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February 2, 2011

I’ve stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, two days in a row now. Sitting on a chair in the main room, in the dark, generates especially fertile insights. I feel like a seed in the ground. Perhaps it’s no wonder that a chthonic deity like Ereshkigal occupies my thoughts.

I just finished reading Composed by songwriter/singer/writer Rosanne Cash. Near the end of the book, she said something that expressed exactly where I am right now:

“Like everything else, given enough time and the long perspective, the opposite of those things that we think define us slowly becomes equally valid and sometimes more potent.” (p. 238)

I spent many years seeking interpersonal harmony and peace, but now I know I need integrative pluralism, conflict, and juicy problems to solve.

I spent many years seeking beauty. And now I realize I want something much deeper and more textured, earthier. Something wild and powerful and profoundly unsettling. I don’t know what it is, but I do know it is not something as predictable and comfortable as beauty.

I spent many years trying to figure out how I could be myself but also “fit in” with people who are not artists, scientists, or philosophers. How could I tone down my intensity so I didn’t overwhelm others with it? Which of my ideas weren’t too weird to share with others? Now those concerns feel like they belong to another life.

This morning I dreamed that I sent a card to someone I used to be obsessed with, and in the card I told him that our relationship was over, and I was walking away for good. The man did not read my card; he recognized my handwriting so he sent it back, unopened, to my house. Others in my household were embarrassed for me. But I felt strong and powerful and vindicated. Writing the card and sending it gave me the closure I needed; his response was irrelevant.

I’m starting to perceive what my essence truly is, and many traits I thought were fundamental are dissolving away. My (long-ago) past feels like a book I vaguely remember reading years ago. I no longer feel compelled to always be able to identify a thread running unbroken from my past into my present. I don’t feel anymore like I absolutely remember what it felt like to be all of the people I have been. And I definitely don’t feel that I need to be consistent with what those other people wanted or needed. They were of their time, and I am of mine. And I have truly changed and evolved into someone I never imagined. That’s a good thing.

I am free to be deeply present in this moment.

I photographed two drawings I did three days ago, the first drawings I’ve done since I sent off my sketchbook to the Brooklyn Art Library.

I figured out why my latest quilt project was stuck, and this morning I significantly changed it, which breathed new life into it. I’m starting to figure out how I can use quilting to say what I want to say.

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