wooly thinking

knitting - pattern - mapping

anxiety - belonging - getting lost - getting found

solace in the familiar

in making

in creating

doing what I know I can

not thinking too hard

seeing the impact of time and skill

a stitch for a step

a way to avoid and hide

a way to find myself

to feel the ache of sitting too long

to imagine the next project while working on this one

the wool 

a line 
that will guide me out of the dark forest

a trail of bread to be eaten by birds

an escape route

a rhythm 

a beat 

a measure

not in use

While walking to the market I saw an older lady with a full shopping bag waiting at a bus stop, from my vantage point I could see the neon orange hood that had been placed over the bus stop sign THIS BUS STOP IS NOT IN USE. Assuming that the lady had seen the sign and was waiting for someone to come out of the nearby shop I almost walked past her. When level with her I asked if she was waiting for the bus, she said yes, so pointing up I showed her the sign. The lady was crestfallen, she had a walking stick and I felt very sorry for her as she began to walk to the next stop some distance away. She said ‘oh, this is not good for me’. How long had she been standing there? How many people had walked past making the same assumption I toyed with? A small thing incident, a chance to help another and a wish that I could have whisked her up and taken her to her destination.

giving

For the last few days I've walked miles around Walthamstow, moving through, searching out, looking at and talking to friends and strangers. While walking the city being asked for money is a common experience, but when to give and when to withhold? Recently I've visited a Buddhist centre and am learning about meditation and Buddhist beliefs. I've understood that life is a series of experiences and opportunities to practice patience, kindness and giving to those who express need. Opening my heart to love all no matter what others do or don't do... I'm sitting with this, attempting to remain open, allowing these ideas to seep through my resistance and reasonings.

Yesterday, while getting my bearings by a bus stop a man began talking to me. He was a middle aged fellow wearing a threadbare suit and clutching a bible, this appeared to be his only possession. He was distressed and in an african accent told me he was an engineer and that he hadn't had anywhere to sleep or anything to eat for three days. I gave him a few pounds and he sped off saying, 'I'll get something to eat'. What struck me was how quickly he walked away, he was genuinely hungry. I've wondered about him since, wishing I'd given more money, wondering if his story was true (not wanting to be a mug, be ripped off), knowing in my gut something has gone very wrong for him. As he walked away he said, 'God bless you', this touched me because in my giving to him he gave to me, wishing me blessed. My wish for him is a roof over his head and warm food in his belly. Whatever this mans story no one wants to beg for money, to be reliant on the kindness of strangers.

gift

Returning to E17, I have a feeling of home. Trotting about my old haunts I'm alert to and grateful for this after my unhomely years in Sheffield.

I walked as a stranger, a player in a film about my life. Watching myself be, monitoring my moves, recording it as an experience I knew wouldn't last. As yet I don't understand why, one day I'll join the dots but for now its simply somewhere that wasn't home. This was my dirty little secret as most Sheffield folk were horrified and perplexed at any mention of not liking the city, my southern accent (that belies my North East Scottish heritage) jumped on as a reason for not coping with The North. City as body, as a pulse that runs through flesh, as a site where words can wound.

What an amazing stepping stone Sheffield was in creating a path to greater self awareness and focusing my thinking towards creating what I want in my life, being strategic for the first time EVER. What a gift. I'm sitting with this now, questions forming, answers yet to materialise - I'm liberated, hopeful, unsure.

jubilee

Love the variety of fabrics, poses and attitudes in this Diamond Jubilee celebration in a garden on Sark. Scarecrow meets haberdashery treasure chest.

sark

The Island where I told my sister that I loved her and my weeping took me by surprise.