Receiving a DailyKos Community Quilt:
UnaSpenser's DailyKos community quilt. (The colors are coming out as vivid in the photo as in real life. For reference, the sofa the quilt is laying across is a bluish purple and not that dark.)
Sometimes, when people make us laugh uncontrollably or feel something so strongly that we're sure we'll burst, we say, "oh, you just kill me!"
That phrase came into my head when I opened the box that arrived today. Only it didn't feel like quite the right words. This community hasn't killed me. It has been such an amazing source of life support. Every time I get a taste of it, I feel a little more light shining in me. Or rather, I feel that I'm leaving another corner of my darkness behind. Continuing to emerge from the protected womb. Y'all don't kill. You birth me.
Let me say more about my experience of this quilt, thus far....
I had seen a while back that I was on the community quilt list for prospective recipients. I was touched by this very sweet gesture. At the same time, I have received quite a bit from this community. I felt that others might be more in need of that bonding injection which comes from being on either the giving or receiving end of an act of support.
So, I wrote Sara to suggest that she prioritize other people before me.
What I didn't say was, "I have some quilts. My mother and grandmother were quilters. I don't really need a quilt." I had thought I would tell her that, but I couldn't bring myself to it. I wasn't quite sure why. I'm in this mode of really paring down how much stuff I have in my life. My daughter and I are on a long-term mission to build a tiny house and live a life of a micro-footprint with a minimal cost of living and a lot of mobility. I've been giving things away, having a yard sale and simply tossing stuff in the trash. Why didn't I tell Sara that I don't really need a quilt?
It wasn't consciously clear to me until today. I think that I stopped myself because, while I do have quilts, none of them were made with me in mind. They were my mother's and my grandmother's. Both of whom were very skilled seamstresses. The craftsmanship on the quilts is unparalleled. (My mother was featured in a quilting magazine once, with a cover photo.) Still, neither of them ever made a quilt for me. I simply inherited the ones I have, by default.
I learned, right before my mother died, that the quilt I had when I was child wasn't made by her. The ones on my sister's beds were, but not mine. Mine was "made in China." I still have that quilt and it certainly holds some sentimentality, for me, but it definitely gave a me twinge of disappointment to learn that I didn't get one ofher quilts. (I had an older sister who died when I was two and it is likely that my mother was simply too lost in grief, and then the care of two more newborns, to have the logistic or mental space to make one for me. Still, it doesn't feel the same.)
In the center of the quilt is this "Gypsy Love Knot." I feel kindred to the Gypsy spirit. Another perfect detail.
I'm fairly certain that something in me was feeling a bit of a longing to have a quilt that was actually made for me. I know that when I make a sweater, or a hat, or an afghan for someone, every stitch is imbued with energy from me to the intended recipient. It is so different than buying a sweater for someone. I think I wanted to receive some of that. Even though I didn't really need a quilt. I needed that special something about a handmade item crafted as a message of love for me.
A few weeks ago, Sara let me know that my name was up and she asked me what kind of colors I liked. She posted a diary asking for messages and donations. I watched it all go down. I was feeling a little guilty, actually. As though other people really needed and deserved a quilt more than I did.
While I've sussed out, now, why I stopped myself from outright blocking the gift of a quilt, I hadn't worked that through until I received it. As I knew that the quilt was coming, I looked forward to it, but my emotions were a bit fuzzy.
Then, I opened the box. Out poured these bold, warm colors which are so perfect for me. The style of this quilt is so much more me than anything my mother or grandmother had produced. They were both very classic Americana types. Gingham and what not. I'm more... I dunno.. someone recently dubbed me as an "untamed classic" style. I'm definitely more urbane. My mother liked soft, cool tones and I like rich, warm tones. I gave Sara a sense and she pegged me perfectly. Amazing.
Right off the bat, I knew that this was MY quilt. It would live with me and become a staple of my home life. A constant companion. It belonged with me.
Bears! Anchoring four corners of the quilt. Healing. And strength of spirit. I love bears!
It was the message blocks though, which "birthed" me. Even having seen some of the messages offered up in the diary, I wasn't prepared for the power of them. Not pixels on a screen which disappear when the electricity goes out. Physical words on fabric to wrap around me when I need a little warmth. Words from friends.
