OK – so I’m disgruntled! Actually, it’s one of my most creative moods and one which, if I am grumpy enough, forces me to action. In this case nothing more drastic than writing- something, in fact, I long to make more time for – so praise be!
Years of built up disgruntledness seem to be coming to the fore today. I’ve been putting up with so much for what seems like so very long – for what I conceive of as passable payoffs. Sometimes these payoffs feel like ‘marvellous opportunities’. But then I’m reminded of a previous life when I felt the same, but I was forced to give up – willy-nilly – anyway. And, in the end, thank God, or maybe thank Gaia.
I can’ t be sure – maybe I am indeed on the brink of coming into my own ….or maybe ‘my own’ is already here, quietly unrecognised. Quietly unvalued. I place too much faith in others, in ideas.
‘It’s not the despair, the despair I can handle – it’s the hope!’ (Clockwise)
So let it go.
I think my greatest trials are sometimes related to the undervalued feminine. I am more grateful to Joyce Fletcher than I can say, and also to Shaman Dawn Russell. What, really, is the feminine way of operating? Both these people know something about it and both know how to identify and value it. With many of my heroes as male, that is food for thought. What is feminine power? What are feminine ways of working? How can we know when we are so deep in our one sided paradigm? Is it discipline? Competition? Success? Winning? Or is it something far more collaborative, woven from many strands, nameless, faceless – supportive of the collective.
What is the alternative to the warrior for a woman? The grower? The nurturer? The weaver?
And feminine rage – what is that ?
Turtles are vying for attention. Baby turtles at the edge of the sea. Tiny. Crossing an edge – the shoreline – from land to sea. They feature in my Mother’s tapestry. They featured too on David’ Attenborough’s Planet Earth II last night – following the full moon to the sea. The light reflected in their tiny, ancient and yet new, eyes, glistening with age old intelligence. How do they feel when they see that Moon? Is it a surge of Adrenalin? Excitement? Love? What draws them to it. A promise of safety? Does it promise Mother’s arms? How does that ‘rightness’ feel? And how does it feel when they are distracted by other lights? When does it feel not right? Like as a child when you put your shoes on the wrong feet or your pants on backwards. It feels a bit wrong but you don’t know why. When do the turtles know their betrayal? Is it when they are gathered in the storm drain? Or exhausted after propelling themselves far longer than nature intended, past hungry crabs at the edge of the beach, across roads, away, away from the sea? When do they know they have been abandoned? That the promise was a lie? That they are lost, abandoned by the light? And how bad is that betrayal?
What can we really do to stop this?
We simply must!
“Our life is a series of demands for comfort, for security, for position, for fulfilment, for happiness, for recognition, and we also have rare moments of wanting to find out what is truth, what is God. So God or truth becomes synonymous with our satisfaction. We want to be gratified; therefore truth becomes the end of all search, of all struggle, and God becomes the ultimate resting place. We move from one pattern to another, from one cage to another, from one philosophy or society to another, hoping to find happiness, not only happiness in relationship with people, but also the happiness of a resting place where the mind will never be disturbed, where the mind will cease to be tortured by its own discontent. We may put it in different words, we may use different philosophical jargons, but that is what we all want—a place where the mind can rest, where the mind is not tortured by its own activities, where there is no sorrow. – “Krishnamurti, The Collected Works vol VIII, p 328
I’ve realised that if I am feeling uncomfortable in my interactions then I may simply be traversing an invisible border. This makes me realise that discomfort can be a desirable outcome.
Makes me think of the cat who walked by himself and places are alike to him
So I’m not Chris Seeley and I’m not LT – what exactly is my artful practice at work?
I started with an instagram inspiration and came up with an image that pleased me and stuck it to the door next to my desk – a temporary ‘thought for the day’ but I’ve so enjoyed it (and others like it too I think) that I can’t replace it meaningfully.
And I have drawn one up today – it has potential and is all about Permaculture principle #3: obtain a yield.
Hah – even thinking about it…and I have put it up. Not as beautiful – but…for the time spent..after all I need to obtain a yield! Here’s my previous – will load my new as soon as it arrives in my inbox.
So, developing my artful practice at work is as individual as I am…as we all are.
Bringing art in is what is useful…..
…I had a thought…if I spend my whole life looking for some sort of approval for something from outside, I’m actually going to spend my whole life living by someone else’s set of standards, how limiting is that….
Active imagination is vision quest