Sparkling Lotus-land

... embracing deep changes ...

Although THIS blog is currently on hiatus I'm still sharing fairly regular details from my creative development over at nichobella.  To visit please click here and adjust you bookmarks accordingly.  

THIS place/my turn with it

So ... in recent times several of my favorite bloggers have posted their uncertainty about the cumulative place blogging might hold them.  Among other things, they have been unsure how to balance their intentions with the various results of other peoples' responses to things beyond those intentions; they have said they need time to think about whether or not they really want to continue.  In most cases they've decided to saddle back up in fairly short order.  I have been glad in every instance because I generally find the blogosphere to be a nourishing place.  All the same I find myself in that same spot of wondering what it means to be "be" here" and I don't have the sense I'll get clear on my decision very quickly.  Likewise I don't feel a compelling need (or obligation) to publicly explain myself further than that. 

Nonetheless - if total truth be told - I've been on this particular fence for a couple of months now.  Every time somebody else posted about their own uncertainty, I felt some part of myself wanting to jump up and down with a case of Me Too syndrome.  BUT...in my case ... the way I felt and those creeping inclinations haven't had to do with outside influence.  Not until the past week or so.  And of course that particular shift changes everything.   NOW I find that I am not just trying to interpret an internalized mosaic.  I'm also trying to determine what is in my authentic best interests in terms of incoming energy.  It may feel sudden at an externalized level but it's really not.  I've just "suddenly" reached the tipping point where the issue moved from what-if to definite-maybe status. I remain pretty clear on why I blog but I'm no longer at all clear how that matches up with what various readers elect to glean from my efforts.  I need a bit of time to think it though and decide if my current inclinations also apply to nichobella and/or Flickr or just this particular All Purpose blog.

Readers who actually know me will undoubtedly perceive and understand the following truths:  I'm not posting this entry as a way of eliciting feedback that feeds the linear ego and otherwise coaxes me past this type of decision-making gridlock.  To make that absolutely clear, I'm strongly inclined to turn off the comments.  Edit:  Originally I added a few more sentences about my sense that the inclination was too machanistic in favor of my emotional/psychic safe zone.  I tried to shoot for egalitarianism by leaving the comments open and allowing readers to comment or not based on their own sense of ultimate impeccability.  But I have now realized that what I most need to give myself is the space to speak my truth.  I don't "need" to know what anybody else thinks/feels about it or to find my way through the kind of influence that tends to yield for the overall decision-making process.  Thank you for understanding/tolerating this particular boundary.  It's the edge of an edge.  Someday - sooner OR later - I'm sure I'll be back here ...

while the sun shines

Yesterday when I woke up the first thing I noticed was less humidity and a slight dip in temperature.  By the time I was downstairs I had made the decision to spend the day's Energy Flare on a trip to Snow Pond.  My initial plan was to walk over to the new memorial bench and sit for awhile.  I knew there was no better medicine for me than a visit to this favorite spot - a mingling of my roots with the landscape.

 

Tony was happy to drive and sit with me on the bench.  This was our view as we talked about this & that.  I had brought a small collecting jar with me in hopes that sitting by the water would be rejuvenating enough to make a short scouting venture in search of mullein flowers.  I could tell after ten or fifteen minutes on the bench that I would indeed gain the necessary energy if I was simply patient enough and set a truly reasonable goal of where we'd search.

The beloved heron was there.  Usually the bird flies away shortly after our arrival but this one went right on stalking at the edge of the pond's far side.  It seemed intent to outwait us and, eventually, its intention was rewarded.  In the meantime we enjoyed watching the bird move in and out of camouflage.  At a different part of the far edge, I was lucky enough to spot a three point buck grazing in the bush.  Didn't even try to get a picture.  I just stared and stared and took in the animal's presence - especially after I pointed him out to Tony who couldn't see what I saw.   Deer medicine is not at all inappropriate for me right now in terms of complimentary healing alliance.  So I watched with silent gratitude until the deer meandered onward into the woods.

 

Eventually I ran my scouting plan by Tony.  He agreed it was not an overly ambitious walking goal and I promised I'd be mindful enough to turn back early if that was in my best interests.  So we walked along the close side of the pond with me pointing out orioles and wildflowers along the way.  Tony pointed out mushrooms and a few wildflowers I'd missed.  We saw meadowsweet, lavender monkeyflower, several kinds of vetch, meadow rue, prunella, wild yarrow and marsh swallowwort.  We also saw the first flush of monarch butterflies.  A happy sight indeed.

