Today I used the needle as a pencil, spontaneously lacing stitches wherever they fell. It was as if my energy were writing its own language and giving orders to this flexible all grabbing guardian.

Compared to yesterday's controlled satin stitch.Even though I enjoy the texture and the look of the satin stitch, it takes more effort, more concentration...

The Guardians

It was a tough end of week. Thursday night as I was lifting my son out of the bathtub my back gave out and for some magical reason I was still able to dress him (while sobbing) and place him in his crib. While grasping the walls I was able to go down stairs, so that Basti would not hear me cry, and sat on the sofa.

I waited for my husband to arrive from his trip to London. Unable to move my legs. Hungry. Needing to use the bathroom.

At 11pm he arrived after driving almost 2 hours from the airport in Frankfurt. I was broken. I could not lift myself past 90 degrees and just getting up from the sofa was a journey of several attempts and failures. With his help I made it upstairs and into bed.

Sleep lingered above my head, a dream that I so desperately craved but never came. At 6 am my son decided it was time to wake up, and since we at the moment are in the same room I was forced to remain awake as well.

The day went by going to doctors and gripping cold and moist buildings only to hear that the only comfort I could achieve would be through rest, heat, and time. I was told that I needed to not lift heavy things, and to take it easy because things were happening that shouldn't be happening yet.

After the weekend was over, with only a few moments of rest, I am now able to walk. However, the pain is still there, a reminder of what I should be doing.

Yesterday after realizing that I cannot take it easy, my husband needs to work and I need to take care of a toddler, I created the guardians. One who could reach all at the perfect time, one that had the wisdom that brings me comfort and one that is pure light that leads me out of my abyss.

It is sad when you can only rely on yourself and even then you cannot even count on your own body to help you out.

At least I have the guardians...

Back to my roots

I have realized how I have been limiting myself, out of fear of it not looking pretty enough, wasting fabric, people not liking it. And I have decided that in this new place, my own place in this world, I will not be limiting myself anymore. I will allow myself to doodle and make mistakes.
This sunflower is the beginning of this liberating phase. I enjoy black lines on white fabric. I enjoy coloring in. And each petal represents a different stance, mood, emotion, thought, that have brought me here. ANd autobiographical flower.

The doodles are part of en exercise of allowing my hands to move freely and just do what they want. No thinking involved. No planning.

I believe I will just do some heavy embroidery in that one square. I am not sure though if it will stay with the sunflower. Probably not....

The smell of happiness

I finally have internet again, and with that came a sense of relief, of comfort.
However, I alo felt a sense of loss. I had gained a new perspective that did not involve hovering over a computer screen. I had regained a perception that I had learned with my grandma up in the Smokey Mountains. I would go to the cabin and stay with her for a couple of weeks and even a few months on end. There was no internet, standard cable, a few old VCR movies ( like Thorouhgly Modern Mille one of my favorites), and books, thousands and thousands of books. We were engulfed by nature and all one could do was live in a world of wonder and imagination.

I would spend hours outside day dreaming about an earlier time when women used parasols. I read a lot of victorian novels while I would visit my grandma. And this place reminds me of the cabin. A place I always found peace, calmness, serenity. I would only feel happiness there, and here it is the same.

The fresh breeze brings about scents that I longed for. These scents bring back memories of the mist over the lake, barbecues and bonfires, and drives through the cool woods.

And I am thrilled that my young son enjoys it here just as much as I do. We spend the days outside on our driveway playing and listening to the church bells.

We walk to the doctors to follow the river from our backyard.

We encounter goats and scurry and feed of leaves and grass and lay in the rain.

And when my foot is not so back we run down the pathway leading to the train station to watch the trains go by.

I am truly happy here, even with all the dust, drywall, and other renovating materials that lay everywhere.

silence

Without real internet ( I only have my phone) I am forced to live life differently. I sit outside. I listen to the birds. I watch the neighbors do their daily routines. I dream of painting the walls with my own designs and find it hard to break away from the heavily engrained rules of having white walls.

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caught in the rain

We have been in the new house for a week now. The air is clear and fresh. The neighbors are friendly and helpful. However, the house is still a construction zone. We do not have any flooring, no doors, a room full of boxes that are unreachable, and tools and materials every where.
I love the house and the town, but on a rainy day like this I feel like a prisoner. I can't do anything. I can't lift boxes, put things anywhere, or improve the condition of the house. All I can do is sit and keep basti entertained in one room.
At this level of despair I have even considered taking the train to mannheim getting the car from the husband's workplace and driving to ikea to get suplies.... I am not an adventurous person. I have a bad foot. I cannot find my jackets or sweaters a the stroller is in the back of the basement. However I am still contemplating going.

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