“Breath is a thread that connects us to the world. And when there is ambivalence about the safety of existing in the world, that thread can become tenuous.” Gabor Mate
Curious about the connections between the peaceful, freeing space of creativity and how to sit in that more & more within the day to day, accessing that beauty as a more general state of being. Current world ways of thinking and operating seem to be calling out for a more conscious, less individualistic, gentle, truthful, connected appreciation of our living, planet and purpose. All homed in the translations of creativity, culture truly forms the cogs of our society, the foundation to how we see politics, economies, societies, science, landscapes and it shapes how we feel, express, empathise and connect to each other. Despite art forms being massively undervalued & unsupported for the most part, we truly need this reflective , contemplative space to navigate, process the complexities of existence and layers of uncertainty, to find strength and form hope. We need to protect the arts as much as this precious planet, our capacity to care about the future is crucial to our ability to preserve it. The last few months I have listened to more healing, uplifting podcasts and readings, there is much to be found in accessing freedom, from ourselves for the most part but also from the archaic systems & conditioning, tapping in to more awareness. Similar to the space found when drawing or painting, a subtle consciousness where there is no room for criticism, fear, deliberation, mind noise, duality or hesitation.
Still working with the forms in nature that shape my day, the seeds planted that form eddy, exultant swirls such as the echinacea’s conical heads, burnt orange vortexes that rise above drooping blades, I love to see the transformations, the sagging, wilting, crisp remains, where motion is fixed. Or the robust, vigour in the summer broom, oozing colour, bombastic in its popping projections of pollen, explosions of golden cadmium corollas & sweet vanilla scents. Or the ancient, mythological fig, surrounded by many of these Neolithic, enigmatic trees, one of the first plants to be cultivated by mankind they exist in a complex co-evolution, symbiotic relationship with the fig wasp, neither can exist without the other, the female wasp enters to lay eggs losing her wings and antenna to never leave. The incredible part is that within the bulbous flesh form lies the flower, it never sees the light of day, this syconium blooms inside itself. What remains is a sweet, gooey honey fruit, soft malleable branches and grand lobed waving, curling leaves.
Usually suffering in some form leads to inquisition and a realisation that this sweetness, purity, energy, presence or peace comes from deep within, not on the surface or in the flights of reaction but it is part of interconnection, something greater and of greatness.
“The one who plants trees, knowing that he will never sit in their shade, has a least started to understand the meaning of life’ Rabindranath Tagore
