My fugue state continues though it's not troubling and probably is exactly where I need to be. An intense creative state is coming. I don't sense it directly, but I've become increasingly aware these past few days of the clean place it will eventually occupy. There are rhythms and cycles in this creative weirdness that are distinct and familiar, possibly because I've learned to watch and recognize them. Strange as it may sound, the best way I can describe the process is to picture the world in my head as just that---a world, a place with vast spaces, places very different one from the other. Those things I make are tokens, mementos.
Some spaces are indescribable.
I'm working on building strength for the rescue techniques--better breathing and efficient movements. Yesterday I swam just under the water's surface, studying the glassy plane a foot above and the space below where even the most familiar things obey different laws. Light is no exception.
Is it childish to become so lost in such simple things? Shades of blue, the taste of ice cream, a watch spring or the contours of a face can become places to explore with senses and thoughts and tools. I'd rather think of it as a childlike ability that most of us put aside for as many reasons as there are people who put it aside.
Some view these little journeys as insanity.
Sometimes little mental wanderings help me ease back into sleep. I've been waking at very nearly 3AM for many nights. Twice now, at exactly 2:59. Hmmm, I saw "The Exorcism of Emily Rose." So, last night, at 3:02, I wondered whether demons were aware of Daylight Savings Time, if they wore wristwatches, and if so, what kind. I imagined a particularly nasty demon tapping his claw, waiting because someone's bedside clock was slow. I thought of demons complaining that digital clocks don't tick, that sometimes every clock in a house is different and that they get sucked into watching reruns of MASH when people leave their sets on.
Then I fell asleep.
So...yes. This is my fugue state. Functional, yes. Little journey's that prepare me for larger ones. I can do laundry, answer emails and even write posts. I can sculpt and mail rats and such, but there's a sort of vibration, like distant sound underwater, that warns me to take some vitamins and clear my schedule, stock up on food and soak up some sun because sometime, not immediately and not too far off, I might go in.
Those of you who go in---you know. You know that in is vastly larger than out. At least the distances we can travel in our heads at present is far greater than the distance we can travel through space.
There's always the ever so slim chance of not returning.
So...better take a sweater.
g'night
10 comments:
I think childlike is more appropos, as children have that ability to simply be there with the moment. No preconceptions, just is-ness. As we grow older, we tend to let our past experiences color everything without even thinking about it. To not leverage those experiences when working with something that would benefit from such an effort would be foolish, but to allow everything one hears and sees and feels to be filtered through that lens is ultimately far more damaging - think of all the things we miss out on simply because we dismiss or ignore "insignificant" things.
The sky alone is a canvas of incredible variety - the setting sun does things with clouds that can take one's breath away with their beauty. The sound of the wind and the rain in the trees can calm the rawest of nerves if one will simply sit and listen. The smell of the air after the rain can invigorate if we only would breathe deep of it. There is wonder all around us, simply in the world that we inhabit, and too often we don't even take the time to notice.
Stop and smell the roses, indeed.
And yet the need to spend time inside is just as important. The mental muscles need to be worked, and not just figuring out this month's budget. There is a playground, whose paths lead to different worlds and other times, and the mind must be allowed to play. Otherwise, it becomes cranky like the youngster who is denied the chance to run around outside on a bright summer day.
I have started to become aware of my own tsunami, which is still yet far out to sea. With the impending entry into my fifth decade on this planet, I have begun to realize that there are as yet many things I have yet to do. There are stories within that must be told, music unwritten that must be performed, and above all a creative force that must be allowed its own time beyond the confines of a chosen profession.
Be mindful and aware, outside and within... for there are still many wonders to behold, if we go forth with open senses and open minds.
**falls off soapbox, and passes out on the floor**
take a sweater and a box of breadcrumbs... If you get hungry you could just eat them, or leave a trail for someone else...
Childlike...I'm not sure I relate to that. My child was never "child like". I've never grown up for some odd reason, so I don't think I can recognize something I am part of.
lord daecabhir--- always a pleasure.
DNA of Jester---nice one. I like it. With time, your right brain will fully reawaken. Welcome back to the real world.
Hello Jordie! and Vandaluna---she is a child in there somewhere. Play with joyful abandon.
BY the way, JestersDNA isn't always Aubrey, in some cases its me (James Phillip), since the name was mine first and I gave it to Aubrey as a hand-me-down in the legacy department.
But... how many lovely children do you have, Lisa? How cool is that? I have discovered you not too long ago and there seems to always be another child of yours that suddenly springs up from somewhere. And they are so cool, all of them, reading your blog and commenting too. Children usually either don't care or are annoyed by what their parents do. Especially when they are in their teens. You obviously are a great mother, beside being a great artist. Which makes of you a great woman. I keep coming here (thank you for keeping writing the journal) because of the way you both think and feel (and share it), even more than for your art, which I adore and was the first reason why I checked your site. But really, it is you who are special.
So, this is just a thank you note, and a shout to your kids (how many?): guys, you've got an amazing mom.
Sometimes I think it would be neat to be able to see how other people 'picture' their inside worlds. Like in Stephen King's Dreamcatcher (a rare case where I actually liked the movie a little more than the book), where the inside of Jonesy's head is a warehouse filled with files upon files of memories and information.
My noggin? Not so organized.
Someone I used to know said her mind was really dark and everyone once in a while a post-it note would float down with something written on it. Oh lookie! Very randomn.
But I love the idea of it being very different for everyone. Libraries or whole, twisting worlds.
Speaking of randomn, does anyone else have the compulsion of trying to make words out of the little text blocks you have to fill in in order to post? Today mine is 'baexilq'. I think it could be a creature that likes to eat pretty little gem stones left in order to make a trail to be followed back from the 'in' place. (Very long-beaked bird things that can't really fly...)
anonymous--I have four offspring, all very different from each other but sharing in common the environment they were/are shaped in. Phillip (23) Alison (20) Aubrey (14) Orion (4)
If you see a jestersdna comment, it will be Phillip. And, having grown up in all this madness, yes, they all take it for granted. They, in turns have been known for asking, when visiting other homes, "Where are all your books? Where is the studio? Don't you have any monsters? and such.
faerydusted1---ask RRNN about word verification. See what you two can come up with.
sheesh. I'm having some weirdness with blogger at the moment. I'm sure you can see the above is me.
Well said! What you've managed to describe so eloquently about 'going in' I've never been able to express to anyone without a lot of stammering and shifty, sidelong glances. This whole post makes me smile.
I stumbled across your blog through your website -- love your art. Thanks for sharing!
--Danielle
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