This is a photo I took on an early morning walk into a meadow in Australia to do my tai chi with kangaroos. I loved the gnarly knots of wire trying and failing to stop something from going further. I stepped through and over it. The peace of body memory movements at dawn while kangaroos watched was magic. I miss the calm sense of being right with the world. The combination of ignorance and greed paired with the acceptance of unbearable cruelty has brought us all down…all except those who revel in their shortsighted stupidity. It is hard not to hate them for what they have done.
BUT. This week brought a surprise call from basket makers in Australia having one of their gatherings, celebrating the learning, the company of others and remembering me. We had such good times and shared so much. Each of them that gathered was able to show me what they were working on and say, “Remember when you…..? It was heaven. So, since I took no pictures this week because it was such an ugly sight of brutality here in the United States amid struggling integrity, I found some images of the baskets I made while in their company. Like two of a group of New Zealand flax open weave pieces.
And small Memory Baskets from when I was back home. These are tarleton and dress pattern tissues spun into threads.
And part of a series about losing some of yourself over time.
And a detail from one of those pieces.
Anyway, it was a wonderful and uplifting phone call. It came at a very good time.
The following is an essay I wrote years ago and now will be included in the new book I am working on.
Australia Longing
What is it that causes this sudden sadness, or longing, or need? This time it is a recipe on the back of the Tasmanian Basketmakers Newsletter. Anna Lizotte’s family recipe for Tomato Spice Cake. How can “tomato” and “cake” be in the same context? And then it happens.
I miss Australia right now. At this very minute I want to be there. How do I care for this longing? Why is it so fierce? I can smell the soil, feel the air on my skin. I can taste it. Will it be like this later when I am too old to return? My eyes fill with tears at the thought of not being there. Why does it matter so much? Two glasses of wine that weren’t even Australian. What triggers these emotions?
It is the longing thing – that longing that we have no control over. It just comes sneaking in and takes hold. No words can explain it. My husband glances over and then away – no words are best. I look ridiculous or nuts right now. And I feel bereft. “Bereft” – that is the perfect word, and I am slightly better now I’ve defined it. I think it happens when too many memories of times in Australia pour into my consciousness and push everything else away. Only Australia is there – the people, the land, the tastes, the smells – the longing.
I am no longer as sad with missing Australia. Calls from friends down under and surprises in the mail make it so much better. Plus Anna, who was on the call the other night, and never misses a basket gathering, said she will send me that tomato cake recipe.
So far I have laid out the forty-eight poems and five short stories in the book I am designing and hope to release sometime in February. All I have left is the eight essays and cover design to go. I will post a picture of it when it goes on Amazon under S. Webster. Title, Patchworks of Poetry and Prose.
My haircutter just called and is changing my appointment from tomorrow to the day after. A very chilly forecast for tonight that might result in icy roads. That is fine. Maybe the old men will also want to stay home. Then I can finish laying out essays while getting those 8000 steps in.
It is dismal looking out. I think a nice glass of Aussie red with some popcorn and a bit of British telly is where I am headed.
Til later….