windthread

it began

this way.    it hadn't rained.   This is simply the moisture in the  "air".   It was magic.

 

and then    slowly became Day.    Day  Night,   Day  Night.   over and over.  it's all we know and

all we count on.   Tonight,  as Alyssia, Jenny and Emrie left there were all those small bats  flitting and darting and hovering overhead.     i could not possibly want more.

breathing Green. slowly.

 

 

and to give self permission to

Stay

somewhere.    As in this moment with Crow and China Dog.   To not feel the demand to go forward,  to present

something else

but to just stay.   

i know i am always saying this...about the On Being Pod Casts,  but this one,  oh...so much for real.....The Future of Hope 3  with Pico Iyer and Elizabeth Gilbert.   I was amazed by her.   She's always been good,  but what and who she has become recently is so way beyond that.     Who'd've guessed.   I almost didn't listen but then i did and i am so grateful.   She said a lot.  But she said this.

"I feel very strongly that there's an intelligence in the universe that wants to communicate with us and I think that it tries to find us in however we are most.....that we can most find it."

i loved.   That she said this with just these words....communicate with us.   Communicate.   Not just awareness of It,  but

communicate

so Beauty Full to me,  so much what i have been feeling is trying to happen.   And she gave it words.   She is plain spoken.

 

plan b

a Big plan A for the day and then the battery of the vehicle was dead.    Crow and i watched the Rain.   China Dog watched Crow.

try

i wanted the pic to be CLEAR.   tried over and over.   this is best it got and still....not quite.  Why?    and i think....maybe because it is in motion,   the essential being.    I envisioned These today,   moving out There amidst tree branches,  one hovered overhead.   

if interested,  go back to Liz's comment yesterday   it set free all  manner of things.

floating

 

it was a uhhhhh,  different

kind of day.   Soft.  Misty.   a soft Sun breaking through and staying,  but softly staying.   i felt like i should work at B Garden,  at least some,  but i never went,  instead i looked at things,  thought about things,  thought about my family that now,  after  T's Memorial  at the edge of the Ocean begins to feel their ways toward the Next.   How her absence is so active and taking everything that everyone has    to learn how to live with it.   Jeff,  his all encompassing lostness,   Jenny,  his mother and his children's grandmother,   giving huge chunks of her life to help.   Alyssia,  his sister,  the children's Aunt,  who has opened her home,  her own life.  Julian 12 who makes his way through all of it and all of them.   and me,  loving them.  Watching them grope to find their ways.

so,  that.  But also more.   I stitched down Crow.   Now secure and sure amidst all the rest.   the beak needing something but i was unable to see exactly what...so wait.   the importance of a crow's beak.   

when i'd pinned those Cloths,  there was one more,  the one that they were rolled in and today i knew why.   It had these.   Stitched renditions of the mark,  the symbol that appeared on all the fiber figures i made,  on all those hand torn story papers that accompanied them,  the guardian angels,  wish angels,    that stood for what i referred to in all my making then of....Essential Beings.   That's what i called us.   

so i sat with these two.   What does this image Mean?    Essential.....Essence.  the Essence of  being.    the truest,  most indispensable quality .   Seen only by sensing.    The SomeThing that  surrounds everything,  animates Everything in a certain way   Holds EveryThing....a Thing its self,  but not known but only as it animates Other??????

so....an Energy?   yes.  I think so.   I look at them,  how Deb's Thread brings them to life.   and i look at the ground cloth of the Reference Cloth  how it is stark white.    Why?   Often i wish i'd chose differently,  but at the time i had no idea what was going to happen.  But now....though it is hard,   it's right too.   

