this morning….at day break….
this was in that copper hanging basket under all the scraps in the bottom tier. I didn't know that.
not even forgotten, just didn't know it was there, and really, didn't know it still existed, and really, had forgotten making it, and only remembered when it appeared up from the scraps.
around 20 something years ago. When i first came here. I would plant the seeds. Grow the gourds, wait for them to dry. Soak the skin off them, rub them clean, dry them again and cut them. Remove the seeds for next time. Paint them with oils and ink. The bottoms were bowls, the inverted tops…like this one, hanging vases. And other ways.
Looking at this….FELT SENSE. about that Angstfull Urge. About making the thing that can't exist.
three of these scraps, Deb Lacativa's hand. I come back to stand and look for what i am wanting to see.
this year's fallen Oriole nest
the collaboration. Tay's work….chewing off the broken sides of a large basket and leaving the bottom intact as a shield. My small scrap weaving. Mo's pouch. Together they tell such stories.
inside Mo's pouch is a folded paper tied with a Red Thread. I've never opened it yet.
Making the Thing that can't exist.
Because it's not ….a…..thing. It is ManyThings, it is the Experience of the ManyThings, together and separately and together again, in the taking of how much ever time that takes, how many days or years. Noticing how it all is a changing fluid thing, and this is something of that thing of Diorama.
Diorama….maybe the Thing that can't exist is the Diorama that is my life, and maybe it's something to do with having always been in a uhhh, a place of Waiting. Always Waiting until something has happened, waiting for the space to open up, open out….but i was Waiting.
Looking back, i have always been waiting. Maybe that's just part of life. Maybe it IS life. Wait till you are no longer a child, till you grow up, till you have children, till those children grow up, till you find a place to live and then other places to live, to make a living so you Can live, and the details of that, to wait till a mistake is resolved by waiting for that person i was married to to finish his life, waiting for the old cowboy to finish his, waiting for the kids to find land, waiting for that land to begin to create It's story, waiting.
and maybe now, i have lived long enough to be able to arrive at a place of no waiting? A place of IS.
i can finally be where i am. which of course, i always could have, but i was waiting. And maybe waiting is necessary. Maybe, as Alyssia sometimes says…."it's all just developmentally correct, Gramz".
Alyssia wants Solar. She is afraid of it too. Hooking into the grid, there's always More. But she really wants her children to grow up with the understanding of Some. of Some that's shared. of Enough, but the Enough being dependent on being mindful of the needs of others. She wants them to understand Enough and Sharing. Emrie will be born into solar.
I might come back later. It's just after noon now, but i wanted to get all the pics here while i can. This internet gets slow and sometimes impossible later in the day. I need this here, so i can not lose it, can re think it and see if it's true.
LATER…6:30 p.m. Storms rolling through, one on the heels of the other. I leave this machine off. So maybe i can't keep going with this, but i love it and am energized by it. So if not this eve, then tomorrow.
LATER ii. i went out, with Tay, her on her long leash, into the last round of Storm so far, Great Wind and Thunder, some rain. She is afraid of storms. We walked…she pulled and was excited, we stopped at Margie's across the road where the two little pit bull boys spend the weekend, and they were all beside themselves to be nose to nose. Because of the Lightning, we didn't go far, but on the way back, i let go of the leash to give her practice at staying close. She did. We need this for the trip.
LATER iii
the Storm knocked her. I gave her a stick and some strong Cloth
windthread 
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