Lizards in the Leaves

Rustlings in the green....imagination, art, whimsy

Apr 9, 2006

"....I got a telephone in my bosom
and I can call him up from my heart..." from Freedom by Richie Havens

When I started this blog, I had certain boundaries in mind. I wanted it to be a place to share my midlife, long-awaited forays into art, especially fiber arts, and I did not want to be more personally revealing than my art. My son Patrick's death 3 weeks ago, and the kindness and concern of people who read my blog, has shifted the boundaries somewhat.

Right now, I can't view much of anything without viewing it through the lens of this personal tragedy. When I create, I am either creating out of my anguish, or I am finding in the process itself, in the act of creating, some solace -- a way to feel, for brief, blessed moments, whole and at peace.

So if I'm sharing my art, I'm probably going to be writing, one way or another, about my son and my grieving for some time to come....

I'm sleeping a lot - probably a bit too much, but sometimes I just feel so overwhelmed and exhausted that sleep is the only thing I can do.

I am using flower essences (homeopathic-type remedies for emotional states), a combination of five I've chosen myself. I got permission from the Flower Essence Society to make a page about them if you're interested in more details about the specific ones I'm using. I usually just add them to my bottled water and sip throughout the day.

I try to write something every day in my handwritten journal. Even just one sentence.

Here's a poem I wrote last week:

everyday i journey
through the landscape
of my heart.
i light candles in a dark cave of grief
where even the walls
are weeping.
i let him go
again and again.
i climb a mountaintop
and seat myself in clouds
and wait for messages
and signs.

i know little but this:
i must wait
and expect nothing.
i must hold emptiness
out like a cup
until my arm
is numb.
i must believe
what i cannot see
or touch.

my cheeks are scoured red
with salt
my eyes burn
my skin itches and itches

i lie beside an ocean of love
and long to drown
in the blue.
i scan the waves endlessly.
A glimpse just a glimpse
of a certain swimmer

and the whole world
that is my heart
will rock
with joy.

Finished spinning the silk/merino I started what seems like a very long time ago. I think I foresaw it as a lacy scarf, kind of skinny....I still think that's what I'll do with it.

and in the last week or so I made this freeform thing -- I felted it, but it didn't come out as I'd hoped, to be a vessel. So I'm thinking it's a pouch for something.

and I started a hat, using my favorite purple-y Malabrigo and some multi-colored handspun and some JoAnne yarn that's 60% wool, 40% nylon.
and finished the hat. It's a bit big and quite lumpy-bumpy. I may try to shrink it just a wee bit. But my head's a bit lumpy-bumpy too, so it's not such a bad fit...

love to all. much.


At 4/10/06, 4:28 AM, Blogger Peacock said...

I think sleep is vastly underrated. When you can't sleep anymore, you'll wake up. It's pretty simple. If you can sleep (and you don't have narcolepsy) I think it's good to do so. Sleep is a powerful healer. Dreams can be helpful messengers, can help the unconscious make sense of and peace with things the concious mind will never accept or understand. Treasure your sleep. It's a luxury you deserve. :)

As for your knitted vessels, well, I think they're pretty wonderful for not turning out the way you'd hoped. ... (dare I say.. ) wonderful like your son. I'm sorry his future didn't get to be the one you hoped for.. hoped for for him, hoped for for you, hoped for for others.... but those three treasured days you've mentioned.. they tell me he was wonderful and he turned out allright inside. :)

Blessings, dear one. blessings.

At 4/10/06, 7:58 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Sleep is good. I don't have anything profound to say, just wanted to let you know you are in my thoughts.

At 4/12/06, 12:25 PM, Blogger Phoebe Fay said...

Be gentle with yourself, Zann. Sleep if that is what you need to do. There are no rules about where you are at. Honor your grief. It's the process by which you move through this. I almost said heal, but I don't think that's quite the right word. You can't heal from this loss anymore than you can grow a new limb when one has been lost. But what you can do is keep breathing, keep moving through this space and time, keep moving toward a new and deeper understanding of wholeness.

Peace and love, dearheart.

At 4/12/06, 5:02 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Grief is exhausting. Of course you need to sleep, Sister. There are time when you carry the grief of Mothers on your shoulders and there are times when you must rest. You deserve that peace.


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