Tag Archives: letting go

Recurring Patterns

7 Aug

After this week, a week of five 10-hour daily shifts with Grand Son, I will return to cloth. This week I’m doing other things. He is six. And busy. logan Right now he’s engaged with mini legos creating a “light reflect-dometer.” It tracks the rays of the sun. I’m just learning to pronounce it correctly. “Light ree flect dom a ter.” reflecdometer

Some of our interests intersect at various points. Yesterday, black walnut gathering and some dyeing experiments. And there’s a butterfly bush right outside the window where he works and I’m receiving moment by moment updates. Called to check it out after almost every sentence I type here. A butterfly with a torn wing that still can fly. It’s o.k. he tells me. I’ve placed a small CD player next to him with mellow flute music playing. The effect is marginal.

And just as I was going to post a picture of the beginning of my “Jude-like Shirt Project”shirt I’m called off to another investigation of sorts. The idea was to do a joint post. Identify circles and spheres. Circle-type objects.  Objects he especially resonates with.  To take their pictures then post them. Here goes.sun

rust

mandala

glass

logan's eye

sunflower

dahlia

and this. Surely my favorite. A lovely felted centering facilitator by Sumitra. Renaissance woman. Conjurer of magic.   Artist.  And so much more.sumitra's felting1

And right now a handy man is patching holes in the roof–the new roof I would add–and Grand Son is outside with him. Monitoring the job. So I’m finishing up here. And though this all sounds playful and fun–as it is, really…

usually he’s hanging out the window trying to spot kids in this neighborhood he can play with. They’re several years older than he is, and at this age, one’s “age number” seems critical. It’s sweet and funny–but more than anything–poignant. Watching a six year old trying to be cool enough to play with a 10 year old. I cringe. Don’t intervene. Letting it play its way out as it will. I may not be a huge fan of the culture he’s stepping into, but I cannot protect him from the lessons he came in with. And as I write this I see I’m letting go of a life pattern of my own–the attempt to protect my children from their lessons–watching it fall to the wayside. Yesterday I told a friend that it’s long over due–the need to sit out this cosmic dance. It’s time. And it has nothing to do with LOVE. Or maybe, actually, it has every thing to do with LOVE. Gotta go. It’s too quiet out there.

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