bridget martin

The pause that was the still point of the turning wheel has come to an end. The light is returning and the days are lengthening. Sometimes after a pause it can be a slow return to finding a rhythm again. As usual it is a time for patience.

Working in a journal. Slow steps, a beginning (there is always more than one beginning). Making collage papers, some words, some stitching. A little bit here and there and gradually it builds. The rhythm returns and ideas appear. Relief.

I am making small boxes and collages. Folding and tearing, gathering and assembling, choosing and holding. It’s a way of valuing and cherishing I think. Giving value to the little pieces that would otherwise be thrown away. Anti-consumerist.

This afternoon I took some pieces from my ongoing series held and let them be held.

And I thought about how the world holds us as we hold the world. In all our brokenness and fragility and vulnerability we are held together with memories and stories. Connections made up of love and loss and healing and hope. Magical moments, tangled emotions and tumbling thoughts. We are held.