and as i sat at the end of the day,   wandering through all of this....a scent wafted up from .....me.  my body.  in the same shirt and sweatshirt and oversweatshirt that i have lived in for days....maybe that's off putting,  but it's how i am.  Sometimes i wear the same thing for days.   No reason not to.   alone on a Hill.   Where everythingwearsitselfeveryday......  and it was just incredibly wonderful,  was the scent of  Horses!  ....i smell like a horse!   and i went back,   to when i lived in Madrid New Mexico in a tiny cabin that was part of my pay for working at Tapestry Gallery where i sold my work and worked for Barbara packing and shipping.   How also,  part of my work  too,   was to ride with her.   She had horses.   Needed someone to ride with her.   We saddled them and took off  down the Galisteo .  They were arabian.   Spirited.   Just ride she said.   I did and was the gate person,  the one to get down and open  and close gates as we road through.  At that time,  i'd not ridden since i had my own horse at 19.   Often  i was afraid.   but i rode.  and as she said at the end of our time together, being a woman of few words,   .....you never fell off.   And today,  that scent,  how could it be ME?,  but it was,  that scent of heat from soft horse lips, flared  nostrils,  breathing,  its softness,  it's softness,  the heat,  the muscle of BODY of a horse...the Essence of horseness,  was    me.   What to think?

 

 

 

these

together.   What do they have in common?   or   How do i  feel them to be related?    These,  helping to inform the

Reference Cloth.

Last night,   in the darkest of last night i was wakened by sound.   Loud.  Close.   Never heard before.    it went

Ah .......He...Ah....the second Ah not as low as the first...   i can't think of a better way to tell it.   then

Squweeeeek   Squweeek  .   shrill,  metallic.      This....over and over with maybe 10  12  seconds between.     Sometimes    there would be three Squweeeeeeks,  but mostly two.    Tay does not respond to bird sounds.  She slept.   I sat up.   Listening.  It was so Close...not in the Morning Tree where Talkie sleeps on her twig,  but just next to it....feet away...so so Close and as it kept going,  i got up and got the Fat Max that is a hand held spotlight and burst through the door with him shining him up into where i thought the sound was from and it was silent for only a moment but spoke again and i tried to shine the light on.....it.....but no luck and it was cold,  so i just yelled...GO AWAY.   GO AWAY and Tay ran out and we made a small comotion but when i came back in,  turned off the light,  got back under the covers,    Ah...He...Ah   Squweek    Squweek.      I lie there,  then,  for maybe an hour or  more,  listening to this,  thinking of Talkie  gripping her twig....thinking what i should do....if the Thing attacked Talkie,  should i intervene and try to save her?  or let it take it's natural course?      and NPR has continued for me,  on Weekend Edition  11/14   an interview with Claire Oshetsky about her book....Chouette....wherein a woman gives birth to an owl baby  and i think... I can't give birth,  but maybe.....i would be asked,  or told,  to adopt,  Care ,  for an owl human....

you never know

and then.    hours later from above...my finger strays over to the side bar,  to Sam Baker and MERCY....just the sound,  no video.  And as it plays through,  with the words above about that horrible sound...it all softens.    Softens into just Life.  Me.  That what ever creature speaking,  Talkie,   Us.    Mercy.

 

 

 

 

grateful to be able to be grateful

this is a "sled"  that Jenny found.   She likes things like this.  that are simple,  and work.  Make things possible.   It's just a very thick kind of plastic...or,  whatever something like this is, vinyl maybe?....?   Anyway....this is some of the old straw bedding that i cleared from the Doe Rain Shelter.   Raked into a big pile outside the entrance where it's gotten rained on.  a lot.   Loaded this first batch today and yup,  the sled slid easy and perfect down and around that corner and down to here,  somehow not being bothered by rocks in the way at all,   just slides  right over them.   And.....was easy enough to pull up and through the gate into the B Garden where i unloaded it on the new area for Earth planting in the Spring.   I tried to get a second pic to  "take " here of that but it wouldn't.   I used some of the partially decomposed cardboard from around,  then this.   Will continue every day there's not rain.  There's a Lot more.   Over that will be that last bag of Garden Soil and then that bag of Mulch stuff.   It'll be so Great.    Will use the sled to bring the log branches that  will  be  borders.   Combined with rocks that will hold it all in place.  

