or the sea

"the cure for anything is salt water - sweat, tears, or the sea" 

                                                                                                                                                         - isak dineson

 

One of the ways I have been coping with loss in my life, is to remember the things I have and to be grateful for them.  Early on in my grief journey I began posting photos of friends on my refrigerator to remind me of all the people I still have in my life, instead of always thinking of what I have lost.  But, for a long time, I still wasn't sure how much of my former life I could regain.  Sometimes when our trajectory changes, we can't take everything with us.  I thought perhaps I had lost my knitting and spinning mojo for good, but it turns out that it was just in a state of suspended animation.  As the shock has been wearing off, I've slowly become more interested in yarny things again, and, like a little trickle in spring that soon becomes a rivulet and then a stream and then a river, my fiber mojo is starting to thaw.  Starting with Stitches Midwest, and continuing with SOAR this year, I have gotten reconnected with my tribe, the fiber tribe. 

And now, just this weekend, I have gotten reattached to my local fiber tribe, too.  Each year we have two retreats, one in spring and the other in autumn.  Our autumn retreat is held in a vacation home by the Pacific ocean.  We snuggle in and share stories, knowledge and plenty of good chocolate!  We spin yarns both literally and figuratively.  Wine, laughter and love flow around and through, and healing happens.  And while all this great love fest is happening, yarn gets made too!

The restorative powers of ocean breezes, long walks, fresh wool and good friends have conspired to bring me back to some balance.  Once again, I am grateful for what I have.

Comments

[Renee]

It does take a while, doesn't it? I am traversing the loss of all my immediate family - my parents and brother - and not being married and no children means that I have to look beyond. A few things fell apart while I was tending to my mother, and now life has begun to open up in new ways. Many days are still hard, but I am able to cope with what's just in front of me.

[AnneLena]

Isak Dinesen, née Karen Blixen hails from my neck of the woods. Love her works.

I am so happy fiber is speaking to you again. I was so hoping it would.

As you know my hubby is seriously ill, and it's definitely affecting my fiber mojo. It seems that when I need the soothing of knitting/spinning the most I can't figure out how. Sigh.

HUGS

[KathyH]

So glad you're knitting and spinning again. The yarn above looks beautiful; BLF/silk blend, perhaps? No, things will never be the same. But you're still you. The Janel we all love. And that will always include fluff at some level!

[karen]

Out of this silence and into language of neurons and the seat of ruddy learning is the heart at play - I wonder at the violence that it experiences and then I look at a collection of children's artwork - unfinished profiles of cats, moons, more red hearts, a lady with no arms standing on the top of a mountain. It's stopping and soothing. Some friends work with steel, with shiny and dull braces for imaginary practicalities and some, like you, work with webs, latticed and colorful windows of phenomena. I hope my friends are also the children surrounding me - sent to the future on their own road, steel and felt, warmth, cool and sometimes full of infections. So grateful to see your wonderful images and hear your wonderful voice.

[Denise]

Welcome back Janel. You've been missed. I'm glad that you are beginning to find your center again. Sending you love, Denise