i have been quiet blogwise-

I've been stitching words, weaving story. Diving into Homers world.

also watching, hearing, feeling the country I live in fall to pieces. times of change. me too, i'm changing- feel like a snake sloughing off my skin

letting go

started with i refuse

i refuse to live in fear

accept change and flow with it

mantras that help most of the time

so now i'm letting most of my books go -discovered freecycle- giving them to people who will read them and are happy to have them

saying goodbye to an aspect of myself that was important once, but has changed now

tons of paper are leaving this house

keeping the stories for students of storytelling until the storytelling school has a place to house them

my stories are in me now, yes, oh yes, I am full of stories, storyrich

may rhapsody

people lived here
the guards at the side door of the ancient city of rhamnus used to play board games to while away the time
the main gate/entrance to the city


an anchor
some inset piecing
madness
a map of travels, weaving in stitches

as far as the eye can see
the stormcloth
it was thundering growling coming closer. A libation of wine, part of my rusty collection, a eucalyptus bark storycloth from last year. bundled just in time and left for the storm..an offering
may has been stormy
and windyI am working on word patchwork-very much pulled into the shadowy hall where the suitors eat and drink, where the beggar king watches and plans, where the boy becomes a man, where she spins the yarns of their lives faultlessly weaving and unweaving their fate

mothers day

this was at my doorstep when I woke up. what it says is, of course, I love you mum.
reflections
layering waves
I'll vote for invisible baste anyday
layers of wind

this looks like the beginning of a cloth. I love hewn stones (as opposed to cut)
once more this looks like a prayer to me
striving towards the light

life comes in waves

they very much wanted to go to the beach, so we went

...

the wishingcloth is progressing, I've posted some photos here. This is the backside where one special little scrap that says "we are Japan" got itself firmly basted -by mistake?- and since it so very much wants to be there, Im leaving it

Easter came and went,the boyand his dad came and went, everyone had a go at roasting, even my mum!

eastertime

eastertime is hectic in this part of the world. It is the major holiday of the year, and most people go whole hog with church every day of the holy week, fasting and lamb on a spit on sunday.

Easterday is called "Lambri" which means bright, and the 40 days (49, actually) of Lent are also spring cleaning time, the village gets whitewashed, inside and out

families get together to celebrate, mostly in the countryside, and anyone with some land roasts lamb over an open fire, on a spit

in Athens it happens sometimes on the balconies..

it does seem as if the land itself is celebrating, glorious sun, flowers, grasses, trees in flower

I don't go to church, but it is not possible to ignore the surge of energy..it is wonderful, really

the son is here from Poland with his dad

with a very clear wish to do the roasting thing

so I've gone traditional (again) this year, preparing a homeric feast and tomorrow I'm lighting a fire

Telemaco went to church on tuesday and came back intrigued.."they were talking about a whore" he said..(it is the day they tell about Mary Magdalene)

bundling eggs was fun, madder and onion skins and lots of little leaves and flowers

having coffee with a friend, getting frustrated when the thread wouldn't stay where I wanted it to:

"the problem with eggs is that they are round"

"how would you want them to be?"

"rectangular and flat"

"hens would need a trapdoor.."

Back, sort of

I'm back in a way..

The tent was pitched, in the middle of a huge "square" in the city of Kerkyra on the island of corfu

I haven'y had time since Thursday to upload the fotos

There were moments of bliss, the tent full of people listening, entranced, to stories

There were moments of exhaustion ..driving the van by a river in the mountains..8 hrs drive..arriving to find there was no provision for electricity(how else would the drill work? or would we be hammering into tarmac, 45 holes?) and then the police hadn't been notified so we had to stop until that got sorted out..

and then having to be there, watching, guarding, telling, cleaning rugs and pillows for 16 out of 24 hours

but it was all ok in the end,

more than ok

magic

yes, I believe in magic

moments:

storks clacking away in their treetops at dawn

a tiny bird stealing wool from a flokati rug to line its nest

the lizard that stood guard next to me for hours looking at the tent from its stone, there in the park

the children talking to the genie of the lamp, they saw it, they really did

the swallows swooping and crying to each other every morning and evening

the people from morocco and afganistan and albania who gathered in and around the tent to tell me their stories after everyone had left

Thodoris and Alekos who catered for an "official" event in the tent who fed anyone who asked for food after the mayor and the ambassadors had had their fill of couscous and hummus

the way the young men looked at the meat before making the courage to ask for some

oh the stories I heard...

on friday

On friday I travel to Kerkyra, Corfu to pitch my tent. On Thursday I pick up the van and Antonia who will travel with me. today and tomorrow I wash and pound rugs, pillows and drive myself nuts

A list is what i need to make, an external keeper..instead of mentally going through that list every 3 minutes.

and accept that I can't control everything

aaaarrrrrghghghghgh