Sometimes it pours. At the moment I have some personal stuff to wade through, and it doesn't help that when I look out the window all I can see is crooks and corruption. Its not easy living in Greece sometimes. Sometimes I fantasize about fleeing. Then I think 'where would I go?' I'd be so homesick. Thats the trouble with being Greek: you're pissed off if you live here, but you're missing it so much when you don't. So my yoga girl takes me back to the moment and the things here that I love.
I feel I can really relate to our foremothers who stitched their way through wars and dictatorships. 'Oh but they only did it because they had nothing else to do!' People tell me and I beg to differ. They loved it! It gave them immense pleasure and satisfaction. I know of a lady who made beautiful crochet lace who pressed her stitching kit into her granddaughters hands before she died, begging her to carry on the tradition. My own sweet grandmama took great joy in making stunning rugs, stitching, crochet, knitting just about anything. Everyone that knew her well knew how much she loved making things, and how these things gave her comfort in the toughest of times.
I like to look at my yoga girl. She is not a work of art, but I made her, and she and I have a history:)