More necessary heartspace

First seven rows are done. The next two are on the work table, awaiting one from the bottom section.

So, heartspace. The word came up in conversation a couple of weeks ago when I was pouring out my heart to my beloved. The issue was minor in the grand scope, yet meaningful, in that what we discussed didn't tax my intellect, but severely strained my, well, heart. Certain things we can wrap our brains around, but that inner chest muscle is a different organ entirely.

When I put the above fabrics on the design wall, it was merely to decorate the space, and that stack of fabrics was within easy reach; I cut them last year when making a banner in October for probably the second No Kings protest. When I cut fabric, I tend to CUT FABRIC, because it's a process. It's gathering various prints that make me happy, then placing that stack near the ironing board, where I'll press them, cut them, and repeat until it's time to do something else. It takes a few days, in that it requires a lot of standing, and while my right meniscus was perky last fall after eliminating dairy, right now it's cranky. I did a lot of standing on Saturday at the Ice Out For Good rally here in Humboldt County, and well, I'm not as agile as I used to be.

I posted about this quilt last week, before Renee Nicole Good was murdered. It was just a rainbow quilt, saturated hues that thrill my heart. Now it's a comfort, all that glorious colour clamoring for me to finish it, then make the quilt sandwich, then spend precious hours stitching the whole kit'n'kaboodle into a.... Deep breath taken. Into a warm, snuggly cozy that I can rest under, pray under, but not hide beneath. While I might not get to this weekend's protest due to that angry meniscus, others will. And eventually I'll feel better, both in my heart and joints, and....

And depending on what happens, I'll be out with others, seeking justice. There is no quick fix to the current administration, despite what I wish in my heart. I wish for an immediate end to immense corruption, such evil. I can want in one hand and cry in the other, and I know which will fill the fastest. My father used to say that when I was little, and it was years before I understood the meaning. Tears won't bring back those lost, and wishing won't make evil disappear. But being faithful to whatever we are called to do, and of course being loving to all, those will make a difference.

Not as quickly as we'd like, certainly. But inner strength, faith, and love; those three are powerful forces. And if faith travels to your soul as it does to mine, that's the most resilient manner of all. Well, faith and love go hand in hand, healing the agony within the heartspace.

New straw in the coop, which makes the chickens VERY HAPPY! Photo from yesterday courtesy of my husband.

That's where I am right now. Still reading over chapters of Nothing More Complicated, still tending to the hens. I spent much of yesterday afternoon in coop maintenance, or what I can sort. Sifting through wood-ash for the dustbathing box, emptying out nesting boxes and putting in fresh shavings and new hay, all the while singing to my chickens who hung out, probably thinking the bag of ash really contained scratch. Once I led them to the sun, but they returned to the shady coop area, so I sang and sang, and they clucked and foraged. There is a time to stand with placards, and a time to sit and sift bits of rubble from the ashes. And soon time to run a needle and thread through a beautiful quilt, offering prayers for many, well, for all. Prayers for peace, for healing, for love. For more faith, and for strength. And for that heartspace to widen, not shrink. We need all the heartspace we can get these days.