Strive

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.  The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes up short again and again … who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

– Theodore Roosevelt, 1910

P & Q

While sharing experiences, memories are made.  With limited time, how much of it do we devote to doing things and how much do we devote to reminiscing?

When you leave without saying anything, you don't want people to know where you've gone.  So why would you expect them to be where you left them if you left them without letting them know?

The time of reaping and gathering is complete.  The groundwork has been prepared.  It is time to process and distribute.

Genesis

Creation is dominated by three absolutely different factors:
First, nature, which works upon us by its laws;
second, the artist, who creates a spiritual contact with nature and his materials;
third, the medium of expression through which the artist translates his inner world.

Of these three components only one, the medium, is material.

-Hans Hofmann, 1948

from the depths

A figure floats in a caped opalescent gown that drips of water and crystals.   As the hand is lifted with a finger that points to me, white drops slowly fall and chimes emit with each movement.

Passersby do just that when there is no common ground.

They swim in the same pool together: When I asked why the relationship was maintained when she loathed the other person so much, she replied "Because I still need stuff from him."

The pressure of many drafts, many versions of drafts for a submittal:  each one pings its arrival in an email and I wonder why googledocs isn't used instead.

The friend is one who stays close, unbidden, during bright and dark times.

WEC

Love is the life of the Soul. It is the harmony of the universe.

- William Ellery Channing

key words

Silence at the proper season is wisdom, and better than any speech. 

- Plutarch

NB: "Proper season" does not mean "all the time."

recon

mind and spirit in the same
direction within one person

wondering if it is with
another kindred spirit

or if that other still needs
to wander not seeing
who waits for the invitation

here.

Notes

The details of life get recorded here and there.

Wondering what compels some people to publicly record some things that make them look like creeps.  No filters I guess.  They're not concerned about others' impressions.  I'm not either, but I know what looks creepy and sketchy when I see it.

Holiday season has kicked in - making gifts to be given as gratitude.  Purchasing or bartering for items that friends make, to be given as gifts to others.  This takes time, and it is wonderful to reconnect with my hand-making community.

Writing pieces here and there.  It can be exhausting when the material has to be produced on demand and squeezed out, and exhilarating when it flows unleashed on its own.  Dialogs, scenes, and vignettes are narrated in 30 second sound bites when they arise.  I think that I'll remember them long enough to write them down, but the writing is slow and the images and conversations flow through memory too quickly, and much is lost.  How does one capture dance movement, cinematic images, and sound in words quickly enough to really, really record them?

There is movement again with changes that will occur.  "I'm going with the flow," I say. "I'm keeping an eye on it," another says.  "I'm still staying away," the passive one says.  "Don't freak out," I whisper to myself.

Equinox

3 hours into it, reflecting on the past quarter.

Redux

The signs reappear elsewhere and the ensuing events will be predictable.  Time to sit back and watch the show.  It'll be a rerun with one character who keeps running along and another who gets served up by the next revolving door.

AC

#%?! honey, where you been?

1 of 5

Regaining rhythm several days after a predawn view of the moon through a kitchen window then the late night view through an airplane window, when I took my crayon and placed a familiar window around it so that I would land home.

riders

What of those who hang on?
Leave them alone; no need to regard them; do not allow their presence to weigh on you.
But they take, they imitate, they feed.
Only because they have no resources of their own - they are dependent on you and others; make your own way and you will always have enough.

trans: a short note

I've always appreciated the place I consider "home": the positive aspects of climate, culture, and attitude. Yet when I visit another place where in the process of "digging deep" I find aspects that call to me and that fill me in ways that I did not know could be filled, the return to "home" requires time.  The adjustment during this time is filled with reviewing notes, photos, and reflecting on impressions and thoughts that linger.  It's the absorption of the new experience into myself.  It is also a revelation that "home" is dynamic and evolves.  The place I started from is not the place I return to.  I'm ok with that.

Re-entry is difficult, a friend says.  Each conversion with a friend is part of the transition and re-entry.

Merge

Brain in one place, body in another.  Need to bring them back together.

Stake

It's about looking back then looking ahead while being where you are -  recovering from stumbling over stones, putting the stake in the ground ahead of you, and moving towards that stake.