I remember walking in the wood with my son when he was very young and then a bit older.  Often I would think about him being the age he is now: a young adult.  I wondered what parts of the kind gentle nature he had as a tiny boy would be retained.  What would be expanded and how would he develop under his own steam as well as my influence?   Would he still like to go for walks in the woods?  Would I ever have an opporunity to walk with him?   Now that I know the answers to my questions I feel blessed in ways that defy words.  Words, in fact, do not belong to these particular answers.  They can only be understood by listening very carefully to Our Mother's sacred heartbeat as we walk as carefully as we can upon her ground.

 

Along the woods walk we spoke to each other quietly.  Our conversation was just a breath or two above the sound of softly rustling leaves and things that suddenly jumped in and out of the creek that feeds the pond.

 

We stopped at the edges of the little field that is so beloved to brother Doug.  I thought there might be some mullein here as I have often found it growing in the past.  But this year the plant that has staked its claim in this area is milkweed.  We watched the monarchs searching-out the plants with the opened blooms.  Tony asked me, very gently, if I thought I had walked far enough.  I agreed that it was time to head back to the car and some resting time once we were home.  And so we retraced out steps.  But you know it's never quite the same - the way we walk our talk while walking and talking ...

full metal racket

The first and last image on this post are of a bronze medallion created by my truly incomparable friend, Greg Robinson.  This was a commissioned piece that has been installed at Multnomah Falls National Park.  I have been quietly enjoying these images for long enough to have generosity take over and insist that I share them with interested blog readers.  I wanted to include a third image that shows the awesome size/scope of the medallion with Greg standing beside it.  But I wasn't sure if he'd be cool with that so I left well enough alone.

about the medallion: This image shows the earth and sky.  Coyote is represented in the outer ring as he sets the rules and taboos for the new people.  The new people are in the second ring, bearing the weight of Coyote's rules on earth.  The center shows Morning star and her children, representing the sky/heavens.  The five bands represent the five directions, the usual four and up.  The face of Morning Star is oriented towards the Columbia River.

Actually ... I wrote a way-different draft of this post in what felt like a minute and a half but was probably more like fifteen or twenty - late last night right at that peculiar edgy place where one day fades into the next.  Was planning to tweak it a bit this morning and then post but ...when I woke up...I realized the draft's purpose was a message for me rather than the world at large.  It seems my writing voice has found me right when I would least have expected it - after being AWOL for quite some time while I natter on about what's blooming in my garden or what I'm making at my work table or what I'm reading etc.  I consider this a Coyote gift that's bound to have a price tag or twenty.  The most obvious tag involves using it or losing it.  So, coming as a total surprise to me at this particular moment, I'm here to make public note of my "sudden" commitment to writing more seriously for at least a few hours every week.  If the voice is willing then it behooves me to get some energetic chops back and, you know, do something a little bit new & different with the inherent gift of having a way with words.

The pictures in the center of the post are of my own art work in progress.  The first two pieces relate to coyote vision and looking through that vision eye-to-eye with the Old Man himself.  The post I wrote last night did not have a tangible thread of being about Coyote medicine ... it had to do with a very vivid dream I had about Greg which I found quite remarkable as well as quixotic as all hell and essentially baffling to the point of ongoing distraction.  And yet here I sit saying the post wasn't about Coyote medicine!  Heh.  For my next trick I'll attempt to convince myself that things that Go On do so in a random and basically dis-connected fashion without any larger rhyme or reason.

The image above is part of a piece I've been working on for about a dozen years... not working on in the ongoing technical sense but definitely working on in terms of learning more and more depth of what it is that I'm attempting to convey with the visual imagery.  Coyote spirit doesn't just happen and yet ... that's exactly what it does.  It happens.  Exactly like that stuff nobody enjoys getting stuck on their shoes.  So what I really mean is that a meaningful human articulation of Coyote medicine doesn't just happen - not in an overnight type of way all supporting evidence to the contrary.  The creative gestation period, for instance, might be days, months or decades in the making.  The technical facts of meaning one thing without somehow or other saying or depicting quite another can take, yes indeed, the better part of a lifetime.  Otherwise what do you have.  Facile little parables cribbed from traditional culture(s) and shamelessly reconfigured to go down nice and easy with the masses Beyond. 

