Settling and Shifting

This post is a catch up for me.  So many changes.  So many shifts.  Subtle and not so.  And now finally the feeling of settling again.  But this is what my days look like to me.  Time tearing along at its own accelerated pace.  
and I’m a streamer on the end of its tail. Hanging on tenaciously. And sometimes just barely.

In WV during this time of year, well more into August actually, when the air is so still and thick you can part it with a machete, locals say we’re in the “dog days.” Nothing to do with dogs. Supposedly a time when you don’t have to worry so much about stepping on snakes because they’re shedding their skin, and the skin coming off covers their eyes and they can’t see–and so they’re less aggressive. We’re told. It’s that hot here. And that still. It’s almost a tornado kind of still. Except for afternoon thunderstorms. And in the morning, condensation on foliage makes me think it rained the night before. But no. This is just a congreagation of dew holding morning service.
and the fly on the leaf–well, when the air is this heavy, flight is harder.

And before I fed Logan breakfast, because he’s staying here for a while–bed room under construction and other things–

I ran next door to feed my neighbor’s dogs and when I was returning I heard an insistent tapping on the window and it was Logan pointing out this–another flying friend simply waiting for the atmosphere to lighten up.

And now I remember the first thing I saw this morning. Nine crows. Five walking right down the middle of the road. And four walking next to them on the sidewalk. They walked with a purpose–obviously on a mission–going some where. Where? And they walked until they were out of sight. Maybe 500 yards. And really, it was a divine spectacle. So fine I didn’t think about grabbing my camera.

But I said “shifting” at the start of this blog. Called this blog “shifting.” It’s hard to pin down. These shifts. More like things arising that have me wondering, “Why now?” Specifically, why now am I REALLY drawn to feminine energy? Feminine creative energy? Energy as in Shakti energy–and although this is really SO unlike me–I’ve got to say it–Goddess energy. Why now. I’ve ALWAYS been squirmy when someone would start the Lord’s Prayer by saying, “Our Mother who art…” Really squirmy. It felt so contrived. And I never would have imagined substituting “Mother” in one of my favorite hymns–“This Is My Father’s World.”

So what’s going on here? I say all of this acknowledging that I’ve always felt on even par with men. Never felt inferior, less than–or more than. Have experienced serious irritation around discrepancies in pay in the work place–and frequently wonder why/how men have managed to get into control and muck things up so much. But generally it’s just not an avenue of thought I’ve chosen to pursue. I looked around my home. Were there any telltale signs? Any female deities? Not really.

Only these–a gift from my mother–an example of how she saw me
and this. Apache Woman by Santa Fe artist, Amy Stein:

Nothing else that sings for the feminine — sure, a few pictures of my daughter, mother and grandmother–but nothing to explain this sudden awareness/respect/understanding/embracing of the feminine aspect of creation. No indications at all.

Then the other day I was napping in the afternoon–hot, sweaty–kind of a feverish nap. And woke up suddenly almost in a panic. Wondering. Where WAS she? This THING I made 20 years ago. I never understood why and even who she was but I knew i needed to see her right then–need to see her regularly. And I was afraid she hadn’t made the trip here, to NC, because so much didn’t make the trip. But there she was, ignominiously wrapped in cardboard. Patiently waiting. She’s gaudy. Yes. But she’s something else, too. And she arrived unexpectedly at a time I was shaping primitive figures out of rebar wire and covering them with muslin and paint. Animal figures for the most part. Or at least half animal half human. But SHE is clearly her own self:

and her counterpart was already in progress before I remembered her.

so it’s this forgetting that’s shifted–shifted towards reclaiming– re-connecting with this basic, intrinsic, primal unharnessed wild energy– And I hear again as I’ve been hearing for some time–and maybe have posted it before–I keep hearing something that sounds like primal howling coming from the center of the earth. From the womb. And it is clearly time. For me. To acknowledge this.

And I suppose that’s the “shift” I was sensing.

Shifting

It’s been a funny week.  Not funny haha.  More like funny strange.    Untethered.  As in every thing LOOKS the same but at the same time, EVERY thing is different.  Everything.  I could list all of these “things” but this is a cloth blog that meanders to the garden and back.  I’m going to leave it at that, except to say this.  Today I took a nap.  Mainly because I’m waking up really early as in 3:00 a.m.  So I took a nap and I saw myself on the bed, covered with an old quilt my daughter made.  But covered with something else as well.  Some veil-like thing was settling over my body, contouring to its shape. Merging with the fiber of my–what?–my being? Shape shifting?

I’m still integrating the trip to D.C.  The Hindu Woodstock Revival.  The otherworldly experience of  darshan with Amma. I came back with a lot. Inside stuff. Things that feel they’ll be settling for a good while. Nothing I can photograph, except for these:

feathers I found on the edge of a pond, nearby where Amma’s event took place.   Duck feathers.  And more sticks for hangers.

Before I left, I had arranged for the bathroom floor to be replaced.  The tiles were cracking.  The floor was spongy.  I knew I might not have a toilet when I returned, but I didn’t know the toilet would be in the bathtub. So the house is once again turned on its ear and all I can do is hole myself up in my little work room and stitch.  Awoke this morning and thought, “I’m getting rid of every piece of furniture I have.”  Maybe I will. But the new bathroom floor is nice, and I once more have a toilet and any day now the bathroom door will be back in place, not that it really matters.

And in between the still incessant rain, two ripe tomatoes and some day lilies for a dye pot.
and the first zinnias of the season.

And the flicker cloth? Something happened to it. Flicker became real. A disconnect developed between bird and border. Such a serious bird, flicker is, and expressed no use for the whimsical, original border. A big shift. And I deferred to flicker.

I’m hoping it changes its mind … but for now will just sit with it and listen.

OK–finally. The website it starting to take shape. It’s only a start. I’d love feedback. followingthread.com