Saturday, October 23, 2010

Finding Centre

Finally, I've felt it. I had a moment this afternoon where I knew I had found my centre. That feeling where my mind is alight, thoughts and inspiration are brewing and life is spilling forward.

For these past few weeks, fresh in London, fresh in my Master's program, I've been feeling rushed. Perhaps it is merely a consequence of living smack dab in the middle of Central London (the world rushes by at my door), but the pace has felt frenetic. The work has been an adjustment, but it's all art and ideas that I welcome fully. London, as a city, is bursting with energy, there is always something happening, plenty of free art to be enjoyed, never a dull moment (and seemingly never a moment of repose).

Part of me started to think that the rhythm of London would just always be that way, in flow, in flux, much like the weather which can be mercurial and wildly changeable even within one afternoon. Walking down the street, you settle into the pace of those around you, going, going, going...

But part of me needed to settle, to find peace, to find those moments when writing and thoughts spill over. This year is very much about finding my voice and taking charge of my education. I've wanted to be immersed in the study of art and here I am. No moment of frustration can ever take away the blessing of this moment in my life. I am in total immersion in art, surrounded by curious art-minded intellects, world-class displays of human expression, and plenty of books and lectures and reading!

But now, for the first time, I've finally started to find my rhythm, started to let go and trust the spontaneity of life (because it really can deliver some wonderful surprises when you least expect them). Sure, I'm still trying to strike a balance, but it is the see-saw of life. Balance is but a momentary and elusive instant.

And in those moments of letting go, I've surprised myself. Although not in a groove quite yet, my yoga practice has become deeper almost unintentionally. I float up into headstand without a second thought and full wheel pose just materializes. It's quite beautiful to sink into new depths, find new focus in the poses I've done hundreds of times.

Today, with an early visit to the market, a yoga class and plenty of cooking, I'm really enjoying life. (avoiding work? i tell myself I am waiting for moments of inspiration to really engage with all the texts I need to read...)

And slowly it unfolds, always different, always moving, unexpected and wondrous.

I'm finding my pace, finding my place, finding my centre.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Ithaca by Kavafis

As you set out for Ithaca
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon – don’t be afraid of them:
you’ ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon – you won’t encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbours you’re seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind -
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaca always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you’re destined for.
But don’t hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you’re old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaca to make you rich.

Ithaca gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you wouldn’t have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you’ll have understood by then this is the meaning of Ithaca.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Mid-night Missive

I miss the mists of the city, the mystery that rolls in and lingers...

Sunday, October 03, 2010

Watercolour (work in progress)

Inspired by London, I want to write more about how the fabric of watercolour paper, the bleeding of colour work as perfect metaphors and illustrations to the rainy life of of this city...


Syncopated pitter-pat,
rain falls at my window,
the pane, static beads
and trailing tears.

A melancholy blue
tinges the air, bled
from the dome of St. Paul’s,
three-hundred-year-old grey,
aged and spreading across
the woven parchment of sky.

Light hangs suspended,
a tuile veil unfurled across
supporting the weighted clouds.