
weaving disparate things together.
combining things in unexpected ways,
ripping to find the true grain,
laying the foundation
and building a basecloth
for possibilities.
+ Her Barefoot Heart

don’t like what i see,
but rather than toss it all aside,
and render it useless
and unworthy,
rather than walk away,
i rip out the stitches,
saving the bits of cloth
and threads,
(it is, after all, my cloth)
the mere act of
ripping
enkindling ideas of
other uses for them
in this project
that i’m now calling
my legasee cloth.

If I tell you I have a headache,
you’ll badger me to go to the doctor.
If I tell you I’m not interested in anything
and would love to sleep for three days,
you’ll encourage me to go to a therapist.
If I tell you that I’m tired
of saying only nice things,
edifying things,
fresh, perky, upbeat things,
you’ll tell me to go ahead
and write what I will
then
you’ll share your testimony of faith,
and try to save my soul by convincing
me that your god
is The One For Me.
i’m spent. seriously. i’m spent to the bone. it’s the move – sure. of course it is. but it’s more than that. allergies, i think. could be. yep, that’s a possibility. then it hits me: i haven’t created anything in weeks. months even.
sure, i’ve nested and placed things and revamped and repurposed and reconfigured – and that is a type of creativity, but my hands ache to create something from scratch, to make the familiar new. they ache, i tell you.
so yesterday i made a quick dash through a vintage store in search of fabrics that caught my eye. didn’t give myself time to think or ponder or justify – just grabbed things that appealed to me, and here’s what i brought home:

i am blank – couldn’t buy an image or an idea if i knew where to look. so tomorrow i’ll just start fiddling with these 4 white(ish) linens and see where this takes me.
in and out,
up and down,
over and over.
she wove her strands of life together,
patching hole after hole.
eventually she saw it was more than the threads that gave her strength,
it was in the very act of weaving itself
that she became strong.
~ terri st. cloud ~
~~~

tired of multi-tasking and compartmentalizing,
weary of my worth being defined by how busy i am
and how full my calendar is,
knowing that i learn best when my body,
my entire self is involved,
i sign up for jude hill’s cloth to cloth class,
determined to weave the life i want.
i start with a colorful, hand-painted marbelized fabric.
a fabric that while beautiful, is busy and indecipherable.
i weave in calm, muted, solid colors
providing spaces to exhale and explore,
places with room to just nap and ponder and be.
it’s mounted on a sturdy, textured base.
the frayed, unfinished edges remain unhidden from public consumption now.
the stitches that hold it all together
are not straight or even,
or dainty or fine.

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