Hill as home. Stitch as song.
Isn't this cloth dyed by Tina a glorious color? Fuchsia, magenta, cerise? And Deb's thread pulling all of the colors together?
The last two mornings drawings have been of something on my table, still not looking at the paper. I haven't forgotten that I said I would share more about this painting practice, but I'm still gathering/finding words about it.
Actually, I've been very frustrated about words this week, that I can't seem to pull them into the shape of what I want to say. It takes so much work to get to the root of things, at least about myself.
"They Returned in Song & Starlight"
There was a moment of seeing something clearly the other day. Two friends asked about finding a way/time to celebrate my birthday. I did my usual, "Oh, that's nice, I don't know, we'll see...." Later, after seeing my horoscope for the week, "Your desire to make sure no one is left out or lonely...." , and I thought to myself, isn't that the truth that I do that, and then thought, isn't it the truth that I don't do that for myself, and how hard I work to not take up space or want, to not be seen as all of those words that I sometimes still believe about myself.
I've probably circled around this topic here before, but this time I reached back out to my friends and said, "Yes."
Sometimes, after stretching and trying something new, it's really comforting to sail back home in, and to, a comfortable spot.
