i just said that yesterday. and a few days ago, i said:
i can create context or i can wait and let context make itself known.
so…here we have it. Lightning. the eggs of the foolish or desperately courageous. two cloths joined to receive that exquisite moment that i need to never forget. not for a second. ok.
that’s it. you never will.
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no. i never will.
cloth work, oh clothwork. so surreal
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo and on
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I love this, grace.
And I love your writing of that exquisite moment in your previous post.
You transported me from gently-dull-grey-today Norwich UK to wild electric yonder…
in a flash!
Thank you.
xxx
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perfect. also loved reading the description of the rain event in your previous post.
that center white square behind the lightning bolt on the cloth is just perfect. that moment of the blinding flash of light.
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This will hold much meaning for you. I agree with Susan about the white block – just right and the eggs down there in the deep darkness – love it.
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Wonderful memory cloth of a special time. I love the bolt of lightening.
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it is a passing thing. you have dull grey, we have
pretty much blue above and pale sand below. these moments
are holy.
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yes…thank you for saying that…when i did that 9 patch
i wondered what on earth i would ever do with it…
well……..
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oh those eggs. i have to figure out a way to write
about those Spadefoot toads. they are big and their
tadpoles big, copper colored. to feel a handfull of them
makes me crazy
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again, that lightning is Deb Lacativa.
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It’s fabulous. Could that moment duplicate itself for someone else? Say, in Denver? Please?
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how beautifully poetic. ox
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Oh Grace, the blue sky in the Southwest is sooo beautiful. Living there I would suffer from chronical neck pain – I wouldn’t stop looking at that beautiful blue sky.
eva
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Stunning, all of it, the words, the pictures, the cloth, sharing the reverence for a thunder storm. My grandmother taught us that lightening makes the corn grow- not just the rain, the lightening itself. I didn’t know that anybody else knew this, thought it was just some old idea that got left behind. Until now! Thank you Grace.
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well… heres what i think… you say you have no plan but …you are able to tune in to your heart and then when pieces come together you know if it is right or not by tuning in to your heart. so really a plan emerges… from your heart. and you have a big heart. i love you grace!
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do you have electrical storms there? i would think so…
go outside, barefoot.
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margaret…just telling it the beautiful and the
poetry just shows itself
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i don’t think so. i think it’s Science. sometimes i
wish id kept all those articles
but…it’s enough to feel it, really.
old and still are true. i always think about
the personification of the kachina’s here, the native
peoples figures
the dances to honor them
they seem so romantic, but i think are also practical
responses to true science
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i love you too, nance. sometimes the plan comes from
this heart but with this and recent things…they do
not at all feel like “mine”, but given because of all
this patient watching i am learning to do
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edna st. vincent millay wrote an extraordinary poem that begins–
“oh world i cannot hold thee close enough–”
i think of it now
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oh, i could do with a good crack of lightening…you have captured some of the power of nature here. i once experienced a perfect crack/bolt and the few moments of silence and stillness afterwards- i’ll never forget. it was 25 years ago.
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windthread 
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