Pieces of the puzzle

I have a plan to be highly productive for the next two weeks. And so it strikes me as slightly ironic that as the 40 minutes of time that clicks by before my next class, I sit and stare at the walls, lost in thought about using visual images, or pieces of felt to be exact, as part of liturgical service.

When I was interviewed for seminary, I was asked if I would be willing to take myself apart and put myself back together again as part of a process of self-discovery.

“Sure,” I said, thinking that it wouldn’t be the first time.

So it’s not really surprising that I have rediscovered my artwork as a way to understand myself. And a couple of weeks ago when I was floundering for meaning, I started creating pieces of decorative felt to explain my confusion.

I have always used art and songwriting as a way to ground myself. Somehow it is helpful if I can put into physical form the swirling of my thoughts and emotions. With those creations, I can experience a concrete manifestation of my thought and understand things in a different way.

I congered words to accompany my small felt pieces, writing them awkwardly with my left hand. I read years ago that if you write with the opposite hand, it accesses a different side of your brain. Such was the magnitude of my confusion and my desire to come to some sort of understanding.

My series so far is about knowing ourselves and it starts with a blue piece of spiraling design. To me, it sets the stage of the creation of everything in the universe.

I moved into the bodily manifestation.

And then I created a piece that symbolizes what I have been experiencing in finding myself and it is called “Prickly Edges.”

I’ve since gotten myself involved in a large piece, using a surface design that reminds me of stained glass, that is way more time consuming than my 20-minute creations. In order to move it along, I skipped worship with the Franciscans and Tai Chi yesterday.

I’m going to add finishing it into the mix of the productive weekend and hopefully by Sunday night, I will be the proud new bearer of a hip-length triangular poncho.

I imagine that it will be warm, yet not binding, and serve as a constant reminder that we all have gifts, both new and old, that we can hold close and access when we need them.