New blog, new me, new outlook

I have decided to move my blog over to here. You might be wondering why I decided to move all of a sudden, and well. I have been taking some time to really think about myself, who I am, what I can and want to do, and have come to realize that I need to respect myself and give myself what I deserve, and that is a more professional place where I can showcase my abilities. Blogger was fun, and a place to learn and practice. Now I believe I am ready to give it my all and be Wooni and not be a shamed.

I am proud of what I can do and not afraid to show everyone who I am. So, hopefully you will pop on by my new home on typepad. and give me some feed back on what you think. I am still working on the design and schematics of it all. But It will soon be a place that I can call home.

See you soon :)

Frost, snow and attaining warmth

All of a sudden winter decided to reach the Palatine forest in late January. It had only rained and I began to change my perception of winter. I told myself that It really wasn't so bad, or so cold, or maybe I had gotten used to the cold German weather. I was wrong. My body is not used to it, quite the opposite. My skin is red and sore from the cold dry air, my throat is constantly soar, my nose always stuffy and I can feel the cold trapped within my bones. Since yesterday It has been terribly cold in the village. There has been snow, which does make it look quite beautiful, and One is able to make silly faces on the car window.

Because of the cold I have decided to stay inside more and continue with my crochet. I am almost done with Lindita's blanket. I have not done mor eof the shawl or the bigger blanket, but instead I have been thinking about painting and returning to cloth. Maybe some time in the near future I will work with cloth again, but for the moment I am still enjoying drawing and crocheting. They have relaxed me, and help me conquer my anxiety.

A blanket for lindita

This is my first post using our new tablet. And let me tell you it is awesome. I love the mobility, the screen quality, and feeling like a futuristic person that has allthe knowledge of mankind within a slim piece of metal. Hopefully that will not change any time soon. I am closely watching what is happening with SOPA, PIPA and ACTA. I believe knowledge should be free to obtain and share. However, i do not think someone should profit from someone elses idea or creation.  Either way i could talk for hours about my outrage, discomfort, and anxiety towards what looks like the downfall of the internet. but I will leave it at that. Instead I will show you the blanket I am making for Lindita. It is a circular ripple blanket that I found on Ravelry.  The design is from smooth fox lover. She has other wonderful crochet patterns.

The pattern is very easy to follow and you could do a variation of colors and designs.

I am also still working on the Japanese flower shawl. I love to see how it becomes more of its self. I only have 13 out of the 46 flowers but already I can see it take form. I love when something you are making turns from a pure thought into something that is laying there in front of you.

lately I have been having the desire to go back to writing. It is part of the journey back to myself, in order to find my voice. ANd with this desire to return to writing I have been thinking a lot about my story that I have been developing for the past 4 years. It has mainly been a thought that has remained stuck in my head for all these years. Sometimes scenes flash before me, or a description of a character, or a rule of this orwelin society. It is a story that I have come to love and want to keep on feeling and growing. However, I no longer have the desire for it to be a mere written story, but instead something more. And it is that morethat I have been thinking about.

The premise of the story is about a drone type society that has lost its human aspect and has more of a working hive type feel to it. Each individual is given a job that maintains this type of society and one of the jobs that only a small group can perform is to remove dreams, memories and emotions from the individuals of these societies. The main character of the story is one of these memorandae and she comes across an individual that has to be completely erased, and as punishment he will be left empty and will roam the streets as a warning to the others of what would happen if they ever dreamt, felt or thought outside of the system. This individual has many memories of things that are unknown to this society, such as trees, birds, nture in general, music, laughter, and other things. And this woman is amazed and keeps these memories and implants them into herself. There is much more but I will leave it to that.

Flower

After searching through every single venue possible I finally found the pattern for this flower. I saw it first as a shawl. A shawl full of colorful flowers, and I fell in love. The shawl reminded me of my favorite film Amelie, springtime, happiness and it was a challenge. I have just started to crochet and so far I am still working on my wave blanket. 

I have found so much comfort in crochet. 

I have also finished my drawing "Full of Color" a reflection of my feelings. I feel so worn out, tired, dull. However, I feel and hope that I still have vibrancy and color and dreams within me, somewhere. I actually like it. I began to draw it while the mister and I were watching the "Fisher King" with Robin Williams. A strange 80's movie ( I love 80's movies) and the acceptance of insanity made me want to reach in and pull out my own. 

However, I cannot just let my craziness out and about whenever I want. Even though I would love to walk around singing at the top of my lungs, laughing at the air and wearing mismatched socks and colorful crocheted sweaters with my hair in a frenzy I must leave my crazy to prance around in the studio or splash it on the white page. 

