Sewing as a Sacred Act

Sewing as a Sacred Act.

by Polly Lind 2013

Bobbin and cotton

Up in my tower that has views down the valley, with pins, needles, and thread,

 I weave magic in to the fabric that I lay out on my ironing board.

Creating sacred designs, with Gods, Ancestors, Snakes, Toads, and Hares,

And Piwakawaka whispering in my ear, laying my soul bear.

With fabric, sharp shears, iron, bamboo and interfacing,

 I create doorways where spirits, magic and the divine, when invited, come through.

With pins, charms and wool stuffing, I create pillows that induce sacred dreaming,

and witches ladders to keep the not wanted at bay.

With incense, sewing machines, cotton and thread, I dance with the fabric of the divine,

and I will until I am dead

My sewing a sacred act, of offerings and service,

I will my surrender to the whirling of the bobbin, touching the magic,

imbuing the divine,and emboldening the spirit.

Up in my tower with views down the valley, I offer my sewing as a sacred act.

Infusions of Delusions

This year at Kaleidoscope Gathering in Canada they had a poet, and while I was not there, I did get to here this! So without further ado I give you

Infusions of Delusions by Tracey Rodgers 2012

and here are the words of this wonderful poem.

Infusions of Delusions

 The institutions that bind us

Are the boxes that blind us

To the unquestionable reality

Of man’s endless humanity.

 Living within finite walls

Much like cattle in stalls

Our creativity forgotten

Our divinity not brought on.

Were we given endless skies

So that the rich man who buys

The land on the ground

Is the only one who is bound

To the glory of god

The fruit of the sod

The Mother and wife

Of all which gives life?

Please tell me there is more

The Universe has in store

For our human existence

Than man’s sick dependence

On money and things

On diamonds and rings

Gold bars stacked like bodies

Mercedes and Audis.

Please god let there be

A place for dreamers like me

To sit for free in the sun

When the workday is done

A river for swimming

That always is brimming

With the laughter of childhood

Reminding me that ‘good’

Is not a lost institution

Not a mad man’s delusion

A hope to hold onto

A reality to cling to.

So at the end of life’s day

I am able to say

I gave more than I took

I dreamed til the earth shook

Creating my reality

In spite of man’s morality.

I had the courage to be me

When drowning in the sea

Of people who fell out

Of the boat tossed about

By the waves of lost dreams

The storms of failed schemes.

Yes, I’ll be happy when I die

If I was able to defy

The rules of society

Becoming my own deity.

The world needs dreamers

Progress needs schemers

Without us there would be

Nothing but reality.

~ Tracey Rogers, March 26 2012