Trailing the Thread

The Way it Is

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.

~ William Stafford

I’m still following the thread as For the Archives continues to evolve.

In 2010, when I first created this blog, it began as an experiment of posting a blog a day for 40 days. The process was so rewarding, I simply continued on after the 40 days were through. What has transpired over the past three years has been the creation of over 800 posts, thousands of images, an e-book, and an immeasurable amount of learning about the creative process.

For the Archives has been a labor of love and a gift in my life. I am deeply appreciative to each of visitor that has taken time to read, comment, share, and participate in this chronicling of the everyday.

One unexpected gift that has come from this Archives project has been the creation of note cards. Yes, in this technological world of cyber communication, I have held ever-dear to a tangible means of communication: the simple letter. Something you can hold in your fingers. Words written by hand.

Over the past year, I’ve been taking some of my favorite images shared here on the Archives, and creating handmade note cards on recycled paper. One thing I love about these cards is knowing that an ordinary moment captured on film, is highlighted in a way that makes it extraordinary. Couple that with a handwritten note sent by someone who cares, and there is art, love, and beauty being passed through many hands. This is a wonderful thing! Sharing these cards has given me a lot of happiness and pleasure.

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note card set from Love Letters Press

So, in a desire to open the sharing circle wider, I have delved into the realms of opening a shop on Etsy. Love Letters Press is now officially open, offering individual note cards and note card sets for those interested in gifting some love and communication the old-fashioned way.

Etsy_Stationary_custom

This is all new for me. But so was blogging here on the Archives over three years ago. You’ve got to start somewhere. In those early blogging days, I said I was following a thread.

Little did I know it would unravel to this point, but what a fascinating unfurling it’s been!

In honor of the shop opening, I’m offering a little gift of 10% off all purchases. But for all of my friends here at the Archives, I want to extend an additional 5% discount to each of you, as a thank you for all that you offer in this forum. Simply use the code “archives5” at check out to redeem.

Your feedback is welcome! I hope you enjoy the cards.

Here’s to evolution, and that infinite thread we follow.

By All Means

2014-04-14_yes ink on paper

 

“Every Movement”

I rarely let the word “No” escape
From my mouth

Because it is so plain to my soul

That God has shouted, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
To every luminous movement in Existence.

~Hafiz

 I Heard God Laughing, Poems of Hope and Joy, renderings of Hafiz by Daniel Ladinsky

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2014-04-14_4x6_yes

I (Heart) My Husband

He sweats for eight hours, caring for hundreds of trees and making medicine from their fruit. When he’s done, he comes home and shovels. Turns hard ground to make way for a family garden.

When a ten-year old asks him to pause and play soccer, he’ll spear the spade in the loose soil and give a hearty game. Run the field. Make and block goals. Laugh.

I’ve seen middle-aged ladies in mini-vans with bumper stickers that read, “I love my husband.” A pronouncement so conventional and ordinary, I’ve wondered why anyone would glue it to the body of their vehicle and drive about.images

But now I’m married. And at 40, I’m officially ‘middle-aged.’ I may not have a mini-van, but there he is. Washing dishes at the sink. Replacing rusty screws on my license plate. Whistling some soothing tune through his lips, all the while. So often he opts for “When the Saints Go Marching In.”

And here I am. This wife who’s ready to find her decal and proclaim her gratitude to the world. Never having thought that ordinary could feel so rare.