windthread

nothing out of the Ordinary.  Goats.  Growing stuff.  Stitching.  Reading.   just a day that i would wish for Every single living being on this Planet.

 

this is It.  a few stitches more.  but….this is it.   and it IS,    a love letter.

Before i went to lie face down upon Earth,  i was given word from my old mentor in my other life, Kay.  She said….GO.  NPR.  Terri Gross ~ Fresh Air ~interview May 10th with Sam Baker.  Go.  listen.  she said.   So this morning, first thing, after my face being "in the face" of Earth,  i did as i was told.   It is Extraordinary.   He is an Extraordinary,  Plain,  and  Honest  human being.   So, i don't know if it was face in Earth,  listening to this interview or a combination of both, which i think is the truth,  but i felt as if my whole self  was so excruciatingly OPEN.  I can't describe it in any other way.  That has to do.

and then as i moved through the Morning Things,  i thought about the above question.  Am i looking too hard at Sorrow?  For sure,  there has been a ummm,  quickening,  of the sense of Urgency for this planet,  this Earth.   and i always have that hesitation before posting about that because i know it's not Easy Listening.  So as i weighed talking about this Interview with Sam Baker, i asked self that question.  Am i looking too hard at Sorrow?,  Or,  do i just need to stay,  Looking,  for as long as it takes,  to See and/or Go 

Through 

it…to what's on the other side,

it's not like there are not all the truly beauty full things here still.  They are here, holding steady.  Like the PROFUSION of yearling Whiptail lizards,  so amazingly brilliantly BLUE,  their faces, bellys, tails.  There is,  that today i brought the Goats back into the Way Back and watched their JOY at RUNNING.  and felt their Joy so much.. Inside me.   And the Happiness,  the soft sweet Happiness that with the distraction of the doe Goats not so near,  the buck Goats simply received me in their Pen,  received me,  among them,  saying words,  scratching the good places,  well…just Being with them.  

one of the things i thought of doing is to just post pics.  no words.  till i am …..Through.  Through to the other side.  

but then,  Toot Toot,  my most loved UPS woman with:

The Soil Will Save Us    ….   Kristin Ohlson   ….  2014,  Rodale Press

here so fast.  

and i opened it,  and read it's dedication:  For Holland, Sylvie, and all the inheritors:                                Don't be meek!

and i looked at her face on the back flap….yes.  this woman Is.  Kristin Ohlson is a writer, it says.  "based in Portland Oregon.  Her work has appeared in the New York Times, Christian Science Monitor, Salon, Discover and elsewhere.  Her article about burning coal mines was collected in Best American Science Writing 2011.  She is also the author of Stalking the Divine, which won the American Society of Journalists and Authors' 2004 Best Nonfiction Book award, and the coauthor of the New York Times bestseller Kabul Beauty School."

and i thought, maybe it can go this way.  As i read,  and i have already begun,  i can post here what i am reading.  and if it goes well,  as in,  what she has to say,  i can live in side the HOPE.  yes,  the HOPE,  that the soil will save us.  That we will be able to allow that to happen.  and as i thought that,  i thought about how i will say sometimes that Earth,  this Planet,  has an Intelligence that surpasses our own.   Could it be?   like, Really?  like more than just the words say?  

and maybe.  maybe that's what's on the Other side, of going through Sorrow?  maybe not.  am still thinking.  and still not knowing.  but soon…i Will go back out and lie,  face into Earth.  because i Want to.  i really really Want to.

 

looking out this Morning.  How i usually look Through this,  but today i looked At it.

 

 

and Into it…seeing how one of the stones that's "from nearby" has crumbled into it's components, exposing a perfect crystal of flourite.  

 

invisible baste,  anchoring things.  Looking.

 

 

 

and again.  Terri Gross  Fresh Air  NPR  interview with Sam Baker  May 10th, 2014

i used to not think much of Butterflies.  Thought that they were frivolous.  Flitting here and there.  I was into Moths.   Workers of Dark Night, Moths.   This morning, this piece of a pod from the Snake Tree,  all crushed,  probably walked on over and over.   But looked so much like a Moth.

 

and to Celebrate not having to feel CRAZY anymore,  for this moment, at least,  i bought this.  Partly because i love the olives,  but also partly because i love the MARKETING of the olives…The label….the jar itself and Lid….and i thought maybe i would change Snowbunny's name to Divina and when i was Out There just now,  i told her.  Asked her.  and she thought it was interesting and fine,  but also only responded when i called:  Bun Bun…………   So, it might take some time.