So as my normal self I accompanied my mister and his twin to the top most point of the town. A place I look at every day, but had never gone to visit. I was a wonderful sight, a wonderful place, where peace and joy and serenity meet and you can actually turn into a giant and observe the village dwellers and surrounding valleys and hills. A podium of observance I call it. 

And upon this podium there is a portal, or really a memorial for the ones who died during the first world war, and one can see the faces of the 6 gentlemen of the town that were lost to the horrid violence and aftermath of such a war. However, I saw it as a portal. Not sure yet what type of portal it is, but a portal none the less. 

Full of color

I have been very absent. Still searching for my words, my voice. And through this journey I found this image waiting to come out. It is still not done, but I just wanted to show you all what I have been up to. I love the mixture of text and drawing. It brings more to the surface.

Also I have been learning how to crochet. Lately I have found that the cloth asks too many questions that I can either not answer at the moment or do not want to. The yarn has been more serene. It seems to be more accepting and instead of asking merely waits and even sings a song of rhythm. At the moment I am attempting to make a blanket. Something that can contain a moment, a thought, a desire. A blanket made by someone for someone will always have that feeling of love and comfort. You can feel it within the loops. It is a lovely thing. And I would love to have created such a physical state of love. I hope I do not sound so crazy. I have not been sleeping well for months now. But even if I do sound crazy. It's always a wonderful way to view the world.

I wish you all a happy 2012

A slowed rush

For no apparent reason what so ever I had the urge to rip out a page of a book and draw on it, skratch out words, silence ts thoughts as if those words were just to loud. I have been having a problem with expressing myself, maybe because I have to do so in German, maybe because I cannot seem to find the right words. But whatever the reason I had this urge to some hoe find some silence. So I grabbed a book that someone had given me but was not at all something I would ever read and tore out a random page. At first I felt guilt, destroying someones words. But still this urge was gnawing at me. I needed silence.

With the torn page in front of me I just stared at it. I was unsure how to proceed. So naturally I took a ruler and drew a line to remove the ragged torn edge. I stopped myself. How limiting. Even when I want to silence, remove, renew, and begin I am still forced but my limiting conditions, reminds or neatness and order. I erased the line. I then picked up a pen And at the corners drew serpant type creautres that wanted to eat the words. Ad then in the middle my renewed yet old self, a butterfly surrounded by circles and darkness.

I did not however silence all the words. I could not do that to the person who wrote them. But instead I merely hushed their loudness around me.

The funny thing is that the whole time I was doing this I felt this sensation of trying to hurry myself yet doing them slowly, anxious but at the same time calm...This is the second time I feel this contradicting within me, as if I were two within one, or just that is about to split into many.

Either way....

absence

I have been away fro quite a while. My needle has grown cold and the piles of cloth dusty. I have not had the urge to write, create, or even sometimes think. This adjusting to a new life has been hard. I do not want to complain or pity myself. But merely speak the truth. It is difficult with an almost three year old and even more difficult with my three year old that has too much energy. He is a lot to handle and I have felt my time, my strength, my sanity dwindle. There have been days where I have broken down and have felt like an empty shell unaware of who I am or what I like. I am slowly trying to find my way back. But it is difficult.

My life at the moment has changed with the season. With my mom's approaching departure, I have been anxiously practicing my new routine. Wake up before the sun in order to in drink my coffee in peace. Then wake, dress, and convince Basti to go to kindergarten. Breastfeed sometimes while doing many of these things. After forcing a jacket on basti off we go to kindergarten. Then silence for at least an hour and I am able to eat, do some chores, and if I am lucky respond to some emails. Then back to kindergarten, cook lunch, feed the children, naptime is for more chores, dinner time followed by bath time and bedtime. And the I can once again feel like An Adult. And then after a few hours of unconsciousness the routine starts again.

It has been exhausting, difficult, stressful, overwhelming, and questioning. I question how others have done it. How I will be able to handle it once my mom is back in bogota. Will I be able to eat? Why stay at home moms are not honored and praised for all their hard work. We are cooks, maids, teachers, negotiators, entertainers, nurses, and so much more. We are selfless beings that give everything to our children, and put ourselves on hold.

But even though at times I wonder if I can handle it all, if I can survive the screaming and crying and demanding. I cannot imagine having someone else raising my kids.

The wonders of his imagination.

Everyday I am amazed by how wonderfully imaginative my son is. One day there is a dragon living in the bell tower of the church, or a small brown monster that pulls his blanket, or the police are going to come to give the dog a ticket for barking.

