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.

Surging tide of light

sunlight

Delicate strands of desire curl lovingly but fleetingly

Within neurons that spark shattered dreams

Wisps lost to daylight and the hustle of morning

Recovered in sensuous sensation, a poem tasted

On tempted lips, tracing words with my tongue

My soul ablaze, memory flushes, mind and body

Ripe with creativities muse as she dangles her feet

Skipping toes in deep waters, quenching souls

With her laughter and delight, skipping stones

Across eons, the twinkle in her eye, a star violent

With life, vigorous, alive and ready to surge

Through sluggish neurons flushing them with life

 

I have been indulging in a little Wuji Seshat Nibada today and felt this tidal surge…

image uncredited

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.

A dreaming

Last night a reoccurring dream from the past returned to me.

I arrive in a room as if transported by thought. I am joining others of like mind we are seated cross legged in a circle to create a shared intent. We imagine, give a shape to our collective idea, layering texture and colour, sense and feeling, then we bring it to life with voice. Once content with our work we each return to the time and place we have stepped away from to attend our task.

I had drifted to sleep longing for silence and space. A familiar longing, one I have always had (absolute post). I was picturing floating alone deep in the ocean gazing up at the stars and local planets, glimpsing distant galaxies. This turned to a deeper longing for the vacuum of space where I could be so very distant to any other life, where if I chose I could converse with angels or allow my luminosity to ignite and burn as bright as any star before squeezing myself back into the vessel of my flesh and returning to my world refreshed and alive.

Words by errant satiety image by Mark Gee

Doused

the_great_volcano_in_the_sky_by_shadowfire_x-d4u1svl

I noticed today that my inner child has curled up away from the world, my playfulness guarded with wary somber, interactions clothed in cautious mistrust, my sexuality hidden beneath plated armor. In my everyday life I have closed a part of me away dousing my usual vibrancy, cheeky wit and natural smile. Is this the result of the ending of my 2013? Or a general malaise born of frustration in my nine to five that houses, feeds and clothes but does nothing for my creative desires? I hold deep sadness in my heart an unsounded loss that I quail at, longing for something on the tip of my tongue but unable to give voice or articulacy. It rumbles disconsolately and now, as I take pause, forms shape; mortality sensed, regret pours in, glimpsed half thoughts ignored unite creating a cohesive image. I feel my age, I see life’s potential ending and know I have regret. I want greater meaning and honesty, I want a life of my own. It is time to shake my tresses free of the mundane and let my soul stretch and bathe in imaginations light.

I will start, as I always do when serious about something, with a list.

Words by errant satiety image from deviantart

Slumber

Fleet footed dancing from bed housed outdoors, spring rain tickling skin. Naked, fae like, I pause gleaming in dawns light, face lifted to taste gods tears. Laughing I continue flight to warm waters indoors. Steamed mirror frames arctic eyes. Hello. Self-aware, seeking anchor of soul to form. Breath encased in weighty flesh, soothing but cumbersome. In my dreams movement is effortless, gravity defied, wings of angels adorn me.

Image

Photography: the very talented Mr Kyle Thompson