Tag: storystitching (Page 1 of 2)

it was bound to happen

Matter1

things stack up,
get piled on top of her.
culture
education
religion
family
friends
advertising,
they add layers
and layers
and layers
of who she
should be
and how she
should act
and how she
should think
and feel
and look
and write
and speak
and walk
and dance
(or not dance, depending).
layer upon layer
upon layer
until one day
she just pops,
taking up much
more room than
she ever did before
and shouts
loud enough
for the folks
on pluto to hear
because she
simply can’t
hold it in
one nanosecond
longer:

Matter3

More about 365 Altars

~~~~~~~~~~~~

inspired by my soul mate and writing partner, julie daley.
hey, have you ordered a copy of her brand, new collection of essays, stories, and more?
if so, yay! if not, scoot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

turn the light around

Sun2

in thumbing through an old book, i find a note on the end page describing an image, and here i go, stitching it into existence.

that was last night.

tonight i thumb through an old journal and find this – how cool is that.

THE SECRET OF THE GOLDEN FLOWER

Once you turn the light around,
everything in the world is turned around.
The light rays are concentrated upward into the eyes;
this is the great key of the human body.
You should reflect on this.
If you do not sit quietly each day,
this light flows and whirls,
stopping who knows where.
If you can sit quietly for a while,
all time-ten thousand ages,
a thousand lifetimes—is penetrated from this.
All phenomena revert to stillness.
Truly inconceivable is this sublime truth.

—from The Secret of the Golden Flower: The Classic Chinese Book of Life, translated by Thomas Cleary, HarperSanFrancisco, 1991, p.19

do over

Wakingimage

sometimes you create something
and it just doesn’t feel right
even though you created
the image you saw
as your waking thought.
and you value waking thoughts
more than anything.

so you sit with it a while,
in case something
surfaces
and changes things.

but eventually you realize
that it just doesn’t work
so you cut it up

Cut1

then you cut it up again
and again

Cut2

and tomorrow
or the next day
you start over,
weaving the parts together,
in a new way.
bringing in new pieces
and weaving them in and out
over and under
and you don’t stop
until
it tickles
you.

embodiment

BannerClothBordered

paint the picture you want to hang.
make the trip you want to remember.
take the photo you want to view.

build the house you want to live in.
cook the meal you want to eat.
lay the stones you want to walk on.

run the race you want to win.
dance the dance you want to feel.
plant the tree you want to sit under.

sew the dress you want to wear.
write the music you want to sing.
craft the play you want to star in.

stitch the quilt you want to use.
weave the cloth you want to stitch.
write the book you want to read.

tell the story you want to hear.
create the blog you want to visit.
live the life you want to live.

(psst: that’s me there
in those last 6 lines.
starting something new
today,
putting a new spin
on something quite familiar.
skip on over to
rootsofshe.com
to find out more.)

My Tree Of She

MyTreeOfShe1

i am a grove
a copse
a rich, fruitful orchard.

my tree of she
bears the fruit
of music
and cloth
and sparkle
and words.

MyTreeOfShe3

my tree of she
bears blooms
of food
and flowers
and a strength
so soft,
it’s often mistaken
for weakness.

my tree of she
bears leaves
of dance
and duty
and generosity.
leaves of
preserving
and nourishing
and protecting.

MyTreeOfShe2

my tree of she
is rich
in the red roots,
of blood
and hearts
and spirit,
and tears,
in the determination
and tenacity
and quiet boldness
of the women
who precede me.
their fierce independence,
their unbounded love,
their unending creativity,
unlocking the wonder
and the aching beauty
that is
my tree of she.

MyTreeOfShe4

Today’s post is inspired
by the lovely Lindsey Mead
who sweeps me away regularly
with that special brand of wisdom
she shares over at a place called
A Design So Vast . . .

she, more

Wovenwhole

in the beginning
there was light:
the lightness of laughter,
the lightness of femininity,
the lightness of self-assurance.
she was fiercely delicate,
this one,
fluent in the strength of vulnerability.

eventually her sure and tender feet
encountered the straight and narrow,
a path lined with directional signs
and dire warnings,
a path with unwavering rules,
a path that blistered unprotected souls.

then came the day when she
stopped –
she just stopped,
i tell you.
picked up the fabrics of her life,
and ripped them to find the straight grain.

she wove
then stitched
the strips together,
the up/down
in/out
over/under
eventually blurring the lines,
fraying the edges,
unraveling things just enough
to form
a whole cloth,
a blank slate
a stout, staunch cloth
on which to write
the rest of her life.

« Older posts

Where in the world is The 70273 Project? Please add a pin to show us where you are in the world. (1) Click the + sign in upper righthand corner of map. (2) Enter your first name only. (3) Enter your city/state. (4) Using the pins at the bottom of the map, select a marker based on how you are involved. (5) Select preview to see before posting. (6) Select submit to post. Please add a marker for each role you serve in The 70273 Project.

Support The 70273 Project

teaching

special delivery: get blog posts hot off the press

supporting

upscale homeless: my son's easy shop

upscale homeless:
my son's etsy shop

categories

archives

© 2022 Jeanne Hewell-Chambers’ Barefoot Heart

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