Flow
12" x 9" / acrylic on canvas / sold
Flow
So much is changing….
There is a river that I know. I have stood on her banks and prayed and have made offerings into her water.
This river gives far more gifts than she is ever offered.
There is one place where her waters seem to meet each other and at this place she swirls in a whirlpool. Her waters mixing, changing directions and then flowing backwards and forward. In this place the flow of the river and time, as we know it, is unclear.
This is the place that I am always drawn to. It is the place that I come to speak with her and the place where I can hear whispers of answers to prayers that I am not even aware that my heart is sending. I feel a kinship with this river, with her spirit.
A lump rises into my throat as I write these words. I want to cry. What is in these waters and within my waters that allows such sadness to rise to the surface?
Allows or beckons. Allows or beckons?
How and why did the river rise to find itself in my thoughts and transferred directly onto this page? What does my connection to this river have to do with what I am writing? The red snake. I need time to sit by her banks to watch and listen to the swirling waters.
Going under and coming back up again. All things churning in the whirlpool.
I feel as if there is something shaking inside of me. There is something that is breaking free. The shaking off of old armor or a mold and cast that no longer fits the form held inside.
So much of my work and practice has been focused on identity. It is the first time that I can remember thinking about my identity not necessarily from a place of looking back in order to see how it has come to be formed - instead - I feel as if this “shaking” that I am trying to describe is perhaps the formation or ongoing creation of identity.
There is something in the water that is shaking me, supporting me to break free.
The ongoing presence of snakes in my life. They inhabit my dreams, are embodied through performance and ritual, and now they are coming to me as if they are being called.
It was the embodiment of this dream that I believe shifted my movement in/through time.
My eyes have been clouded over, but they are clearing. My skin is being shaken off. I am shedding.
My end is my beginning.
There is a river that I know. I have stood on her banks and prayed and have made offerings into her water.
This river gives far more gifts than she is ever offered.
There is one place where her waters seem to meet each other and at this place she swirls in a whirlpool. Her waters mixing, changing directions and then flowing backwards and forward. In this place the flow of the river and time, as we know it, is unclear.
This is the place that I am always drawn to. It is the place that I come to speak with her and the place where I can hear whispers of answers to prayers that I am not even aware that my heart is sending. I feel a kinship with this river, with her spirit.
A lump rises into my throat as I write these words. I want to cry. What is in these waters and within my waters that allows such sadness to rise to the surface?
Allows or beckons. Allows or beckons?
How and why did the river rise to find itself in my thoughts and transferred directly onto this page? What does my connection to this river have to do with what I am writing? The red snake. I need time to sit by her banks to watch and listen to the swirling waters.
Going under and coming back up again. All things churning in the whirlpool.
I feel as if there is something shaking inside of me. There is something that is breaking free. The shaking off of old armor or a mold and cast that no longer fits the form held inside.
So much of my work and practice has been focused on identity. It is the first time that I can remember thinking about my identity not necessarily from a place of looking back in order to see how it has come to be formed - instead - I feel as if this “shaking” that I am trying to describe is perhaps the formation or ongoing creation of identity.
There is something in the water that is shaking me, supporting me to break free.
The ongoing presence of snakes in my life. They inhabit my dreams, are embodied through performance and ritual, and now they are coming to me as if they are being called.
It was the embodiment of this dream that I believe shifted my movement in/through time.
My eyes have been clouded over, but they are clearing. My skin is being shaken off. I am shedding.
My end is my beginning.
