dear reader,
anyone else ya wanna call to this round table- sheesh.
consider when you're holding others up.
consider when you're projecting an organic hiccup onto someone else, and how that changes a welcoming space into a sticky one.
impossible to hold infinite possibilities.*
sassy inner self day. got it. well the three are drawn so cmon.
you alright?
a regaling, emphatic yes. it's just tricky feeling so entwined with the universal narrative, ya know? the lines blur sometimes between the timelines. and the tricky part is my love of the in-betweens. one of my greatest strengths, as someone with an engineer's mind, is cracking the narrative open to find these in-betweens. the slivers of existence and space i want to ensure get attention. ensure the unexplored areas on the map get danced in too. shared so you know they're there. so yes, my dear friend, i'm alright. it just feels as though this new space i have been turning into is the worlds within worlds.
the spaces between the timelines.
and it's isolating and grand.
and i can't help but keep wondering if we each have a parapet-
we musright? if we each have a kingdom within, we must each have a space to go to that overlooks it all
and that's where i have been spending my time. gazing outwardly from my parapet. like a platform within a maze.
and it does. it feels just like when Dream returns to his realm after being held captive.**
Do you feel as though you're located?
yeah. i feel grounded knowing i know where you are and where i am. i feel grounded knowing that i need to spend my time primarily in my own narrative, instead of someone else's, like within a book or a show. i've been putting a lot of time and effort into the ability to locate myself in the present.
Do you feel as though you're making sense?
what a question- thank you for asking. uh. it comes and goes. waves cap and roll back out. but yes. i know i'm making sense by exploring between the worlds and locating there, while grounded by synchronicity in the immediate present. it makes sense to put effort into both my relationship with you and abstract spaces, as it does with the physical world and the humans within it.
maybe like this:
*imagine a library. imagine each section, each shelf, each book. the book ends and the sliver of space between the spines and leafs of each book. consider each word within. each letter that makes up each word.
now consider who built the shelves the books sit on
who built the library that houses them
who read the book immediately before you
is that story your own?
(which?)
is that library your own?
how could you ever choose just one?
so what you're saying is...
and what that means is...
an eternal, playful opportunity to find more.
in 2023 i retreated. i took toolboxearth off etsy and closed down the shop here. i saw an opportunity to take toolboxearth offline and drop it right in front of you at art shows and farmer's markets within the Finger Lakes region of New York. A version of the Socratic method, really.
the thinking was to promote, reinforce, put a finger on encouraging stepping up to something never seen. promote courage.
at one of the farmer's markets, neighboring was a family unlike many i had spent time with. a family that spent most of their time together. a family that functions as a unit. a family that saw the young children as capable and as integral as the patriarch.
heather, mom, is a teacher at the school her two boys attend. one saturday she spoke of an art teacher comrade that, due to a lack of staff, teaches both elementary classes and with the middle school.
heather spoke:
'we were just discussing the differences between the two age groups, actually. she was saying that with the elementary school kids, they just come into the classroom, step right up to the table, and without waiting for instruction will just begin making with the materials out on the table. but with the older kids, they seem more reserved. they won't just begin in the same way, but will sit at the table and wait for instruction.'
heather shared this with me in june. i am sharing it with you now at the end of december.
heather shared one of those things people say, that cuts deeply, unexpectedly. and maybe it's not always clear at first why something cuts.
but i think the bridge between stepping up to something with agency and just starting, and giving in to a feeling of reservation because of a toxic idea of correctness is toolboxearth.
an able bridge of critical thinking within a system that is feeding and breeding nothing but fear.
and it's just like-
No wonder.
have you been hearing it as a distant scream too? this screaming of the necessity of patience. seeing patience as a missing piece. believing in our capacity to wrangle patience, and not just give in to it.
(whatever your 'it' is.)
I apologize for my impatience at first.
do you see now though? there are three points to a triangle- you, me, and dear reader. and it takes time to see. and even more to locate. and even more to wrangle. and even more still to sit in a quiet space with all three drawn.
Next time
let's simply
approach
*assuming you're another person's biggest problem
assuming that you are the most consuming thing
they have goin on
assuming you are what's shakin their boat
at the root
chances are, you aren't
and if you are-
patience and deliberation to fix it dear reader
(whatever the 'it' is)
trust yourself
**i was never captive. the space we made was the captor.
so let's break out of captive spaces, huh?
five weavings will be hung on fences around chicago tonight
merry christmas
ya never know what tomorrow will bring
see you there
“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. He to whom the emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand wrapped in awe, is as good as dead —his eyes are closed. The insight into the mystery of life, coupled though it be with fear, has also given rise to religion. To know what is impenetrable to us really exists, manifesting itself as the highest wisdom and the most radiant beauty, which our dull faculties can comprehend only in their most primitive forms—this knowledge, this feeling is at the center of true religiousness.”
with an invitation to crack,
as an open hand within the void,
