windthread

woke early today,  well…it's that i Got UP when i woke.   I've been trying to fall back asleep for a while and Not get up… since Tay…let the day begin at 5:oo instead of 4.  but today i got up and went to Picasa to look again at the window.   I thought,  it's really amazing in a way that i actually LIVE here.   It's so piecemeal,  so really, fragile in a way.  How it all stays together is quite a Miracle.    And i thought about how i have always thought about this place,  the Home,  since the beginning,  is that if it doesn't fall apart or fall off,  good then.   If it  Does fall apart/or off,  then i'll just have to    ….   Mend it.   Mending.   Such a constant undercurrent to everything.

I felt things had lightened from the ennui of yesterday and because of nothing in particular,  just some sort of unexplainable shift,  unexplainable as the ennui was in it's occurance.

this is the computer shelf,  just a small shift in glance from this screen here that i look at when i am writing this.   Sat and stared at the things there a while.

 

one being Saskia's painting of The Air Tree.

 

 

 

and just a small shift to the right of this,  Patricia's  First Iris.   and i see in the moment, it's fuzzy.  I'll try to replace this pic when i finish here.   and i want to add a pic i thought i didn't need.  But i think now i do.     So i began the day with thoughts of looking at these and how they are so  much a part of Everyday,  but sometimes,  they become much more.  Because of Need.

replaced,  but being with the Flash,  still, not what it IS

 

The day then went on.   I worked away at the Goatheads in the Way back with the regular shovel and it was frustrating.   When suddenly i remembered the old flat shovel without a handle,  that i had given   to Marti's husband who burned out the stump of handle and brought it back to me.   i tried out various handles,  and found one thin enough, 

 

found a couple drill bits,  some possibilities  none of which would work.

 

rummaged through the Swan Jar that has one of Everything,  but nope.

 

i jammed in the handle and because i am only skooting it along the surface to slice off the Goatheads from hard earth,  it worked.   I had bought a new one of this kind of shovel and it is no where near as wonder FULL as this old one with a sharp edge.   Next to it is the SO excellent leaf rake Supreme.   I don't know how old it is.  I found it in the dump in Oregon  20 some years ago.  Tools.  What works.  What works to accomplish the need at hand  with skill and ease.    

And i thought about tools.   There all kinds of things that are tools.

these…tools for the Heart.  Tools for Spirit.   The pic of my daughter that Maureen the Lurker took 30 some years ago….the pic from National Geographic of a young girl, escaped from Darfur.  Under her,  the Eyes of a child that uses one of my Cloths in Wendy Golden Levit's studio and next to  that a pic of me and Jenny and Jonathan on vacation at Lake Superior,  on a rock,  when Jonathan was suddenly disappeared under the water and then hauled up and we were SAFE and so Relieved that we were Safe and knowing it,  all three of us,  but wanting to NOT know how fragile Safe is.  It' s in a pic frame that daughter's friend's mother Cindy sold me at a garage sale.  This Cindy died of a sudden massive heart attack in her 40's.  Leaving her daughters orphans.

 

and this old postcard of some Old Woman in France that i have had in front of my face for i guess 40 some years.    These are Tools.   Tools for Spirit,  for Heart.   And the Old Woman, today is the one i needed.  

 

 

 

 

and all the while,  i carried with me,  in my mind an image i drew this morning for maybe the next cloth.   Right now it's about  The Breather.   Some Larger Entity that sees need and comes to assist.  That's all i know right now.   So i tea dyed some gauze for Her Breath.  It's ready.

 

this is the Mother Basil of that young one from yesterday.   Many  Many  seeds.