windthread

today again.          Some time ago,    in the effort to consolidate,  within the larger Effort to be Ready,   i dumped all the colored pencils into a shoe box.   From the  Scab Red metal box,  into which i put currently used art things and things like the best awl that had belonged to my grandfather  and  a couple clay  carving tools,  jewelry size screwdrivers   etc.   Julian was the last to use the colored pencils and he hasn't,   in a long time.    I had  forsaken them  for Inktense.    A couple days ago,  Emrie wanted paper when we were sitting OutThere at the  Goat Dust Table while Alyssia was inSide,  switching the ice over in the fridge.   I brought out the shoe box too.   She was thrilled.   And instantly got a Yellow to draw a Sun.   When Alyssia  came out she mindlessly poked her finger around and held up this pen,  saying…you might not want to leave this in here….and i……..saw……………..it.      and then she found another.  Held it up.  Black.   Sepia

looking at them i was transported BACK some years,  many years,  really…..i don't know exactly….that info has not made itself available to me yet,  but   the  FeltSense of Familiarity was so so strong……

I amazoned and yup…still available…i ordered.  Some black.  Some Sepia.   and when i looked at the word Sepia,  more of this story presented….       i had gotten these  at the Art Supply Store in Albuquerque.    Near the Food Co-Op where i went for Ethiopian Harrar Coffee.    Driving from Polvadera maybe once a month.   During   A TIME.    It was not an easy time.  I remember a moment….on the Freeway….I-25…….driving hard,     Singing Wire  ,  the Native American station blaring,   Drumming,    when as i described it later to  Kay,   Kay Gould Caskey,  my drawing mentor,   i described as  Happy For No Reason.     ALL this flooded up and in and washed over the seeing of this  Pigma Micron 01 pen   

this began what continued today in that half waking place of some kind of understanding of what   Stuff     IS.    That it is not only what    It     IS,   but also,  it carries Time within it.      Place in Time.   Place in Who We Are?,  coming from Who We Were??????  Bringing us to the present Edge?

There is no way i can actively THINK about all this.   It will either become more clear or it won't.   In the meantime,  i will have a more sensitive sense of

Stuff.

I listened to Kitchen Sisters Podcast 171   What Fire Reveals   and from there,  listened to Utube  Grateful Dead Fire on the Mountain…over and over…which took me back to Oregon.   eeeeeeeeeeeeee.    Where i am tonight.   Tomorrow is another day.

Jack,   Jumpin Jack Flash,   FINALLY

accepted a carrot from Emrie.   His First.    Her Joy.      Off to Fire on the Mountain.   version    12-31-78

i'm tired of making decisions for now.  Going to give it up.   Give it all a break.  Instead of making decisions about what to keep and what to let go of,  in light of Evacuations,    what to continue doing and what to stop doing,  in regard to cloth making,    i 'm going to decide to let go of deciding.   How's that for a convolution?   I'm just going to do ……..um……..anything.    Whatever any day suggests.    For No Reason.   I like that.   For No Reason.   it's like these small cloths that are…….for no reason other than i love them.   That's  Good enough.   Love is a good enough reason for any Thing.

the Matriarchs of this herd.    Officially registered as Crazy Wisdom Dairy.   National Dairy Goat Association.   Official and de facto.  Because they Rule.   It is simply understood.   Oona and Onday are bosses.  They are also looked to as interpreters of circumstance and events.   At moments of confusion or danger or even unsure ness, They act as one.     they  are relied upon.  Looked to.   

i sit in one of the plastic adirondack  chairs some up from the feed shed….three times a day.  Its propped against a tree.    the first is after the morning feed.  I rest there.  Catch my breath.  Look at stuff from that vantage point.   In the morning,  its always Mercy who comes.  Everyone else is scarfing down the grass hay…Mercy comes and stands.  For Touch.    I scratch her forehead,  between and around her ears,  run my fingers down her spine,  on either side,  ending above her tail where i scratch again….it's an intense scratch,  a combination scratch/massage.   I  run my hands down each leg….lift the hoof.   Back to the forehead.  Next leg,  lift,  back to forehead.  Being able to lift a hoof is useful.   She stands,  staring off.   I am always first to be done with this.  i put my forehead against her and say Thank You,  get up and walk away.  Sometimes she stands there a while.

