It was easy to judge those Jane Austen ladies
languishing all afternoon over embroidery
pulling thread in and out of hooped linen
as the world spun round without them.
The bone stays in the starched bodice of their dresses
forced an upright position,
the way nuns in a cloister sit
all spine and neck erect
to better access the “no thought”
they need to taste
the honey of meditation
centering their minds
to a pinpoint
I’ve envied the discipline of those mystics
tossing off thought like an extra blanket
but not so much the ladies
sealed in their parlors
I found myself
deep in silence
pulling a rainbow of silken threads
through a hooped grid
the rhythmic in and out
of the steel needle flashing its tail of color
dissolving all thoughts in whorls of amber
each stitch an entrance.
1 thought on “The Many Ways the Light Gets In”
Although I’ve never been inclined to (or any good at!) needlework myself, I found this a lovely reflection on different ways of “centering down” to access Spirit.
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