I was supposed to be on a road trip to see art and family. We were going to duck in to a wintery state on a week that was forecast to be freezing cold (to us Californians), but we hit a fork in the road, and so stayed home.
A passage from a book I’ve been reading (Niall Williams’ This Is Happiness, p. 50, Kindle edition) springs to mind:
He believed that human beings were inside a story that had no ending because its teller had started it without conceiving of one, and that after ten thousand tales was no nearer to finding the resolution of the last page. Story was the stuff of life, and to realise you were inside one allowed you to sometimes surrender to the plot, to bear a little easier the griefs and sufferings and to enjoy more fully the twists that came along the way.
Fork…twist…schmist. A new story where the old one had been planned, and obviously abandoned.
So now you are subject to one of those wearisome Year-end Wrap-up posts, usually posted in December, but January is how things are going around here, so here we are. My 2024 visual history:
There. I’ve time-date stamped my creations of this past year, which of course doesn’t include the ones in process. One year I had 24 quilts in my wrap-up post, and I must say I hardly recognize that person who cranked out two dozen in one calendar year (another arbitrary, but useful measurement of time and progress). But the fascination with measuring progress is strong with me, as strong as the habit to open a brand-new calendar/planner/book every January and start predicting The Future: birthdays and doctor appointments, which, at the right moment, will turn into The Past, glittering as we pass over them. Why note them at all?
Why?
To record a life.
It seems to me the quality that makes any book, music, painting worthwhile is life, just that. Books, music, painting are not life, can never be as full, rich, complex, surprising or beautiful, but the best of them can catch an echo of that, can turn you back to look out the window, go out the door aware that you’ve been enriched, that you have been in the company of something alive that has caused you to realise once again how astonishing life is, and you leave the book, gallery or concert hall with that illumination, which feels I’m going to say holy, by which I mean human raptness. (ibid, page 73, Kindle edition)
My sewing room is still in a disaster zone from when two quilts ago I was on the hunt for the binding for the pomegranate quilt, and as I excavated the dungeons in my closet, I discovered a stack of Kona fat quarters. I knew who those should go to, and they did. But I never did find the batiks that matched the quilt, discovering only later, that they went off somewhere else a year ago, and this is just the closet we’re talking about, and I have even’t enlightened you on the cupboards or the area under the ironing board, or drawers in my sewing desk.
January is when we clean out, set straight and while I used to believe in that in my earlier days, now I’m mostly amused by the industry and energy we expend to Set Things Straight. I still think it’s a quality worth striving for, if you are into striving, but currently I am not. Mostly I’m enthralled with what Williams alludes to above, which is being astonished by life. I can watch the sun rise out our office window every morning and notice the shape of the clouds or the hue of the different grays being woken up by the sun around the corner, checking it every other email, until the sun is up and it’s time to leap out into the day, to discover what lies ahead.
My children astonish me, though they are enmeshed in their own lives.
My grandchildren astonish me, though I never see them enough (classic grandma refrain).
I have friends who send me short texts that read like novels, and they astonish me, as do phone calls, emails, visits, and all interactions that are alive and illuminate. Perhaps our forced fast of each others’ company during the pandemic is echoing in the back hallways of my musings, but here we are again in January, going forward, making plans whether they be forked or twisted, but always with hope, moving into the future.
Happy 2025, everyone.
I don’t have cats. I have Mollys. (I was going to take hexies on the road trip.)
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i had just read a New Yorker article on the degree that language influences thought. It had a section on mapping time on space, noted English maps future in front snd past in back. Other languages map past as what is seen, so in front while future that we can’t see is behind us. I think there were others, but remembering ine example is an accomplishment.
This resonates wth me so much. Thank you.
Reading this with two cats in my lap, while worrying about their brother who is dwindling down into a wisp from a mysterious illness. Plot twists and forks in the road feel treacherous right now. I suppose there will always be those who plunge into, “What’s next?”, (I have a sister like that), while others of us want to find a place of safe and comfortable stasis, regardless of its bad rap as boring or stagnant. But a new year is here and I suspect it is going to shove many of us out of our comfort zones, and not just in the feline health arena. Buckle up and hold hands! We’re in this together.
