Sorting

dispatch #65

Monday . . .

We voted. I walked with Bella and when I got home the fella was in the driveway. “We can go now.” “The voting cards/” “In the car.” “My purse?” “In the car.” Off we went to mark our x’s and see if we recognized any neighbours. We did not. Everyone was polite. I like a polling station. Everyone friendly but slightly distant – not too friendly just in case. I did not see any scrutineers. Or didn’t see any that looked obvious. Not probably much of a worry in our riding which has voted a certain way for years. Now for the waiting. Well, not the waiting because one cannot really start waiting until about eleven tonight our time when the polls in BC close. Very nerve-wracking. Will I stay up? Depends how it is going. If it looks like a liberal sweep or majority by 1 pm I’ll sleep. Alberta and Saskatchewan will go blue most likely, but BC will be red. So it’ll get a little tricky at a certain time. They might be able to call it with some authority by one or two. Usually I get too frantic with worry to stand it. I might stay up but watch an old movie and just check in from time to time. Over 7 million Canadians voted in the advance polls which is a record-breaker.

After voting we came home. Ron made me a compost sifter but it is a bit tedious to work. Just a screen but my oh my our compost is rooty and branchy and stony. Before that I sorted some of the VAST amount of material and sewing supplies that my friend’s husband brought me on Friday. Hmm... this is sort of a mythic theme – like Venus giving Psyche a large number of tiny seeds to sort as the first of four labours Psyche must accomplish before being able to attain love with Eros.

“Venus leaped upon the face of poor Psyche, and took her by the hair, and dashed her head upon the ground. Then she took a great quantity of wheat, of barley, poppy seeds, peas, lentils, and beans, and mingled them altogether on a heap saying: Thou evil favored girl, thou seemest unable to get the grace of thy lover, by no other means, but only by diligent and painful service, wherefore I will prove what thou canst do: see that thou separate all these grains one from another disposing them orderly in their quantity, and let it be done before night.” from Apuleius,The Golden Ass

There is enough thread for an international quilt festival. And it is in these clever little boxes with compartments for each colour. Most of it is German so probably came from Kerol’s mother-in-law. Such a richness and responsibility. Today was just about sorting. Then I’ll make it into bundles to go to certain friends of Kerol’s. A mohair throw, an embroidered tablecloth, a ball of wool and six spools of silk. Like that – depending on what I know of the friend’s capacity for such things. Of course it all brings back so many memories – pieces of cotton she got from a friend’s mother when we all lived on Lacey Mines Rd., or brocades and velvet from a movie her husband was the art director of, or gorgeous bed linens from Germany. We were always happy going through piles of fabric talking about crazy projects we wanted to do. Some of those abandoned projects have bits and pieces within the bins brought over, some are completed.

So sorting is the order of the day. Voting and sorting.

I realize also that I had my first appointment with a new psychotherapist today and that too was about sorting. Sorting through what has been happening in my immediate world and the world at large and how I’m dealing with it.

Tuesday . . .

The Liberals won with a minority government. Of course you know that already, but as I write this it is brand new and my relief is gigantic. The NDP, most sadly, did not elect enough MPs to form an official party and Jagmeet Singh, the leader, has resigned. Normally, for me, this would be devastating news, as the three-legged stool of our government is much more steady than the two-legged one down south. Today, however, I only feel like you feel after an accident that might have changed your life forever, but that you avoided the worst of. The Liberals won. We have Trump to thank for sanity reigning. He did something right with his desire to break and own us. He pissed us off. In December the Liberals didn’t have a chance of winning an election. So Trump – thank you so much you feckless idjit. We owe ya.

I did not stay up. As soon as I hear that the Conservatives had gained a seat in Newfoundland I took a pill and went to bed. I cannot stand suspense. I’m hell watching a hockey game, running into the kitchen every minute, wringing my hands and moaning loudly. Now I can breath and get on with my life.

Today I start strength training with a guy on our street who has a gym. I know he’ll spend this first session trying to get me to stand up properly. Oy vey! But I must do it. I don’t want to become a feeble old broad – I want to be kick-ass. I don’t want to kick anyone’s actual ass mind, but I want to look like it is a possibility.

And I think I’ll get started on hand-quilting the quilt I’ve finished piecing and sandwiching. I have lots of different threads to pick from. Think I’ll take some photos today to go with this dispatch. Yep, indeed, I feel good. Time to walk the dog.

Wednesday . . .

