4~ A Blanket For a Sail

I see, it's not actually a sail. It's a shade. But the notion fixed itself in my thoughts, and I can't let it go. I'd be tempted to paint the little boat pea-green (Is it a skiff? Sometimes a term or expression comes to mind, from a book I've read, a song I've heard, and I pause to reflect on memory, recall and fallibility.)

Where was I?

Oh, yes... sailing away, in a pea-green boat.

But wait... back to fallibility. I always thought the line in Harry Nilsson's song was "use your heart as a compass, but it turns out the heart is both a rudder, and a blanket. Either I have been rudderless, or Nilsson was paddling his boat up mixed metaphors.

The important thing is... I really love that blanket, for a sail, or for a shade. And I like the little boat. I'll tell you an idea we discussed... to construct a swing, or a zip-line, suspending a boat above the yard, for rides, and laughs.

I've been thinking of returning to patchwork and quilt making. I don't know why I have to ponder, muse, contemplate, day-dream, imagine, and calculate, sometimes for months, even years, before I do something. Is it the same as procrastination? Because I want to quilt. I'd like to quilt. Other things get stalled, too, this same way. And I just seem to wait for an intangible sign, a push from somewhere or something, I don't know what, before taking on the task in mind. Adaliza's patchwork kit is waiting for me. Maybe I don't feel worthy of those pretty prints, or capable of making something from a pattern, but I am eager to begin. I am preparing, in my mind. It feels close... the doing. But! Oh dear... just look at the sad state I left my last quilt project in: Total confusion.

Well. Now, my rudderless heart feels like crying.

Sometimes, I fall in love with ideas. I shop for them, collect them like threads, or spices in a cupboard, knowing that some day they'll come in handy for something practical, or flavorful, or wonderful. Ideas, and inspiration. I love those. But, possibly, I have too many, too much, and instead of reclining in imaginary hammocks, pondering the feasibility of riding in a boat above our lawn, I ought to be clearing out the cupboards, and using up those spices, and threads.

Am I paddling up a creek of mixed metaphors? It's 'heart for a rudder, faith as compass, a blanket for a sail.' In the song, anyway, and I must say, I was happier with that song when my memory was fallible and I had the lyrics mixed up. Geoff suggests I bring out a GPS, take the train. Naturally, this only inspires a whole new orbit of ideas, and compass directions.

With Infinity More Monkeys, a picture a day.