windthread

 

it was a uhhhhh,  different

kind of day.   Soft.  Misty.   a soft Sun breaking through and staying,  but softly staying.   i felt like i should work at B Garden,  at least some,  but i never went,  instead i looked at things,  thought about things,  thought about my family that now,  after  T's Memorial  at the edge of the Ocean begins to feel their ways toward the Next.   How her absence is so active and taking everything that everyone has    to learn how to live with it.   Jeff,  his all encompassing lostness,   Jenny,  his mother and his children's grandmother,   giving huge chunks of her life to help.   Alyssia,  his sister,  the children's Aunt,  who has opened her home,  her own life.  Julian 12 who makes his way through all of it and all of them.   and me,  loving them.  Watching them grope to find their ways.

so,  that.  But also more.   I stitched down Crow.   Now secure and sure amidst all the rest.   the beak needing something but i was unable to see exactly what…so wait.   the importance of a crow's beak.   

when i'd pinned those Cloths,  there was one more,  the one that they were rolled in and today i knew why.   It had these.   Stitched renditions of the mark,  the symbol that appeared on all the fiber figures i made,  on all those hand torn story papers that accompanied them,  the guardian angels,  wish angels,    that stood for what i referred to in all my making then of….Essential Beings.   That's what i called us.   

so i sat with these two.   What does this image Mean?    Essential…..Essence.  the Essence of  being.    the truest,  most indispensable quality .   Seen only by sensing.    The SomeThing that  surrounds everything,  animates Everything in a certain way   Holds EveryThing….a Thing its self,  but not known but only as it animates Other??????

so….an Energy?   yes.  I think so.   I look at them,  how Deb's Thread brings them to life.   and i look at the ground cloth of the Reference Cloth  how it is stark white.    Why?   Often i wish i'd chose differently,  but at the time i had no idea what was going to happen.  But now….though it is hard,   it's right too.   

and as i sat at the end of the day,   wandering through all of this….a scent wafted up from …..me.  my body.  in the same shirt and sweatshirt and oversweatshirt that i have lived in for days….maybe that's off putting,  but it's how i am.  Sometimes i wear the same thing for days.   No reason not to.   alone on a Hill.   Where everythingwearsitselfeveryday……  and it was just incredibly wonderful,  was the scent of  Horses!  ….i smell like a horse!   and i went back,   to when i lived in Madrid New Mexico in a tiny cabin that was part of my pay for working at Tapestry Gallery where i sold my work and worked for Barbara packing and shipping.   How also,  part of my work  too,   was to ride with her.   She had horses.   Needed someone to ride with her.   We saddled them and took off  down the Galisteo .  They were arabian.   Spirited.   Just ride she said.   I did and was the gate person,  the one to get down and open  and close gates as we road through.  At that time,  i'd not ridden since i had my own horse at 19.   Often  i was afraid.   but i rode.  and as she said at the end of our time together, being a woman of few words,   …..you never fell off.   And today,  that scent,  how could it be ME?,  but it was,  that scent of heat from soft horse lips, flared  nostrils,  breathing,  its softness,  it's softness,  the heat,  the muscle of BODY of a horse…the Essence of horseness,  was    me.   What to think?

 

 

 

together.   What do they have in common?   or   How do i  feel them to be related?    These,  helping to inform the

Reference Cloth.

Last night,   in the darkest of last night i was wakened by sound.   Loud.  Close.   Never heard before.    it went

Ah …….He…Ah….the second Ah not as low as the first…   i can't think of a better way to tell it.   then

Squweeeeek   Squweeek  .   shrill,  metallic.      This….over and over with maybe 10  12  seconds between.     Sometimes    there would be three Squweeeeeeks,  but mostly two.    Tay does not respond to bird sounds.  She slept.   I sat up.   Listening.  It was so Close…not in the Morning Tree where Talkie sleeps on her twig,  but just next to it….feet away…so so Close and as it kept going,  i got up and got the Fat Max that is a hand held spotlight and burst through the door with him shining him up into where i thought the sound was from and it was silent for only a moment but spoke again and i tried to shine the light on…..it…..but no luck and it was cold,  so i just yelled…GO AWAY.   GO AWAY and Tay ran out and we made a small comotion but when i came back in,  turned off the light,  got back under the covers,    Ah…He…Ah   Squweek    Squweek.      I lie there,  then,  for maybe an hour or  more,  listening to this,  thinking of Talkie  gripping her twig….thinking what i should do….if the Thing attacked Talkie,  should i intervene and try to save her?  or let it take it's natural course?      and NPR has continued for me,  on Weekend Edition  11/14   an interview with Claire Oshetsky about her book….Chouette….wherein a woman gives birth to an owl baby  and i think… I can't give birth,  but maybe…..i would be asked,  or told,  to adopt,  Care ,  for an owl human….

you never know

and then.    hours later from above…my finger strays over to the side bar,  to Sam Baker and MERCY….just the sound,  no video.  And as it plays through,  with the words above about that horrible sound…it all softens.    Softens into just Life.  Me.  That what ever creature speaking,  Talkie,   Us.    Mercy.

