On The Eleventh Hour

Forty million.
War, disease and famine.
In conflict a hundred years later.
Empire, colonialism, laissez-faire, slavery, serfdom.
Mother Earth and all her babies want change.
So remember on the eleventh hour.
And vow to respect the planet we live on.
Move on, move along.


Create markets of respect.
Make with love in mind, not profit.
They died and saved us.
Make it a life worth living for the young.

No more war.

victorybonds

Past, present, future – writing and making for here and now.

Knitting and stitching projects, story-writing and rediscovering poetry are working towards being in the here and now and creating a new tomorrow.

I think it can take quite some time to make a shift, through the generations, out of tradition and into modernity. I am reading a mix of novels at the moment, including Lacuna by Kingsolver, Bosnian Chronicle, by Andric, The Ministry of.. by Roy. All of them evolve around cultures and the shifting of humanity across time. I have also learnt to accept that it’s fine to be between times, one foot here and another over there.

Progress is often slow, with a lot of stalling. It can be frustrating when a vision seems to take forever to transpire. But knitting and writing demand pacing, giving time and trusting the imagination. Trusting that if something wants to happen it will, when it’s ready. The vision of my work in progress is constantly there and I allow it to lead me to tell the story of others.

It’s Easter this weekend, and that draws me to painting eggs, baking with filo. The tradition would have been to pick food colouring from shelves, make a gibanica loaded with cheeses. Now it’s more about the natural (modern) way. Eggs are dyed with turmeric and coffee, as I used to with yarn years ago. Gibanica has a heavy dose of spinach and eggs, with sparing use of sheets.

 

Shifting is possible, keeping some traditions is too, if they are a part of you, ingrained. But a new way of being is also essential, for all of us. We travel constantly. Be sure to document your journey, and of others too. There’s a common theme for all of us.

I enjoyed a year of reading Italy, fiction and history, language and cuisine. I haven’t done yet. The dream is to go back again, soon, if possible.

 

 

 

 

Starting over

I am, I’m starting over again. Retracing steps, gingerly. No giving up or in, but keeping on. And I’m not going to talk about it either – the thing I’m doing again. It involves writing and reading. There, that’s all I will say.

It was this passage in The Alchemist that provided some inspiration after months of darkness and difficulties.

The old man leafed through the book, and fell to reading a page he came to. The boy waited, and then interrupted the old man just as he himself had been interrupted. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because you are trying to realise your destiny. And you are at the point where you’re about to give it all up.”

Doubt can eat a person up. Many things in life conspire to stop we humans from sticking with it. I owe it to myself and my closest to not walk away from the discipline required, the solace, the peace. I have to tune back in to my intuition.