Having a cold grounds a person, mentally as well as physically. Not often am I sick, but when a bug does strike…. Bleh. I’m down for the count, wondering what is the purpose of life.
Okay, I’m not that sick. But I feel cruddy and being a busy sort, plus there’s a new grandbaby to spoil, and here I am, stuck at home. I know all these things are for a reason, and actually yesterday I listened to a couple of minutes from a film about Embree ‘Sonny’ Hale, who is documenting New Mexico petroglyphs. I’m not wild about petroglyphs, but he clearly noted how so many folks he knew were going on and on about doing this and going there and then suddenly they were bedridden or in the hospital or….
Time has a way of slipping right through our fingers. I feel that way now, what with Little Miss five days old and I haven’t held her in the last three and…. And she’s not going anywhere; she’s still tiny and adorable and rather sleepy most of the time.
Time…. Sonny Hale is documenting fragments left by ancient civilizations. He wants to capture these images before they are lost, or worse, destroyed. He uses a small camera that requires film, film! I might not be at my daughter’s side, but photos are sent throughout the day, Little Miss and the Burrito as close as my cell phone. And as I allowed Sonny Hale’s gravel-voiced truths to seep into my snot-filled brain, I grew so thankful for all I am able to accomplish, illness be darned.
I write, I sew, and those are the most visible hobbies. Oh, and I blog, about random musings. And when possible, I’m enveloped within my expanding family, which isn’t only the grandkids, but others who have landed under a familial umbrella, staying out of the rain.
Throughout this post I’ve been documenting my latest improv piece, what this blog was going to be about today, until Sonny Hale stepped in. I think I can muscle both into one entry, because Sonny is absolutely right; we speak about chasing this treasure or attaining that dream, but unless we actively DO these things, our words are no more than straws in the wind. I started this wall hanging as another attempt at floating squares, and for a while, I wasn’t sure if it was going to be more than scraps for some other project. But the further I went, the more it grew on me.
By the time it was quilted, I was in love with it, and as I sat in the labour and delivery waiting area, sewing the binding, I couldn’t wait to put it on my bathroom wall. It’s soothing, also with a hint of turmoil in that vibrant red, much like how most of 2015 has gone; lots of joy, with just enough sorrow to emphasize the love.
And this is what life is all about, hunting for treasures, and not being afraid of stepping awry every now and again. It’s that fear of getting off the beaten path that precludes the chasing of dreams, but without leaving our safety zones, how can we photograph the petroglyphs or make slightly obnoxious wall hangings that will cleverly dwell in the master loo? I might be sick at home again today, but certain tasks will be handled; I need to read some of The Hawk: Part Two, checking for stray errors. I’ve been playing around with some batik and tone on tone scraps, initially to make more placemats. Now I don’t know what will happen with those mug-rug sized pieces, another bathroom wall hanging perhaps? But if nothing else, I have sewn them together, they exist. I’m somewhat grounded, but only in the physical. The dreams continue, and as soon as the body cooperates, I’ll be flying high.
A healthy dose of fearlessness enhances my life. I don’t know exactly where I’ll land, but I am certain it will be just fine….