Coyote defanged and dressed up in cute lovable clownlike cuddle-wear and/or his hubba hubba Hey Sailor Sunday best is one of the scariest things I know.  Because it's a guaranteed given (talk about price tags!!) that kind of stuff always comes back around and bites members of our species good and hard on the ass and at least ten other places.  With this kind of thing in mind I have been ever so slowly reconnecting with this personal example of Slow Cloth because, apparently, working on it more tangibly is something I need right now in terms of getting my head on straight(er) and stepping into a more full form of power in relation to personal healing matters.

Yesterday I had a doctor appointment that I will not be sharing in this forum and, furthermore, I'm going to give the barest thumbnail version of why.  Anybody who authentically puts themselves on any kind of line on a regular basis out here in cyberspace knows at least a little bit about the disembodied community's underbelly. There's plagiarism in an array of unpleasant forms that showcase human nature at its lowest common denominator.  And there's also a very unattractive & distracting form of atavistic looky-loo voyeurism; embraced by those who decide entertainment includes keeping tabs on those online whom they have chosen to more overtly ignore.  For whatever reason - and I mean that about both the voyeurism and it's shadow twin of appearing to be completely disinterested in any real contact - this particular type of hungry ghost has it made in the proverbial shade where the internet is concerned.  Because who's to say, really.  What truly goes on beyond the other side of our own computer screen we really don't know, do we.

What people did with this sort of shadow energy before the internet, I really can't imagine but, believe me, it's something I've thought about a great deal.  Certain readers have been forced to listen to me talk about it - sometimes for quite awhile and a few have been pushed and prodded into giving me their opinion of it all and if they don't have one available well then - tell me something that makes at least a little sense from a behavioral analysis point of view.  Here's one thing I figured out all on my own that more or less fits in with the themes I'm exploring in this post:  A lot of times naughtily inclined people who perceive themselves "in the know" will excuse their bad behavior with an oft-repeated slogan that really sets my teeth on edge:  Coyote made me do it.   Sure.  blame the messenger.  or the unreliable narrator.  or the devil incarnate.  Pick a culture and, by default, also pick one more name by which Coyote spirit is known.

The image above shows the very first stages of my interpretation of The Old Man in his First Maker guise.  This is the guise that intrigues me the most and resonates the strongest although it's also the diametric opposition of how my father's people* (the Jicarilla Apache) define the Ancient One.  Greg's people (the Chinuk), on the other hand, are all over Coyote the creator and I have enjoyed the bits of detail he's shared with me as his knowledge of the traditional myths and legends deepen.

 

Last night I had another dream in which Greg was once again a key player and this time I got the messenger-from-the-messenger connection - at least a little bit.  I woke up in a state of gestalt-like clarity that has eluded me for quite awhile now.  I understood (a) I needed to put more energy into writing more seriously even if I didn't yet understand "to what end"; (b) I needed to actively work on Coyote as a Young Man even if that made zippo sense in terms of the modest little creative schedule I've been nurturing; and (c) I needed to disengage and disempower the Voyeurs That Be by making a public statement about my awareness of their presence and the way(s) it's about to change how I do and do not communicate through the blogophere.  Leading to (d) - at the moment all of this boils down to taking the best possible care of myself.  If it's my opinion that you really need to know the details about my diagnosis and what it means, I'll be telling you directly.  If you simply really want to know then I will trust that means you have the personal skill set to ask me just as directly.  An then I'll tellya. Otherwise ... as far as public consumption goes... all I really need to say is that my personal stake in quantum healing just got a little stronger and a bit more multi-plexic.  Same whirled/different daze.

Speaking of clarity, other people are also experiencing their version of such things and I was ABSOLUTELY AMAZED and yet equally but-of-course-it-is accepting by what Ms. Jude is currently stitching.  A little dog asking big questions.  Oh hell yeah.  Been there.  Keep doing that.  The coyote pictured above was my contribution to a memorial comfort quilt.  I sought to depict Coyote as the Light-Footed Traveling Medicine Maker, in double gemini guise.  The astrological glyphs became an echo of the eyes in the sky from the preceding image.

