Friday, November 15, 2013

Module One

Whenever I started a blog or web page before, I spent hours choosing the design. And then the blog disappeared, the original inspiration withered, and the new creation dropped like a malformed baby apple nowhere near fruition.

Now I am just writing. Design can come later. There is a place here for my words and that is enough.

Beginning of Journey led by Suzy and Arlene: http://fiberygoodness.com/golden-fleece-certificate/

Module One:

I am encouraged to find a point in my past after which everything changed. At first, I thought of Dan's death, because when he died, I had a clear image in my mind of a roadblock. A big, permanent, irrevocable roadblock. I had to take a smaller, more crooked path off to the left because the main road I had traveled with him no longer existed. This is what I was going to write about and express in fiber.

But the color gray kept coming in, and I never associated gray with that terrible time.

I associated gray with my own death. It was what I perceived when I had a heart attack in 2002. I felt like concrete blocks, that pale gray, were beating on my chest. This was definitely a turning point in my life. We will call it the beginning of a journey.

I thought I was dying. I woke Dan up and told him what was going on, and told him to tell Isabel that I loved her. That, I felt, was what needed to be done.

I quickly got better. It was a "mild heart attack," the cardiologist said, a "warning shot across the bow" to change my ways. What I felt was the death of part of my heart faded in time.

I did change my ways, forever, in attitude, diet, resolve. How can there not be resolve?

A dream image of a huge boulder I had to climb appeared one night -- gray, but not the death gray I had felt before -- a good variegated rock gray. A few happy people are on and around the boulder, a few plants and flowers. But it is a huge obstacle, and there is no way around it. It is slippery, and I am not a good climber.

I see the death gray color often: concrete, asphalt paving, many office buildings -- death in life. My neighbor cut down his tall elegant birch tree and all I could see from my front porch was asphalt. Like death. I don't want that as part of life.

There is an image of a freeway pedestrian overpass covered in plants, completely green.

That's what I want.

So I am conceiving of bright green and the gray of mountain rocks covering and climbing over death/concrete gray, with a few flowers.