There's an adage about forgiving others.  I don't think it makes a bit of difference to others if you forgive them or not.  They will go on with themselves - let them go.  Learn to live with compassion, especially to yourself.

I believe it's really about genuinely reflecting, learning, and then being kind to yourself so that you can progress.

Can you hear me?

G'night sweet

Honey

Moon rising in the southeast.

Today

The hands worked.

But the mind and body failed - utterly failed - during the day and evening. I need a break.

Briefly

An experience with color, technique, visuals, aroma, and tactility arrived last night and developed in a dream.  This morning it is hiding in the fog of a new day.  I'm trying to relax so that it will return.

Ugh.

From the Collective

...soon to be gifted.

Relief ii

Relief i

Wet

A day of generosity and brief meaningful conversation leaves the snark and noise far behind.

First dips

YES!

Red

The light came through the window. "Look at me," she insisted.  "Watch me when I become cloaked by another.  I will remain in place even though another one comes between us."

But you've turned away therefore so shall I.

Opening

How many versions?

If a door opens, how soon before walking through?

Swinging in and out can swing shut.

Walk through open slots
Without pulling massive
Luggage along.

The past weighs on the hopes of the future, sometimes to the point of suffocation.

A dream is summarized with "don't trip on the stones behind you."

Another

Mono

Sampling again.

How

Leg-rolled cordage with bast fiber. First piece.

Hau (Hibiscus tiliaceus), 2-ply and cabled 2-ply

Spring

Afire

Listening through dense music
Devouring words in all forms
Creating another path
Moving with the companions

a few

As the sun sets on the first Monday after the clocks have sprung forward,

_The late afternoon sun triggers let-down, a sure sign of Spring.
_"Critics without credentials" - a quote that muffles the noise.
_As some pieces undergo further development, don't freak out.
_I will embrace the parts that comprise the whole.

Morning

Wonder what you reach out for?
And what you sit and wait for?

Slats

I love the room with moonlight stripes.

Makerial and Space

Buzz

Who needs sleep.
So much to do. And get done.

Sampling

Lyra

sampled aka interrupted

...another comes to mind

Some texts linger from many years ago.  This is another that was learned through song:

Come with me, under my coat,
and we will drink our fill
of the milk of the white goat,
or wine if it be thy will.
And we will talk,
until talk is a trouble, too,
out on the side of the hill;
And nothing is left to do,
but an eye to look into an eye,
and a hand in a hand to slip;

and a sigh to answer a sigh;
And a lip to find out a lip!
What if the night be black!
And the air
on the mountain chill!
Where all but the fern is still!
Stay with me, under my coat!
and we will drink our fill
of the milk of the white goat,
out on the side of the hill!

James Stephens (1882-1950) - "The Coolin" from "Reincarnations" (1918), possibly based on an early Irish text.

And the next one recently left a deep impression.  No tune, but a conversation is associated with it.  Interesting how a set of words is so strongly colored by context.

We live in the right time even if it doesn't always feel like it.

Andrew Solomon, 2013

Lines

Winter citrus

A gift of 10.5# homegrown Meyers (thank you J!) is transformed to a base for 1.5L limoncello, 15.5C marmalade, 3C lemon-ginger-honey concoction (not shown) for what ails you and 12 lemons leftover.

It's not paying the rent but it's still of value.

Some FO

Taking inventory of what's left in my possession and noting what was distributed.

I intended to keep 4 of these but the additional 3 shown have such embarrassing errors that I could not send them out. However there are an additional 3 that are not shown here - those were delivered to new homes a week ago.

This is a set of 6. Another set of 8, in a blue/ yellow/ cream (aka "Scandinavian") colorway, was delivered to its new home a week ago.

Although the weaving of this piece was completed several months ago, the perimeter binding is finally complete. This will be delivered to its home in the next few days.

...how it looks

A: It might be better understood if it's all placed in a story. Each person's thoughts and actions will be dictated by what is around them. They'll be totally responsive to the culture around them. No mess, no blame, no initiative, just floating along with conformance. That will be the way the story gets written. The individual spark will read as a dull twitch.

B: Antidote? Grey Street.