The infinite symmetrical nature of Greg's medallion has been mesmerizing me for the last little while; drawing me in and ever-closer to my own center without me quite catching on or seeing the forest's trees for its pine needles.  Today I'm organically happier and more authentically grounded & balanced than I've been for a number of weeks.  That doesn't necessarily make any sense but it also doesn't make the implications any less real.  And I have it on some relatively excellent authority that there's a lot of this going around. So I hope any number of readers are catching their own sort of buzz that allows them to go on making their own kind of waves.  We owe that much to ourselves, each other and this crazy-assed world in which we live.

* If you're sharp you will notice I've been in the habit of saying my father's people rather than mine.  That's a gesture of conscious respect & acknowledgement on my part - based on the fact that I have no direct connection to the cultural realities or the geographical landscape.  All of which is a whole other kind of shaggy dog story for another day.  Maybe.

John Gillow #2

Here's another textile volume that's well worth searching-out - especially if you love batiks and/or ikats.  My copy is an oversized paperback.  I purchased it sight unseen because I had been so impressed and inspired by the other two Gillow books that I previewed through library loans.  The back cover reads in part:  In this book the rich design tradition is reflected in over 200 dazzling photographs.  Based on first-hand research, often conducted in remote areas, John Gillow's account comprises a comprehensive history of textile production in the Indonesian archipelago and a complete guide to the islands and their products - from Balinese double ikats and Javanese silks to the gold-thread brocades of Sumatra.

Once again many of the textiles are presented in full page images.  There are also wonderful pictures of the processes involved with bringing these amazing cloths to life.

I have spent several happy hours studying the images and text; this is a book I want to keep close at hand for dreaming over and ongoing inspiration value.  The book has five chapters: The Textile History of Indonesia, Yarns Looms & Dyes,  The Decorative Craft of Batik, A World of Pattern (ikat-centric), and The Art of Embellishment. 

I was very happy to receive this book and start absorbing the information it contained because I happen to love Indonesian textiles without actually knowing much about them from a process-oriented or contextual point of view.  It's always been one of those know-what-I-like type of attractions and that can get old after awhile - especially when it's so obvious that the beauty and craftsmanship gains more emotional and visual value the more you actually know about its cultural purpose and derivations.

It is impossible to select favorite images and so I just opened the book at random in order to provide these glimpses.  Returning to the the book as a way of framing these written remarks kept me happily preoccupied for several minutes of contented gawking.  The visual richness of the textiles is actually a bit overwhelming.  It's nice to have something on hand that can be reviewed over time; when I go to textile exhibitions I always feel that my brain is processing only a fragment of what I see on display.  That's why I always try to visit more than once and take notes on my impressions in between the visits.  With the Gillow books, that kind of work is done for me and I have all the time in the world to look, sketch and reflect at my leisure.  To my mind, the volume is quite reasonably priced even without discount.  It happens my own copy had such a steep discount that, even with shipping, it wound up being a bit less than half the cover price.  Either way, the cost factor makes it rather indispensable for those of us who may never be lucky enough to amass a comprehensive collection of the Real Thing.

Note:  if you missed my review of Gillow's African Textiles, you can read it right here.

what the rain brings

Despite the wet gloom that's become Situation Normal around here, the garden continues to yield daily surprises.  This morning I was thrilled to find some white carnations had opened.  They are a lovely presence in the front border of the main garden bed.  This flower offers a wonderful remedy for all sorts of psychic cobwebs and emotional debris.  It's a great cleansing agent for times when you can't easily synchronize your inner landscape with outer reality.  I love to work with it in a simple blend that also includes red bee balm and deep red floribunda rose.  This formula helps me hook into my natural vitality even in times when "vitality" feels like a very relative and somewhat abstract concept.

More and more flowerheads on the angelica are setting fruit/seeds.  The main question right now is how to get them dried while they're still viable.  Angelica seeds, as I've mentioned, have a very short shelf life.  I have promised seeds to people who will need to receive them by mail and so I'm not sure how that's going to work if we don't get a few sunny days soon ...