 

here we are.   This is it.   It's THICK,  heavy in the Earth parts.   It's GOOD.  really really GOOD,  this Love Letter…………..

 

This really has me thinking.  

but in this moment,  i find self not wanting to think at all.   I was just Out,  looking around.  it's almost Evening.   or 

it might be Evening, by the clock.   Sun tho is still strong and moving slow.  That Rim,  waiting.    As i was Out,  i was taken by the urge to lie down.   Having watched and listened to the link that Patricia sent the other day.  Grounding.  Earthing.  

so i lay down.  right where i was.   just in front of the cold frame,  near the Apricot Tree.  the earth there is packed hard,  it felt good on my hips,  my spine.    i stretched my arms out, horizontally from my body,   legs spread,  DiVinci style.    Tomorrow night is Full Moon.  Maybe i will go Out

naked.

even if it's a little cold.   even if.  and if it's just for a short while.   maybe tomorrow i will lay down on my stomach.  my Front side.   my forehead to Earth.  

On the website i found,  Resilience.org,  today an article called:  Can the Soil Save Us from Climate Change?  by Brie Mazurek   ………….  Which speaks to the book that came out in April,  The Soil Will Save Us by Kristin Ohlson.    Can it?

 

 

 

Work Away day,  so only this much.

 

But Not.

It's late..nine something., late for Us….but they are Out There.  their hooves clicking and clacking away, so i went out and in, With Them and they are so Funny.  So Full of Themselves…flying this way and that,  here and there and it's not EVEN the Full Moon.  So…i let them lead me.  i let them

show me stuff.

Goats.  Doe Goats.  i learn.  Silly.  i learn Silly.

This morning, for whatever reason,  i could not stand it one more day.   For almost a full month,  since April 15th,  there has been silence in the road.   Even when neighbor Margie's son was there on weekends,  she hardly appeared.   There was no "looking in the direction" of her son and i either when he was out.   Nothing.  Nada.  and  it was just slowly getting worse on this end.  I looked for a word that would describe the feeling.  Paralysis.   Whatever was happening in the day,  was immediately framed by not knowing what to do.  By not knowing any way to have things be ok.  By feeling that my "world" here was in a kind of Limbo.   It was the last thought before sleep.  The first thought upon rising to consciousness in the mornings.  It wove through Everything.  Paralysis.  To the point i couldn't even speak of it.  A few people would ask…Hows it going?… and all i could do would be to kind of look off.    And spending time with the Goats was hard.  What might become of us????

So.  This morning i wrote her a note.   Only facts.  no apologies,  no begging.  Just facts.  I said that i would be moving the Goats into the Way Back.  That i would not leave them there for prolonged times,  but move them Back and Forth.  That keeping them in the Front Pens was wrong to me.  That i had asked MANY people and for the most part they agreed that food cannot absorb smell.   That i had asked many people to smell this Place and that all agreed that it was Good.   And that to me,  the Goats are Jenny.  My daughter.  Margie knows Jenny.   and that I would not let Jenny down.  No matter what.  I didn't sign love or my name even.  Just that.  and i put the note into a plastic grocery bag with my almost full bottle of Patchouli Oil and an unopened (bought by accident)  box of Satya Sai Baba Patchouli Forest incense  (i burn Nag Champa).  and when i left for work,  i stopped and tied the bag to her gate.

i got home from work and the bag was gone.  i did a few things and the phone rang.  Her.  She talked of being so relieved that i broke the silence.   That really,  she can't smell the Goats.  That it was that one day,  and she doesn't know why,  and that she cannot stand it how it is.  There was exchange and we agreed " to just Bury It".    Her words.     It all was "just a dream".  Her words.   and i said Bueno.  that i would come by later.   and i tried to take a nap but couldn't.  the Energy of the paralysis remained.  it was so stong for so long it had become entrenched and i kept telling myself it was Over,  but as soon as i'd said that,  the energetic level of it arose again.  This is really interesting to me.   The Intensity of Response to Great Threat of Well Being.   i am watching.  Looking.  Watching.  Feeling.  

a little while ago,  her sister called.  She was at Margies cooking dinner and did I have some flour?

Yes.

so i walked over with it and we hugged.  we hugged.  and promised to always figure out a Way.

 

and here we go.   All you (me) have to do is put two pieces of cloth together.  Just that.  and it all begins.  The two know and ask for more.   so, ok.  and yes.  am Listening.  ok.

