The Disintegration Process

I’m borrowing this title from Blue Elephant Stitches, because I found it captivating, and aligned to how I want my quilts to evolve.  While I’m not even done with my godchild’s blanket, I’m already hoping for its eventual destruction.

I firmly believe that nothing last forever, not quilts or books or anything else.  Maybe that sounds like a defeatist theory; why create something if it’s going to crumble into dust?

Why not?  I’m not going to live forever, why should I expect my hobbies to?  Now, that doesn’t deter me from sewing, or writing.  It just makes the pleasure of those activities more keen.  They are meant for this moment in time.  To not engage in them would be as wrong as thinking they are going to last indefinitely.  Maybe that’s something which is being lost in this rather technically-minded world.

Life cannot be captured in photos, it can’t be preserved in videos or in memorabilia.  It can’t be rendered in novels, even via ebooks.  It’s the daily process of interaction, that can be assuaged in pictures and correspondences and tokens, but not usurped by better methods.

I can write all the books I want, sew till no fabric remains.  But without love, I am but dust in the wind.

Thanksgiving is three days away; I have many blessings over which to be so grateful.  Every day is the perfect day to give thanks, but life seems crowded with less stellar ideas that steal our thankfulness.  I especially feel that way after a day spent watching football; commercials make make me want to scream.  Better are the simpler joys, and the acknowledgement that all I hold in my hands is exactly what I need.

We are born, then we perish.  The measure of our lives isn’t how much we accumulate or how long wrinkles are kept at bay.  The fullness is achieved by the love shared, sometimes in hugs, other times by gifts given, but the proffered affections matter most.  Making quilts and writing novels are pastimes I enjoy, and I’ll keep doing them until I am no longer able.  But they aren’t the be-all end-all.

They are part of the disintegration process, which I fully embrace.  As long as it’s laced in love, no pain intrudes.

2 thoughts on “The Disintegration Process

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