All Souls Day

Hallowe'en marks the end of the Bright Half of the year and the beginning of the Dark Half. At this time of the year when the natural world is preparing for winter's rest our thoughts turn to those we have loved who have left us. Where do we go when we die? We know our bodies return to the earth, but our souls...that which has loved and lived and observed and felt the holy connection to all creation... is that gone forever? The veil that divides the living and the dead is said to be thinnest now. Is it possible to communicate with those that have passed into the next world? Some feel it is. Through prayer or meditation many feel connected still with loved ones and feel that they intercede on their behalf. Today is All Souls' Day in the Christian world. Although it is traditionally a day to pray for souls lost in purgatory, which is not my personal belief, I feel it is appropriate today to think about the lives of the ones who went before us into the Unknown.
From the Celts, throughout the Middle East and into India and Asia people have viewed birds as a symbol of the soul- of immortality.


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Balance

 This week marked the Autumnal Equinox- when day and night are in perfect balance. I've been thinking about balance a lot this week. In a year of physical and emotional challenges, much of the time I've felt somewhat off balance. But now I am at last regaining my footing.

 The world seems very off balance at the moment. The news is full of war, suffering and unspeakable terror. We ingest this news obsessively, feeling that to turn away from it is to dismiss it. But remember that our minds and bodies are sensitive things and we become what we think about. To become discerning of what we allow into our psyche, I believe, is the key to remaining in balance. This is certainly not to say that we should turn a blind eye to the horrors of the world, but that we make a concerted effort to balance our protests, our righteous anger and our pain with something beautiful.

Today, take a walk in the glorious autumn sunshine- read something beautiful- listen to gentle music- make art- make love. The world needs more Loveliness now than ever. Because as Phil Ochs wrote at the height of the Vietnam War: "In such an ugly time, the true protest is Beauty".

Today Is The Tomorrow....

"Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday" reads the embroidery sampler my mother started over thirty years ago. It was to be a present for my brother Ray. When she died in 1986 and we were cleaning out the old family home, I came across this and intended to finish it for her and present it to Ray one day. However, the lack of time along with my lack of skill (and patience) in the needle arts have prevented my progress.

 My mother was a master craftswoman and the back side of her needlepoint, embroidery or crewelwork canvasses were as flawless as the front. She could knit, crochet, sew, and even make lace. The dresses she made for me in grade school were legendary- teachers and moms would stop me and turn the hems of my dress to admire her finishing work. No loose threads or dropped stitches ever.

 Clearly, I am not the heir to her perfectionism, nor is my frankly hyperactive personality conducive to sitting for long stretches of time in order to create the kind of art my mother created. I like to stand when drawing or painting and never spend all that much time on any piece of work, I'm certainly not a master of anything-which is probably why only 3 people will ever read this blog...

 Anyway- I'm on the eve of surgery to correct the progress of arthritis in my foot. The recovery is supposedly pretty long and for sure I'll be off my feet for a few weeks, and yes, I'm worried about tomorrow. My foot doesn't work like it used to- at first I couldn't run- now I can't walk and it's always painful. I am anxious for a full recovery so I can get back to my hyperactive lifestyle.

Or am I?

The embroidery hoop is still in place where Mother last worked on it and I am wondering if, in that space of stillness, I can magically absorb some of her patience. The pace will be maddeningly slow but as each tiny stitch comes together to form the whole I might learn that something beautiful can be made out of time and effort.