Today his game was to run around in a green laundry basket and waiting for me to tap his nose and make a beeping noise. He was entertained for at least half an hour. I love this age. Children are so beautiful and happy. They are the best example of pure happiness.

Life at the moment.

It has been until today that I have picked up my needle and thought about stitching. I have been enjoying my mother's help, my little lindita as I like to call her, and the ability to rest ( thanks to my wonderful mom, what would I do without her). We have had our share of wonderful moments of basti learning to love his sister, and our moments of stress.

Here is Jude's magic feather. I will be sending it to her once I have finished.

The magic feather project

As you can see I have added a new logo on the top right side of my blog. I am creating a magic feather for Jude Hill's Magic feather project. The magic feather is her personal symbol, so for my submission I thought I would combine her symbol with one of mine, the butterfly.

That is all I will say for the moment. I will post a picture once it is on fabric.

Till then.

Sarah has arrived

Wednesday August 3rd I roamed around the house feeling heavy, uncomfortable, and anxious about how this birth was going to be. I waited to feel any type of discomfort that indicated the arrival of Sarah, but the day went on and I was still pregnant. That night, as the mister and I slept in the living room, our mattresses stacked on top of each other, our clothing scattered in different rooms, the moon light falling upon us, I began to feel the familiar tightening at 2:40 am. I began to time them and realized they were around 6 and 5 minutes apart. "Isn't that when you are supposed to go to the hospital?" I asked myself. The idea scared me half to death. Everything would be in German. I would have to use a communal bathroom while in labor, and then share a room with another woman and her baby...It was all too foreign, but my body was ready. 

After three bareable contractions I woke up the mister and told him that I needed his company. I was having contractions. Right after I said that I ran upstairs to use the bathroom, and the contractions were stronger. I called for him to come up and he started a bath. The warm water dulled the pain. I could still breathe through them, no longer talk, but as I stared at the bubbles I thought how fast this all was going. I had imagined myself going through hours and hours of breathing and concentrating. 

With each contraction I asked the mister how apart they were and they were now 4 minutes apart.  It was 3:30 in the morning and I told him I thought we should go to the hospital. "I'll make coffee." he said and headed downstairs. 

Time no longer affected me, what seemed to take forever were only mere minutes. It was 4 am when we were in the car heading towards Kaiserslautern."only 3 contractions and we will be there." the mister told me trying to ease my discomfort. I opened the window and held on to the seatbelt strap. With every contraction my knuckles would turn white and I pull the strap as if I were trying to stop a uncontrollable horse. I breathed in silence and the mister drove through the dark morning hours. 8 contractions later, they were now closer together, we had arrived at the hospital. We still had to go down the stairs of the parking garage and get to the Kreisaal. At first walking was impossible, but afterwards it actually eased the pain a bit. 

Somehow we magically made it to the Kreisaal. I professed I needed the epidural. I could no longer take the pain and the idea of being in this pain for hours was the death of me. She told me they needed to take my blood and it would take an hour to get the epidural, but first she had to check me. I was sure I would be at least 2 or 3 cm dilated. At my previous doctor's appointment I had dilated at all. "well i doubt you will be able to get the epidural. You are 6 cm dilated." What ? I cried. I needed something. I begged. She gave me something That made me sleepy and the contractions were as intense as in the bath. So I could at least breathe. "But you will feel the push." She said in English. I was no longer able to understand nor speak in German. The push..I was going to have a natural birth. Something I wanted, but not in that moment. 

An hour later I was half undressed, didn't care, the IV in my arm, I felt the urge to push. I was at 10 cm. I began to push and a sense of relief and inexplicable pain came over me. I wanted to run away. I heard a primal scream come out of my mouth. My whole body was shaking as they placed me in a better position, kneeling with a rounded back. The pain intensified and I had to push through it. There was no way around it. 4 pushed later I felt relief. Sarah was born at 5:29 am. I had my back to her and slowly, with the help of the doctor and midwife I turned and almost tripped on the umbilical cord. There she was pink and crying. It was over. Finally I could rest. no more pain. 

I began to feel tired and the after-pains were intense. They pushed down on my stomach and it felt as if the were trying to pierce holes through my body. I could hear the mister say "isn't that a lot of blood?" "yes, more than usual." the midwife answered. I do not remember much afterwards. I am told a lost a bit more blood than usual.

After a couple of hours they rolled me into my room. The mister had to leave and I was not quite there. I kept on bleeding and they kept on changing the sheets and talking to me. They would come and inject something into my IV to stop the bleeding, come later and give me more. Until finally I was more aware and conscious. 

