ok. Keeping Clarissa Pinkola Estes' Letter to a Young Activist During Troubled Times close at hand, reading and re~reading, sitting on the raft, looking and thinking, i thought about what is needed now. for me and for the sense of myself(ves) in this world.
after so long, i will repair the little stool: replacing the broken and weaving a new seat. it's perfect for the raft.
i bought a new pry bar. i have needed one for years since the other one was loaned and never returned. they had 2 at the hardware. this one was more expensive, but it is black and looks very serious as a tool. you can see Deb Lacativa's cloth.....
a better pic. the minute i opened the envelope and took them out, it was like watching a slideshow of cloths they could become. I LOVE HER CLOTH. and no, it is not natural dye process, but it is, to me so totally ORGANIC....it is what things FEEL like.
and inbetween every thing, i stitched. it's working. it is how i need it to be. i am now even farther along...halfway through the lightning. the weight of the stitching is as if there were another layer of cloth. perfect. no added image but rather weight and substance. just like it is outside here.
lilacs are beginning to bloom
and while sitting, looking, the mystery of what happened to the Side Oat Grama seed i scattered was solved. look on the cross bar of the gate: eaten. i normally don't have quail in this acre. the dogs keep them away. but for Side Oat Grama, they took the risk.
so..., yes. risks. taken, consequences honored. but at a point, the immediate Moment takes precedence. you might notice that i have left the hypenated name along the wayside. i am back to the way i was when i first came here.
ok. for sure, one self woven in.
