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The cloth I began at the beginning of the year is finished, complete …. backed and bound and ready to hang.
On returning to the initial story of the cloth I read the last words:
“These are the seeds of possibilities, of dreams, stories, tales and wishings which can be made real by your creative hand”
“You know this cauldron is one of regeneration and inspiration. It is where fears are put to death allowing the energy that is released to be born again in a new and fruitful form. If a person has the courage to come to the cauldron, then that person has the courage to continue their journey. And so you have”.
“All that is required of you is that you sit by the fire burning within Hestia’s Hearth and let the creative flame that she placed within you at your birth, bear its fruit. Nothing more”.
I will be staying close by Hestia’s Hearth, it is the place for me right now. The seeds for my next endeavours were planted during this last year in Gaia’s Garden where, I realised, all things are possible:
have been added – they sit comfortably in her left hand, the shoots have begun to sprout, more may follow.
Seeds:
Fire and seeds:
In the meantime another crow is being created off-cloth – just as labour intensive but a little easier to manage.
I have had this double headed snake for many years.
It started life as part of a large batik I made some fifteen years ago. The cloth faded badly so I machine stitched the snake with the intention of either re-dying then stitching the original cloth or painting it. It has been waiting for me to do so ever since. A month or so ago I dug out my lovely snake, thinking she would fit onto this cloth perhaps but was very wary of cutting it from the original cloth -what if it all fell apart??? Last week, after finishing crow and before starting the seeds and a tree I think, I decided to just go for it. I cut her from the cloth!
My original thoughts were around trying to fit her onto the cloth intact – that was just not going to work ….. so….. after taking a very deep breath …. I cut her up so that I could place her appropriately onto this cloth. I faffed about for ages, placing bits here and there, pinning, maneuvering, hanging it on the wall for days until I was satisfied.
I have now stitched the pieces in place and am more than happy with the result.
I shall take a clearer picture of the whole cloth once the wind here dies down … could be a while.
Another side of London, this centre is a ten minute train ride from Clapham Junction – the contrast is stunning!
Can you see us?
Dreamtime:
Wonderfully textural plant:
Gorgeous feathers:
and gorgeous grass:
Loving these feathers:
Shelter:
We are family:
Soul Food :
Total refreshment for body, mind and soul.
Although the story is documented on the page entitled Morgaine’s journey, I felt it made sense to include the next and any following instalments within the body of the blog itself, as the story pertains to the cloth/s and vice versa.
Crossing the Threshold
I have been on this threshold for a long, long time, reluctant to step over, that age-old fear controlling, allowing myself to be distracted by all that is around me both within and without.
This stasis is now affecting my physical being, my every nerve ending feels to be on edge, jangling, the sensations sent throughout my body screaming for movement.
I breathe deeply, moving towards the entrance. I stop, peering into the murky depths. I can see very little. Again the question in my mind – why, why am I so feared to enter. I shake myself in order to discard the thoughts and, at long last, take that step over the threshold. No crash of thunder, no lightning bolts – all is as still as it was on the other side. Breathe, I must remember to breathe. I take a few steps forward following the only path. It is much lighter here than I anticipated yet there are no signs of torches or the like – seems there is a natural luminescence in or of the rock walls which is giving off a mustardy yellow glow, certainly light enough to see my way by. There is also a scent pervading the air which is familiar, the essence of which evades me. I stop to breathe it in. Whatever its source the effect is calming.
I move on. I have not gone far when the path which, up until this point, had been straight and single, suddenly divides into three. From the approach this was not at all apparent. No signpost, no markings of any kind to show which way to go. I close my eyes in an effort to centre myself hoping, I suppose, that some kind of intuition would guide me. Perhaps that, indeed, was what it was, but I have always favoured the number three so plumped for the third path. For all I knew they all led to the same place and as I didn’t know where that was or what I was going to find there my mental machinations were somewhat redundant. As I start up this path I smile to myself thinking of the Buddhist Third Way – so many things conspire in the subconscious on which we unwittingly base our decisions.
I come into an opening, the size of which is unclear as the light is so dim. I can, however, make out a figure directly ahead of me. I draw closer. All was still and silent. As I approach the face of an old woman becomes clear – she turns to look directly at me, stopping me in my tracks. I feel no fear. She moves her head only slightly but I understand that she wishes me to come closer. I do so and begin to see her more clearly, her body now visible, her face before had appeared to be floating in the air. As I look at her, her cloaked form is at once clear and indistinct – it is hard to describe. Before her a most fabulous cauldron, both she and the cauldron seeming to be standing or emanating from a stream which flowed from a crevice in the wall. It reminded me very much of the dream I had had of being at the stream of remembering, the Stream of Mnemosyne.
