Ode to Was
Was was a cat of a friend of mine.
A very special cat, for she was involved in magical happenings in the great state of New York, in a humble home, not much different than yours or mine. In this home a great deal of stitching occurs, along with What If-ing, some tea drinking, and the growing of things both wild and free. Amongst the dandelions, lettuce, dye pots and cloth, roamed a mystical grey cat that wandered into the house many years ago and decided to stay.
Here, Was found a warm lap, a cozy fire place, tasty food, and the most wondrous napping places this side of the pond. The places of rest were places of magic too, with bits of cloth and thread finding a home and telling their stories. Stories of everyday things, like stones, ripples in the water, apples, leaves and love. Now, that love was so big, so strong, that it couldn't be contained in one little patch of Earth.
So jude, Was's friend and path walker, started sharing the stories on a diary open to the world.
People stopped by and took a peak at these stories, and some stayed to listen.
A small gathering of people formed around jude and Was.
This group shared its feelings and thoughts day to day to day, and came to know one another.
Not the kind of knowing that happens at work,
but the kind of knowing that happens at play, during a daydream, where ideas blossom.
Was was there too, with the group; sometimes hiding, sometimes sleeping, and sometimes sparking new ideas.
jude believed in sharing - and so she set about to teach this group of listeners some of the ideas that she had developed over a lifetime of weaving, sewing, and story telling. The friends drew near, and watched eagerly as each new lesson appeared. With new ideas, came the magic, the seed that sprouted within each person and manifested in a unique experience for that person. And there was Was, watching and guiding, giving life to new ideas, and just noticing those things in front of her.
The friends grew closer, and began to share their stories, experiences and art work.
A community formed, and people in the same area began to meet each other.
Women in Australia, began to talk. Women from Texas, Illinois, Japan, England, and Connecticut began to talk. Women from Seattle, Portland, Vancouver, Bend and Iceland began to talk. And there were men too, like Joe, stitching away. And Grace, she always had something interesting to say - or just shared her wonder and excitement in the process. And more places than I can count.
Then one day not so long ago, Was slipped away from us all, and continued on her journey.
Her next life.
Things changed a little, for the silver grey magic had moved on.
And the nine patch became the nine lives patch.
The ring of friendship continues.
To jude, I offer thanks for bringing us together.
To Was, I wish you safe travels and much love on your next journey.
For jude, a small pot to keep threads and memories.
I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)
I am never without it (anywhere I go you go, my dear;
and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling)
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)
I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;
which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)
Other candle links can be found with Sandra.
The cloths in these pictures are by jude.
The porcelain pixie pots, sculpture of a woman holding a cat, and small pots are by Mette and Sissel, my good friends from Santa Barbara, CA.