Grooving lines of the sun
Have read/listened to a few things this week where the word LINGER has been mentioned in a yearning, wistful way. So many of us just wanting to stop. Slow down. Be present. With ourselves and each other. A mother writing: “I spent years making sure my home was a safe harbour my children could return to. And they do from time to time. But they rarely linger anymore…”
Another article talked about the counter-culturalness of
lingering. And the longing/resistance to just hang out, with ourselves, others,
with God.
Unlike the Advent Adventuring, this Lenten Lingering has
been a strange one for me. I was in a flow leading up to Christmas. Felt like
stepping on an e-scooter and just going with it. Enjoying the weaving and
writing, getting out and about, looking, listening, taking it all in.
This time has definitely been the ebb to all that. The
e-scooter’s in the shed with a flat battery, v slowly re-charging. Without that
sense of excitement and movement, it’s felt v desert-y. Very Lenten-y, I guess.
Feeling the heaviness of what’s happening in the world, losses
near and far and griefs of different hues. Misunderstandings and too much head
junk. A few sleepless nights.
What’s been most helpful in all of this has been the
reminder to create. To do the things that brings a sense of lightness and
looseness. Find a flow in the small things. Play about with linocutting (having
bought all the equipment months ago). Make stuff.
An image I’ve had for a while now is of a forest clearing with
the sun shining down and a kestrel swooping overhead. Negative clap-trap
circles the space. The ooze, Gav and I call it. That’s hard to ignore. Hard not
to get drawn into.
Rather than linger round the edges though, trying to fight
it off, better to run into the clearing and play. Take up space. Be a holy fool
if needs be. The ooze will always be there. As will the kestrel. And the sun.
Today’s felt like a shift anyway. Lingering with inks and rollers,
paper and pens. Finding solace in grooving lines of the sun. And mixing colours
of a kestrel’s wings.
