Sewing the holes

I don’t know what to say… April did go really fast for me, did the same happen with you? I thought that I would enjoy deeply every day of this year, and, on the contrary, what I really feel is that everything is slipping through my fingers, speeding up in a way that I can’t even describe what have happen this year, it seems life is just happening in a numb manner … but maybe the antidote for all these emotions flowing through my skin is to do something…

So, in these two days off from work, I decided to pick up all my clothes that were unstitched in some particular spot and had fixed them. At the end, the constant anxiety about life, my bloody worries, all the emotions that I constantly feel, and that can only be translated into more worrying, were gone. I felt that my anxiety was placed with the satisfying feeling of accomplishment.

 

These small acts of dedication and commitment to something are a good way to find peace, meditate while we are passing the threads trough the clothes fabrics and, a way to respect the environment, because while we fix a piece of cloth — we know that we are reducing the clothing waste, we become aware what we have inside of our wardrobe and we are being productive. Summerly, I hope this post inspires you to do the same and find quietness in your life which is the most imperative.

Warmly,

Isa.

 

For C.W.B

 

For C.W.B

I.
Let us live in a lull of the long winter winds
Where the shy, silver-antlered reindeer go
On dainty hoofs with their white rabbit friends
Amidst the delicate flowering snow.

All of our thoughts will be fairer than doves.
We will live upon wedding-cake frosted with sleet.
We will build us a house from two red tablecloths
And wear scarlet mittens on both hands and feet.

II.
Let us live in the land of the whispering trees;
Alder and aspen and popular and birch;
Singing our prayers in a pale, sea-green breeze
With star-flower rosaries and moss blankets for church.

All of our dreams will be clearer than glass,
Clad in the water or sun as you wish,
We will watch the white feet of the young morning pass,
And dine upon honey and small shiny fish.

III.
Let us live where the twilight lives after dark,
In the deep drowsy blue, let us make a home.
Let us meet in the cool evening grass with a stork,
And a whistle of willow played by a gnome.

Half-asleep, half-awake, we shall hear, we shall know
The soft “Miserere” the wood-swallow tolls,
We will wander away where the wild raspberries grow,
And eat them for tea from two lily-white bowls.

A poem from Elisabeth Bishop

…

Para C.W.B

I

Vivamos na acalmia dos longos ventos de inverno

onde a tímida rena de chifres prateados anda

sobre delicadas patas com os seus amigos coelhos brancos

pelo meio da fina e florescente neve.

Todos os nossos pensamentos serão mais delicados que pombas.

Viveremos sobre um bolo de noiva coberto de saraiva.

Construiremos a nossa casa com duas toalhas de mesa vermelhas.

E usaremos mitenes escarlates nas mãos e nos pés.

II

Vivamos no país das árvores sussurrantes,

o amieiro e a aia e o choupo e o vidoeiro,

entoando preces através de uma brisa pálida, verde-mar,

num templo de rosários de flores e cantos de musgo.

Todos os nossos sonhos serão mais límpidos que vidro.

Vestidos de água ou de sol, como desejares,

veremos passar os brancos pés da manhã jovem

e jantaremos mel e pequeno peixes cintilantes.

III

Vivamos onde o crepúsculo vive depois do anoitecer,

no profundo, sonolento azul, façamos a nossa casa.

Encontremo-nos na erva fresca da tardinha com uma cegonha

e um assobio de salgueiro, tocado por um gnomo.

Meio adormecidos, meio despertos, ouviremos, conheceremos

o suave “Miserere” que a andorinha do bosque toca.

Vaguearemos até onde crescem as framboesas silvestres

e comê-las-emos ao chá e duas taças brancas com lírios.

Um poema de Elisabeth Bishop

Waltz Fall

18th of September 2016

The gold tones of Autumn are still few, but I know that it already started. Rain shall fall and wind shall whistle. Leaves shall immerse into an effortless dance; and my recondite thoughts shall join this furtive waltz.

Weakness

“Let everything that’s been planned come true. Let them believe. And let them have a laugh at their passions. Because what they call passion actually is not some emotional energy, but just the friction between their souls and the outside world. And most important, let them believe in themselves. Let them be helpless like children, because weakness is a great thing, and strength is nothing. When a man is just born, he is weak and flexible. When he dies, he is hard and insensitive. When a tree is growing, it’s tender and pliant. But when it’s dry and hard, it dies. Hardness and strength are death’s companions. Pliancy and weakness are expressions of the freshness of being. Because what has hardened will never win.”

The Enclosed Garden

11th of September 2016

 We hold in ourselves a suspend place called the enclosed garden. Is fairness is made of sparkling roses, gentle moss and elegant little ivies. Our soul knows keenly this place, full enchantments, because every time she faces a war, it is here that she returns to revive. Mine has been there for a while: bathing in roses, eating the magic from starlights — healing. Now, she breathes profoundly, she is genuine and pure again. She is not covered with the mantel of fears that we all wear. She let it fall into the floor to become moss, and than earth.  She wears now a translucent dress made of hope, mercy and crystalline grace.

 

Where are you going, Little Princess?

                                                                                        7th of September 2016

Dear Diary,

This morning, memories of my infancy flood through my eyes  – my grandfather appeared to me with his tenderness and I heard him call for me: “Little Princess, where are you going?”. I was less than 5 years old, my feet were small and fragile. Around me was the little paradise raised by my grandmother and grandfather’s hands. A vivid bougainvillea climbed through the walls with gracefulness: it was so immense and so utterly beautiful to gaze it. Peaceful I was in those days, I was part of everything and I wasn’t apart from nothing. I was fearless and pure. I didn’t felt emptiness or loneliness because I was bounded to a secret imaterial world where such a thing didn’t exist. Those days of joy where my grandfather father’s hand was still reachable are felt today with affection and nostalgia.

August

                                                         30th of August 2016

Dear Diary,

I wonder: we walk, laugh, grow, and one day we get older! We walk in circles, we walk in inverse processes: today we are younger than tomorrow. We live a lifetime to find out that the contradictions and opposites of this life are too the foundations. Right now, I am inside of an old house: the glass windows are broken and outside I see a garden, a garden that challenges the humanity!  And everything I do is perhaps too.

A Letter to Chiara

“On earth there is sadness inside of the beautiful things.”

Sophia de Mello Breyner Andersen

 

 

Catagramma Butterfly

Catagramma – is an obsolete genus of Neotropical butterflies; the name continues to be used e.g. among butterfly collectors as a form taxon. “Catagramma” species are popularly known as “88s”, in reference to a pattern on the hindwing undersides of many that looks like the number 88.

Butterflies cards available here: Etsy shop.

My First Tiny Floral Wreath

Alone in my sanctuary, I’ve felt contentment while I was doing my first floral tiny wreath – a present from the heart to dear Vibeke.