I came to Florida for a vacation, to get away from quite possibly the coldest dreariest New York winters I can remember. I came to visit my parents, sister, brother, and their families. I came to get time off from my job, to change the everyday routine. I came to get out of boots, gloves, hats, scarves, and heavy coats. I came to get a little sense of flip flop freedom.
Leaving New York in yet another snow storm and landing in Ormond Beach’s 77 degrees felt like I not just flew to another state, but another planet. Here was the sun shining, lush green growing, warmth I needed.
In an effort to be outside in the sunshine, my sister suggested we visit a Native American Festival that was being held on the grounds of The Casements, John D. Rockefeller’s family winter home on the Halifax River. I have been to The Casements before and enjoyed the history and the beautiful views. So to fill my lungs with fresh air and get much needed sunshine on my face, and enjoy the views, off we went.
It was much as expected, many Native Americans proud of their heritage, and proud to be sharing it with all those interested. I particularly enjoyed seeing the very young children carrying on the traditional dances. There were many jewelry, pottery and clothing vendors and historical displays. Really the kind of outing I enjoy.
Then at the very end of the festival, sat a woman weaving. She was selling some belts, blankets and demonstrating her craft. My fiber magnet of course drew me in. But it was the tidbit of history about some small items she was selling that intrigued me.
She had a pile of simply sewn bags, with drawstring ties. On top of the pile was a piece of wood acting as a weight so they wouldn’t blow away. On the piece of wood was handwritten “Possibles Bags”.
I learned that Possibles Bags have been used by many Native American tribes, traders, mountain men also, to carry whatever could possibly be needed for the day’s hunt or to hold personal items for their nomadic lifestyles. They were made in various sizes and from many different materials.
Of course, I saw these as “Works in Progress Bags”. The bags that I keep my projects in that are currently being worked on. They hold the yarn, needles or hooks and patterns, and whatever is possibly needed to complete the project.
It struck me that these small bags I tuck my projects into indeed hold the possible. The things I am working on, to make possible. They hold my dreams, my visions. So now I’m changing what I call my project bags to “Possibles Bags”, because they hold whatever I could possibly need and because I still believe anything is possible.
History, leave yourself open to learn from it, in every possible way.
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