I love the two quotes from Williams! Two important concepts. One, “surrender to the plot to bear a little easier the griefs and sufferings…”. I’ve been working on doing this for the past few years🙂. Two, the value of “astonishment”, which I tend to think of as experiencing wonder and delight, though could include, I suppose, even unwelcome surprise. I haven’t read Williams, but am putting this book on my list!!
Re your last post, thank you for the wonderful flower show! Your quilting on your latest finish was perfect and I enjoyed the story. I believe the majority of my quilts have flowers on/in them, especially appliqued. I’m not a “real” gardener, but like to joke that I garden on my quilts🙂. May 2025 be a good year for you!
I always enjoy reading your posts. Thank you for including the truck with the tree in the engine area. I got a kick out of that. A perfect place for showing off a beautiful quilt. So much contrast in them. I also like the picture you showed of the fork in the road. That sums up my life in a nutshell. It seems I was always having to take the direction that I didn’t want to take. I didn’t have a bad life, I just didn’t get to choose the path when I got to that proverbial “fork.” I am looking forward to enjoying your adventures into 2025.
I hope the fork in the road wasn’t a big disturbance, just an opportunity for something different. As the days count down to 1/20, I am having a harder and harder time concentrating on things and have turned to trying to move my body more to feel more present and grounded. As I’ve been reflecting, I have been struck by how much connection tethers and helps. May we all find safe mooring in the years to come; I’ll certainly be thankful for the light you shine.
You’re such a philosopher, and your intellect is far beyond mine. No wonder you taught literature! You’re more reflective about life than most people, and that’s a good thing. I’m the “What’s next?” person who plunges in, as Beth Talmage commented above. Your quilt collage looks beautiful, and I especially admire how you take time to photograph quilts in beautiful environments. Unfortunately, I’ve learned it takes TWO cooperating people to do that. Ha! May 2025 go well with you.
I no longer have cats, but I have Té Bo, an alibrije ladybug given to my son. He loved him for a couple weeks then abandoned him in my sewing area. He left for husband’s nightstand for a while but is back to my sewing area.
This is Happiness is on the bottom of my stack of “to-read” and now I will move it closer to the top. I am determined to read more in 2025. I do hope the fork in the road you allude to is temporary, or minor, or at least not traumatic. Surrendering to the plot of the story of our lives… what a concept to ponder.
Probably no surprise that the year ends/the year begins with the unexpected. Your quilt montage is lovely. And there will be lovely things in the coming year, too. My challenge for the year is to view/treat everyone with lovingkindness. It may be more of a challenge than usual, but perhaps that makes it more valuable?
It’s nice to see what you got finished in 2024. I have never taken inventory of my yearly makes. It seems lately there are less and less finishes as the years go by. Although I have high hopes for more in 2025. I’m curious how you “watch the sunset out our office window every morning.” Last I heard the sun rises in the morning. I can watch the sun rise from bed. And often watch the moon rise from our family room. Here’s to the unseen forks in the road ahead. May we be open to new directions and grand adventures.
As always, I so enjoy your writing and the many quotes you share with us. May 2025 be filled with new adventures.
I have a quilt room that I rarely enter: I had to size down when my daughter moved in w/baby and hubby, and it is still a mess, trying to figure out where to stow everything!! With watching a little one several days a week at 64+ yrs old, I don’t often have the energy to sit and sew (and think!) at the end of the day! But at least I do get to see my one and only grandson almost every day! Boy, I waited a long time for him!!! 😀 Going to Road to Calif this week though, so I will finally get to a BIG quilt show: the last one I went to was Road to Calif in 2020: what a wonderful thing to be at right before the lock-downs!!! Hope this week is a great one for you! Hugs, H