A diversion ...

The Celtic quilt requiring much focused attention is on hold for a bit. The dimensions of my currently finished blocks are causing concern. Somewhat skeptical of how to proceed, so I've shelved it for the duration and will re-tackle it after a good rest hopefully restores my faith and vision. Have offers from the local quilt shop to present my queries and will most likely take them up on the offer. What to do when one's blocks come out smaller than expected?

So in the meantime I decided it would behoove me to work on something less challenging, and fulfilling. And that's exactly how I've proceeded. Found another lovely pattern in my favorite book and went ahead and worked on it as a scrappy quilt. The pattern is less than pronounced seeing how it's made of scraps, yet still, I am very fond of it. Scrap quilts, I dare say, are my favorite: Something from scraps. How perfectly delightful!

I have sewn all the pieces so far on my 1878 Wheeler & Wilson treadle sewing machine, but now that I will be assembling these pieces into yet larger structures and then gathering those into a quilt, I may switch to the modern--yet deficient--machine. If only because it's much faster. For shame I should succumb to such trivial concerns! I have all the time in the world! ... I haven't quite decided yet.

I laid the pieces out on the living room floor this morning to ensure a somewhat balanced--and correctly oriented--placement. Picture herewith. All that remains is assembling the pieces into blocks, blocks into rows, rows into quilt, and then 3 (most likely) borders in green, blue, and purple.

I DO love scrappy quilts.



If you tilt your head back and squint you may be able to discern the pattern that is partially obscured by the use of various tints and shades of scraps.

Sharing a poem ...

It's been a while since I shared a poem, but I recently came upon one which must be shared.

THE INVITATION
By Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn't interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesnt interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon...
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if have been opened
by life's betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn't interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes."

It doesn't interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.