Monday, August 23, 2010

si[x]

When I received this lace weight wool I was enamored. I would have worn the skeins draped over my neck but for unavoidable tangles and inevitable heartache. Instead, I made a sculptural piece comprised of six varied circles, allowed to curl inward and reveal their hidden sides. This piece is bold, unique, beautiful, and inspiring. Reticence does not orbit here.

Boring bits:
Pattern: sev[en] circle by Kirsten Johnstone a.k.a assemblage
Needles: US #5 circs
Wool: Knit Picks Gloss Lace (held doubled) in 'mermaid'
Mods: aplenty...on ravelry.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

In Whispers

in black and white here
Few things come to us in whispers; condolences, apologies, and declarations of love come to mind. The mind, however, is not receptive to whispers; only the heart can hear them. So we must be unnaturally quiet and uncomfortably still to catch these wisps of intention. We must remove ourselves from the noisy chattering clamor of life in order to look within, open our hearts, and receive whatever messages the spirited winds bring us. Can you hear them? No?

You've gotten away, you've looked within, you've cleared your soul's shelves and you are ready! Ready to begin whatever it is you are to supposed to begin. But then you wait, and you grow impatient, and you don't understand why after all of this preparation you don't hear anything! You don't hear the answers you seek. You don't hear the directions you desire! Right about now all you hear are the screaming nerves of your half-asleep right butt cheek. You cannot hear anything for all of the noise your mind is making. The most difficult part of self discovery is mistaking getting away for getting out of your own way.

For a long time, my inner voice would loudly declare, "I really would love to be part of the group I admire on Flickr, but none of my photos are good enough."

Then one day, I stepped out from my own shadow, and I was invited to contribute to the archival moon & waiting. They chose to include one of my photos this week.

For a long time, my inner voice would loudly declare, "I love to write flash fiction, but mine are too angst and foul language ridden to be published."

Then one day I simply submitted a story. I created it and set it free. It has come back to me. On Saturday, August 21st, my story will be published on Metazen.

These are small accomplishments, sure, but for me they are huge. They are proof I listened when my heart heard the whisper, "it is time to stop living on wishes and start creating the life you want."

This is the beginning.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Fox Socks

When my brother returned from Europe, he came bearing gifts. He has a rare and precious talent for gift giving; he picks out of the ether the exact thing you would have procured for yourself had you been there. In my case, a skein of sock yarn and a beautiful white stone from the cliffs of Etretat. Two of my favorite things; wool and cliffs overlooking the sea. These socks are a global affair. A man from America travels abroad, wanders into a shop in Holland, and picks out German wool made from Italian sheep. You all know by now I am addicted to knitting socks. I find it amusingly ironic he would buy my drug of choice (sock wool) in Amsterdam.

They also remind me of the colors of a fox. Fox is my middle name for those of you who didn't know. So here I am, Heather Fox, in fox colored socks. They are finished, super comfy, and my new favorite pair. Thank you, dear Michael, I love them and you!

Details on ravelry.