Archive for » September, 2010 «

the nighttime visitor

barredowl.jpg

it is late. dark. i am driving his truck, a vehicle that wraps itself up around me, making me feel small, making it hard for me to see where i am going. i start up the hill, and there is something right in front of me on the driveway. not a limb blown down during today’s rain, but an owl.

the owl is not threatened by the truck, has no pressing obligations.

the owl slowly turns to face me and remains standing there for several minutes, long enough to make sure i see it clearly. then it makes another quarter turn, stretches out its wings and flies its massive body into the woods to my right.

i am immediately calmed, confident, sure that seeing this substantial, gorgeous animal at this particular time, in the midst of several distressing situations, is no accident.

i hear the familiar voices. voices that are ever-ready to assure me that seeing this owl is not by design, but merely a random act of nature. “you read way too much into everything,” they tell me again.

then i ask Her: “what say you?” and without a moment’s hesitation She answers “you know why the owl was there.”

that’s all she says. she doesn’t scoff or scold. she answers swiftly and succinctly, her voice clear and confident. i’ve called on her several times over the past few weeks, and she never hesitates, never needs to think about how to answer. it’s as though she’s been there all along, ready. waiting.

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finding the true grain

rippedcloth.JPG

there is something so wonderfully satisfying about ripping fabric.

did you know that’s what you do to find the true grain of cloth?

stitches, strips & softly frayed edges

 

in and out,

up and down,

over and over.

she wove her strands of life together,

patching hole after hole.

eventually she saw it was more than the threads that gave her strength,

it was in the very act of weaving itself

that she became strong.

~ terri st. cloud ~

~~~

marbelizedcloth.JPG

tired of multi-tasking and compartmentalizing,

weary of my worth being defined by how busy i am

and how full my calendar is,

knowing that i learn best when my body,

my entire self is involved,

i sign up for jude hill’s cloth to cloth class,

determined to weave the life i want.

 

i start with a colorful, hand-painted marbelized fabric.

a fabric that while beautiful, is busy and indecipherable.

i weave in calm, muted, solid colors

providing spaces to exhale and explore,

places with room to just nap and ponder and be.

 

it’s mounted on a sturdy, textured base.

the frayed, unfinished edges remain unhidden from public consumption now.

the stitches that hold it all together

are not straight or even,

or dainty or fine.

 

weaving1.JPG

 

my altar girls are carryin’ on again