I see it in my work. It’s so different from past work. No stitch. The underlying Japanese washi paper was soaked and nibbled away in the tidelands of Puget Sound. The layers of organza were burned and dipped in beeswax. This is all new for me.

This piece is part of a series inspired by Puget Sound and reminds me of both water and clouds. Why then, did I love the burned edges so much because they aren’t part of water views or clouds? Intuitively, those edges were the centerpiece for me.

Today I understood. Like the fringes of our memories, they represent the burning away of time.

Time has haunted me these past three years. How could Bruce be gone from my everyday life? How could my body have become riddled with cancer? How, when my body has loved yoga for 40 years, has it become stiff and heavy?

The burnt edges of time have said hello to me.

Today, I look around at the clutter that I have never allowed to be part of my life before. Too many books, too many ideas, too many things gathered trying to fill that unknown space and answer the question of where do I go from here?

I look at my new work. It says to me that I will find a way to incorporate these losses and become stronger for it. I will, after all, find my way through the unknown. My head is above ground.

Today, I cleaned up and cleared out my workspaces. I felt the quiet calm of open space again.

I’m finally ready to embrace the unknown; stronger, more compassionate, and filled with the wonder of what might come.

*****

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transitions

together

again