When I open the front door, the first thing I notice is the beautiful purple stalks of Lady Bells that have begun to bloom.  I have dozens (and dozens ...) of flower stalks this year - all originating from the same tiny pot I bought eleven years ago.  I never noticed this plant growng in the wild before I welcomed it into my garden.  Now I am delighted when I spy a colony somewhere at the edge of the woods.  Oftentimes a little scouting will reveal a nearby stone foundation of a house or farm outbuilding.  My favorite wild crop grows right beside the wide stone steps of a house that is long forgotten.  The flower remedy is a great friend to those who don't quite 'fit in" - nor want to do that fitting-in.  In my experience(s) it's proven especially friendly for those women who aren't inherently girlie and have little tolerance for situations or people who attempt to force them into a girlie mode.

Yellow loosestrife is also blooming in the northernmost bed.  So it's quite colorful with the bright yellow and purple of these flowers interspersed with little clouds of hot pink clusterhead pinks. This bed is a tangle of life that often changes quite dramatically even within a single growing season.  It definitely changes a lot from year to year and I love learning from it with a minimum of interference on my part.  But the lady bells are somewhat out of hand.  I weeded-out seedlings by the handful in order to rescue a few agrimony plants and a columbine that never bloomed.  In fact none of my columbines bloomed this year.  I think they needed more sunlight and dry weather than they received.

The buttery yarrow is blooming in large top-heavy drifts.  Every day there seems to be twice as much as the day before.

The spirea japonica is also top-heavy with rainwater as well as flowerheads.  When this flush of blooms is spent I will prune the bush so it isn't quite so expansive during its autumn flowering. 

The bear's britches have also begun to flower and their interesting shape & texture make them this week's choice as a banner subject.  Am giving myself the summer time treat of posting less so don't worry that this means I'm feeling extra poorly. Just feeling ... like having more time off the clock immersed in private pursuit.

the challenge of be-ing

Woooooooo!  There's been some herbal medicine making in this work room!  I mean the very practical down-to-earth type of medicine making that starts with a trip to the garden, a collecting basket and freshly cleaned collecting shears.  Was very glad to get the two largest baskets filled with lemon balm and spearmint before the rains came on Sunday.   But a few technical difficulty type problems emerged in retrospect because the gathering process really messed with my blood pressure.  I tried to avoid getting up and down quickly but was not able to avoid feeling both dizzy and exhausted.  So I have been experiencing the spiral-around portion of the healing process.  Greater patience, more resting time and  increased self-compassion are the things I need most right now.

I collected enough lemon balm for a few nice drying bunches and two recycled canning jars full of cold oil infusion.    This is such pleasant work because the leaves smell so nice.  But it took a LONG time to get all the air bubbles out of the oil jars.  The concentrated effort further exhausted me. This in turn has been making it more difficult for me to assimilate the medications I'm taking. So I will need to re-think my herb gathering habits and allow this aspect of life to become another place where I ask for more help than usual.  One good thing about the daily rain storms is the opportunity it gives me to mentally problem solve.

Instead of bundling the spearmint I just transferred the harvest to the largest basket once I'd processed all the lemon balm.  I toss the mint manually a couple times a day and have learned this is an acceptable way of getting it properly dried.  Right now, it's so damp that this lazy-way may actually be more effective than bundling.

The whole dizzy/exhausted thing has been calling most of the shots in this new week.  Yesterday's birthday celebrations were very low key but I still feel like I need to rest-up from them.  Had hoped to go to the ocean in Rhode Island today but am simply not up for it so Jim and Tony drove up to New Hampshire, instead.    Before they left they put frequently used items at natural standing level for me - cat food, water jug, pots and pans for heating my food, etc.  Plus they put everything I'd need from the refrigerator on the top shelf.  This has been a huge help.  Moving up and down, even when I do it super slowly, has a huge negative impact on me right now.

 This morning I found that out all over again when I was out in the garden getting some documentation shots.  For the next little while I'll need to stop taking the kind of pictures that involve squatting or crouching.  Will need to just be with greater mindful conviction.  So the studio journal class I'm taking is proving to be an invaluable distraction from my difficult moods and emotional spikes, weird thought patterns, etc.  Today I wrote a blog post for nichobella that details my relationship to journaling as an over-arching life theme.  Constructing written thoughts on the topic was extremely helpful for me in terms of clarifying who I am and what I'm about above and beyond the physical concerns of this particular moment.

