Tag Archives: presence

To See the World in a Grain of Sand

11 Oct

I’ve been in a two week time warp.  And it feels like the “me” that went into it on one end and the “me” emerging on the other are barely recognizable.  It was not a pleasant experience.  But it was power full in that I sense some intrinsic rearrangement of inner self.  I’m not trying to be oblique.  And I’m only recording this for my own point of reference.  Needing to document when this happened.  To say more would be to say too much.  Except it’s all resolving well.

Yesterday and today there was no school.  Teachers doing things they needed to do.  We did the same.  loganandearl

It was one of those days almost too beautiful to comprehend.  The just right-ness of every thing. leavesandsun

Almonds and raisins savored under a very old covered bridge and I was so engrossed with reflections that I totally forgot to document its existence. Even though we discussed it. Discussed “why” a bridge would be covered. It’s magnificent, that covered bridge. Huge old 12″ thick beams notched and seated perfectly. But I forgot it because of this:reflection in water and there’s an idea here that’s wanting to come forth. Something about perception and form. Or maybe magic? Because it did seem like magic, that such an expansive vista of trees and sky could be so encompassed in such a small area of quiet water. The sense of merging of finite and in-finite. Seeing the world in a grain of sand and all that.

As for cloth, there is one forming now. Awaiting stitch. It appears simple. But it’s holding the lessons from the past two weeks. The need to remain vigilantly present. And focused. Committed to standing ground. And holding. Whatever arises. And looking at the cloth here, I see reflections of thoughts and emotions. Lightly etched into the over-dyed cloth. holding

Accompanying the echo of words of this young-old one. “You know, it never IS tomorrow. It’s only ever just now.”loganb&w

Grace and Focus

6 Oct

When I was in the 4th grade we had to memorize a poem. Any poem. One of our choosing. My dad, the least literary man I’ve ever known, thought it important to teach me his favorite. A sports related poem– a metaphor for life, actually, couched in terms of the dynamics of football of all things. A football game to be precise. Like having your back up against your own 5 yard line and all of that. It was about how one IS in dire situations. Dreadful ditty but over the years I’ve rephrased it into my own venacular. It popped into and out of my consciousness during this past week. Because this was a week that needed grace and offered lessons that could not be avoided. Had to be embraced in fact.

And there was little stitching, except to finish this: threegracesfinal

Not a lot of changes from the last time–when was that?–but enough. And today it goes as a birthday gift to my daughter. Forty-two today. It was hard to finish, but it was important that I did so. Because she named it–Three Graces–and asked for it. And because today she needs this–not the cloth so much as the promise of grace bestowed.

And then this:reddot1

that started as a play with over-dyed fabric and merged as three oddly shaped critters with one thing in common. Focus. The red dot. Focus. And I needed that too, this week, that red dot in front of me, demanding attention, disallowing wandering thoughts, insistence upon staying present. Right here. Right now. And it helped. Is helping.

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