 

 

 

 

this is a "sled"  that Jenny found.   She likes things like this.  that are simple,  and work.  Make things possible.   It's just a very thick kind of plastic…or,  whatever something like this is, vinyl maybe?….?   Anyway….this is some of the old straw bedding that i cleared from the Doe Rain Shelter.   Raked into a big pile outside the entrance where it's gotten rained on.  a lot.   Loaded this first batch today and yup,  the sled slid easy and perfect down and around that corner and down to here,  somehow not being bothered by rocks in the way at all,   just slides  right over them.   And…..was easy enough to pull up and through the gate into the B Garden where i unloaded it on the new area for Earth planting in the Spring.   I tried to get a second pic to  "take " here of that but it wouldn't.   I used some of the partially decomposed cardboard from around,  then this.   Will continue every day there's not rain.  There's a Lot more.   Over that will be that last bag of Garden Soil and then that bag of Mulch stuff.   It'll be so Great.    Will use the sled to bring the log branches that  will  be  borders.   Combined with rocks that will hold it all in place.  

ADD:    there are 3 wheelbarrows here.  One of them that i 'd  brought from N Mex…. a prized possession….but wheelbarrows go out of control here in a moment…the Hill….going down,  OR,  such impossible LABOR,  going up

 

 

NPR Weekend Edition  Saturday  11/13    author interview with Azra Aksamija   the book   Everyday Inventions from a Refugee Camp in Jordan

  So much,  but as i worked at this today,  i thought about her telling of the Vertical Gardens there,  in an endlessly bleak and stark landscape where planting Anything in the earth is prohibited.  Repeat…PROHIBITED  And so…the vertical gardens made of whatever can be found rising up against the walls of their one room shed housing  to hold containers,  plastic jugs,   yogurt containers,  to grow  SEEDS they save   that grow Food     Just sit with this a minute.   let it sink in.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

resisting the programmed urge to seek Form   and letting the fragments of cloth simply be,  there is the energetic form of  Crow,  not conforming lines,  but just…..crowness.   and it's right.   

 

another day of SUN, so Garden and other OutSide things.   This, on the table.   Coming inbetween times twice to look,  to understand how Crow will be.   Wanting some movement there, wanting to DO something,   but only 3 stitches because i still don't know.     The sense that if i would wait,  take time,   let it come,   It is There,  waiting for my waiting.    

looking,   i think how Crow is the Intermediary between the abstract forms of the MagicReal that Does exist   and the corporeal Real of the human figure,   the temporal,  "temporal,  relating to time,  the spatial and temporal dimensions of human interference in complex ecosystems"…Oxford Languages   .   I keep thinking,  there are 4 experiential planes here.   Parallel Realities.   This is what i am trying to understand.      and Memory rises with those words…parallel realities….how is it i came by that way of thinking? …….and i suddenly remember Esther.  At that time,  in her 60's.   Way back in the Ann Arbor days,    the drawing days,   how we were all somewhere seated at a table to eat together,  celebrating something,   and there was conversation and Esther was two people down from me and leaned out and toward me and asked…."Have you read the Seth Materials?"    No  " Then do it. "     I did.    it's been 40 some years.   give or take.

so i googled.   parallel realities,  Jane Roberts and get

The Nature of Personal Reality.    Jane Roberts.    "concepts of probable realities;  a metaphysical counterpart of the parallel universe theory in Quantum Physics.   It's one of the most important and complex concepts contained in the Seth Materials,  for it explains the actual mechanics involved in the materialization of events into our daily lives.  According to this theory there are other probable versions of the history that exist  in alternate dimensions.   These versions are as real as ours and each individual has probable selves that exist in their   "parallel universes."     Seth Center   

I won't go back to the Seth Materials,  but will Open self to what i had absorbed so subtly  and surely into my sense of  Life Experience.    I am going to be 76 years old soon.    the year before 77.     Maybe i can begin consciously Choosing.   From the SO MANY THINGS i have learned and loved.   Choose and truly enter,  center,   Into  what i choose.   And there is a settled sense that this is what this Cloth is to me.   A Reference Cloth about the nature of personal reality.    Thank You,  Esther.  After all this time.    You have been patient.    Thank You.   the Winter Peepers are SINGING in California  just now,  like the Spring Peepers sang in Michigan then.   a sign.

