KNOWING / notKNOWING

Hey, you friends and readers who are older than me. Younger people too probably. A question.

How do you KNOW?

You all seem to know your own hearts, your own desires. To have gained or found or created your peace and confidence with who you are and where you're going.

Maybe you think that's true of me too.

Afraid not. I remember realising on my 25th birthday that I had never imagined being older than 24. In the 20+ years that have passed, I have only rarely felt that I knew simply and wholeheartedly who I am, and where I want to be.

There are really good things about this.

I believe I've thought more about what matters, about who I admire and why, more about my choices, than if I had an autopilot managing my course. I've felt more deeply each decision that comes my way. I like to think I've been more open to hear others' thoughts and ideas.

I've come to be comfortable with that uncertainty. Maybe I do KNOW.
Maybe I'm The Woman Who Makes It Up As She Goes Along And It Works Out Just Fine.

In praise of Round Robins

Not a fat little songbird , though sometimes they participate.

Round Robin is a group quilting practice. Each person makes a small start to a quilt project, swaps it with someone else and adds to what they received. It goes on, exchanging and adding, until everyone has worked on every project. The finished works - usually quite large - is given back to the person who started it.

Some groups have a "recipe" for what technique or design to use at each swap. Many groups keep the growing project secret from the originator, so there are wonderful surprises at the final handover.

It's a great experience to get you out of your comfort zone and face a regular design challenge.

A bunch of my friends are using this process to make quilts for the Mangere Women's Refuge.

The picture above is Cherry's Mariner's compass centre, I've added the deep orange framing triangles. I can't wait to see how this turns out- and to swap for my next challenge.

Memories for all time: #3, the first hour in Singapore

02-DEC-1978

It was a much longer plane flight than we were accustomed to. 12 hours! half a day from your life is a big deal at 9 years old. I don't remember being grumpy. I don't even remember my 5-year-old brother being grumpy. Probably best I don't ask my Mum for an adult recollection of the trip.

We were charmed by the care-package of strange fluffy socks, folding toothbrush, tiny tube of toothpaste.  We'd had a smoker in our home until the previous year - so the drift from the aeroplane's smoking section had a familiar comforting feel.

Mum had prepared us for moving to Singapore by teaching us to eat with chopsticks. Sliced banana in a bowl! No mere noodle, beansprout or shrimp was ever safe from us after that initiation. We were quite disappointed to discover there were forks...

So...finally the big plane lands. The doors open. A wave of soft warm moist air rolls almost visibly through the dry chill of the cabin. And the smell! A complex mixture of avgas and jungle - decaying leaves and waxy sweet perfumes dissolved in kerosene.

Down the stairs onto the warm tarmac in the sudden dark of tropical early evening. Bright lights haloed by the most Enormous flying insects, unable to dodge the tiny bats feasting among them. Strange faces and accents directing us onto the old-fashioned white bus, rattling off into the mysterious scented night....

What I did on February 1

There are three perfectly good posts I've written tonight, and they can all wait because I'd rather give you the truth in my heart right now

My overflowing joyous pain-clotted leaky heart

It's been one of those days with a lot in it. 

Beginning in easy harmony with a dear longtime friend -- doubting my own judgement -- walking hard up the high hill, alone and pleased to work hard -- smelling the scent of roses in the stone-terraced gardens -- friendly chat with strangers -- being cross with myself -- finding a good cup of coffee -- getting irritated with beloved people -- finding a tactful way to be alone -- watching Aotearoa slip by beneath the plane -- nurturing the seed of a plan to see more -- maintaining discretion -- saying goodbye to three dear people, not knowing when I will see them again -- dreading that yet more choice and change will be upon me soon --  realising i can have my cake and eat it too -- messing around and wasting my own time -- driving far too fast to arrive on time -- hyperventilating with anxiety because nearly running out of fuel, having to stop to fill -- relieved to not be late anyway -- coming to a favourite place and finding myself quietly accepted -- enjoying my sewing project -- hating my sewing project -- enjoying it again -- feeding the kitten --  talking, listening, laughing, embracing, kissing -- sharing pain and fear and grief -- eating the delicious dinner -- enjoying a moment of pretending i belong to a family -- helping with a simple chore -- discovering new connections and ideas -- wishing that everything were different -- mocking my own self-pity -- finishing a project -- planning a next-time -- being peaceful -- seeing a shooting star -- knowing that despite all the difficulties: 

If you, dear reader, were part of this day, thank you for all you gave