handstories

Braiding Connections

    "And Still... the Moon"

    The flying dream was a great one.  It was actually more like swimming in the sky.  Keeping my arms close to my body and wiggling like a fish, a mermaid, the movements lifting me towards the stars...

    A morning at my friends' hanging out with him while she took the cat to the vet (the cat is having health issues too).  Again, parking is an issue in their neighborhood, so I pulled up to the building, she and the cat left in my car, and I headed into the condo.  Neither he nor I are morning people, nor had we ever really spent any length of time alone together, so the plan was for us to have our coffee and tea quietly in separate rooms. 

    When I brought him his coffee, he was sitting in a comfortable chair in their bedroom listening to music.  "Here you go.  I'll just be stitching in the living room.  Just let me know if you need anything- more coffee, company, whatever."

    "Yeah, there's a book that I'm listening to that I want to get back to...  My sister told me about it, Braiding..."

    "...Sweetgrass?"

    "You know it?"

    "Yes, I've been hearing about it for years.  I've checked it out of the library several times but haven't actually opened it.  Are you liking it?"

    "Have a seat!"

    "Let me get my tea..."

    He shared about the book, and we wove in and out of topics- connection, and community, how the last weeks have been for him, them, what might come...  Two hours later, she returned, the time had flown by.

    "Robin"

    Coming home, I sat down to stitch, after going to the library website, checking out, and opening the audiobook of Braiding Sweetgrass.  What an amazing, beautiful, spirit filling book, and listening to the author, Robin Wall Kimmerer read it with her soothing rich voice is an added gift.  I'm halfway through.  It's the perfect thing to listen to while stitching.  I can't believe it took me this long to get to this book, but then again, sometimes things happen at just the right time in our lives.  I imagine that I will listen to it again and again, each time remembering a lovely morning conversation with coffee, tea, and connectionsing.

Dream Days

"Sip of Dreams"

    Many swell happenings over the last few days...  Friday- to Bellingham for Moon's a cappella concert.  It was great to hear him sing, watch him have a great time, be so happy.  And then the treat of meeting up with Deb for dinner.

    After that, a night in Vancouver, B.C. in a room with a city view (across the street from the Coliseum-ish library), strolling Granville Island (Maiwa's!), a delicious Italian dinner...  It's been so long since we've gone somewhere, just the two of us.  It was a very nice time.

    On the way home, there was an extra dose of Deb time!  Tea in her cozy sweet house with two of the friendliest cats you'll ever meet (Widget wasn't interested in socializing).  

    Her GOOD Enough quilt is even more wonderful in person (as is she!).

    Today I potted up her gift of indigo plants, with hopes for their survival under my blue thumb.

    Sunday night I dreamt in cloth.  The memory became the morning painting.  By afternoon, the image was fading, but not the incredible feeling.  A cloth began...
 
    I didn't refer back to the painting at all and was surprised this afternoon to see the differences.  The tree had completely slipped away.  Dream to paper, paper to cloth, maybe I'll complete the circle and keep going, back and forth, forward and back, in and out of the dream.

Taking Time

    Waiting outside of the post office this morning at 8:58, waiting for it to open at 9:00, a man approached with his package.  Read the sign, sighed heavily, stood behind me. 

    At 9:01 he announced that it was 9:01. 

    9:03 a woman with her letter joined us.  "Isn't it after nine?"

    "Is anyone in there?!" he asked. 

    I looked through the window, "There's a light on in the back."  I knocked politely on the door.  (In the past, the regular postal worker has said that sometimes she gets so busy that she forgets to open the door.)  Nothing happened.

    9:05- The man approached the door and banged on it.  Woman and I raised our eyebrows.  Yelling something about google reviews he stormed off.  Woman and I looked at each other, more eyebrows.

    "The post office has a lot going on right now," I said to the woman.  "We don't have a regular mail carrier right now.  We seem to only get deliveries every other day now, after 7:00pm.  They're just doing the best they can."  She agreed, pointing to the "Help Wanted" sign on the door.

    9:08- A postal worker (not the usual one), scurrying, keys in hand, opened the door and held it open for us.

    We told her to take her time.  