Recently,  maybe 2 weeks?,  3?…. Oona has come.   After the evening feed.   Same ritual as with Mercy.  

For the last two evenings,   Onday has come.   She,  without hesitation comes directly between Oona and i.   Oona does not  object,  but as you can see in her eye above,  she has thoughts.    Onday is one of the first Goats born to Jenny's effort in New Mexico.   She is the first i named.   There were three kids…two bucklings,  to be sold as wethers  and so…"unnamed"  and a doeling,  Onday.   Dixie Cups…. U tube    Iko Iko     Iko Iko Onday.    Onday.   probably for me,   the most deeply loved.   The man who bought the buckling wethers kept their names.   Iko and Iko.   We have been with these Goats a long time.  ALL their lives.

                                                                                                    a spirit house

cloth.  cloth feels good….the complete engagement once it's begun.  There's a basket here on this table bench…on my left.  On top,  the drawing board and calendars….the round shallow basket of…..current things  which lately have not been current.  Just quiet.   Under,   IN  the Basket is the baggie with all Deb's Threads,   some other things and two zip locks of particular scraps that have accumulated.   Mostly very small,  but this long piece was there and it had been rolledfolded .   tube like.     Once unrolled,  it went ….of its own accord.    No hesitation.   Cloth Love.

this morning….as Sun rose,   i became aware of someThing …..uhhhh….well….a once in a lifetime thing.   The word that came for this was

Excruciatingly   _____.

as luck would have it,   i switched over to the phone and  googled the word….excruciating …and was startled to see that it has only negative connotation.    That there is no such use as maybe excruciatingly Beauty Full,  or….excruciatingly Tender….

i wanted to say something about a situation being a singular,  stunningly  excruciatingly TRUE thing    But this thing is not bad,  it is just enormously True and Real.   Excruciatingly True and Real and so so Human.   Piercing your heart with Realness…..  And with Love,  really….

this all stopped me in my tracks and i went on with the day,   carrying these two stones,   the pull of energies between them.

August.    The hard month.   But….this year,  not in the ordinary hard way.    Maybe i didn't expect things to Stand to Reason???

because there  seems to be less reason to Stand To?    and/or   coming to some place where i just no longer have the same parameters?     Whatever…there is Release.   Today there was Wind….not breeze, but Wind winding up that road up this Hill,  flowing up from Jack's edge down there    the wind chime singing    the release from the Heat.   September.   Open.   We move toward  Rain months.   These days are 

precious

a word i am conflicted about.  precious.   But they are.  precious days.   gentle days.   Let them be so.

so

it DID happen.  They have seeded,   established   themSelves.    True to how i have known them my whole life.   Who could hope for more.

i look up and in the far distance through the design of tree branches,  a MOON rises and it is blood red.   The Fires….Far away but burning my moon Red.

from the glass jar of them up from Garden at B.    will use ones on left for shirt i found in that back room.  But looking through the jar….i had the urge to bury it somewhere,  deep enough to not burn if Fire comes here.   For Emrie someday….she might be interested?   Care about their existence?   then it went on….i could bury SOME different things.  Make a map of the sites.   Someday she could dig things up.   She might be interested,  or not.   But if she was…..              I love the plasticy ones…is it Bakelite?  ….the artdeco geometric style?    And, of course the abalone,  mother of pearl.

and then….LaceLady had sent a link to  Box Show   Point Reyes   ShaSha Higby Cows in Cave     and i then went on to Utube to watch  Clouds of Fish.   Today,  if there was anyone i could BE,   it would be her.    

i have an enormous roll of copper wire out There.   What if i had a solder gun?  to build FRAMES with the wire?    I cant be her,  but i could build things?   

By tomorrow,  this all will have become memory.    if that.

found the other old brass safety pin.      Put in place.

from another time in my life.   But…remaining beauty FULL.    The skirt on the right…so gentle a flow of so gentle color…the waist band….stretched out,  flaccid.   i don't know how it could be fixed.   I would wear these in the Mornings…the waking up,  before dawn times when the "weather" cools.   Now they would be very personal,  private things to wear.   Just me and the Morning ,   when i ask to Understand.