 

 

so…B Garden Day.    and it was glorious.   I continued to clear and clean up.  All the tomato cages are now stored in an orderly way.  The one with the praying mantis egg case clearly marked with a strip of Toad Egg Cloth.    cleared the watermelon vines,  raked the pine needles with my fingers and emptied the full contents of a bucket of rain soaked potato soil into the space.   When i emptied the wheel barrow FULL of rain water,   this little SUN.    Among  all the other things that Emrie had played with,  measuring spoons,  an oven timer,  potato masher and various cookie cutters.   the SUN is actually a shower curtain hook that was part of a group of them,  Sun Moon and Stars that Jenny had given me so so long ago for the Christmas that we agreed to only shop at the Dollar Store.   it's stuck in a bamboo stick.   I brought the cookie cutters up.   Time that Emrie can learn.  Weeded the Egyptian Walking Onions.   Under the  Daisy Shrubs where a whole community of those mushrooms has taken over.  They rise up from underneath the partially decomposed cardboard.   

Crow circled overhead,  calling rhythmic patterns  that i would repeat back.  Over and over.    Someday,  It will light.

 

 

 

a day.   like happens lately,   a couple times a week?  When i just drift…cannot find focus,  but somehow it feels like it's supposed to be that way,  or,  at least it's ok that it's that way?     and suddenly i remembered that  land in   Northern New Mex.   Cuba.  Jemez Mountains.    I couldn't remember when i'd last thought about it.   and then realized i had zero sense of when i last paid the taxes.   eee.     So i went to that FireProof  Black Bag in that back room where papers are kept,  and drawings of the kids,  some spoons.   titles of vehicles and trailers.    And opening it brought back the memory of being tired of keeping stuff and just throwing a lot of it away.    I looked and looked and found one piece from Sandoval County Treasurer with a phone #  with the tax ID #.   and called.   I am not in arrears.  ????    

but also in that bag,  it's big,  i thought what's this???   a loosleaf notebook  of those  soft flexible  but strong covers ,   black of course, and except for these first 3 pages are many blank pages and at the end,  many clear page savers.  Empty.    So these three.   What was i thinking?   When i put it together?   and more,  what was i thinking when i put it in that FireProof Bag that is the first FOR SURE loaded for Evac.  ?  .   ?  .  

Why are those two  Cloths   there?   

tomorrow i'll take them out of the page savers and look awhile.   See what comes.   But finding them there today,  i was swept up by just love of cloth.    How cloth is almost closest to ummmm,   another Person.   cloth as a Being.   loose,  like in those bags i talked about yesterday,  or like here….cloth with cloth .  still snap shots of ,     of   family.   odd thoughts and i want to take time to be with it all.   And then…the page of words and that over and over Eye.   also family.  graphite.  the sister graphite,  who i Love.

and then,  really,  the notebook its self,  the blank pages,  the page savers.  Them too.  Family.   

to need only this.   a place to work.   to Be.   to be how i am.   

 

Clarification…in morning light is see how really small the photographer's name is,  bottom left,   Bertrand Kulik

the 13 Giant scrap bags that reside on the bench across the table from me……this morning before light outSide,  by the light of the flashlight,   they somehow reminded of my childhood Creek…how so many things had private lives in it's depths with the flash and glimmer of flowing water above

 

then, just to the side,  i saw how some scraps had arranged themSelves into the form of  a lizard…the kind of origami like shapes that Jude taught us  

and then the bags,  in their translucent state,  no longer Clear,  but well….translucentish ,  how that is their own certain kind of beauty and went on to remind me of the amniotic sacs that kid Goats come in…slide through to This Side,  how the mother breaks them and clears them away.   and all that went on and that this was the morning of the Camp Fire,  3 years ago that decimated Paradise, California.  Took the lives of 85 human beings and untold lives of other Beings.   

And then,  morning came.  Light.  and soon,  there was SUN.

this is T.  those are the sweatpants that Jeff was wearing yesterday.  Brinley in this pic is still three.  She's a different 4 now.  Much more grown.   This week is T's Memorial Week that will culminate in the setting Free her ashes into  the Ocean at her most loved place in  Santa Cruz.    Her maternal family is having a bench made that will be there.  For visits.  over time.   

Love, Love Beauty FULL   T.    Watch over Us as we go.   Give us Signs.     o Love,  Love.   and so much more Love.  ad Infinitum