The Conspiracy of Silence
Everything conspires to silence us,
partly with shame,
partly with unspeakable hope.
- Rainer Maria Rilke, "The Impermanence We Are," from A Year With Rilke
Hi! I'm still here! It's been a year since I've been able to write. And frankly, I'm not sure about this post, even as I sit here and click the button to send it out to you. I'm not sure if or when I might feel like writing another. For some reason, it felt right to sit down today and get this out; a part of me wanted to share with you. Another part wants to stay quiet.
The last year has been one of isolation for me. More than usual. I like staying in, being quiet, being alone. But I think what started as a choice, or possibly a coping mechanism, became sort of a trap. After such a long silence, I didn't know what to say to anyone anymore, or how to begin to say it.
I haven't really changed my social habits. I'm still in most of the time. I've not been active on Facebook or Twitter, and I haven't joined any mom's groups yet. I've been socializing in the way I learned to do as a child, in books. I've found that reading every night does so much for my mental state. It's exercise for the mind! And as I've discovered in the past, reading inspiring things inspires me to write inspired things! It's felt so good to get some things out of my head, and though I enjoy writing for the sake of itself - again, it's exercise - I know there's a part of my shy, introverted self that enjoys sharing my writing, because it's the way I feel I best communicate my self and my thoughts.
I'm working on some things to send out as submissions (I hope telling you will hold me more accountable to follow through with that), but I've kept the website up for a whole year, paying the fees and wondering if I would come back to it and want to keep up with it. I still don't know. I struggled with that initially, as I knew it would be a challenge for me to want to share my life, and many particulars about it, in a regular and public way. I didn't want taking photos to get in the way of enjoying something I cooked for lunch. Or ruin the fun of a creative project, because I FORGOT to take photos of the process from the beginning. I don't want to constantly be mining my week for blog material. It seems a little cheap, you know?
And I've struggled to know how to write about motherhood and Nettie in a way that doesn't compromise her privacy and personhood, since she can't have that discussion with me yet. I'm conflicted. But I'm not feeling so very quiet anymore.
I received a very useful birthday present last year, called A Year with Rilke*, and it helps me to take a few minutes each day to reset. So often, what I need, maybe even what I've been longing to hear, is just waiting for me to open my ears or eyes, and receive it.
That Rilke quote about silence was part of yesterday's meditation, and it nudged me to the keyboard. I recognized myself, and the shame I've felt as I've let things go and drawn inward. I've justified it by saying that being a mom to Net takes all my time. And I can allow it to take all my time. I have. But I've been denying a part of myself voice, and I think it's a part that needs a platform, however painful or difficult it is to find one.
I was surprised when I also felt a little flare of hope as I read the final line, and I recognized it as muse. I've been feeling little itches for a week now, since the turning of the year, but haven't known what I should start or how to release them. I've sat down and started half a dozen drawings and have begun knitting a cowl three times. But yesterday I knew without thinking that I needed to write, so I've come here again today, to try to start saying just a little of what I haven't found voice to speak.
January often brings these little needles of hope for me. I don't know what it is, exactly. The days are still short. It's ridiculously cold. Every day's a bad hair day. I've made all the soup in my arsenal half a dozen times. The light is unforgiving: I can see every pore and new wrinkle, and the dust floats and sifts endlessly.
But I love the color of the sky at dawn. It changes in January, and it reminds me of my old Latin professor at the university who would recite Homer's Odyssey with his eyes shut, rolling back and forth on his toes, "When Aurora's rosy fingers stretch across the sky..." That's what it's like. January skies are poetically pink, the color of a thousand beginnings and a goddess's fingertips, the color of unspeakable hope.
*Amazon isn't currently carrying this, except from third party sellers, at pretty high prices when I checked. But you can get it here for $25.
An inspiring conversation with Joanna Macy, who is a Buddhist scholar, author, and translator of Rilke.
Dropping the ball
I actually wrote most of this post waaaay back in October. Then I got sidelined by a few things. Dave had knee surgery. And I had kind of a Facebook-induced emotional breakdown. I've decided that Facebook is not a healthy place for me, personally or professionally, so I won't be maintaining my Fibers of Being page any more. I'm going to continue to blog as I'm able, though I know that without Facebook, I will be reaching far fewer of you. At this point, I believe maintaining the website is still worthwhile for me as a creative endeavor and outlet, but I will see where this next year takes me.
I know I promised to share all the wonderful handmade projects I was working on for Christmas gifts, and I also promised to share how my encounter with the sewing machine went. I can deliver on the latter. The other, well, that's where I dropped the ball. I learned a valuable lesson, which is that now that my time is not really my own (well, it never really was, but now I know it), I have to become one of those people who starts working on Christmas gifts in January. At least, I do if I want to make them myself. I did manage - by just a few hours - to have Nettle's stocking ready for Christmas Eve. And I knitted her some "muck-lucks" and a scarf, which she hates wearing. I started making a scarf and some gloves for some friends, but have yet to finish them. And I did just a tiny bit of baking, which was time-consuming but not particularly successful. In other words, the holidays happened. Hmmph.
Aren't those little bunny grahams cute? Too bad they tasted like sawdust! Someday I'll learn not to be so heavy-handed with flax and brans.
Here's a brief, mostly pictorial account of my sewing endeavor, which was not as disastrous as I feared. In fact, it made me want to try another sewing project I've pinned, or make another one of these nice little pentagon balls. The hardest part turned out to be trying to figure out how to draw a perfect, equal-sided pentagon. I couldn't print the template the tutorial provided since my printer has stopped cooperating for the time being, and where's a protractor when you need one? But once I managed to get my pentagon drawn, the rest was pretty simple.
First, this is the tutorial I used: http://gotosew.com/2015/05/pentagon-fabric-balls/
And here's a few pictures of the process...
picking out the fabrics
cutting out the blocks
sewing the blocks together
stuffing the ball (I used some wool roving)
sewing on a handle and sewing the opening shut
And that's it. You can see I finished this up in the evening. I worked on it off and on throughout a Saturday afternoon and sewed it up before bed. My guess is it would take an hour or two for someone who is efficient and didn't have interruptions. This ball is about 5-6 inches across and takes 12 blocks. The tutorial says you can make a larger ball by using 24 blocks, so I'll probably be making one of those for Nettie when I get a chance and maybe a few for gifts in the future.
I can't say I enjoyed the machine-sewing part of the project... it was sweaty and nervous.... but my confidence is buoyed a little and I do plan on keeping some sewing projects on my list so that I stay in practice.
And Nettie's been having fun with her new ball.
Featured Posts
