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Tuesday, January 31, 2017

on the eve of an experiment



last night I meditated, asked this disease I deal with what, if anything, did it want to teach me. i sat, in the dark, listening to the kittens pad about me.

in came the answer, swift as a breeze. it came in words, one after the other, a list of imperative.

it was the first word that caught my breath and, at first, I balked.

no.

not patience.

still, I sat with it, wondered if there was something to patience that I wasn't getting. you hear things like, "never, ever ask for patience." things happen, "they" say. things to teach you the dreaded waiting.

patience.

not a bad word. why, so often, does it offend? perhaps because it disarms, calls us to attention, "look," it says. "listen. don't hurry on by."

and so I did.

I have never liked the waiting part of any idea. I don't like to get a final chapter only to have to start at the beginning and write through to the end. I want it finished. I don't do well with mistakes and faltering.

ah.

patience ~ allowing yourself to be a part of the details.

sewing is all about details. tiny, hand-done stitches. drawing is too; little ink marks made by trembling hands.

birthed from a month of wonderings, from a night of listening, i decided to practice allowing myself to be a part of the details. allow myself the joy of discovery through tactile experience. here I'll spend a year, february 01, 2017 through february 01, 2018 journeying through fibers with pens and needles. honestly, I'm not really sure what my direction is. honestly, I don't believe I have one. I'm open. I want to see where this rabbit hole of practice leads.

one year of ink and stitches.
a year of drawing and sewing.

let the jagged line begin.

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