I am out of words and thoughts.
Just going.
One slow stitch at a time.
Grateful for moments of light.
And for remembering that they are there.
There is a corner downtown, enclosed, when you step inside... waterfalls, trees, flowers, ferns, chairs and small tables to rest among. A lovely world away from everything in the middle of it all. (Here)
A token of love, thoughts and prayers was put into the mail yesterday. I hope it gets there. Because I don't know what else to do.
In remembrance of Michael Brown (1996-2014)
Social Justice Sewing Academy Remembrance Project
Next it will travel to those who will quilt and stitch it and other blocks into "activist art banners for local and national activist organizations who have requested creative statements to be publicly displayed that represent solidarity as well as remembrance. This partnership will create a visual statement to memorialize those who have been unjustly murdered by police, racial vigilantism, or as a result of their gender, sexual orientation and other forms of identity politics. These artivism blocks will honor the lives of individuals through symbolism and portrait. Their names and identities will be displayed during community activism events reminding the world that their lives mattered."
(Please visit the link above to learn more about the project and other empowering work of this wonderful organization. This line in their description strikes my heart... "When you take a step back and look at the sheer size of the exhibit you realize the tragic fact that you will run out of volunteers long before you run out of names.")
That little silver starred blue patch in the middle right is a scrap of mama love. A bit of the cloth that was used in both Blue's and Moon's baby quilts. A gift from K. when I was pregnant with Blue, and finally feeling safe enough to hope he would really come. Now, ages 22 and almost 18, my boys are here, filled with ideas and hopes, with their whole lives ahead of them.
Michael should be a 24 year old young man now, he should be making the music he loved, working at a job that his college education would have led to, hanging out with friends, living and filling his life with ideas and hopes.
This time of stitching this block and thinking on what I've been able to learn about Michael have been a journey. Reading the stories about Michael's killing, the two sides of it- He had problems/he had promise, he jaywalked and shoplifted/he was joking around, he charged the officer/he had his hands up and called "Don't shoot!".... It's easy to get lost in the "He said/He saids" of it all. But they don't matter.
What is true is that he was an unarmed human being who is now dead.
There is so much to muddle through in anti-racist work, inside and out. As a mama, a white woman and a human being, I worried about getting this square Right. Not for me, but in honor of Michael and those who loved him. I know that it isn't possible, there is no "Right" in any of this. I'm learning that it's important to being willing to be uncomfortable, unsure, wrong, and to keep trying, to do better for Michael, for those who loved and lost him, and for so many others... for all of us.
Yesterday morning I awoke to the rain. Everyone was still sleeping. Flinging open the studio window, I stood there listening, smelling and hearing the low rumble on its way. (The photo is a screen shot from the video I took when the thunder and lightning were coming one after another.)
I love a good storm, but all I could think of was that the Sky/God/Universe was grieving, that there is so much sorrow and angst right now that the heart of the heavens is breaking.
It rained all day... and then an alarm went off on all three of our phones...
We turned the news on...
And this is just Seattle.
It's almost midnight. It's still raining.
"Quiet Prayers" was finished this morning, on what was a nice quiet day. And then I asked Moon to help film the turning of it's pages. Not being an octopus, I needed him to hold the camera. And then it turned out I needed him to hold the iphone I use for instagramming (Blue's old phone, that is no longer a phone, but works with wifi), because camera video cannot be sent to iphones. And then it turned out we needed to use Moon's phone, because it has better quality, not great, but better. I got it up on instagram, he knew how to take the sound out (because the screaming neighborhood children drowned out the sweetly chirping birds), but for the life of us, we cannot get it onto this blog post. And there was no way 16 year old Moon was going to do one more thing around any of this today, or that I was going to ask him.
So, if you'd like to see a blurry, badly cropped, dim video of pages flipping...I think, if you click HERE, you can. Good luck.
Working through technical difficulties today. This has been a different kind of a making for me. One that flowed almost instantly and by accident. Cloths that might somehow work together were put into a stack, to pack up for taking to jury duty, and suddenly there was a book-like thing. Pages to flip through. A scrap added, a surprise layer. Unexpected over-lappings. It felt like a meditation/prayer before it was recognized it as such.
The other night, while visiting a friend, I was stitching the pages together and saw that it wasn’t going to work, some of the stitching was too high and being covered by the binding stitches. Took it apart and sat it next to me, looking at it now and then.
The answer was too easy and took too long to realize.
Finally, “I know what to do.”
She wondered about my process. “Just looking at it sitting there, you know?”
"Yep.” Sometimes I get so stuck in what I thought was going to happen.
Same friend, same evening, describing a friend changing plans on her, and how she flowed with the winds of it all…
He had said, “Wow. You’re really ok with things just suddenly changing?”
“What else am I going to do?” she replied.
“Come join us in our crazy clinging panicking places,” I said.
Almost done, with this booklet, and with the trial. Today will be the last day, hopefully.
I wish I knew more about cloth. The patched square is actually the same as the base, just the backside, how the weave creates two different stories is fascinating.
Now to put it all together, and then to think and feel about it all.
Some stitching has made it into the courtroom, held close in my lap. Slow tiny stitches, keeping the movements as small as possible. It helps with listening and concentration, that's for sure.
Blue flew back to college early this morning. Four months until we see him again... I've spent the day quietly stitching, mostly alone, just having some feelings. Lots of them.
Jury duty- so much sitting, not a lot of stitching. A little bit between breakfast and the bus, and then it's grabbed during the two short breaks we're allowed (At lunch I go outside and move). There have been a some questions and a few odd looks from some of the other jurors. Knitting would probably be less strange to them, but knitting needles of any kind are not allowed into the courthouse.
The biggest excitement I have each day is seeing if I can make it through security without setting off the alarm twice a day. I've only made it through peacefully once. It's becoming automatic to raise my arms after passing through. I think it's my underwire. Maybe I could sneak some knitting needles in that way? I'm calling this "prayers" for right now. Many thanks to Jude for sharing her "crumbs".
