Wednesday, February 22, 2012
blowout at the Circle K Stitchin' Ranch
The doctors tell me that the tear is in the cartilage inside my shoulder socket (the labrum), the part that protects the joint as it moves hither and yon.
I can testify that the tiny little stitches I have been creating for the past three months (on my triptych, and now on my Rituals piece) have given my tear a voice. It is a high screeching voice, not unlike the one your mother had when you ran out into the street in front of a car. The voice says stop.
I don't like that voice.
But I have to heed it, so after finishing this portion of my 2' x 5' piece, I have put it aside till the voice becomes calm again. It will, at some point.
This makes me indescribably sad, on so many levels. I already realize that the stitching-cum-meditation enterprise is indeed just that, and I miss my meditation. As well, it was delightful to select from the myriad thread colors, hoping it would "read" just-so, delight the viewer's senses and form a cohesive vibration.
...not to mention that my entry into the Rituals juried exhibit is due March 16, and I now have limited time to create another piece that will not be so demanding on my labrum. I have started that process; plans have already solidified.
But I'm still sad. Doc says my malady likely emanates from several soccer injuries, compounded by my just qualifying for Medicare (read: age). This is not permanent, however, so there's that. But I think my stitch-till-you-drop days are kapoot.