 

 

 

 

so…maybe i get it a little?…the real SHOCK of what this country is saying these days.  Sorry.  Sorry to all who don't want to hear it,  but ….

so i posted this pretty much Nothing.  a cloth.  atop the cloth a wad of other cloth.  River it said.

it's a River.  and now late,  after already posting,  the word River kept flowing and it brought with it  Talking Heads….take me to the river so i go to utube and click and there he is the crazy and magnificant David Byrne….Crazy and he's saying Take me to the River.

my whole life has a background of Songs.   Songs and Songs and Songs.  and i guess i thought it might always go that way….just a series of Songs….

Talking Heads

W I N D.  Thought he'd gone.  Not.  

Went to see Alz. B.  Lots of mothers there.  

This morning, as it became Light,  from the view of the Morning Chair,  i saw for the First Time,  the beauty of this pot.   I'd watered the earth in it well and the porous clay of it was saturated.   I'd brought it home last year from one of the places i work.  They'd thrown it out.  It took till now to actually See it.

 

 

 

spent some more time with my feet.

tore out the tile under the bathroom sink…inside the sink cabinet.   It had been giving me the creeps for years.  Done.   Opened up the computer and lo and behold a Whole World of Dust and cat hair and unidentifiables.   Unreal.  Vacuumed and dusted the fans with a stiffish paint brush.

 

Another Love Letter.  This time a River.

a medium pitch buzzing sound when i try to download pics from picasa.   Usually it stops in a short time.    i just turn off the computer for a while.   Tonight,  it kept up.   So i just went to lay down  in my beloved bed.   But found self 

waiting.

and here i am.  Creature of habit,  wanting to finish off this day,  as i do.

 

back to the Mallow of yesterday.  Today,  i looked.   Saw how it is the Year of the Mallow, evidently.  It is Strong,  and coming up everywhere.   So take note of that.  Not knowing Why…but taking note.

 

Spent the day Bare Foot.   Foot palms to the Earth.   Walking the Rim.   Ordinarily,  i refer to the Rim as the western horizon because that is what i can see as the edge of the planet unimpeded.  But today,  i focused on the fact that really,  I am on the rim.   There is nothing between me and Sky.  I am on the Rim,  as i go about the day.  The very edge.  Bare Foot.

 

and i took a pic of this Plant Person…over in front of the Albatros.  I keep walking around it,  noticing it.  But today took the pic.  Might be Milkweed?   There was an urge to spray it to make it more clear,  but the water would also excite any of the GoatHeads that are lying there,  waiting for water and i don't want to do that.  So, a dusty vague image.

Sunday:  Goatheads are little spikey seeds that are of Puncturevine,  Tribulis terrestris L.  which can lay dormant 4-5 years but receiving just the most small amount of water….Grow.   the seeds look exactly like  goat heads.

 

 

 

Wild Rose blooms

 

and a second Altar.  right now only that Mother of Thousands plant that i didn't want but was given even tho i said i didn't want it.  and  i brought in a pot to put Dill in.   And the scurs of Goat.   For now,  just these.

Sunday:…i forgot to say the rock that i got in Magdalena.  this too.  it was first, before the scurs.

 

and over it, just to the right so many bells

 

and here,  my most loved shirt.  well,  probably,  not exactly sure,  most loved.   But close enough.  Plenty here for more Butterflies.   Plenty.   I wore this shirt forever.  But now,  i don't seem to wear anything that……well,  …..attracts attention.   I go incognito.   So,  tho it is the most magnificant shirt,  it can become Butterflies.

 

I took out another stenographers notebook.  Thinking i will use it to record stuff of the Planet,  the Earth here.   Because of that buzzing sound.  In case.   In  case  the computer blows up.   But then i think….Why?  Does it really matter?   Thinking.

I looked everywhere i could think of today for Word of the Planet.  like word of the Planet TODAY.   No news.   it's all from last year at best.  

There is this  Indescribable Love and a Great Great Sorrow.   a Tangle.   This is what i Live.

first day i was able to stay Home all week.   Received with great love,  this day.

 

the Mallows have begun to bloom.   i gave water,  but they don't ask for it.  They just thrive on what seems to be nothing.  Mallow.

 

This love letter is finished.   It's over in the little shop.   

invisible baste,  thread beads  (Jude Hill)  

i think these small cloths are just little Love Letters to Life as i know it.  just little Love Letters.