I was so overwhelmed that, at first, I could only skim the messages. Mostly to see the names. Just that - having the names there - is deeply touching. I wasn't just looking at the quilt any longer, my hand would reach out to the block and touch the name and I would find myself saying out loud, "Ohhhhhh, MsGrin!" and clutching my heart with my other hand. "Ohhhhh, petral!"
It's a visceral sense of the people I've come to know and love in this community touching me concretely. (I'm snuggled up in you all as I write this.) Chronic Tonic companions. Witnessing Revolution practitioners. Occupy comrades. Fellow anti-capitalistas. Sisters and brothers doing the often lonely work of shining sunlight on the oppressions committed against people of color, people who aren't cis-gendered or hetero-normative, people who are poor, people of different belief systems,and bit by bit, building solidarity.
Ohhhhhh Aji! Ohhhhhh Elinorianne! Ohhhhhh Youffraita! Ohhhhhh triciawyse! Ohhhhhh MsSpentYouth! Ohhhhhh Kitsap River! Ohhhhhh Chacounne! Ohhhhhh One Pissed Off Liberal! Ohhhhhh Otteray Scribe! Ohhhhhh Bugsby! Ohhhhhh mimi! Ohhhhhh Marsanges! Ohhhhhh gchaucer2! Ohhhhhh Compost on the Weeds! Ohhhhhh ramara! Ohhhhhh Pam from Calif! Ohhhhhh churchylafemme! Ohhhhhh vetwife! Ohhhhhh Northsylvania! Ohhhhhh Bill in Portland Maine! Ohhhhhh Common Sense Mainer! Ohhhhhh enhydra lutris! Ohhhhhh Regina is a Sears Kit House! Ohhhhhh lisa lockwood! Ohhhhhh rachel tracks! Ohhhhhh blacksheep1! Ohhhhhh rserven! Ohhhhhh BFSkinner! Ohhhhhh Avilyn! Ohhhhhh Sara R! Ohhhhhh Lefty Coaster! Ohhhhhh 2thanks! Ohhhhhh winglion! Ohhhhhh peregrine kate! Ohhhhhh Provoking Meaning! Ohhhhhh scamperdo! Ohhhhhh jwinIL14! Ohhhhhh weck! Ohhhhhh broths! Ohhhhhh Louisiana 1976! Ohhhhhh cfk in the Thumb of Michigan! Ohhhhhh Zen Trainer! Ohhhhhh left rev!
It's not just that I have a fondness for each and every one of you, which I'm reminded of when I see your names. It's that you all remind me, via your notes, that I have been a part of something. Of several things. For all my woes and anxieties, this community has provided a place for me to still be actively participating in things which are important to me, but for which I don't have as much physical capacity as I desire. It's been a place for me to make offerings and know that, for all my disability, I still have something to contribute. A place for me to share my thoughts and sometimes make a fool of myself, safely. It is both a sense of having connection to people and an affirmation of myself.
I know that Sara and Ann have made a lot of these quilts. It is an amazing community contribution. I also know that so many members of DailyKos have contributed to them. That's the DKos way. I've seen generosity time and time again around here. It is so inspiring. I imagine each person has their own version of the deeply moving experience I had upon opening and taking in this gift. You are all like mid-wives birthing hope via a community umbilical cord.
I don't cry often. Well, I probably cried a lot when I was at the depths of my illness and the mystery of what was going on was still without any clues. Normally, I don't cry often. I feel sadness. I feel joy. It has to be exquisite for me to be brought to tears. I've been told I'm "too discerning." Still...
The matching pootie pad. Our cat, Mr. Baskets was brought into paroxyms of lust. He got so into rolling himself all over the catnip-imbued fabric that he rolled himself and the pad off the table and onto the floor. He was in shock and the rest of were very entertained! He recovered. Love will do that for you.
Today, I opened this box just as I was leaving the house to teach a knitting class. I perused it a bit and took in the overall feeling and gathered in some of the names on the squares. I was clearly touched, as those in the room with me bore witness to. Even though I knew this was coming, I simply wasn't prepared for the tears streaming down my face as I stood at the bus stop. Tears of joy, as I felt some kind of grace of life pouring into me, or opening up out of me. I was in one of the best moods I've been in in a very long time, as I set out to teach. I hope that even a fraction of the light you all shined into me, I managed to share with my students tonight. If so, they received some of your blessing and so will many who are in my sphere.
Thank you from the depths of my heart.