Solace in the Wild
Wide Open Spaces
"Oh how I love those wide open spaces
the calling of nature
where man has not yet intruded
and we can be free
the wide open spaces that are so inviting
and let you be yourself
there is no-one to pretend around
and no-one to hide from
life is slower and you can enjoy all thing beautiful
take things the way you want them to go
you don't have to impose on the space to be part of it
and you can be free from restrictions
endless space to run and shout and just get it all out of your system
everything you've ever wanted to say, say it
the earth will listen and you will feel light
those everyday stresses have gone away
dream of this place, where you can be alone
the freedom of dusk, and dawn
dream of a place where you be angry, sad, and happy
Dream of this place, and survive."
I Am RebelOkay, so I would hesitate to say that the Norfolk coastline is an area that 'man has not yet intruded'...but you get the sentiment, right? That feeling of being 'free'; away from 'normal life' - whatever that means nowadays. Free from routine, free to feel, to be angry and sad, and yes, happy, free to cherish memories, both old and new. Glorious sunshine helped; mainly though, it was just that ability to allow my emotions to come and go, to walk and talk, or just walk, letting feelings sit quietly...
"The world’s continual breathing is what we hear and call silence" - Clarice Lispector
Vast swathes of golden sands, backed by marsh with glittering inlets and creeks... I feel such affinity for this landscape; big skies, distant horizons, so reminiscent of the vistas of my childhood. The whipping wind and crashing waves, the expansive scenery, all combine to provoke a sense of insignificance in me, of how small I am in relation to the earth, to time... How short our season is, and how we must cherish and savour the moments.
"Sometimes I need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed" - It Was Early, Mary Oliver
Waves and wind roar in my ears, each footstep gives way, ever so slightly, in the sinking sand. Gulls wheel round and about, their shrieks lost on the wind. The marram grass sways; to the left, to the right, dipping and bowing as if participating in a sinuous dance. Sunlight glints on the water. The further I walk, the more my pockets bulge. First a mussel shell, then a clam, followed by a mermaid's purse - each intact, each half a mirror image... Each one a story of a life lived, lost, forever carried on the tide. As I turn and face inland, across the marsh to the line of pine trees, notes of the curlew song reach me, intermittently, the wind transporting and snatching the melody away as if on a whim.
And more stories emerge, fashioned by the elements...a wooden 'stonehenge', each trunk seemingly striving skywards, twisting and turning, emerging from the marsh...gnarled and weathered, fossils standing watch over the distant turbines on the horizon...
My imagination seems to be in overdrive; these beach huts, a gathering of long-legged crabs waiting to dart towards an incoming tide...
The time away provided space and perspective; the healing process continues, the journey towards accommodating my grief is emerging from the fog...
The Journey "One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice – though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. “Mend my life!” each voice cried. But you didn’t stop. You knew what you had to do, though the wind pried with its stiff fingers at the very foundations, though their melancholy was terrible. It was already late enough, and a wild night, and the road full of fallen branches and stones. But little by little, as you left their voices behind, the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds, and there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own, that kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper into the world, determined to do the only thing you could do – determined to save the only life you could save" Mary OliverNothing is easy; some days the anger rages before subsiding into tears and sadness. But I am beginning to note a sense of 'letting go'; letting go of the worst memories and focusing on the good...it's a slow process and progress is sporadic...but progress there is...
For first time in almost five months I have picked up a paint brush and doodled in my sketchbook...
And, although they may not appear much, it is a milestone for me... Every day I do a little more and I remember how it feels to paint, my hand intuitively dancing over the paper. Eventually more serious work will emerge, but for now I am being gentle, putting no pressure on myself to create 'masterpieces'. I know this can't last; the Patchings Festival in July is fast approaching, but for now I am enjoying a sense of calm....
"May you come to know that work Which emerges from the mind of love Will have beauty and form" (I can't remember where I read this quote so any help attributing it would be appreciated!)I hope you have all had a peaceful start to 2022 !
I look forward to sharing more art and life with you!
Take care,
Cx
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