.  There were also two ravens calling and flying in the tree tops the other day, the first time I've seen them here.
         Some pieces are getting ready for a shop update tomorrow.  The finishing process has become a ritual that I really love.  A quick loose sketch is made of each cloth with a few words or thoughts about it.  One by one, I hold them, feeling and listening for story, until it all comes together...

making waves

     A couple of days ago, I told K. that I felt like I was swimming upstream, and wearing out.  

    The funny thing is, once I said it out loud things shifted.  After two weeks of not stitching on story cloths, feeling story-less, a few squares began to take shape.

    New things were started and planned for, and some old stuff was even finished, and most amazingly, I mopped the bathroom floor!    "Just stitch some sea," I told myself, and under the soft glow of one of Jude's moons and the rainbow light of Deb's threads, the green tides flowed in and carried me to the other side.

What came next

    Blue.  Lots of blue.  With a layer of flannel in-between.  I dug out the biggest pieces that could be found, including one with a rosy patch (I don't remember when or why that happened.)   And now stitching the three layers together.  There's a moon, an archway, and water lines are in the works.  

    This hasn't been thought through, nor is it being executed in a sensible way.  

    We'll see what comes of it.

    I am thinking so much, and have absolutely no clear thoughts.  There was wishing for the ability to time travel, but then realized that I have no idea of when I would go to, or what I would tell myself to do differently.

    Stitching on...

returning & gifts

    The "Love Can Mend" pennant is back from being a part of Mo's powerful installation of love, "I Dream of a World Where Love is the Answer".  Mo's vision, talents and magic gathered together love and hope from around the world.  I wish I could have been in that room and have been surrounded by the energy of it all.

        There is some weariness going on here, just as there was in the making this, and remembering what I wrote, back in November, when sending it off to Mo, "...maybe this is how it really is.  This work and struggle for peace, healing the earth, trying to find a way through-  It doesn't usually happen because everything is a calm and hunky-dory garden of sweet peas and roses.  The ripped and rough places show us what's really going on, and call to us for mending.  For most of us, we do what we can with what we have.  Piecing together whatever kind of inner scraps we might have within.  And just maybe, all of the frayed worn bits can be brought together and worked into a kind of wholeness again."  

    While I'm sad that the gathering is over, it's been good to have it back, as a reminder that there is love and beauty in mending.

    Mo's generosity continued with the added gifts of one of her brilliant stars, bit of blue and a cloud of wedding cloth (I see some sails in there...).  And while wrapping the ties in the tree for photos, there was a sudden movement to the left, turning my head, there was a hummingbird mid-air,  eye-level, within arms reach.  We looked at each other for a split second before it zipped away, another gift.

    A heart-deep thank you to Mo and the Gathering, oxo.

one thing at a time

    Chicago seems like a month ago, it was good- a nonstop whirlwind of activities.

    This week there has been button sewing with fifth graders.

    This guy tried to sew two buttons on at once, the first of many tangles.

    I'm grateful for the opportunity to have been with, and learned from, this community over the last six years.   I'll be leaving at the end of the school year.  It's the right thing to do, and it's not easy.  That's all I want to say about that for now.  I'll miss the kids.

    Last night, after more than a week of not sewing, I pulled out big pieces of cloth to stitch together.

    I don't know what's next.

what is

    A strip of golden floral cloth was added, and blooms growing out from it.  Also, rows and dots of stitches in the background, and lines reaching out from the single blue check square.

    Last night we heard Anne Lamott speak.  She was smart, funny, quirky and a little wacky.  It felt like we were sitting in her living room, late at night, listening to an old friend rambling wise observations and considerations.  She talked about being aware, accepting what is, and taking action where we can.  Doing what we can do.  And that hope can come from not getting caught up in worry, the "What if _______ happens?!," but rather in noticing "What Is".  To see all of the wonder that is in front of us.

    Yesterday a murder of crows filled the old black walnut across the street.  Calling and cawing warnings to each other.  They came, one by one, adding to the ruckus.  What was troubling them, I don't know, but it was powerful to watch.

    The day before, winds blew.  In the front yard, the cherry and Japanese maple branches swished, bending and bouncing into each other, white blossoms touching the rusty buds of new spring leaves.

    I keep finding myself lost in thoughts.  Much of it is trying to reconcile the paradoxes of things I believe about myself, and it's seeming an impossible task.  Hopefully, acceptance and action are just around the corner, or at least in a nearby neighborhood.

    We're off to Chicago in the morning.  

    Sending out thoughts for peace and wonder to all, ox.

comfort zone

    I don't make decisions quickly, spend lots of money easily, nor is spontaneity part of my usual behavior.  Ask anyone.  Maybe that's why I like slow stitching so much?  

    Over the last few weeks we've had debates over what to do, if anything, for Spring Break next week.  Lots of words and ideas... Some place new?  California?  Canada?  Colorado?  No actions.  We are homebodies at heart (mostly me).  Just when it looked like we were going to do the usual and stay home... Monday night at dinner I said, "Chicago?"  

    The last time we were there I was pregnant with Blue.  Friends live there.  The kind that always feel like it was just yesterday, rather than years (three since the last visit).  I texted her, and three hours later flights were booked!

    I went to bed excited, but woke up the next overwhelmed and wanting to stitch earth colors.  Maybe trying to ground myself?  This piece is centered around one of Jude's moon fragments, along with several other scraps from her, and some from my own tea, walnut and faded indigo dips. 

    Exchanges with my friend flew back and forth yesterday.  She is a traveler/travel guide extraordinaire and has helped us plan, organize and budget it all.  It's going to be a very full week of art, parks, boats, buildings, baseball, "Hamilton," and more...

    Today I'm filling out the moon, and trying to focus on being giddy.  Trying to push aside all of "the sky might fall" feelings that come from being impromptu, spending money, all of us leaving home, the unknown...  Trying to imagine being different.