Yesterday one of the gifts I received was Creating Sketchbooks for Embroiderers and Textile Artists.  I have read extremely varied/mixed responses to this book here online so I really wasn't sure what to expect.  So far I am liking what I see both in terms of the visuals and the way the written portions of the book are structured.   There is way more substance to the text (and the photos, for that matter) than some of the online reviews would suggest.  When I am not so dizzy and fatigued I expect I will get even more out of it.    Am going to unplug for a few days to prepare for the upcoming festival of medical appointments.  Hope everyone has a good week ...

the midnight hour & beyond

Have mentioned before that my son shares my insomniac tendencies...for the past few nights he's been out & about taking photographs and then editing them as the clock creeps into the early morning hours.  Although we're both often frustrated to find ourselves unable to sleep, his current project is a lot of vicarious fun for me.  For the past two nights I've been up when he's come home.  The creative energy buzzing around him is quite potent and I really enjoy the snippets of experience he chooses to share.  Also like looking at the pictures once he's reviewed them and started editing.  It's fun to hear details of the experimentation involved and feel the energy looping back through me.

Last night I really liked the picture he took of our yard and adjacent house.  He highlighted the birdbath with a flashlight during the long exposure.  I like the implication that the birds' energy is so vibrant that the area stays illuminated even at night.  It's also fun (and instructive) to see the daily landscape from someone else's eyes.  While he was working on his photography project, I completed a couple of samples for my studio journal.  This was a very satisfying way of focusing my mind.  Then I read for awhile. Finally there was sleep and now a whole new day

This is the center of a Tropicana rose that's living on my desk.  The first flower on the plant bloomed very low to the ground in a shaded, secret location.  This is the third rosebush to begin its flowering in a sort of stealth mode.  Seems like a theme and so I'll be doing some automatic writing on the subject over the next week or so.

Trysomic stocks are a big favorite of mine for their delicate appearance, soft pink-to-violet-to-magenta color range, and lovely spicy-clove scent.  They also make beautiful cut flowers, especially for a bedside bouquet.  This is the first time I've grown these quiet beauties in a number of years.  I planted them in the northernmost bed and a container along the front walkway so that we could enjoy the scent while relaxing on the screen porch.

Clusterhead pinks are also blooming.  The colonies were started from seed during the second year of the garden's life.  They are a nice choice for an "easy" garden because they are care free and not at all prone to disease.   The little (half inch) flowers open on 1.5 to 2 foot stems; as their name suggests, they bloom in little groups two or three at a time.  The length of the stems gives the flowers a bit of a disembodied look.  They appear to be zooming all over the place under their own steam - tiny hot pink constellations showering blessings on other nearby plants.  Their scent is sweet with a hint of spice.

Valerian is also in bloom although not quite as prolifically as usual.  I suspect this has a lot to do with the fact that I didn't have an opportunity to thin the patch where they grow.  Valerian is often considered an undesirable plant because it self-seeds so prolifically.  And, of course, if the plants are too densely packed they will not produce as many flowers.  On the upside, this means there will be fewer seedlings to thin.  The cats "help" with this project in the fall because they love to dig up the roots.  While the pretty white valerian flowers have a sweet cherry pie-like scent the roots smell fairly rank to the human nose.  Cats, however, really enjoy it.  So the roots can be placed in pillows that are intended as kitty dreaming thrones.  Put them in an out of the spot where your cats enjoy lurking so the smell is not as overpowering to human family members.

Since we have not yet gotten the predicted rain I was able to start harvesting calendula flowers.  These two were so pretty that I propped them up with some thread spools and took their picture.  Jim's running errands right now and I asked him to bring me a gallon of olive oil.  It's arrival will give me a chance to harvest some lemon balm for a cold oil infusion.  Am also harvesting spearmint to dry for teas; maybe if I get super ambitious I can harvest enough to start a hot infusion of comfrey and spearmint leaves in the crock pot...

John Gillow #1

All told I'll be posting about three different volumes by John Gillow.  A few weeks back I requested African Textiles through inter-library loan and, within five minutes of opening the book, I knew I wanted to score a copy for myself.  If you love indigenous textiles and putting cloth into a larger frame of cultural reference, I'm sure you'd enjoy curling up with this book as much as I do.  It's is a large coffee table style art book  containing hundreds of photos and drawings.  The accompanying text and image captions are superb.  Just imagine:  mudcloth, ikat, indigo patterns as complex and unending as the universe itself, exquisite tapestries and weavings plus a wealth of intricate embellishments.  W-O-W this is a beautiful book and very satisfying to absorb.

