Intimacy in work
“Work, among all its abstracts, is actually intimacy, the place where the self meets the world…”
“…the ancient and heartfelt human need to be needed, to be seen, to give something to another, to come alive through our contribution to the visible world, through finding something interesting in our work, something a little more rewarding, a little more satisfying, and perhaps even intriguing and mysterious, and something especially, we want to make somehow completely our own, whether we work for ourself of for another.” ~ by David Whyte / Work, page 241 / Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words
Light Ikat Wave Healing Chimes
Intimacy with the fabric
From the moment I saw the fabric in Laos - it was actually at TaiBaan Crafts in Vientiane - I had to have it. I bought six meters from a bolt they had their shelf. It’s handwoven from Phu Tai ethnic weavers in Savannakhet Province in southern Laos. The warp is white industrial thread (which makes the fabric more durable), and the weft is the indigo-dyed indigenous cotton. The simple half natural, half indigo ikat pattern reminded me of being at the ocean.
a mysterious dusk blue
water waves
rocking
rising falling
coming going
forward back
undulating rhythms
leaving a trace, faint
appearing disappearing
memories fade reappear
over and over
in my mind
Intimacy with thread
I get close. That color. That indigo. The range of indigos, really, as if each strand of thread is unique in its shade. Some have kinks, some have angles, some are lumpy, some are thin, some are longer than others, many twirl around each other in groups. The smell of indigo has long faded. There’s a natural softness felt in my hands. It’s so light.
a strand of thread
just long enough
just short enough
I figured out
as I lengthen it and
come to an end,
moisten it in my mouth
to tuck in loose fibers
and hold it just so
so delicately carefully
as I thread it through
the eye of the needle
that can see more than me
how to do this
how does it know
how to do all that?
Intimacy with pods
I collected a handful of these pods on one of my neighborhood walks. Where exactly, I do not know. When, likely last fall. Their name, I wish I knew! Their latte color, their elongated flat shape, their hardy feel and smooth texture all converged to belong, too.
I hold the pod
with thumb on one side
and fingers on the other
with fabric in between
and wait.
with steady patience
as needle and thread find
their way up and through
and down again,
and I wait.
as needle and thread search
and poke and try to find
their way
up and through and around
and again
I wait.
Intimacy with sticks
I’ve collected so many sticks over the years that it’s exciting and overwhelming. The possibilities are endless. So how do I know which one to choose? I go by feeling, mine and that of the stick. Because the stick has a say, too, after all. It has a big job of holding up the healing chimes. It’s like at Ollivander’s wand shop in the Harry Potter books. The wand chooses the wizard or witch as much as the wizard or witch chooses their wand. It’s a mutual thing.
Who chooses who
as I walk along
on forested trails
and neighborhood sidewalks
and in my own backyard.
I look without looking
as if something catches my eye
before I look down
to see a stick.
Take me home with you!
I will hear.
Or I will say,
Can I pick you up and
take you home with me?
Yes, I hear.
Or no, sometimes, too.
It has to be a mutual thing.
Intimacy in healing
When my ear got stopped up for four days and I couldn’t hear well and I thought about learning sign language. Maybe it was to show me another way of communicating, or to listen to the shhhhh within, or to stop listening to unimportant things.
When I had an itchy systemic rash the other night and I followed it from my lower abdomen all the way to a tickling in my throat and I started to cough. Maybe it was releasing something deep in my psyche, brought on from an Applied Jungian course I’m taking about the Shadow.
When I turned just so and my knee winced and there was this terrible pain when I crouched down a certain way. Maybe it was telling me I don’t have to stoop low and be small and defensive like that. I can straighten up and meet and face whatever is.
When I don’t think I’m falling apart or getting old or all this is terrible, but that my body is trying to signal something to me instead.
When I was could trust the creative process in making the healing chimes, and I felt alive, even when I didn’t know what they would look like, or if they would look good at all.
When I didn't know what to write for this post, or about the healing chimes I had just made, but then I came across that quote about work and intimacy then the words just came.
Maybe an intimacy with our being, our body, our psyche, our art, knows how to heal us in ways we didn’t even know we needed.
“Intimacy in work” was originally published as an exclusive post to my Patreon supporters in March 2021. Now it’s public and available to you, too!
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A big shout out to my wonderful supporters! Thank you, each of you, for supporting my ongoing creative work – Julie B, Sharmila K, Sushmita M, Kori J, Marga F, Kara B, Kristina L, Laura C, Louise B, Beck C, Skip M, Chris Z, and Richie M. It means so much and I am grateful. I think of you as create these posts, what I write about and share, and I hope that it offers you insight and inspiration along the way.
