light

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July

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we seek the heat

we seek the light

reminding ourselves we are alive

 

During these cold days and nights our senses come awake in different ways to the days of summer – we are drawn to comfort, to warmth and light.

But remember to welcome the tingle of icy finger-tips, the mist of warm breath when you step outside, the thin winter light that subdues the colours around us.

Our senses give us feedback from the physical world – keep us awake and attentive.

Hibernation is not an option.

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leucadendron

So this is why I’m not getting much writing done at the moment. My attention has shifted towards the visual and I’m working on painterly things. Learning materials and techniques and experimenting.

I remember someone telling me years ago that the first thing you create should be given away. I released this little beauty into the world last night. A golden gift for a golden anniversary.

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this imaginal space – draft pt.viii

there are nights when you are invisible
and imagining where you are when the sky is dark
is the beginning of all our fireside stories
while I wait in this imaginal space
I shift beyond the tangible
into realms of intuition and myth

darkness turns to light
and every time you return you affirm my trust
the endless cycle of renewal is the beginning of love

 

©clairegriffin2017

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the black jacket

this black jacket
has become a costume for talking to the past
rows of ribbons are metaphors
for the loves and stories and moments lost
stitched into the fabric
with the black thread of memory

(original short thought)

 

this black jacket
has become a costume for talking to the past
rows of ribbons are metaphors
for the loves and stories and moments lost
stitched into the fabric
with the black thread of memory

I have been revisiting my past
time-travelling as I stitch into the black
hearing and seeing I reach back
I put my hand on my younger shoulder
and say “beware”, “slow down”
I hold her while she cries and tell her
“I carry your loss, it is with me always”
I am the voice she didn’t hear
I am the voice she couldn’t speak

these memories are deeper and darker
than I expected
but they connect me with my self
I am becoming whole

I am becoming the wise woman
all edgy energy and persistence
I am becoming the dark
the black that attracted me as a child
the black I wore as a young woman
all depth and shadow and suggestion

these ribbons are the feathers and flowers
that connect me to the wild world
my collar is turned up
against winds of criticism and ignorance
my sleeves are edged
with beaks and thorns and claws
I would add mirrors and shells
I would carve runes into bones
and hold them in my pockets
tools of divination to read the times
all strength and resolution and power

this jacket, a cloak across my shoulders
a veil to cross into the night
darkness and mystery calls
and yet it is the light that gives me shape
there is no shadow without the sun
it is is the light that draws me forward
the truth
is the voice I speak
the future
is the path I walk

(complete version)

©clairegriffin2017

so – this began with a real black jacket. I was adapting it for a themed eighties party – but as I worked on it – I reflected on my self at the time – and the only idea I felt comfortable with was something I would have worn if the me I am now was transported to those times and could influence the me I was then

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a deeper impression

my body holds me close to the earth
I’m grounded, weighted
no risk of losing myself
of being overlooked
of drifting away

when I was younger
I was insubstantial
innocent and inconsequential

oh, but I could dance

I could lose myself in the music
it would carry me and I could fly

now walking leaves a deeper impression
air moves to give me space
leaves bend but may not straighten

my body has caught up with my mouth
full and curved
but it is heavy now, and its harder to fly
my hands the only slender thing about me
as they dance across the page

I am present, barefoot
feeling the wild pulse of the earth
light passes over and around me
my shadow stretches and contracts

gravity is drawing me home

 

© Claire Griffin 2016

 

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3 day quote challenge : Day One

Christina recently nominated me to take part in the 3 Day Quote Challenge. However – I think I neglected to approve the link from her blog to mine – and so missed the boat!!

Still, I’d really like to thank her for this idea because its made me think about the words of others which have deeply resonated with me, which have stayed with me for a long time, and which I’d like to share.

Please check Christina’s blog “Stealing Time in Quiet Disorder” .

The “rules” of the 3 Day Quote Challenge:

  • Post one of your favorite quotes (a different quote each day) for three consecutive days. The quote can be from your favorite book, author, or your own. 
  • Nominate three bloggers to challenge them. 
  • Thank the blogger who nominated you.

 

I’d like to nominate:

Andy: Poetry is my aeroplane

Ruth: Life, living, work and play

Charlotte: A Comfort Zone …

Please don’t feel obligated to participate in this challenge.

 

I’ve chosen the words of three of my male inspirators/muses:

Day One

from the song “Anthem” – by Leonard Cohen (from the 1992 album “The Future”)

“There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.”

I know this is quoted over and over again – but that’s because it is so powerful. The suggestion is that the light, the spirit, the inspiration, the revelation – whatever you want to call the positive, the illuminating – enters through the “cracks” – in our bodies, in our lives, in our relationships, in our souls.

Nothing is perfect – in fact perfection, the closer we come to it, may in fact be perceived as lifeless. It is all the little mistakes, stumbles, noises, marks, scribbles, smudges, that connect us to the living. They are the signs of the artist’s presence, that a human being has lived and moved through a space, touched and left evidence of their existence.

Kintsugi is the ancient Japanese practice of repairing a cracked or broken bowl with gold. The damaged area becomes beautiful and valuable. This may also be related to the philosophy of wabi-sabi – where the imperfect object and the marks of use and age are respected and valued.

The use of gold in kintsugi both highlights and beautifies the crack, the imperfection – just as the light in Cohen’s song.