The Mutterings of an old womyn.
I think this describes part of my definition of being an artist, as opposed to a craftsperson. That striving to perfect ones voice,. That balanced with a desire for social acceptance, monitory acceptance….
The Year of the Wooden Horse.. They say it’s a year if you know where you want to go your wooden horse will take you there… but don’t let the horse take the rains.. or you’ll be let who knows where.
So many have died in the last 6 months…the last month.. the last 2 weeks. People who touched my life. My mother In Law, the architect of our original house plans, a local woman of spunk, fun, and determination, the creator of the local empty bowls project, a local women who followed Terry Foxes footsteps across Canada. And to learn as well that my buddy from High School has Lyme related Dementia……AAAHHH!!!!
Life seems so frail to me this winter.
I can’t seem to make myself move the oxygen and breath through my body. I get colds and keep them for my lack of exercise…weakness…frailty.. Where is the Yes to Life? How to I pick myself up and weak it?
I have the tools… the knowledge of movement and breath, the projects that must be done by this date and that… and yes I will meet those deadlines… but for today it is like walking through deep mud.
In suspension.. from the longest night.. to when days really start to get longer in early January. So we spend this time with family and friends feeling the warmth and light of each others spirits.
How hard it must be for those who for whatever reason can not feel that warmth and light.