Dressing the Crone
“To sew is to pray. Men don't understand this. They see the whole but they don't see the stitches. They don't see the speech of the creator in the work of the needle. We mend. We women turn things inside out and set things right. We salvage what we can of human garments and piece the rest into blankets. Sometimes our stitches stutter and slow. Only a woman's eyes can tell. Other times, the tension in the stitches might be too tight because of tears, but only we know what emotion went into the making. Only women can hear the prayer.” ― Louise Erdrich, Four Souls.
I couldn't sleep last night. As I got into bed and closed my eyes I suddenly saw the moonlight illuminating a milk offering on the Gruagach stone on the Isle of Colonsay. I had visited this little island off the west coast of Scotland this summer and had sat with the stone a couple of times. There is a long and entangled history of the Gruagach which takes us back to ancient pre-Celtic figures (but that is a story for another time).
In my vision I sat with the stone and could clearly see the rope-like geological features on the surface of the stone, I could reach out and touch them. Then I saw the same moonlight reflected in a little pool of water on the stones on the top of Carman Hill (above Loch Lomond). I watched the moon's light reflect off sandy beaches on far islands and in the faces of those who stood in their gardens and peered upwards towards her. Even as I fell asleep I traveled with her, looking down onto the scenes she illuminated.
The night felt like a prayer between the moon and the earth, honored and felt by all who turn their heads upwards to bathe in her awe. This feeling of prayer stayed with me as I awoke. As the morning's light changed through various layers of grey the rain turned to snow and the temperature plummeted. Today is going to be a cold day with tonight's temperatures plummeting still down to -12oc. I work from home so there is no need to go anywhere - just feed dogs and chickens and make some soup.
Stitching Stones
Today I picked up fabrics and thread, wool and needles to make dolls. Sometimes I think of my grandmother, who was a professional tailor. I'm grateful sewing is also something I do for a living yet it's also a pause, a meditation a stilling of the head and the mind and giving over to the rhythmic action of the hands. There is never enough sewing in my life much as I feel there is never enough time sitting by an altar, taking the three steps of my prayer beads which lead me into sacred space. Yet winter can change that and I choose to be more present when I sew, each stitch an action of prayer of creating dolls who exist in this world but will always be half in the otherworld.
What is the stilling in your life? Those things that keep you centered and are an act of prayer?