labyrinth language

i am lost in a darkness, wandering, led only by a thin thread wound thru the labyrinth...
my needles are my newest swords
like the Dragon Hunter, i find they come in most handy in times of deepest danger
the fiery colours of my fibres will bring me to the Light soon enough

"Your life has been a mad gamble.

Make it more so. You have lost now a hundred times running. Roll the dice a hundred and one."


 ~Rumi


Limbo is not a fun place to be in, but at least I have my yarn, my bamboo and my Vision.


here goes yet another toss of the dice.

knitting along thru the pain

no idea how, but I am still knitting, weaving, creating. I have picked up the threads, bound them, wound them, together, into eagle feathers, baby owls, rows of stitches, turning angles, next side, all to complete the blanket I had planned, been knitting my warmth, Love & Faith into. with every stitch I pray good things, I lay my intentions solidly into the rows, my Hope flies along with my fingers...oranges, to goldens, to cream, to reds, around, around, the log cabin planks combining to complete the pattern, to make this whole again. the colours of the base, sacral & solar plexus chakras I had chosen are still vibrant and will one day soon do their work. 

ruins

like a huge, heavy duty pair of scissors has just cut thru every foundation, every stitch, leaving the fibres irreparable, leaving me in destroyed in so many pieces, so fragmented I can not make anything out of this wreck..

baby blankets are like baby steps

I have been working on a blanket, or two, if truth be told. One is a baby blanket for a friend having twins. The other - I have hopes there will be a baby with this blanket, I knit the word "baby," purl "love" into every stitch. One way or another, there will be a baby wrapped in this blanket some day. Mine, his, whose is yet to be determined. But it is a blanket for having a baby.

9 years and counting ----

since my mother died.

The anniversary was this week; a week with many unravels, pulled foundation stitches, dropped stitches & much casting about, not so much on. If maybe, she had been someone I depended on in my life I would have missed her terribly this week when I was struggling to keep everything from coming apart at the seams. But she was not.

And I realized I am a lot stronger than she was. I have been out here without a net, without a lifeline, keeping it together for me kids on my own. I didn't need anyone outside of myself to be strong for, to leave a bad place in order to get healthy, to be on my own.

I am not saying I don't miss her, just that in this crisis I wasn't crying  for my mother. There was a moment when I wanted to call my grandmother & a moment when I wondered if not having both this year would make the 13th that much more emotionally difficult. Those moments passed because I had purpose; get us a place to live, find our dogs a foster home, get hired, pack our stuff.

Loss has become part of life this year, more than others. A great love left my life. I lost my Grandmother. Now the time of the Morning Glory Cottage has come to an end. Everything ends.

We get to the end of the skein & have to decide what to do next. Sometimes we can start a new ball of yarn. Sometimes we have to bind off.

ask and ye shall receive

It's time to write a new pattern, decide which fibers will hold up best, and work up a swatch of a new cloth. There are new people in my life. There is a new pattern to be learned until it becomes as knitters say "muscle memory."

I wanted someone to be here to hold me, to be there at the darkest moments of life because they were already there creating the sparkly ones. I wrote a list to the Gods & Goddesses, Saints & Angels, Beings of Light, to all the Universe. I asked very clearly for the perfect fit. I was so ready to give up on so many things. I even wrote about the only reason I didn't give up was I didn't know what that would look like. You can't frog a life, not really. I can't pull out the rows until I get to the dropped or twisted stitch and redo the work beyond the point of frogging. I went out on a limb at the suggestion of a very close friend, one who knows my warp & weave better than any other human being.

Thanks to my giving it another go decision, I have now been working with a wonderful man at casting on the foundation stitches of a new life, discussing what we are both made of, what works best with our fiber content - can't mix some fussy dry clean only yarn in with a nice easy care one and not expect pulling, stretching, shrinkage. The fit would never work. Luckily no one is allergic to solid dependable wool and no one is some silly eyelash novelty yarn.

This morning, the most amazing moment so far - I cooked us breakfast; eggs in my Grandmother's cast iron skillet, bacon in his Grandmother's cast iron skillet. I think the sleeves will match. I think that even though we bring different dye lots, the differences will imperceptibly blend. No, I am not crazy enough to be constructing a boyfriend sweater! I have enough faith to knit a project fit for a King, a husband. Forget the silly old knitter wives cautionary tales of doom spelled out by sweaters for men. I don't like knitting sweaters, anyway. :) Tricksy me.

Already I have worked two small household, practical projects & vacillated between the right colour choices for a third, more personal an item, nowhere near a sweater, just enough. Now I have them and I am meditatively counting stitches and rows to keep him warm when I cannot.

We are about to add in the very lovely, necessary threads of each of our children to this work of art. He has the pattern well thought out, he has practiced, he has been doing his research. I am ready with my skills, my intuitions, my mad Grandmother Spider weaver ways to construct a tight knit, sturdy, durable tapestry with him. We are in partnership in this venture.


We are more than that - we are in love.