Live Art

Well, I have been absent. Making serious changes in my life. More about that later, when I am ready. But it is my WordPress anniversary today and I have one thing, well two things or maybe three, to share. The first is a quote from the talented poet Shane Koyczan:

“If your heart is broken, make art from the pieces.”

Full context can be found here

The second is one of my favourite posts of my own… hey it’s my anniversary I can do what I want…

Stillness while moving

But this does make me think of the existentialist work, much lengthier yet deeply rewarding, of TS Elliot like:

‘Burnt Norton’…

Life is full of change and surprises. Live it.

With love, Errant.

Dance of the Day

20140516-235310.jpg

My cup is drained. Sleep has embraced me already. Yet my thoughts ramble among the sun kissed trees, half dressed in amber layers, caressed by gentle breeze, their limbs give up their remaining garments to dance before carpeting the earth in rich litter. Lids close my view to conscious life, the leaves dance playing beneath them. A calming lull to dream.

Words by errant satiety image courtesy of WiciaQ on deviantART

One eye open

Insistent the old man woke me, night upon night he shook me from dreams leaving dark taste in my mouth. He was death yet alive, power roared within him, fear closed my ears to him and my eyes could not see him. Yet last night his voice reached me, stirred me from fear, his face, not death but potent life. Like kindly father he offered rough hand, hand in hand with ancient Ash, I walked into the night. All earthly sound retreated as we walked, the stars lighting a path beneath feet. His words echoed through my being, lyrical cadence calling me to path, a song of memory to light my way. He spoke to my blood least I forget and in final speech he uttered; ‘Not alone my girl’ as he leveled his eye upon mine and laid kiss on my brow. A single sound approached, beneath his words, through my thoughts, he smiled when he saw I heard it; pounding like drum, yet too quiet for human ear, pulse of thunder compressed within form. My eyes widened as recognition arrived, words tumbling forth from mind, ‘his beating heart’, my wise father did smile returning me to dream, awoken.

Burn (featuring my favourite girl cat)

Her deep rumbling love sound and expressive tail wrap around me as I release the days meandering fragments to the dark matter woven through our universal fabric. They will return winging softly, or whisper insistent inspiration in the ears of those who listen; if they don’t burn up on re-entry to this temporary home. But for now, my familiar on guard, I dream.

Luminous

dance_in_the_shutter_IX_by_mehmeturgut

It doesn’t always feel harmonious within me. I gnash my teeth in frustration. Tears form relentlessly at times. Pain sears my soul. Yet always I seek, I reach for the beloved. The real. The truth. That it would be nurtured deep within, through and through all my fibers. That the fruit taste sweet and juicy. That passion would touch my lips and suck my tongue. That my mind would grasp the wispy tendrils of knowing and whisper them through my all. That the notes of my laughter awaken. That the radiance in my eyes speak. That the essence of my dance sing.

When I danced tonight I soared with connection. My skin felt incandescent and sparks flew from my edges. These moments soothe the longing. The longing that grows with every moment that I allow my heart to open, to feel, I sense the loss the separation, the ‘catch 22’, the reality of polarization, of humanity. Love fills the rift, first love of the self then the love of others. Purpose provides comfort even if the truth is not yet fully seen. And when it is revealed, even in the briefest of moments or encounters my smile, my heart, my whole is luminous.

Surrender to life.

Words by errant satiety images from deviantArt

dance_in_the_shutter_XII_by_mehmeturgut

‘Love after Love’

The time will come

When, with elation,

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror,

and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

 

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit, Feast on your life.

– Derek Walcott

Humour me

snow-white

I want to talk of metaphor. How it shapes us, our thoughts, our self, our very being, of who we dream we are, who we were, who we are to become. I read a post today it reminded me of a passionate interest I have. I had been searching before reading this of something I wrote long ago, a series of questions during my master’s studies that I put to a group of people. I wanted to post it here but it has been lost, multiple changes of address and hard drives but the passion still excites me. I want to you ask you my dear readers what story defines you? What metaphor drives you? Are you aware or is it under the surface defining you without your knowledge.

Did you know that the brain cleverly and economically functions on metaphor. It is the most brilliant method of data storage we have in our organic super computer brains. We think the super computers we carry in our hands now days are amazing yet the function of our human brain is beyond anything we can create, yet. I refer to this as the human brain has an incredible ability to serve or destroy us. Created like the universe in a magnificent inexplicable evolutionary moment similar to the ‘big bang’ (or for the creationists among us when the word of God brought about the world) the Homo sapiens brain evolved and was able to remember, formulate future, to imagine, to plan and to create on a level that no other creature on Earth comes close. It didn’t happen to all of them, just some and over time there were more (through genetics and learning). Yet there was a cost, a high cost. The cost was the need for a high protein diet, the need to attend to our young for much longer than any other creature on this planet. These brains of ours are large and are not fully grown when we are born. We seem to be born with a relatively open template for growth that we can adapt to incredible differences in languages, in culture and in environment. To do so we spend 50% of our childhood sleeping in the REM state. What is the REM state? Dreaming. Did you know that within the cycle of sleep we spend a significant period of every 90 minutes dreaming? This dreaming period expends as much energy as the ‘awake’ brain does. Did you know that you experience the REM state while awake? Every 90 minutes (more or less, the time varies person to person) during your waking day you ‘trance out’ (know the feeling when you need a glass of water, a nap, a break, a walk, a coffee, some food….). This is the moment needed to solidify learning or let go of experiences not needed. Same as when we sleep.

Significantly we dream to release the emotional arousal or expectations of the day. We dream in metaphor to avoid any issues as the brain, elegant as it is, does not know the difference between the real, the imagined or the dreamed. This process is sometimes referred to as ‘Expectation fulfillment theory’ or the ‘flush toilet mechanism’. A simple example is perhaps the boss says something that you do not like but cannot without jeopardising your employment say what you would like to them. That night fuming you go home, fall asleep and dream of telling someone in authority, say an old teacher or public political figure etc, exactly what you think of them. You wake and return to your work environment without feeling emotionally aroused and ready to tell you boss: ‘F *%& you buddy you can F*&%ing stick your stupid job’.

But back to the point, what stories defined you as a child? Have you updated these ideas or inadvertently is your brain still seeking to fulfill these metaphorical ideals? My personal example is the classic ‘Snow White’ story. I didn’t have many books, in fact very few, but I had this one book with wood block prints and lyrical verse. I was lost to it. But this metaphor defined me far longer than I ever intended. Until I consciously realised and created a new metaphor for myself that launched me into something unexpected. I wrote something simple and childish to bridge the gap between where my metaphorical expectations were and where my adult self realized I wanted to be. I defined myself as a ‘knight in shining pink armour on a quest of knowledge and learning’. My metaphor before this (as defined by Snow White) was that I was persecuted for who I was and would be hunted by women of perceived power and those within the execution of their will and my only hope was to be saved by a prince on a white charger… seriously these stories we read have great effect (I am no feminist just one who has seen and experienced the difference this choice makes for man and woman). I have had several more metaphors since this first consciously rewritten one which was playful and made me smile in the face of adversary. Metaphors don’t need to be elaborate…. Can you remember what your favourite childhood story was? Is it relevant now? Does it still have a hold on you? Do you need to take charge of that magnificent brain of yours and feed it some better information setting it on a search for a much richer and wonderful tomorrow? Humour me. Lets see what comes to mind in the next few days….

Words by Errant Satiety image from here. Major credit to the Human Givens Institute.

Please feel free to email me privately with any questions.