Thursday, January 2, 2014

Fleshing Out Old Dreams

In my younger days, I often envisioned myself in the loft of an A-frame in the woods, surrounded by rough-sawn paneling on three sides, and a wall of windows on the fourth.  The loft is mostly empty except for me and a gigantic floor loom.  I spend my days creating jewel-toned textiles with lovely soft yarns…

And that’s kind of where the curtain closes.

Because I simply cannot take this to a place where the lovely textiles are sold for bags of money that I can use to keep the dream going.  It’s never been a practical dream.  Practicality would ruin it.  It would take it out of the realm of dream and drag it onto the stage of WORK.   How can I let my dream turn into work?

Which is why I toiled away in front of various hot cooking appliances, ruined my feet on concrete floors, damaged my hands and my fingers and my wrists toting, chopping, hefting, mixing, whisking and scooping, for over thirty years.

Lately that picture of the loft in the A-frame has been making an encore appearance behind my eyelids.

I wonder if there’s enough of me left to drag it out of my head and make it real.      

No comments:

Post a Comment