The cauldron bubbles as all good cauldrons do. This is confusing. How could it be that it is standing, or appears to be standing in water whilst clearly happily boiling away. It is solid and substantial. She, on the other hand, looks to be melting into or rather merging with the background, seemingly at once emerging from within the cauldron whilst also standing behind it coming from the stream. My mind is all over the place trying to make sense of what I am seeing. The scent, still present, is very strong here indeed originating from the steamy cauldron combining the aroma of freshly dug earth with the salty ozone of the sea – wonderful to the senses.
As I am observing, so too am I being observed. I look up into that face, into those eyes which I could see are clearly capable of causing terror to one who gazed upon her if that were her desired intention. Thankfully what I feel as I meet her gaze is a sense of warmth and safety being carried deep, deep within me.
Still she does not speak. Nor do I – unusual for me when I am nervous or in a new situation – I usually compensate for those nerves with words, asking questions, generally babbling etc. Here I feel no such need.
A sudden noise off to my left distracts me. A large crow descends and lands on her upturned and welcoming hand. She turns to look at crow as s/he caws to her. She speaks, welcoming crow home. They both turn and rest their eyes upon me – I could swear crow is smiling. She speaks:
“Welcome. Do you know who I am Morgaine?”
“You are Crone, the Wild Mother?” I hesitatingly respond.
She laughs. Oh not the cackle we have been taught as children to associate with such women, but a wonderfully warm, buttery laugh – deep throated and sensual.
“You know me by various names, Baba Yaga, Hecate, Cailleach, Ma-at, and many more besides. Do you know why you are here?”
“I was supposed to come and meet my dream master?” I mutter.
“And so you have” she responds, “Not quite what you were expecting I assume”.
It is more of a statement than a question and again that wonderfully rich laughter.
Crow cawed. Actually crow spoke, either that or I now somehow understand the language of crows. Crow asks:
“Do you know why you are here?”
“No – other than it was time for an end to my stasis” – the only thing I can think of to say.
Wild Mother asks: “See these in my left hand?”
I have not been able to see her left hand too clearly, but as I look now it was as if a mist were lifting and there, nestled in the palm of her hand are what looked to be seeds and/or tiny flames.
“Watch”.
As I do so, the seeds begin to sprout – stems and leaves grow.
“These are the seeds of possibilities, of dreams, stories, tales and wishings which can be made real by your creative hand”
“You know the cauldron is one of regeneration and inspiration. It is where fears are put to death allowing the energy that is released to be born again in a new and fruitful form. If a person has the courage to come to the cauldron, then that person has the courage to continue their journey. And so you have”.
“All that is required of you is that you sit by the fire burning within Hestia’s Hearth and let the creative flame that she placed within you at your birth, bear its fruit. Nothing more”.
I really must keep up with posting here. I am trying to work out a way to combine my blogs – I feel I am compartmentalising rather than presenting a whole, something I am familiar with in terms of my thinking. However, I am finding it much more difficult than I imagined.
In the meantime, here are the quilties :
May theme was free – I decided to use some multi-dyed cotton cut into strips, woven together again into two pieces, the one placed diagonally onto the other …then the stitching – my favourite part.
June theme: Birds, Butterflies and/or Bees. I chose birds – this one may look very familiar if you followed the sketchbook entry – i took it directly from one of the sketches – it works for me!
My contribution to a book made for a friend who was not at all well – many friends made pages and the book was an absolute beauty, the recipient was more than happy with the surprise .
The quote I used on the back is one I love and one which said what I wanted to express:
“Each friend represents a world in us,
a world possibly not born until they arrive,
and it is only by this meeting
that a new world is born”
Anais Nin
This fabulous carton arrived this morning from Jan Bartlett. Both the carton and the contents are just fabulous and beautifully crafted. They included an exquisitely made accordion journal (hard-backed), a handmade charm and so much more. Thank you very much Jan.
This has been a wonderful experience of exchanging art with others – a very different idea to the usual trades. Many thanks to the artists involved and to Susan for creating and initiating this project.
This is my interpretation of this month’s quiltie theme on Unlimited Textiles - Nature. I took a rubbing of some bark with a crayon on white cotton which I then coloured with blue/green inks – the scan is not showing the colours too clearly. I then hand-stitched a small amount, not wishing to detract from the natural pattern of the bark.
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