I knit to calm my nerves not to make something useful. Loop by loop, the noise in my head softens. My breath finds a rhythm that doesn’t ask for progress. Sometimes I pull the thread too tight. Sometimes I lose count. But the yarn forgives me. Lets me begin again. There’s comfort in something that only moves forward if I move with it.
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TAKING THE PLUNGE, THE PLUNGE TAKING YOU
this stream underneath never ceases its flowing. We often fear and simply forget to dip deep our buckets rusted and gleaming beyond false limits of rock, occasional drought, misguided mistrust of these unbreakable links to waters below where forever teem images and stories that feed and replenish our writing, moistening days and nights of imaginal work that cultivate the beautiful mundane, tending with care our maverick muse her unpredictably creative thriving, her astonished mischievous conniving coaxing us to swim on plunge deeper down into this, past countless shipwrecks, echoes of lust~filled kisses, now breathing as fish we further explore our wholehearted curious diving.
Who knows what will be borne from listening at depth to sea’s glistening surface?