The back cover refers to this book as an encyclopedic survey of the traditional textiles of the entire continent.  This is accurate but it doesn't really hint at the lively scope and awe-inspiring textiles on display throughout the volume.  Cultures covered include:  West Africa - The Ashanti, The Bamana, The Baule, The Dida, The Djerma, The Ewe, The Fante, The Fulani, The Hausa, The Igbo, The Nupe, The Yoruba.  North Africa -  The Berber, The Kabyle.  East Africa - The Amhara, The Baganda, The Dorze, The Galla, The Gurage, The Kikuyu, The Maasai, The Somali, The Tigray.  Central Africa - The Bamileke, The Imbuti Pygmies, The Kuba, The Shoowa.  Southern Africa - The Betsileo, The Merina, The Ndebele, The Sakalava, The Zhosa, The Zulu.

Many of the photos are presented as full page images.  Details are exalted with such care that a magnifying glass really isn't necessary.  This is a real plus in a textile volume, n'est-ce pas?  The people of the various cultures are photographed with the same mindful affection.

So many differing styles of labor intensive techniques are included that it's actually dizzying to contemplate.   Many images literally make my pulse race and a few have brought tears of appreciation and amazement to my eyes.  The diversity of African textiles could take a lifetime's worth of study and consideration but this single volume has a lot of to offer both armchair travelers and fabric lovers. 

I was able to get a very reasonably priced copy from a used bookseller which is in pristine condition beyond a very subtle remainder mark along the bottom edge of the pages.  When the book first arrived I spent a very happy half hour opening it at random and gawking to my heart's content.  Since then I've vowed to make a more methodical study of the contents.  But so far it's proven impossible to be quite that disciplined.

I know many readers of this blog would love to spend some quality time nourishing their eyes & soul with this volume.  Definitely see if it's available from your library and be prepared to get lost for awhile.  Additionally, although it takes a while to load, the article I linked to Gillow's name at the beginning of this post is a fascinating read.  If you don't have time for it right now, make sure to bookmark for later review. I printed out a copy for the design & inspiration sourcebook I'm creating this summer.  Still to come - The Textiles of Indonesia and Traditional Indian Textiles.

scheme of things

Dreams have been incredibly intricate and vivid for the past few weeks.  Some of that is a stated side-effect to the beta-blockers I'm taking and some of it relates to the sea of liminality that always seems to find us in the month prior to our birthday.  Every night I fall asleep with a sense of anticipation; where will I be traveling and who will be my dreamtime companions?

The night before the summer solstice I had a dream that one of my oldest friends sent me a videotape called Marching Orders.  He had filmed himself giving me advice on things I ought to do and keep in mind as I healed from my Throat Situation.  Every time he said those words he'd reach up and fake gag himself.  When I woke up I reached for my personal journal right away and started writing down everything I could remember him saying.  One of the suggestions that stuck out most clearly was his advice that I take the mindful time to implement a sacred act every single day.

Normally I don't think I'd need that kind of advice but, in the week following my trips to the ER, I definitely had my hands and mind full just trying to juggle very linear activities.  I kind of lost my personal groove so that when I did get back to former pattens of prayer and meditation, I was awash in that comforting and grounding sense of profound homecoming.  So I called the friend who had sent me the dreamtime Marching Orders and talked to him about my daily life as well as the dream in which he starred.  We had a good discussion about the shifting definition of a sacred act:  some things - like breaking down an altar space and then rebuilding it - are inherently sacred by any definition.  Other things - like collecting motherwort flowers to make a tincture from them - are sacred because of my personal belief system and the ways I choose to inter-relate with plants.  Some - like printing a copy of my flower essence Handbook and preparing it for mailing - are sacred because, without Divine influence and inspiration, the book wouldn't exist at all or else it would be 'out in the world' in a very different/far less individualized form.

