I adore this tassel I made recently. The colours feel very harmonious to my senses. Making me want more of these shapes and textures.
However, paradoxically, I’m feeling that habitual lull of reluctance and resistance to create. I feel numb. Like drawing in any creative energy is done so through the tiniest and most overgrown channel. Too much noise, worry and despair to hear anything. Not enough ease or soft rest and aliveness to bring much of anything to life.
Barely able to care for plants on the windowsill, brush my own teeth or change the bed sheets. Each night i meet the old ones against my skin and affirm I’ll change them tomorrow. It never happens.
Life feels slow and uninteresting. This body feels heavy and stagnant, not much flowing. Little life through these veins. Where is there even to go, walk these streets and observe brickwork on different houses? I’m being bleak I know. But it’s here, this experience is my own right now. I find writing this out, as dramatically as needs be, can be a source of transcendence and unraveling.
I would like to share this publicly but feel way too vulnerable to do so. People take things so personally and want to comfort and fix. That’s not what I want here. I want to be received as I am. I don’t need pity. I want the humanness of me and the humanness of all to be given words and form. I want to be satiated through the outpouring of language that seems to soothe the tenderness of being in this body. And without intrusion from anyone else. But also not hidden away. I want connection but space and privacy. To be seen but from a distance far enough away that i can breath and comfortably say what I want without hearing a response.
I’m yearning to express and speak in poetic tongues but can’t bear the outside projections that I feel penetrating the organic and natural outpouring of life.
Closed I’ve become. More so than I’d like. But this shell feels like a force field. And maybe it’s a good home for now. I wonder who will enter and if anyone will change my mind. God only knows.
