You are going to have to wait for my prose When Not Enough is Enough and Fairy Fashion Mountain Camp for now. I’m wrestling with the value of timing and whether it matters. For now, I think it does.
I have been trying to post/communicate with you since mid-August. My two above pieces are 85% written, in need only of final edits. Written in the glorious weather and sunshine of the summer mountains, my intentions were to easily finish up and communicate before the September close of Summer. Now it is November 1st. Imagine how many times I wrote “post” on my To Do lists since then. In lieu of beating myself up (though there has been plenty of that) and because it is the infamous 2020, I’m going to blame it on the Pandemic. Of course, you will allow that of me. I’m sure you’re going through your own version of “I didn’t expect THIS!” of 2020 priorities.
Though my distractions aren’t obvious blatant symptoms of this difficult year, I am exploring if deep down underneath they are a COPING mechanism, no matter how they appear on the surface. Chores (perhaps a term from my farm family background,) cleaning (believe me I am not obsessive,) snipping and nurturing the garden, calling and writing elder friends I love, weekly composting food (oh-so-gross,) changing seasonal decor, texting & hosting friends, connecting with family, exercising, and general keeping of order…I watch myself give precedence.
Oh, and that fabulous 5 day virtual tour, the Selvedge World Fair[i] on Textile Arts’ manifesting presence all over our globe. (I hope to write about this soon) Plus volunteering to make the Fiber Arts room at the Art Students League of Denver[ii] more gorgeous and inviting. (I’m offering classes there next Spring) Plus, always holding in my hands, Knitting.
All of which turned August into November and no post from me despite my best intentions and New Year’s commitment to you. What is up with this?
I’m no psychologist but I am betting on this coping premise instead of my ineptitude to do the fancy stuff. By fancy, I mean my art, my sewing, my writing and my business delights.* As during the beginning of the Shut Down I didn’t think I needed a Zoom class on grieving but was completely intrigued to find all the principles applied, now I am intrigued my behavior could be a symptom of deep inner discourse and an active attempt at healing, as is grieving. Keeping order to what I can control helps cover the mayhem I cannot. I need to honor this healing behavior despite the disappointment I don’t bury myself in the fancy work instead. For some, the art is the healing, but I am learning, for me at least, apparently, more healing is needed before the art.
“They say” we are “what we see ourselves doing” and to “live in the moment.” It is impossible to do otherwise when Mother Nature, 2020, and Politics have presented us with such burden and wiped us all out; still 2 months more to go. “Do we like what we see?” I ask. Please, let there be freedom from such mortality and immorality, and more fun and fancy work in our near future! And please, let there be new light.
How are you getting through the weeds to keep sight of the forest during this year? Every answer is correct. We have no choice but to go through this together.
Perhaps my fore-mentioned summer words will find a home in a dead-of-Winter post when we all need some of what Summer does to warm our hearts. Until then, let’s carry on with cope and hope for a happier time.
*Notes to Self:
I keep wanting to take my arm across the table of life and clear away the surface, with all the falling pieces completed and “off the table,” to make way for my big project of authentic creative satisfaction. And what is that, by the way? I don’t know, I have to play and experiment and discover that. I had it once, with my beloved D’Leas. Am I done? Can’t that “new thing” be who I am? But I’m not doing it, so is the clearing who I am….???
For the record at this time of posting:
Our country is unrecognizable to me. Intentional deception. Hypocrisy. Support for bald-faced public corruption & immoral behaviors. Mind twisting logic. Irony and Fools. We are at ideological war with each other about how we want to live as a greater whole on our shared Earth. Daily we have witnessed innocent common people die from weird new disease (229,000, a surreal 100 x 9/11,) many others from aged horrific cultural injustice, and historically significant people we still desperately need die naturally. Fires[iii], winds, fears and frustration are a daily normal ongoing fatigue. Incredibly, the Arts that heal us are compromised by the invasion. I’m exhausted from anger & hate, and deep overwhelming perplexity & sadness, things normally unknown to me. As there is no end to the eternal scrolling through it all on our phones for news, camaraderie, and solace in daily emails, Facebook, Instagram, and the common online rabbit holes…so there is also no control. But we keep scrolling. And HOPING. Now just days from the November 3rd election, we are held in the balance of the results, with incredible torment.
[iii] Very close to home, beloved fiber artist, educator & colleague Diane Ericson lost everything (studio + home) to the Oregon fires https://dianeericson.com/blogs/news/sept-blog, and record size land regions of Colorado mountains have burned.