Wednesday means Gwensday. For over twenty years Gwen and I have met once a week to write. It has been quite sketchy of late with her moving and me abiding with ailing pals so it’ll be nice to get back to it. We drink coffee, walk the dog, write and have lunch. I’ll work on my edits and not sure what she’ll do today. We sometimes read to each other but mostly it is just companionate writing.

Yesterday I started strength training with Phil, my neighbour. My arms are sore today but not my legs. I’m a 150 lb weakling. Really this is sort of like my notion of putting moisturizer on my face – a few decades too late, but I will do what I can. He is good – Phil, that is. He really cares about the form so all I did yesterday is raise my arms and stand up and sit down properly. I thought I knew how to do those things but apparently not, so my muscles need to relearn everything. So they can calm the f down. Yes.

A grey jay was just on my deck railing – fat and happy looking.

Nothing for it. I put chips out last night from my shrine offering, but pretty sure the squirrels got that tout suite.

I started hand-quilting my quilt yesterday. I like it. I have a wonky and rather big stitch style and have decided that my stitches are like my writing voice – they are me, like the random marks I make on my oil paintings. I don’t draw out lines on my quilt to guide me, just eye-ball it. I love just sitting and stitching slowly, thinking about my granddaughter and how she will like this quilt, the colours chosen by her, the design by me. And I got to use some of Kerol’s thread. I only need to make five thousand quilts to use it up.

Thursday . . .

A cold morning but it eventually warmed up. A friend brought me over a few tomato plants to help make up for the disaster of my starts. I was going to say my seedlings but they weren’t even – they never got to the lings part – they were just seeds going nowhere.

“I’m just a seed, standing in a pot, asking the world to love me.”

Well the world didn’t, so too bad. It’s out with all that dirt and in with the new and new seeds – for yes, I’ve planted more tomato seeds because I want fifteen tomato plants. Is that a lot, you ask? No. It is just right. And if I can’t get there by my own seeds I’ll cadge other’s plants and probably buy the rest at a garden nursery.

I got other stuff done today too. I had a meeting on zoom with a group of us around the world that have been endeavoring to raise good energy for about three or so years now. We meet once a month, usually on the fifteenth, to do a meditation. We met on May Day because of the feeling of emergency that implied. We had a special meditation to clear the negative energy around Washington this month. Hope it works. It sure can’t hurt.

I also finished the first edit revision on Butter and Snow. Those last seven pages were killer and truthfully I need to go back at it tomorrow but still, it felt good to roll on down to The End. What a lie. I mean it felt good but I don’t have The End at The End for gawd’s sake. Maybe I’ll go put that in. It’ll feel good.

And I saw a client in the actual flesh which is always good – and means that I tidy up here too. Bonus.

And I did the seventeenth day of sitting for my pal who died. Only 32 to go.

That reminds me – I’m going to gear up RISE AGAIN 30 days of action. Maybe I’ll change the name to RISE AGAIN – AGAIN! I’m not going to carry on from where I left off (maybe 11 days in) because I know that the power is in doing something for 30 days straight – something I want to continue after the 30 days. I want to set the habit.

Here are the rules:

1. There are no rules. Just to do something that resists what I consider evil forces – fascists, corporations acting in bad faith, governments that don’t follow through, complacency, my own inertia. So it could be write a letter to a Member of Parliament of a Member of the Legislature or join a group fighting misogyny or do some real studying of how bills get passed or left on the floor of the house. Or join a protest, or start a protest, or make a piece of art about how things are going. In other words it is very loose. Today’s action has happened. It was the zoom call that did a clearing meditation.

So this is how I’m moving through grief, or grief is moving through me. I do a little of everything, but only a little. I give myself lots of latitude and when I feel like I’m tightening up – trying to get so much done, I remind myself that I too am moving through a bardo, and I should neither hurry up nor stop, but keep on going at a steady but slow pace. I remember to note the way the light falls on the hardwood floor, the feel of the beautiful compost in my hands, the pleasure on my friend’s face when I give her luminous silk thread to use in her art quilts, the calls old friends make just to see how I’m doing, Paul Simon singing ‘I don’t want no part of this crazy love’ in the kitchen while my one makes our dinner. All of it, all of it.

A gentle reminder :

Please like or comment or restack as you feel inspired. I am always surprised to find out about people I know who read this, tell me they like it but don’t hit the dumb little heart button. Hit my dumb little heart button. Which will be the title of my next book.