Gathering bones

Here I am halfway into February and I have yet to get January's Bead Journal piece finished. This is typical of my procrastination. I am looking at perhaps another couple of hours of beading to finish it and there it sits. Partly because I have a lot going on - looking for a place and moving - and partly because I am not in love with this month's project, and yet also because it is such a personal statement that putting it out there feels a tad bit humbling. I shall finish.

It is with art and beads that I am starting to collect bones, to collect stories. I love how the author Clarissa Estes Pinkola emphasizes our stories in such mythical ways drawn from a medley of indigenous tubers. We are each our own gatherer of bones. The word "bones" is my word of the year. Or perhaps a lifetime.




Now on a macabre note:

This is a bit morbid. This is a cemetery in Hallstatt, Austria. Its not like any other… it’s really small. When they run out of room, they simply dig you up, paint your name on your skull and stack it with the rest of the overcrowded population. Now, I did hear if you have the money to pay for the spot, your bones will not be moved, well, until you can no longer pay the bill that is.