ADD:    there are 3 wheelbarrows here.  One of them that i 'd  brought from N Mex.... a prized possession....but wheelbarrows go out of control here in a moment...the Hill....going down,  OR,  such impossible LABOR,  going up

 

 

NPR Weekend Edition  Saturday  11/13    author interview with Azra Aksamija   the book   Everyday Inventions from a Refugee Camp in Jordan

  So much,  but as i worked at this today,  i thought about her telling of the Vertical Gardens there,  in an endlessly bleak and stark landscape where planting Anything in the earth is prohibited.  Repeat...PROHIBITED  And so...the vertical gardens made of whatever can be found rising up against the walls of their one room shed housing  to hold containers,  plastic jugs,   yogurt containers,  to grow  SEEDS they save   that grow Food     Just sit with this a minute.   let it sink in.  

 

 

 

 

letting it Be

 

 

resisting the programmed urge to seek Form   and letting the fragments of cloth simply be,  there is the energetic form of  Crow,  not conforming lines,  but just.....crowness.   and it's right.   

 

i have loved so many things

another day of SUN, so Garden and other OutSide things.   This, on the table.   Coming inbetween times twice to look,  to understand how Crow will be.   Wanting some movement there, wanting to DO something,   but only 3 stitches because i still don't know.     The sense that if i would wait,  take time,   let it come,   It is There,  waiting for my waiting.    

looking,   i think how Crow is the Intermediary between the abstract forms of the MagicReal that Does exist   and the corporeal Real of the human figure,   the temporal,  "temporal,  relating to time,  the spatial and temporal dimensions of human interference in complex ecosystems"...Oxford Languages   .   I keep thinking,  there are 4 experiential planes here.   Parallel Realities.   This is what i am trying to understand.      and Memory rises with those words...parallel realities....how is it i came by that way of thinking? .......and i suddenly remember Esther.  At that time,  in her 60's.   Way back in the Ann Arbor days,    the drawing days,   how we were all somewhere seated at a table to eat together,  celebrating something,   and there was conversation and Esther was two people down from me and leaned out and toward me and asked...."Have you read the Seth Materials?"    No  " Then do it. "     I did.    it's been 40 some years.   give or take.

so i googled.   parallel realities,  Jane Roberts and get

The Nature of Personal Reality.    Jane Roberts.    "concepts of probable realities;  a metaphysical counterpart of the parallel universe theory in Quantum Physics.   It's one of the most important and complex concepts contained in the Seth Materials,  for it explains the actual mechanics involved in the materialization of events into our daily lives.  According to this theory there are other probable versions of the history that exist  in alternate dimensions.   These versions are as real as ours and each individual has probable selves that exist in their   "parallel universes."     Seth Center   

I won't go back to the Seth Materials,  but will Open self to what i had absorbed so subtly  and surely into my sense of  Life Experience.    I am going to be 76 years old soon.    the year before 77.     Maybe i can begin consciously Choosing.   From the SO MANY THINGS i have learned and loved.   Choose and truly enter,  center,   Into  what i choose.   And there is a settled sense that this is what this Cloth is to me.   A Reference Cloth about the nature of personal reality.    Thank You,  Esther.  After all this time.    You have been patient.    Thank You.   the Winter Peepers are SINGING in California  just now,  like the Spring Peepers sang in Michigan then.   a sign.

 

SUN

 

so...B Garden Day.    and it was glorious.   I continued to clear and clean up.  All the tomato cages are now stored in an orderly way.  The one with the praying mantis egg case clearly marked with a strip of Toad Egg Cloth.    cleared the watermelon vines,  raked the pine needles with my fingers and emptied the full contents of a bucket of rain soaked potato soil into the space.   When i emptied the wheel barrow FULL of rain water,   this little SUN.    Among  all the other things that Emrie had played with,  measuring spoons,  an oven timer,  potato masher and various cookie cutters.   the SUN is actually a shower curtain hook that was part of a group of them,  Sun Moon and Stars that Jenny had given me so so long ago for the Christmas that we agreed to only shop at the Dollar Store.   it's stuck in a bamboo stick.   I brought the cookie cutters up.   Time that Emrie can learn.  Weeded the Egyptian Walking Onions.   Under the  Daisy Shrubs where a whole community of those mushrooms has taken over.  They rise up from underneath the partially decomposed cardboard.   

Crow circled overhead,  calling rhythmic patterns  that i would repeat back.  Over and over.    Someday,  It will light.