handstories

blue medicine

    The cat threw up at 5 am, just outside the bedroom.  The phone rang before anyone was up, a junk call.  The neighbor below the studio windows has been having his roof redone with non-stop machinery since 8 am. 

    All morning I shuffled through half finished things, piles of cloth, papers, rearranging, making no progress, and a needle was lost on the floor in here somewhere. 

    Finally, I told myself to make something blue.  It took an hour to get this far...

    Some hot chocolate was made, and then everything was stitched, and then some.  Using some of my favorite Deb threads and cloths from Jude, I made myself a place to be.  It's a very quiet place, with a rosy view and a magic door that requires an unknown password for others to pass through.  There's even a garden.

Translations & transformations

    My first memory of beautiful stones is seventh grade science class.  The geology study.  Mr. T. passing out pieces of cardboard with rows of rocks glued and labeled onto them.  Rose quartz is the one I remember, I appreciated that it was easily identified by its soft pinkness.

    Ten years later, I met a woman with an unusual name who was to be my trainer at a new job.  She shared the how and why she had she had chosen this name for herself and given up her birth name.  I couldn't even imagine such a thing (Ha!).  We talked for a long while, and when we finished sharing stories, she pulled out a pouch of stones and crystals.  She placed pieces of rose quartz and tiger's eye in my hand saying, "You need these."  I thought that she was very kind and quite "woo-woo," but I carried them in my pocket, just in case there was magic to be had.

    Thirty years later, I still don't know what I believe about the powers of stones and crystals, aside from thinking that they're beautiful and I love getting lost looking into the light, lines, cuts and colors of them.  There is a piece of smoky quartz sitting here next to me.  Spotted at a booth in an art fair one day, it called to me.

    I don't know, maybe, I hope so. 

    Jude nudged me into trying to stitch a crystal.  First attempt.  Eh.  I suppose I should finish it and see, but there are already things that I know I should have done differently.

    It's been ten or more years since I last saw that woman.  At the time, she had changed her name to Ruby.  I wonder who she is now?

Crowns & crystals 💎

 

    Sometimes crystals are added after the painting the blind drawings.  They relax me in a different way than painting.  There's a sense of discovery, as the blurs of paint take shape.  Finding buried treasure.

    There have been lots of fairy tale thoughts and wondering what it is that draws me to them?

    So many blurry ideas, but focus and words are few right now.

Time in cloth & thoughts

    Beginning with one of Jude's moons, this cloth exploded into being... "Cosmic Crossroads".

    The morning paintings are looking more and more like cloth to me.  There are a few ideas about following this thread.  So many ideas, and even with all of the time in today's world, it still doesn't seem enough.

    Moon and I are home alone for a few days.  Still, with most of his day spent at school in his room, other than meals, I hardly see him.  I'm grateful for the moments of connection when he pops downstairs to share something of interest now and then.

    School is going so much better for him (and us!) than last spring.  There is no blame in that statement.  No one was prepared for what happened and everyone did the best they could, but really, for the most part it was a wash.  This year there are expectations and accountability- class, small group and one on one meetings with teachers and other students. 

    Moon even loves most of his classes- especially theater (we're looking forward to the upcoming online productions they're creating), physics and math.  I've listened to his recently written one-act (death, chess and existentialism), tried to understand the existence of ten dimensions (I got lost in the sixth), and the other night, when he came down distressed, feeling that he and his peers are losing this last year of childhood because of the virus, listened, and tried to offer hope, as he hoped that his passion for math and physics lasts, and that "someday, if I'm lucky, I'll figure out a way for kids not to be afraid of time like I am."  His deep thinking has always amazed me.    (P.S.  My time has been spent with thread (with no idea of which dimension I'm in).  These tokens, "Cosmic Crossroads" and other story cloths will be in the shop tomorrow (Friday, October 14th, 9am PST).  Thank you for taking a look!)

Vacation

    Mornings, days, even evenings have such a routine right now.  Rarely is any day different than the one before.  Wake up, shower, start oatmeal, closed eyes drawing, stir oatmeal, paint drawing, tea kettle whistle blows to be poured, stir oatmeal, finish painting, eat oatmeal, and then, aside from a lunch break, stitch for much of the day, an occasional chore, make dinner, etc... repeat.  They are fine days for the most part.

    Today, awake before dawn, the drawing came first, with eyes open.  After painting and oatmeal, I left the studio, announcing, "I'm taking the day off."

    Curling up with the cat in the front room, I watched TV, and knit on a plain sock for hours.

    After lunch, there was a little stitching in a book I made, on a page where I had wiped the extra paint off of the brush this morning. 

    It was a very nice day of playing, and playing hooky from myself.  Time to make dinner...

Can I hear me now?

 

    There was probably more time spent on the phone this week than in the last six months put together.  Several calls with friends and family.  Mostly ok to good.  Verbal skills are definitely going downhill with all of this isolation.

    The words that were exchanged are blurred together, much of the information forgotten, only the gist of feelings exchanged remain.  Details that used to matter so much now slip like silk.

    I feel like myself with cloth, and safe.  Possibilities fill the spaces of not knowing, instead of anxiety and imagined incriminations.  When it doesn't work, it's ok.  There's a knowing that things can change, be layered on, or be chalked up to being an experiment or experience, not a waste.  It's all time with cloth.

    It's swell to be in this relationship with cloth.  I'm still work at getting to this kind of kindredness and kindness with myself.

    I am getting better at listening.

Greening

    Sometimes a color calls.  Green and gold make me think of Dad, and just now I'm seeing that the roses bring his mom, Rosee, into the story, too.

    Yesterday I spent a bunch of time at the computer store.  It was stressful feeling as if I only understood every other sentence, and couldn't retain any of them.  Finally, I thought to take notes.  Things are in it, and it no longer types in a cryptic language.  Now the shift button doesn't work, meaning no punctuation or capital letters, which means most passwords can't be put in.  So... a new computer is needed, and an adaptor, and another backup box, and an appointment in another town to have this old one downloaded for transferring.  Honestly, I was ready to walk away from everything.  Things grow more and more complicated, or I'm becoming more and more simple.

    Instead of making the appointment, I got lost in this tree.  Maybe I'll call next week.  One step at a time.

    "Breathing in Green" and liking how this can mean different things.

There & here

    It was a very nice anniversary, thank you again for all of the sweet wishes.

    We took a drive up to Bellingham for a lunch of our favorite peanut soup and to spend a little time in the trees (and in memory lane) along Chuckanut Drive.  There was an added treat of stopping by Deb's to wave to her and Lola over her gate!

    It is truly an autumn-blanket-on-the-lap-tea-in-the-afternoon kind of day here. 

    This piece has turned itself around and around in my head and hands.  Carrying home, going home, being home...it's all of it.

    I do think things from the last few days are about being content.

    And those loops of thread are heading back to their natural state.

Thirty-seven

    How I busied myself during an online meeting yesterday... and without any planning or counting at all, I think there are 37 loops here.

    And today is our 37th anniversary!  Back then, I never imagined being on this earth this long, let alone having such a good guy to be here with.  A sky full of lucky stars twinkles over us.

    There's a walk in the woods being thought about for this afternoon, and maybe some talk about which stars to follow next...

Trees & daydreams

    Tina's beautiful dyeing makes a great stormy twilight sky.

    This gave me an idea last night.

    Sometimes every day seems exactly the same, not in a bad way necessarily, but you never know what might change.  Even the smallest thing can matter.

    There are new story cloths in the shop today- lots of trees and daydreams.