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starfish walking.  screen shot.    i visualized this….me as h/ir  fullbody sense of the Sea…just a little away,  walking,  to get there

 


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i remembered.    the shelves in New Mex.   and the many baskets.  How i'd done it there.   Forgot.  Remembered.   

went through each bag,  rolling and tying,  sometimes with string sometimes with randomly appearing strips of cloth.   it's all different.   

Jenny came.  late day,  early evening,  and Alyssia arrived to bring ice.  just the 3 of us…unusual and the conversation is how it is when it"s that way…..fluid,  open,  changing,  bright, dark, fast, long pause,  sharp, soft, information share share share,  question and wondering.  She came to measure something of the "slant" here.   to begin finding a way to build a home.  

this brought me late to Give Water.  i finished in the dark.

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9 responses to “being”

  1. Marti Avatar
    Marti

    The starfish is dancing…beautifully amazing!

    Your rolls of cloth, equally so. The rolls, the bags of cloth, soft, touchable, rumply, next to each other, a togetherness of color and design and I remember seeing your cloth shelves in New Mexico and marveling at the abundance.
    No matter if our cloth stashes are large or small, there is such joy in their presence. My cloth stash is small, all the cloth fits into 2 containers; a 13 x 9 ” oval reed basket for my dyed cloths and a cardboard box, the size of an Amazon book box holds the recycled white cloth that waits for a mordant and for dye. Inside my basket, the dyed cloths are arranged by color and markings. Some are folded for they contain the smaller scraps. The un-dyed cloths are also arranged in a fashion. At the bottom is a large cloth bundle of cloths that are waiting for a mordant and on top, the cloths that have been alum treated.
    One thing that is such a big step for me in my working with cloth is that I iron everything, the cloths that have been treated with alum and waiting to be dyed dye as well as the dyed pieces, even before they become a landscape cloth. I love the scent that is released when a hot iron touches a naturally dyed cloth; the scent of the land, dirt, leaves, that overall “herby” green scent…
    In the past two years, the comfort that I get from periodically dumping my reed basket, watching the cloth pieces flow all over the place and then picking them up, remembering how they became colored and marked, sorting and refolding and replacing them in the basket, is a loving ritual for me.

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  2. deb Avatar
    deb

    Long ago Jim fitted the closet in this room with sturdy shelves. I have been winnowing, consolidating, gifting, selling in an effort to fit so much into the space. And still there is cloth. Two large tubs called Waiting. For what depends on my whim. One large hamper that is for sale – a paved square yard at a time now. Two big baskets called MINE – I know what you feel about yours. Cloth shifts from place to place. If EVER you have to run and cannot bring your cloth, be absolutely certain that once you are situated and safe, cloth from all over the world will rain down on you! Second only to hugs. xox deb

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  3. Deb G Avatar
    Deb G

    My cloth storage needs a lot of work. I have a mountain.

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  4. grace Forrest Avatar
    grace Forrest

    ritual. it IS that. and Love, it IS that.
    how lucky we are to have come to know this. it so easily might NOT have happened…?

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  5. grace Forrest Avatar
    grace Forrest

    what a beauty Full thing to say, Deb…but i want
    THESE scraps. the ones i know by heart…so familiar, the ones i’ll never use but are just Here…them, the ones that want to be used and i am slow for them…they wait…
    it’s a whole WORLD, this cloth thing

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  6. grace Forrest Avatar
    grace Forrest

    here…hills. small hills. but hills.

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  7. Liz A Avatar
    Liz A

    this … knowing scraps and being content to just touch them … how they connect me/us to so many in this community

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  8. Nancy Avatar
    Nancy

    Friends.

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  9. Deb Avatar
    Deb

    You should know that almost every time I share a scrap, it’s other half or quarter gets tucked back into one of the MINE baskets. Sister scraps all over the place.

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