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I’ve never noticed how much the weaving in this yoga strap reminds me of Easter baskets. The fabric braiding in and out, the bright green dye with its waxy gloss makes me think of all the shiny baskets that sit on the top shelf of the Easter isles. I wanted those baskets so much as a kid!

I also think about the twine that I would roll out with my grandfather when we were in the prairie fields building temporary fencing for the cattle as they grazed on the remnants of the corn fields after harvest.

And, I am reminded of the old belt I had in third grade that would never stay tight. As I would run across the gym, I could feel my pants pulling themselves down off my hips. I wanted to tag Gina so bad but my stupid pants kept forcing me to stop and readjust them.

It’s so hard trying to let go of my adult preconceived notions about objects; to let my imagination define what is in front of me, instead of the structures of my language, education, and experiences telling me what to see and think.

 

 

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