Tumbleweeds
Do you ever get that feeling that you are a tumble-weed being blown about the open plains? There doesn’t seem to be anything to hold on to, everything just slips by you as you are blown about. You are at the mercy of the wind with no anchor, nothing to ground you, no safe place. These past few weeks I seem to be that tumble-weed being blown about here and there. I have to stop and grab onto my anchor, my safe place. Art is my anchor… my ground… my safe place. I can count on the fabric being there - the dyes transforming my unrest into calm. There
are no expectations, only acceptance that I will transform it into something magical. I feel safe.
Here's a different angle on tumbleweeds. I just got back from a trip where I drove through central Washington and it was very windy. In one section, tumbleweeds were blowing across the freeway, and it was I that felt out of control, hoping not to have one blow into my path so close that I would smash it. I had this fear one would catch and stick across my grill, or under the car, causing something to go awry. I must admit seeing the tumbleweeds bounce and roll have always made me smile, as long as they weren't heading for me. Maybe it's because I'm such a control freak that something so seemingly carefree would amuse. They may be blown about without much say in where, but think of the places they see!
ReplyDeleteI agree with you though. My art is also the thing that grounds me when life gets too crazy and out of my control. One can tumble just so long...
I know exactly what you mean. I've been feeling that myself lately. I'd surely go crazy without my art.
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