When creating embraces the written word I write what is most important from the words I’ve collected and placed inside of truth as I know it in that moment.  When creating involves the alchemy of lime, clay, water, marble dust, and mineral pigments, I express during an altered state sustained by heat and exhaustion, tears and emotions.  Both are acts of weaving.

Spinning spider silk, or yarn, or plaster, or words are actions that can bridge the gap between this reality and consciousness itself.

Through weaving I enter the experience of observing myself observing the world.  Objectivity evaporates.  I remain awake within the dream…. I enter my own consciousness – the one inescapable reality.  And this adjustment, this alteration changes nothing and yet changes everything.

Susan Berrett Merrill wrote: “The art of weaving is a profound metaphor for understanding the workings of the universe and our place in it.”

The up and down rows are our bones and all we inherit from our lineages, while the strands that run across are our choices; colors, textures, holes…. they are encryptions for life’s experiences.  The selvedges are the edges of the weaving. Each time the thread reaches the outer edge, it must turn back into the bones.  This rhythm of reaching the edge requires full acknowledgement of the edge that has been reached.  Turning into the bones too soon results in a form that becomes tight and constricted, pulling the creation out of alignment.  The need to stay safe at the center prevents movement and freedom; it eliminates the breath of life.

Embracing the transformative space beyond the edge where the “fall” becomes tangible is the very experience that sews the evolution of soul into the body of being.

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