Yesterday morning, as I finally decided what I could show you in the Big Reveal, we had spectacularly thick fog in Nelson. We get this about three times a year, and I like it, but it was symbolic. I was certain the bay and the town and the hills beyond still existed, but I couldn't see them.
Now imagine a previously caged animal pacing in circles after it has been released into a facsimile natural habitat. If you are old enough to remember tiny concrete-and-metal cages in zoos, you get the picture. The whole "design" experience finds me restricted in my own invisible cage, and I now know there is a big world out there, but I haven't found a way to stop pacing in circles.
And a quote I found in Julia Cameron's "Walking in This World", which strangely always gives me much comfort: "It's like driving a car at night. You never see further than your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way." E. L. Doctorow.
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I'm relieved once again I managed to finish my bit of a project almost just in time, a project I started and hosted; I'm still horrible like that. The thought of looking at everybody's results is exhilarating, but then I always feel a little sad when the temporary merry band of weavers, well, disband.
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In two months, we're off to three weeks of family time in Japan. Yesterday morning, I realized in the shower there is a chance I won't be able to weave before I leave. I'll get over it. Soon. I know how to entertain myself. I've a physiotherapist appointment at 10.15 this morning.
If I leave cryptic comments or send you phone-text like emails, please forgive me. I've really been naughty.
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