So my life's pretty full of sacred acts of one kind or another but, all the same, every day around supper time I've been pausing to choose a particular dreamtime-inspired sacred act to perform.  One evening it was a slow contemplation of the Diamond Sutra.  Once I sat in half-lotus for a half-hour silently contemplating the beauty and perfection of the single rose in this post's first picture.  One evening I washed the laughing buddha statue pictured above.  He lives in our kitchen just above the stove and so, over time, grime and dust form a dull film on the front of the statue.  As I washed it away I prayed with strong gratitude for the grace and freedom to spend my time in this type of pleasant self-direction. 

One night my vivid dreaming took me to a stone temple in an unknown place.  There was a teenage girl in the temple who was tending the incense bowl and singing very sweetly.  I left an offering on the floor of the temple and then walked away.  The girl followed me.  She had a windchime in her hand that looked a good deal like the chimes above.  She told me how it was a "special device" to help me remember authentic gratitude to be alive and well-loved.  I said it looked like a regular windchime.  She replied, very sadly, that this is why I'd probably pay it no mind when I saw it again.

Turns out - the very next day (it was only yesterday although it feels like I've lived a year and a half since then ...) I saw the above chimes at the store where I like to buy our birdseed.  Over time I had been toying with buying a very different set as a little birthday treat for myself.  I asked Tony which chimes he liked best and he pointed at the one from my dream.  I didn't tell him about it.  I just nodded and revised my plans.  Last night's sacred act was an extended moment of standing meditation at the young sourwood tree where the chimes are hanging.  I thought about all the "special devices" I may have overlooked as the years pile up against each other.  I thought of those that I recognized and valued enough to keep close at hand or in my mind's eye.

I think ... if we remember-to-remember the sacred ... the sacred will in turn remember us.

P.S.  When I took the laughing buddha's picture, my architect's lamp suddenly fell sideways just as the shutter closed.  I thought the resulting image looked rather sinister - like something from a bad horror film.  Tony agreed.  He said just looking at it made him hear frail helpless screams in the background.  I heard melodramatic thunder claps.  And we both laughed and laughed and laughed ... right along with the buddha.

farther afield

This morning I accompanied Tony on a birdseed run.  Had my camera along and was able to catch this hawk just as it took flight from the road sign where it had been napping.  Tony saw it as we drove by; I had him drive back around so I could see it too.  Unfortunately the bird was not feeling ready for its closeup.  We watched it re-settle in a nearby tree that was farther back from the road.  And then ...

My first visit to Snow Pond in nearly a month!  I told Tony before we left the house that I was hoping to have enough energy to stop on our way home.  Said I just want to walk to the close side of the pond and be as one with it for a few minutes.  Knew the energy there would do my energy a world of good and Tony agreed.  You can see how happy I was return to this favorite spot from the new sidebar picture.

We discovered a new memorial bench between two maple trees.  Spent a bit of time sitting there and looking around at changes in the landscape.  I pointed out some elders in flower at the pond's edge just level with the blueberry field.  Told Tony I'd like to try walking just that far and then coming back around the far edges of the blueberries.  Along the way we enjoyed spotting many wildflowers.  The air was very sweet from clover flowers and the tail-end of the wild rose blooming cycle.  I was scouting for some flowering mullein because I need to make a fresh batch of infused oil.  Didn't find any in this particular field but I have a few more ideas of where I could get lucky.

Tony enjoys our nature walks and I'm so thrilled that he still likes to make them with me.  Here he communes with Ragged Robins and Buttercups.

We also enjoyed spotting Bindweed flowers in the tall grass and pointing them out to each other.  The blooms were spaced far apart; as if they too were playing an I Spy game.

We kept stopping to think and admire things and bird-watch.  I saw several flashes of gold as orioles went about their mid-day business.

 

The presence of the Elder flowers was especially reviving for me.  I told Tony I wished I could walk around the entire pond and he said Of COURSE you do.  Then we both laughed and headed back along the main path.

The field is loaded with blueberries.  Although they aren't yet ripe they do have a special energetic signature that announces itself gradually.

And there are hundreds of Milkweed plants.  Most of the flower heads we saw were in tight bud but at the edge of the back pathway, I finally spotted some open flowers.

We circled back for another rest on the bench.  The white water lilies are blooming and I paused just long enough for some pictures of them.

 

Now I am tired but it feels like an effort very well spent.  This isn't the post I had planned for today but it was nothing that can't keep until tomorrow ...