This morning, I feel like Virginia Woolf in ‘The Hours’ (which I rewatched just the other night); with misted look in my eyes, I find I want to announce “I believe I may have a first sentence”. And this is it!
For weeks now, I’ve been (so conscious of being) silent in this space, yet far from silent elsewhere. In fact, I’ve probably never written more in my life…reams of it; profoundly, satisfyingly cathartic outpourings of connectivity and insight yet all too raw, too personal to throw out here into public domain, and amassing in far too daunting a volume to hone into sharable cohesion before they turn into ‘yesterday’s thoughts’ replaced by today’s. As this unshared mountain of thoughts has grown bigger and bigger, its made me realise how quickly we seem to speed through the landscape of today, the stuck preoccupations of yesterday’s world passing by so rapidly like trees in a train window!
This mountain had started to cast something of a shadow, to become overbearing…my heart had grown heavy with the sad thought that I had birthed so much yet so little had ‘seen the light of day’ here. It made me question the very purpose of blogging…why do I do it, who do I do it for, is there any point in sharing if what I process through today is already ‘done with’ by the time I press publish, is this something I do so I can let go or to inspire others on a similar journey, is there any need to write it all down or is the process of writing becoming far too slow for this super-fast world of ours where processing at the energetic level is, increasingly, enough to move the very mountains of our world? Is there a place where every realisation, every thought, every wave of inspiration I ever had is already fully-rounded, already perfect, already recorded in as much detail as it ever has to be?
These past weeks have also been dotted with worldly distractions, challenges that took my attention away from creative flow and that seemed to sap the urge to let go into flow. Some of these hurdles have felt more like mountains to climb in my landscape whilst being the, oh-so-personal, props of some of my biggest processing ever…and yet it hasn’t felt appropriate to share them here whilst still engaged in the climb.
What came (eventually) calling back to me, across the valley of ‘no blogging’ between mountain ranges, was the signal to be more immediate, less studied, far more spontaneous, less pristine or self-conscious in what I share here. Also more astute at plucking out the universal themes, the parts that others may relate to, from my experience without feeling I have to (always) engage in the kind of deepest soul-bearing that leads to hesitation…because there are so many core themes that feel so very universal that I literally long to write about them and its the loss of the opportunity of these that saddens me most.
Its a flavour that suits the times…which feel like they are speeding-up, throwing-off, ironing-out, freshening-up, detangling, universalising at such a rate of knots. There’s such a feeling of clear, fresh air breezing into our experience, carrying the scent of spring blossom on its tails, raising the energy, blowing away cobwebs, lifting up the curtains and bringing new light into dark corners. For all that’s been ‘going on’, convoluting my world, I’ve been feeling it for weeks – that distinct tickle of newness that strokes the skin and coaxes the senses out of deepest slumber, arousing a feeling of alert anticipation and a stomach-full of butterflies fluttering from their chrysalises, straining towards the light.
Spring Breezes In – my newest painting! www.helenwhite.org