I was sent a package earlier. A friend had sent a bunch of jewelry pieces that she needed broken up and properly dispersed. There were some pieces she wanted recreated and returned to her. I was surprised at what I discovered as I was handling the pieces. One of them felt very old world and upon talking to her, I discovered that indeed the piece was from the Old World. This process reaffirmed something for me. It reaffirmed the necessity of curiosity. The instinct that asks. . . what is that? How does it work? where does this fit? What happens if I. . . ( if this is followed up with: "here hold this." . . you should duck out of the way. Nothing good ever happens after that.) The question I had asked earlier was: what does the earth of different parts of the world feel like? I am lucky enough to have friends who have indulged me on their travels and brought back small bottles of earth from the different places they have been. It was that strangeness of a hobby I developed that informed my new project. It was that same spark that told me that the charm in my hand came from somewhere far off with ancient tree roots. It's the same overlap that informs the cross over from my viridarium work, embroidery, sewing then to my poppet work.
Once again, my father was right. Learn as much as you can in as wide a spectrum as you can handle. You never know where it will lead or what other parts of your life it will enrich and inform. No education is ever a waste, but it does beg a question: why do we have to become indentured servants to get a "proper" education? And what precisely is a "proper" education? Everyone seems to be defining that for us. It's like peer pressure gone insane and no one noticed. Go get an education even though you have no idea what it is you stand for or want to do with yourself, spend forty thousand dollars doing it and spend eternity trying to scrape enough money up at the end of the day to eat and pay off that crazy loan. I don't think we are here to be someone else's brick. There has got to be more to life than working toward someone else's dream of ambition and power.
I think on my kids bucket list of things to do are going to include things like: play an instrument ( even if it's badly), read a bunch of books, get hobbies, get wet and dirty, drink lots of water, hide from the sun at appropriate intervals and watch Miyazaki movies, and dream in technicolor. One day people will understand that bricks may be easier to build with and replace, but stones mingle well with others. . . unless you are a hermit stone.
I have since recreated my friend's jewelry into something I hope guides her as true as the North Star. I sent it in a care package with a bunch of other Oddly goodies that can't possibly replace hugs and kisses, but I'm gonna try anyway. I am hoping that the desert chanties of far off, impossible places lures her to my doorstep soon.
Ok Stilgar, sing! Make her hear you.
