When we feel and support our own happiness, we are nourishing our ability to love.
You can't offer happiness to another until you have it youself.
Learn to love and heal yourself, then you have something to offer others.
Images of one of the quilts I've been growing my heart with this summer. In progress.
Idea: to work from the back, to use more colour, to cut silk in narrow strips, to couch it to the back.
I write this idea down before bed.
Monday:
Or, to cut holes into the circles on the back and reveal the inner black batt, and then stitch around them with black thread that would show on the front side.
To use coloured silk and chance and also holes and to work from the back with out knowing how the front will be affected.
Tuesday;
We made a trip to Lively for an 11:30 appointment for new computer glasses for me.
I let the lady there pick them out.
The metaphysics of the ordinary. The pared down aesthetic. Nothing strident. Well made.
Intensely worked surface. Not hard work, but careful work. Do not know how it will turn out.
Trust that it is going to work.
Some souls have blue stars.
Some souls have echoes of a burnt voice.
Crumbs of kisses.
Sobs from trees.
Tranquil whiteness.
Flocks of Songs.
(selected words from several of Lorca's poems that he wrote in 1920)
A vertical piece, like a tower.
Like something from another century.
with stairways that go up to the attic
where there is a fairy window
where there is a daydream.
where there is poetry
where there are no storms
not really
where we stop reading
where we stop thinking
where we recognize
yet continue upwards
past the round window
that doesn't open
towards the ceiling
so high
it's a narrow space
like I said, it's a tower
it's intimate, close and soft
and dreamy
the round window watches
it sees your memory
it views your dream
oh your serene face
I know it's a cover up
I know it's a blanket
I know you are alone