    I have poked away at these stars off and on for two days.  Looking for something in them?  Answers?  Hope?  A path An escape?

    Liz saw a pendulum.  That feint pink line--- all of it hanging by a sketchy thread.  Will it swing back?  Crashing everything in its wake?  Or is it secure?  Swirling in the sky, sharing its light?

    I think I need to make some boats.

blurry

    Yesterday's and today's...

    While drawing today's, thinking of the children, the teachers, the families, my years of teaching, the lockdowns we practiced and experienced, remembering this day for Blue, and wondering what the story was for a broken boy who was able to get guns, but not help...

    While drawing, eyes closed, there was a skittering noise at the window above.  I opened my eyes to see a hummingbird trying to land on the window frame, one of the thin crossbars of wood around one of the small panes.  It was only a moment of seeing each other.  "Thank you," I said, as it zipped away.

    And then a walk in the arboretum near home.  Walking and walking, listening to the crows and ravens and a hummingbird.  These are quick blurry photos.  It's how it was.

    The blackberries are blooming.

Songs for Our Circle

"A Pocket for the Burnt and Broken Heart” by Mo 2014

    Reading the posts that hold Rod and Mo in our hearts reminds me again of the strength and beauty of this circle.

    Mo's pocket hangs next to my worktable.   Inside of it are things and thoughts for love and healing.  In a long ago post about it, I wrote, "This beautiful "Pocket for the Burnt and Broken Heart" by Mo arrived a bit ago.  It came holding Mo's amazing spirit and stitching, along with a heart stitched by Jude, and many treasures and inspirations.  I love thinking of all of the journeys contained in it's parts, and how it represents a little corner of the community Jude has created.  I am so grateful to Mo for sharing her heart . . . both kinds."

    Thinking of this community, I thought of the song "A Circle is Cast" by Libana (listen here), and this one...  and remembered being at one of their concerts in the early 90's.  It was an intimate space in shadowy light, with these gorgeous voiced women circling us in song.  It was beautiful and holy.

    For Mo and Rod, holding them, and each of us, in the circle of light that this community is.

Stitching Stolen Lives

    Stitching Stolen Lives: The Social Justice Sewing Academy Remembrance Project by Sara Trail and Teresa Duryea Wong.
    This arrived last week!  A  beautiful powerful book sharing the stories of lives lost due to social injustice, quilt blocks and quilts created to honor them, and the empowering community work of The Social Justice Sewing Academy.

    This is Sara Trail, one of the authors, founder of The Social Justice Sewing Academy, quilter, a powerhouse for Good and Justice in this world, and only 26 years old!  This young woman has already done more than I can even dream of accomplishing in my lifetime.

    I'm very honored to have the blocks that I stitched in honor of Michael Brown and Cameron Lamb included.  (You can read more about the making of these blocks by clicking on the "Social Justice Sewing Academy" category at the bottom of this post.)

    You can order your own copy here (100% of royalties are being donated to the Social Justice Sewing Academy).  Please visit the SJSA website to learn more about their important empowering community work. 

Weaving self

    There was a day in the drear of August, at a loss of what to do with myself (or in spite of), that I went looking for old projects.  Looking for something that could be continued without much thought or effort.  Many half-starts were found, including three made of six, nine or twelve inch square pieces.  Another with random pieces patchworked together, a few with appliqued creatures, and strips of hills from this pattern, begun more than a decade ago.  Just looking at the stack of starts and stops made me weary.  Was there a way to mishmash them into one?  Just to get a useful blanket if nothing else?  Without math or planning?

    The rotary cutter was grabbed.  Much of it was cut into three inch strips.  A strip quilt was in mind.  In the aftermath, looking at the pile of long and short lengths, I knew that I didn't want to spend hours sewing long lines on long strips, so I put them in a box, put the lid on, and shelved it all.

    A week later, I woke up and thought of weaving- a possibility.  I was remembering Jude's workshop years ago, and that day she mentioned weaving on Instagram- a sign.  I spent the day re-reading and re-watching her Cloth to Cloth workshop- a path.  

    And begin, again...

    It seemed to fall together so easily. 

    The weaving will continue in and lengthen out of the white cloth.

