Change is constant, but shift, a sense of evidence, becoming apparent sometimes suddenly although it is just a sign of something slower. There are so many pieces of me here. A pathwork, a moon, magic, fringe, the skoodle, selves, basket, waves, the square, cloth weaving. Fire. The beast.
But today I see signs of shapeshifting. And a small quiet journey underground, out of sight.
I'm ready for that.
It's just shift. A word I use a lot but need to consider so I have no listing in Spirit Cloth Language. I'm not sure about words anymore. Never convinced that anyone understands what I am talking about. Never sure what anyone else is talking about. Pretty sure it doesn't really matter. I'm interested in form and what that may say. Or not.
I'm almost done with this. I like what happened. I cannot touch the lines. It reminds me of how my old work on paper was left unfinished, filled in where I felt the need. So I am happy with the link there. I did weave the fringe right through on the bottom. Interesting how it transformed into patches. A kind of loose , fragmented version of continuing. And that is how it is these days.
And the distortion on the bottom. The tension of the dense stitch, the liquid quality of the too thin cloth base. The lack of focus on that part because of the focus elsewhere. The awareness of how a shift of focus might leave us unaware of the bigger picture. The stepping back to get a new perspective. The acceptance of how it happened tied to the way the thread moved though me.