I looked around and I was not in a two person room, but instead in a four person room. I was the only one with a baby, I didn't understand why I couldn't move, why i was so weak, and what they were giving me. I was later told my hemoglobin levels were 6.8 when the normal levels is around 12. Whenever I sat up my hearing would go and the room would spin. I remained in bed for three days until finally I could get up on my own.

I felt very lonely in the hospital. The other three woman had their babies in the NICU and the mister was busy trying to get the house ready for when Sarah and I returned. I spent the days just staring at her face...

Fragmented sun

The weather has always affected my state of mind. And with so much gloom, rain, and darkness this summer in addition with the pains and heaviness and sure things falling through I have been subjected to a feeling of fragmentation. Today I do not feel whole, complete, but instead separated from so much of myself. As if the glue that keeps me together has been washed away by all this rain. 

It has been an odd summer. Only a few days of warmth. Lately every night as we sleep with some fresh air I feel cool and chilled. I wake up to the fog in the palatine forest and a sense that summer just decided to never come here. I prefer cooler weather, but I still need a bit of warmth. I need to store it for the long hard winters that I have experienced here so far. 

But back to the sun. I have been holding on to the small boro-ish discharged magic sun. I never had the right place for it. And as I was preparing circles for the larger cloth that I want to make during The Magic Diaries, I decided I should make a place for this sun, even if it were to be left alone. So now it is the lenght of my forearm and awaiting to be embroidered. Maybe a face? 

The number of us

As the Magic Diaries progresses I continue to think about my mandala cloth. It is a ritual, a rite of passage, something that brings about meditation, awareness, connectedness, strength, and I was contemplating what should be in the middle of this cloth. It must be somehting of importance, a starting point and even a returning point. And so I began to think what happens in the beginning. Numbers...We are all just numbers before we are anything else to the world.

As I have seen while being pregnant, a human is all numbers the size of our head, our weight, the amount of time we have existed in utero. And at the moment of our birth number continue to be of significance; the time of birth, the weight, the height, apgar score. And then slowly we become ourselves, independent of numbers, but still reliant on them, still we identify with them. Our birthday tells us what sign we are and what personality traits we have. Our age tells us how much we have experiences, what we should know, what we shouldn't know, how much time we have lived and how much time we might have left. So I ask, are we all just numbers? Our whole being can me measured and quatified. However, there is another side of us that cannot, our imagination, creativity, feelings, perceptions, dreams, and so on.

This is what I want to place in the middle of it all. The division between our physical and impossed awareness versus the metaphysical and unimposed awareness of ourselves.

the elephants are coming.

I have set the mothering piece aside for now, and have been thinking about a bigger piece, especially since The Magic Diaries has started. I have therefore returned to my elephants. I am playing around with magical elements and still remaining with the idea of drawing and filling in with thread.

I realized that a piece can only come alive not only by placing pieces of cloth in a certain manner, but You have to also add more of a personal feel to it. It may seem like a silly realization, but it just dawned on me.

Right now it is raining outside and the breeze is comfortingly cool. It has been an odd summer. There have only been a few days of horrible heat that actually made me sick. I wonder why the heat as refused to set in here. Is it so that we do not get accustomed to it? Am I in for another long winter?? I hope not.

Weather is a funny thing. It affects your mood, the crops, the birds, life in general.

I apologize for the pictures. I still only have my camera phone. But it shall do for now.

life is beautiful...

I have been steadily working on the mothering. Today the sun is shinning, the breeze is cool and things are looking up. 

Mothering flourishing

I have began to add color to her. A few feathers full of color. Her bosom full of nourishing fluid. Her mind swirling. And the center beings to glow and it comes close to completion. 

Mothering, birthing, creating an existence.

Apparently this child in formation is trying to teach me how to relax and not let the stress affect me. At first it was with the normal pregnancy lows of nausea. However, this mother did not listen. Then came toe groin pains and inability to walk without discomfort. But still this stubborn mother did not listen. Then came the back spasms and contractions and finally the mother began to listen, but already her body was headed to a downward spiral. The final lesson were the daily migrains, the cold from hell, and the severe contractions that finally sent this mother to bed to listen and reflect on how she was living life. 

The answer was, too much stress, too many worries, too little help. And as this mother remained in bed an image of a female mothering an birthing a whole new existence came to mind. She still had the ability to move freely with her winged arms. However the weight of mothering a whole new world, an whole new universe, a whole new beginning weighed her down. But she takes this with grace and with pacience. She contemplates in silence and the center of all grows within her. She is calm, quiet, at peace. She knows that it is her role and her place to wait.

However, while her body is quiet, her mind swirls with the future to come. She weaves outcomes and adventures for the existence that will soon begin.

She lives within this universe.

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...