Preamble: When this text was written, it worked with an expression that no longer reflects the direction that the Becoming Embroidery project has taken. However, the content described here is of extreme importance as a means of expression on my part; therefore, it will remain without any alteration, as its primary foundation is to provide comfort, even if the source of inspiration for this text never encounters it. Every word written carefully sought to offer recognition, identification, calm, shelter, and passage—after all, no great transformation is completed before the end.
“Blind faith, I scream to the gods in rage!” — that is how the lyrics of the song Visions, by Alice Merton, begin.
But come here… this song is dense. I always found it very heavy, and today I want to talk about it.
The song speaks of a vision that cannot be unseen, even when the whole world tries to convince you otherwise. It speaks of a feeling of drowning in a pool of doubt. It is a song about insisting, about protecting what you see even when no one else sees it.
It is about transformation. It is becoming, but a rawer, more brutal kind of becoming—the kind that makes you think: “I can’t break into your habits.”
“…a mess all around.”
And in the end, almost like an omen, it drops: “a plane crashing down.”
That was when my mind, which can no longer separate the threads it weaves, began to spin these thoughts.
Alice Merton connects very directly to Alice, the girl who fell down the rabbit hole.
The rabbit who was late for something very important. Alice’s rabbit is a guide that runs. It does not wait. It provokes you to follow it or be left behind. It is a call that cannot be ignored just like Matinta’s whistle. It is something that breaks the structure irreversibly.
Speaking of whistles and rabbits: Frank is also a call, also a guide to the end of a cycle. And in this cycle, he counts down the time.
How much time does he give? 28 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes, and 12 seconds. (Precise, right?)
Do you know how long a lunation lasts? Exactly.
“(I see the visions on the screen, but it plays, it only plays for me)” — because it seems it only makes sense in my head, but I will explain. (Because today marks one lunation since a month ago, or something like that).
Although the mathematical duration of a lunation is not fixed (it oscillates around 29 days), it is a fact that many societies of the past associated it with the female menstrual cycle due to the proximity of the period to 28.6 days. I have already talked about this here in several texts, and I will not repeat the thoughts, nor am I putting everything in the same box I am just reflecting.
I associate here other kinds of bleedings: not necessarily physical ones, but emotional, psychological ones transition wounds that need time to heal. And even when scarred, the pain can still happen.
The plane that crashes is the rupture I research, the missing 1/64, the piece that does not fit and which, precisely because of that, keeps the movement going.
The girl Alice, when she fell down the hole, did not stop falling. She fell long enough to forget fear, to grow strange to the world above, and to get used to the one below. She ate what made her grow, drank what made her shrink, and learned that the rules down there are different.
Time is not a straight line. It is a rabbit hole. It is a lunation. It is a cycle that repeats until the lesson is learned.
The singer Alice sings about not losing the vision. About how, sometimes, we are just listening to the music, not knowing that it is, in fact, a call.
The engine needs to be started. The cycle will close. The moon will complete its turn. And in the end, as in the song, as in the hole, as in the sky that tears open, something happens.
There is no rush. Every cycle has its time. Every wound, its closure. Every transformation, its silence.
No great transformation is completed before the end.
Crossing over, sometimes, is just continuing.
Author’s note: This video may trigger seizures in people with photosensitive epilepsy. Caution is recommended when watching.