However unpolished

Suddenly the post I was writing no longer made sense. It made sense while I was sitting at my sewing machine putting the finishing touches on a dress I concocted today, and it even had a point, but I must have lost that point somewhere between doing the hem, adding the lace border and fixing a loose tie on the bodice (I like that word, bodice...it's very proper-sounding, though also risqué, putting one in mind of beadwork and lace, and possibly ripping, done by a well-muscled man in a ten-cent romance novel).

Windows open, quiet evening, silent birds

Sometimes I stop and wonder at the fact that I can write anything, make anything, do anything. A friend and I had a conversation about this some months ago. Do you ever fear that you'll do something completely ridiculous and unprecedented, like stand up in church and start yelling obscenities? Or tear off your clothes and run around nude downtown? Fail to turn the wheel when driving around a sharp corner, and just fly off the edge, through the guard rail, into whatever river or gully or abyss may lie below?

That's how I feel about everything sometimes. I know I would never do those things, but I could. That's the thing. I could. And how easy might it be to travel from this place, this very sensible place, to the place where those things could easily happen? Is that insanity, that place?

I think it's because of problems like this, and because of the way I'm able to create—from pieces of fabric and plenty of thread, without a pattern except the one I create, mostly in my mind and a little on paper, in order to work out the dimensions of the thing, or from beads and wire, with the help of just one pair of needle-nose pliers—things with finished edges, things of unique form and a little beauty (have I lost you? this is where the sentence answers the "because") that I must believe in God, in Christ, in the Holy Ghost, in creation and incarnation, in all those mysteries I wish I could explain, if only to myself. If that logic doesn't make sense to anyone but me, I am not surprised.

I went hiking for a few hours yesterday, and as I was walking along, enjoying the birds and trees and even the red dust, it occurred to me that I might not have been this sort of person: the sort of person who willingly goes out among the trees, alone, and enjoys it. I might have been the sort of person who hates nature or being outdoors and smelling like trees and wind and sweat after it's all over. I can't understand that.

The tulips on my desk continue to open

Once again, I'm trying to write about too many things. My point: I've had lots of time to think this week, and this is how some of it comes out. As I was nearing the end of my sewing project tonight, I remembered that it's good not to let all of it come out. I was composing many things in my head, and I let them go, unwritten, into that abyss. It's a useful place, that abyss. And nearly full, I imagine, except that it's an abyss, and abysses, by their very nature, never fill up.

Maybe this is just my mind trying to catch up with my hands. I've had a creative week: I made some jewelry for a friend to wear as a bridesmaid, and then I made a skirt the other day and a dress today, as well as a blackberry pie earlier in the week. I feel accomplished when I design or create or fix something, just as I feel accomplished when I set pen to paper and write out a poem, however unpolished.

Perhaps I write foolishly, in haste, with too little thought, without needed revision. Perhaps the charms of language, of thoughts made words, work too swiftly on me. Perhaps I too readily accept the temptation of creation.

Comments

[Leah]

Were we having that conversation about doing strange things? That's something I've thought about often, and I know other people have too (walking down the street the other day, I was listening to a girl talking to her friend. She said "do you ever worry that you'll say 'fuck you' instead of 'thank you' some day?").

As always, I understand about the accomplishments. I've felt dreadfully accomplished here in NZ while also managing to barely plan more than a day in advance.

[Katie]

Funny, I had that conversation (about failing to turn the steering wheel) with someone a few months back too. In a related note, I always am startled to realize that we could very easily kill ourselves with the flip of a finger or wrist at any moment, if we had the will.

(No, I'm not suicidal.)

Anyway, I'm afraid that I ABHOR the word "bodice." I can hear my mom saying it through a mouth full of pins during one of those dreaded measuring and fitting sessions. From an early age, I felt that my mother had no business measuring my semi-nude body.

[C. Wess Daniels]

I am glad I stumbled onto your blog, and I appreciate the thoughtfulness of this post. I have always tried to be the sensible one in my family, not all that hard to do really if you knew them, but I have always wondered "what is keeping me from going off the deep end?" I wonder if I will ever tire of trying to do the right thing, love all the wrong people, stand for all the "best" causes, and be the hero. Sometimes I don't really know what keeps me from throwing it all away and becoming someone different.

I guess I realize that my life is who I am, and that I am happy with it even if its on the border-line at times. And that we can't really become someone else over night, or ever over the course of a month - it takes time to turn away and lose control. It seems like for most of us, in that time of turning we have loved ones who center us, and remind us of who we are and what our vocation is.

Maybe its the people who don't have those reminders and people to love them then end up being the insane souls limping from here into eternity.

[Zandria]

You should post some pictures of some of the things that you've made (like your jewelry, and the clothes). I'd be interested in seeing them! I've always wished that I could make my own clothes. I guess it's one of those things you need to take action and DO, rather than just thinking about it. :) Are you self-taught? Have you been doing it for a long time?