Those who know me know that I am in thrall to the magic of my childhood world. Oh! Those days of jugglers and troubadours, of bonfires and street faires, creative colorful humans engaging in playful countercultural experimentation!
When I moved North in 1979, it was into a grey world covered in rain, not a rainbow banner to be found anywhere, I used to lament, lament! my perceived loss, but what I didn’t realize that the times had changed as well as my personal geography, and that the gypsy fortune tellers had packed up their caravans and receded- that the flames had died down to coals carefully packed into beds of moss and tucked into caches to wait out the Reagan years and all those bindles and bindles of cocaine…
My heart was such a cache. I could feel the presence of Wildness within it, but I was waiting all the while for some collective breath to blow those embers back into a living flame.
How wonderful not to be waiting anymore.
How wonderful to contain the story and the means to tell it.
How wonderful to know the Trick of seeing into the grey, and past it to the lightning flashes of color that are not separate from it….
Humans are waking up and that fire is burning again. I’m the proof.
The Faeries are back!
The kids were discussing the behavior of 17 year olds, or high school seniors, or something.
Alice (age 16): “I’m going to rise above all that.”
Opal (age 13): “How are you going to rise above anything when you’re so short?”
my training is progressing nicely. Yoga again today, and some attention paid to diet over the last week.
I spent a wonderful afternoon in the kitchen, allowing my heart to choose ingredients. I made a lovely pot of greens and beef enough to last for three days. And I can wait patiently to try this winter pickle, with onions, yellow beet, and dried nettle. In a hot pepper brine reused from a friend’s pickle that I was saving.
There hasn’t been much stitching going on, but lots of play, lots of dance, and good company this week!
My friend Kris at the Bike Garage here in Astoria told me about Parkour today.
I spent some time on the balance board after that; it’s raining so hard, and sideways at that, I can’t conceive of bike riding but I have goals, yes I have goals. I know I am older than some, and a bit old to be discovering my inner athlete (and let me tell you that bones heal slower at 40 than 20, as I found out skateboarding a few months back…) I have mentioned proprioception before however, and I can’t shake that fascination. It’s in me deep.
So, training begins.
I am going to yoga tomorrow.
Finally, after much procrastination. I even bought a mat! And I had to make a bag for it tonight. Of course!
oh for a nice crisp picture…
Yeah, it’s flooding out in Skamokawa! here’s a photo and a post. Thanks Mark. Glad I’m not there!
I think I will start a new feature: the Daily Discovery. Today’s was clearly Parkour!
Blog as journal. Blog as organizational tool. Blog as archive. Blog as command center. Yes!
My favorite gift received this holiday season:
when what I wanted most was fiber and containers. Perfect!
Recent book acquisition: The Art of Embroidery by Françoise Tellier-Loumagne. It was while perusing this book that I decided to use my blog once more, as a sort of workbook. A place to continue documenting my journey through the world of fiber art. Perhaps it is winter weather keeping me inside, off my bike, stitching and slowly revisiting the internet.
I have everything to learn about composition!
I have some work hanging in a show curated by Roger Hayes, the venue is the Cannon Beach Arts Association.
(here is a larger view.)
Alice at the opening.
My good friend Sally Lackaff, standing in front of one of Roger’s paintings.
Roger is brilliant, and I was honored that I was invited to be a part of this show.
It is a beautiful sunny day here at the mouth of the Mighty Big river.
On my recent trip to Santa Barbara I unearthed this photo from my dad’s collection. My mother, with my childhood gypsy fortune teller, circa 1969-ish.
Given that I was in my childhood home and therefore imbued with a certain visceral sense of recollection, I was deeply moved by this. It embodies a bit of the atmosphere that I grew up in. So much magic, so much possibility!
I started mulling over what kind of alchemy do I want to do in my life; it used to seem clear, and yet these days, as my level of contentment grows, I don’t feel much need to manipulate the world to suit my ends. Hmmm. What came to mind, strangely enough perhaps, was the idea (not for the first time, but with a new urgency) of making striped sweaters, seamless, rugged, country, hippie even. Is this a manifestation of some “earth magic?” I think so.
So I started this:
But today, I am working on the endless sideways knitted border of the pi shawl.
reserved for fickle bloggers, I know.
I have been completely and totally away from the internet for months. It has been fine, but I am ready to be back.
I have a camera again, after selling my hot shit Canon SLR to Mark who takes some really good photos.
I will take up where I left off:
Yesterday I went out to Mark’s, ie, the country house, and did some gardening. He has reworked the boundaries of the garden and I can’t tell you what a good thing that is. Sometimes it is difficult for me to delineate clear boundaries. I finally got the daylilies in the ground, planted to naturalize on the orchard hillside.
They are edible, you know! My goal is to plant edible beauties that will thrive without a lot of my attention. Come to think of it, that is my parenting goal as well. Minus the edibility part…
The girls, the girls. I came driving down the street last night, home from my day in the country, and I passed them sitting in a neighbor’s yard, getting ready to film a short movie. Alice payed the villain, Opal the victim. (Of course.) The villainy involved most of the contents of a bottle of organic ketchup, and they dragged in around 10, Opal soaked and smelly. It reminds me of when I was 9 and played the part of Astyanax (Hector’s son) in Sartre’s Trojan Women. The first night of performance it was decided that ketchup should equal blood, and when I got home my mother was royally pissed off at the mess. So I had to chuckle last night…. Of course I wasn’t mad at all, but it was hard to get Opal out of bed this morning.
Goal for today: update sidebars.
Mark and I had a field trip today, out to South Jetty, where the Big River meets the sea.
the ocean side.
It was great ankle exercise, and wonderful windy…
On the way home, I saw this incredible thing:
We almost stumbled upon a wounded seal.
maybe shot by a fisherman?
We had a long talk about compassion after that.
Not that I am, particularly. Compassionate, that is.
Went to ballet class last night, after a far-too-long break, some of it holiday dictated, some of it self-imposed. I have to regain all that I lost. sigh. At least I know what can be lost.
At class, I learned that one of my fellow students found me on the internet. On ravelry. She is quite an accomplished knitter, and a good dancer, too. A shout out to noodleknit!
Sometimes at dance, I feel a bit disconnected from the rest of the group. My skill level is so low, but why whine? I am clear about not being there to become ballerina, but rather to learn coordination and discipline, and in that I am succeeding. when I go.
Anyway, I definitely don’t feel disconnected here!
which gets a bit in the way of my developing that “dancer’s body…”
I have been taking quite a few photos, many of which don’t make it outside of flickr. Go check them out if you like!
Upcoming is a wonderful passage by the composer Christian Wolff in which he describes how improvisational music can act as social change!
Until next time…