The Beaded Tapestry

Exploring the writing and inspirations of Elisa Weeber


October 2017

New Projects – Elf Ears

Working on expanding my media to include wire work. Made my first pair for the Tolkien “Oxonmoot” in Oxford last month, when I performed as Feanor for the costume contest. Have now complete four pairs since then. Fun experience.

Letters from Victoria- Letter 47

Dear sister,

My plans to complete the final study of the Equine journal were abruptly halted by an unavoidable event. I deviated from my normal routine and did not begin the day with my run and meditative contemplation of the creature. I sat down in my reading nook immediately after arising with the journal in my lap open to the final pages. What follows are the few passages I was able to transcribe before I was drawn outside away from my task. I will let you judge whether I was justified in my neglect of this relevant charge.

Echoes of energy and vibrations propagate through the carriers of this continuum. They remain elusive, hovering in the back of her view, haunting her with things she can no longer encounter. She comes to the realization that these remnants are distant and unattainable. The ability and window to revisit her former life are no longer within her sphere. It is difficult to grasp this concept since it was once a core focus of her existence and acceptance of this loss does not come without despair. Her domicile has ceased to exist and no matter how much her ability to manipulate this current location has increased she is unable to repair that total oblivion.

Her study continues to delve deeper and deeper into the dark unreturnable tunnel of these findings before she pulls away to resurface in her present reality. The process of maintaining and controlling her structure creates an alternative to these destructive investigations and distracts her from the disturbing aspects of her new home. She avoids any further impressions this distorted cosmos attempts to produce in her, choosing instead to view all that surround her with an unbiased analyses. The familiarity of her once dense existence is missing, leaving in its place the exposed atmosphere of an infinite plane. She strives to make no comparison between the two, but fails completely as she observes the space stretching out in all direction creating a desire for her once compact life. Growing instability in her logic threatens to overtake her process as her sensors search for the once protective barrier that supplied direction. Its absence is unnerving and the gentle tides of particles are insufficient to alleviate the overwhelming fear and agoraphobic impression sneaking into the gaps in her logic. The deprivation of cohesion here gives her a sense of chaos. She pulls her contemplative systems away from the distorted views allowing only the logic function to view her outer surroundings.

Instead she turns her benevolent contemplation inward, analyzing her own composition and the changes that have occurred during her transference. She seeks the normalcy that was once her dense mass, ordered and symmetrical. That form is now forfeited, exchanged for an entropic haze with no direction. She focuses her attention on one of the wayward pieces and gives a slight nudge, allowing its fluctuations to settle on a harmonic frequency matching with that of her dwindled core. The particle stabilizes into a steady state and locks itself into a structured pattern. The action creates a cascading effect, propagating through her erratic matter, aligning each discord into a structure melody echoing within the confines of her mass. Full octaves, chords and single notes send incantation traveling once more down her inner pathways. Functions solidity exponentially allowing the analytical process of her computing systems to once again take over.

She turns her study outward, melding cognitive functions with her analytical processes still viewing the outer space. Her stabilized structure now able to negate the fear, using logic instead to study this strange existence with full cognizant functions. The analytical system takes domination allowing her to view her surroundings without emotion. She studies the myriads of filaments traveling around her now functional form. The ease of her own transformation prompts her curiosity pertaining to the material traveling outside her own sphere. Without dwelling on the consequences, she gently prods a passing filament, one that has yet to determine its function. She combines one of her own harmonic particles to the confused piece, letting it break from her own matrix and travel away to meet the passing filament. There is a violent reaction as the chaotic piece resists the frequency of her own music. A new type of element emerges from the violence and moves away from her vicinity, searching for a place to propagate. She marvels at this newly discovered ability and searches for a new target.

These last words echo through my head as I rise from my seat, drawn outside by an assiduous compulsion. Proxima is just peaking above the horizon and a dense haze grips the ground, remnants of the previous evening storm. My gaze is drawn upward as always and I see the Equine suspended, my ever present companion, in the lightening sky. Soft feathers extend from the right side of the creature’s structure, blurring the once sharp outline of its limbs. I at once envision a butterfly, its wings fluttering in an attempt to remain anchored to it flowery perch. The flow of the Equine toward a new space has accelerated. I only now have to contemplate on what this means.

I continue to stare at this long expected occurrence, knowing it was destined to happen but still in denial. I am not certain what drew me outside but you can forgive my neglect of the dream journal. I do not find it coincidental that I was pulled away from completing its pages. I will give in to this delay and return to my daily routine. The journal seems at times a guide to my experience here and I feel the need to follow.

I have now come full circle at last, catching up with myself on Earth. Whatever the Equine has in store for me from this point forward will be an unknown. Strangely I am not afraid. It is now an endeavor I welcome.



A Journey through the Mushroom Forest

Magical hours tramping through the incredible variety of mushroom. Taking a short break from editing my completed manuscript. Now the hard part. Finding a publisher.

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