Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 2 Comments

Tracking the Thread

Scent can seal a moment and rewind time with one sniff.

An ineffable elixir, invisible, and hard to hold, yet smell can be a solid, guiding principle.

Just ask our puppy, Mae. She’s a tracker, and she follows her nose. Dogs live by their senses, and olfactories reign supreme.

Mae interacts with the world through her sniffer. Purely instinctual, no apologies. Her brown, damp schnozz, presses into everything, indiscriminate. No intellect, just genuine curiosity.

Her nostrils quiver in utter wonder. There is no self-consciousness in breathing in the most alien of objects, deeply. She wants to know this thing, and know its very essence.

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Mae’s first time sniffing salt and sea

 

Some ancient peoples (Hawaiians, included) greet one another by coming face to face, breathing in each other’s breath. In this full and intimate introduction, one cannot hide. An exhale, empty of words, can’t lie.

Scent speaks. It is felt to the bones. Scent ignites the mind, yet is not of it.

I’ve been on my own interior trail, following my nose, listening to instinct. As an artist, as a writer, I thought I’d lost the scent there for a while. I was circling, just sniffing around, unsure.

But then the winds shifted, and there was a trace of something in the air. I dared to follow.

Attending a writing workshop this past weekend seemed to set me back upon my path. When asked to bring a piece of writing to the class with us, I chose William Stafford’s “The Way it Is.” One, because the poem is an anchor for me in my storytelling quest. And, two, because I was beginning to wonder if I had simply lost my personal thread. I hoped that through reciting the words, I may find my way again.

Gratefully, in the small room of writers with huge talent, I caught up with the thread that’s never left me. Their generously kind hearts and the keen insight of our instructor, Cheryl Strayed, reminded me to the familiar fragrance of my truest self.

We’ve all got the thread. The trail we’re tracking with all of our senses, mind, body and heart. We may get stalled, circle, or lose the scent, but maybe we are never truly lost. We just have to keep poking around, with utter curiosity, no apologies…following our noses.

“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 ~”

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

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.

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 1 Comment

Respiration, Jumping Jacks and the Thread

At 5:55am, I have no idea what today brings.

I tried that trick a friend told me about. Jumping up and down within the first 15 minutes of waking. Repeating the mantra “Abundance is here now!” Or inserting whatever you wish to be here now: “Love is here now!” “Health is here now!” “Happiness is here now!”

He says it’s a fun way to set the tone for the day. But I live on the second story so I was sort of making quiet, 5:15-in-the-morning hops. I was too lazy to go outside in the dark on the wet grass. So my jumping jack intention may have had only half-power. But you, see, I’m trying.

Following these threads. Listening for guidance.

Tomorrow my wisdom teeth are extracted. Yesterday, Jeb got a prescription for antibiotics for some funk in his chest. Today’s events are yet unknown.

If I begin to think about the work I have to do, the preparations needed for the upcoming days and the obligations I have to fulfill, I think those jumping jacks would turn into the fetal position. Alas, a mother has no option to assume this position.

In fact, in this “now”, a mother may have no more time to post a rambling Archive post about following a thread, as her sick child emerges from bed with a sweaty head and whispered voice.

I’ve leaned on the words of William Stafford before. Quoted him right here in the Archives. I like to think of his reference to the thread as a description of the artistic process. But it’s not only that. It’s about so much more. So much more, that it then becomes elementary.

courtesy of noii

Perhaps that thread is simply the essence of life. An essence most readily touched breath by breath. That respiration our heartbeats track, weaving moments to days, days to a living.

In a day, chaotic, like today. Uncertain. I hold the thread of the present moment, following it and trusting that all will unfold in some way that will be ok.

“Now is here now!” And I guess later will be here later.

One step at a time, I follow this thread. Watch for magic in unexpected places. Hopefully laugh a little (or a lot).

Trust.

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 ~