Monthly Archives: June 2016

Things moving and growing

Even though it was cold again today, Finn and I had a good walk. We have taught him to “spin” and continue to challenge him with nose work outside, which he absolutely loves.

The comfrey is stately, vigorous. Soon it will flop down.

Later, I am planning to make a flourless chocolate cake for a friend’s birthday. Writing and conferring about writing went well today.

The heavens are about stitched down. I will need to get some more black thread.

In other words, life continues apace and while “bouncing back” would be an overstatement for the day, it’s not far off.

I’m not really kidding

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Back in the years when I sat in a transpersonal meditation circle on a regular basis, Gurdjieff was quoted now and then to address the problem of difficult personality. We were reminded that a disruptive, unlikable person was as “yeast to the bread”.

Walking Finn just now, I wondered with a kind of Irish gallows humor, “What happens to the dough when there is more yeast than flour?”

And more to the point of today, tomorrow, and next week, “Is there anything I can let go of here, in an act of sanity-preserving desperation?” At some point, it is sheer masochism to continue with these patterns.

A sensei I once practiced Aikido with gave his students this idea: “Form your purest intention as you step onto the mat, but don’t for a second think you can practice without your personal history. Everybody brings their shit onto the mat.”

With that in mind, it seems I might work at owning my shit and letting the rest go (right Michelle?) Phew! I hope it isn’t too much to ask that said work produce some relief? Not just more slogging through? I’m going to read Gurdjieff today after writing class. That is my consecration.

Oh, and one more piece of dark humor: dealing with difficult stubborn people (with a pronounced bent on making me wrong) does in fact have a silver lining. It makes my stubborn nasty side look pretty benign.

That image is a picture of a partial picture of a quilt, collaged with paper ephemera to make a card.

Midnight collage

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Last week on a night when I couldn’t sleep, I padded down to the cool refuge of my basement studio and assembled two rows of collage. I can’t say that making the collages meaningfully improved my mood, which seems to be tanking with abysmal frequency these days, but the intense focus did provide momentary relief. Minutes slid into hours. Collage has always had that kind of power for me.

The images can be read left to right, like a story. They overlapped as I laid them out, but obviously to photograph, I had to make selections about where to end one image and begin the next. When the collages get converted to SoulCollage cards, the edges will become permanent. A color xerox machine will be involved.

Feel free to offer your sense of what the story is about. I’d be curious.
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Some of the collages have changed since these pictures — tidied up or supplemented.

This is not a story, but here are some fairly random notes prompted by the pictures:

What do I chose to reveal and how and to whom? Where are my sources of strength? What haunts me and what haunts the ones I love? Where is succor? Love matters. Where do I run when things turn backwards? Will she jump? Is that your mask or mine? Can the old terrors keep getting at me? What will I trade for peace? She reclines in front of a young man in possession of himself. They are so far away! What does their future hold? Will they ever connect? Why is my bowl so frequently empty? Who is he? Who is she? Will the angel really bring pink roses in the final hour? What about now?

 

Just Tuesday

An early run to Salem meant traffic around the Turnpike exit. The usual. It baffles me every time how the left hand passing lane slows down while the middle and far right lanes do not, even though the stream of cars merging onto the highway are coming from the right. Does anybody understand that?

After a good effort with clutter, my sister and I ate subs from the corner shop. This shadow of a notice in reverse on the bench where I sit to wait for the order caught my eye. Had I sat on it before? Right after I got back to Nor’s, a front moved in, pounding the sidewalk with rain and regaling us with thunder. I can’t tell you how grateful I was that only the heavens let loose this morning, leaving human drama for another day. There’s been a little too much human drama of late. Seriously too much.The rain stopped by the time I headed out.

Do you see Finn’s nose?

The rain we got over the weekend helped the garden start its June show. I wish I had a pile of mulch on the driveway more than I wish I had a decent haircut. Enough said. 
I am enjoying the freedom to stitch whatever I want. Perhaps a male warrior standing on a distant planet is an odd choice. He caught my eye years ago and was incorporated into one of the two Sketchbook Projects that I participated in (you can see the entire Sketchbook here). For some reason I keep going back to these images — maybe because they addressed transitions in the boys’ lives and the boys’ lives are in transition again.

This Sketchbook page came with the question: “What borders will you defend?” The figure came from an ad promoting the video game “Lost Planet”.

I’ve been alternating between pinning scraps to the board and then pinning the scraps to a base cloth for sewing. Having used this method before and been frustrated when it came time to trim away the base, I’m happy I remembered to leave the edges unstitched.



I love the sky and the snow and even the figure, but wish the figure was “mine”.  Such is the life of a magazine collagist.

Jude Hill – a little look back

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This is a small gallery revealing Jude Hill‘s influence and inspiration. I am feeling nostalgic. It’s been different without her private classes. And I’ve been ‘away’ from her and others’ blogs — more consumed with writing and the ten month project for Charleston. I miss being on a learning curve that was as exciting as it was steep.

Life is all about change. And it’s hard, too. We are all constantly adapting to various burdens, impositions or difficulties — aging not the least of them. One of the things I have admired about Jude the most is her capacity for invention — not just of her cloth creations (the way she can take an idea in fifteen directions, each of them further than I could possibly have imagined), but also of how she has conducted herself online — generously, with poetry and beauty, and with unbelievable technological skill.

The reinvention of late seems to be toward greater privacy, which of course I respect, but the thought of her going away makes me panic a little.

There is so much more I want to say about this, but I haven’t done my morning pages yet and the dog will need walking soon, so it’ll have to wait.