    I can't tell you how good it felt.  Forget to eat-stretch-call people back-or start dinner good.

    I remembered the joy of those early days in this community, Jude's generous sharing, the excitement of learning a new way to be with cloth, getting to know many of you, the photo of Grace up on the ladder stitching into her huge cloth weaving for her daughter, finding my own way with cloth while holding hands in this circle... it was filling.

    It's so good to feel the glow of autumn again.

 

When we speak of moons

    Friday morning, a cloth of gifts that felt full from the start.  (Thank you Jude, Deb, Deb and Tina.) That hill, from the get go, felt moon-ish to me- color, shape, and connecting with the pink moon above.  I've compared hills to cakes.  So cakes can be moons, too.  Maybe everything can be a moon?  And a cake?  Maybe everything is everything?

    This was my daily painting first thing that morning.   I hadn't connected them until just now. 

    And then, in the afternoon, a dear friend on a road trip, sent this from Utah...

    Everything is connected.  I'm pretty sure of that.

    I had thought that this was done, but after looking at this photo... no.  More balance was needed in the lines around the hill- a wider arch, and a wanting to carry the lightness of the hill color beyond.  Also, that top "circle" filled with golden stars and dots... not right.  (It's so hard and tedious to pick out those dots, especially when they're double stitched, tweezers help.)

    Yes.

    And YES.

    I seem to be disappearing or is it fading?  From here and other places, too.  Jude says that she can't comment here.  Wondering if there are others?  And what to do?

    Keep looking for moons, I guess...

Full & Unfulfilled

Cameron Darnell Lamb

"Father, son, brother, cousin & beloved friend

Sunrise June 14, 1993 - Sunset December 3, 2019"

 

    Father of three young boys, who was a mechanic, loved working with his hands, offered helping hands in his community, was fun, loving... and was loved.

    There are hands (representing his) holding hearts with his boys' names, symbols for his love of Chevys and the Kansas City Chiefs, twenty-six solid stars (for each year of his life),

 

 

...and fifty-three unfilled and unfulfilled stars for the years that Cameron will not have (The average life span is 79).

 

 

    I kept Cameron, his children, mother, and loved ones in my heart while stitching.  Especially his mother's heartbreak of having her son become a memory.  I hope it holds the love he gave and that they held for him.

    Please visit the Social Justice Sewing Academy Remembrance Project here to learn more about this powerful project and organization, and how you might contribute.  

    (Click on the "Cameron Lamb" or "Social Justice Sewing Academy" categories below to read more about this project.)

Making days

    There was a tiny bit of practicing of Jude's wrapped bar stitch on the rooftop with Deb's thread (matching her sky cloth above), while remembering the tedious work of trying to do the short and long satin stitch that Grandma used to fill spaces.  Jude's method was much more manageable and doable.

    Another ferry boat day with a friend, from downtown Seattle across the bay and through an inlet to Bremerton.  I always enjoy the waterbirds... especially the cormorants, with their long elegant necks.

    (Aside- A customer from Australia wrote because a piece mailed at the end of November had not arrived yet.  After some investigation it appears it made it to the post office, but there was a mix-up in the address (we're not sure how), and it's on its way back to me...  Hopefully, it will make it here and have the energy to make another trip!  Can I just say how kind and upbeat her emails were, and what a difference it made in my worry levels.)

    On the other side of the bay, we sat by the water eating our sack lunches- talking about our boys, books, recipes, moderation vs abstinence, etc...  A clear day with seals barking and a quick glimpse of one (it's under the water here, if you would care to imagine it).

    A view from the walkway that leads off of the ferry to downtown.  This alley must be so pretty at night.  

"Third Quarter" by Liz Tran

    Before parting ways, we went into a gallery where Liz Tran is having an exhibit.  A local artist who's work I find joyful- full of color and textures.

    (Aside:  I first saw her work last summer.  She and other artists installed beautifully painted paper lanterns in a local park.  A place where folks play basketball on the court, garden in the pea-patch, and some call home.  It felt like a happy gift to the community.) 

    And then I came home and stitched a tree.

    I think her name is Hilda.

    These have been good days.