Incubation Time

in ,

earlier this week i read this post (thanks for sharing this with me dear Brian!) and i really really loved it.

it's an interview with Raf Simmons -the previous creative director at Christian Dior- and in part of the article he talks about the sacredness of having allowance and space for ideas to have incubation time.
and that's definitely an idea that tapped me on the shoulder and got me thinking.

especially because slowing down my life has been such a theme for me in recent years (read about some of the creative aspects of those excursions into this here and here and here and here).
but in relation to giving that slowness to ideas specifically, (especially to my constant idea-producing-big-dreaming mind) is somewhat revolutionary to me.
not necessarily in the practice of it but in the naming of it in recognizing that that is what i'm doing.

but at the same time, it's something i have subconsciously always sort of done.
to the point of it being a fault (mostly because of my over analytic i-don't-want-to-make-a-mistake tendencies).
this is definitely seen in my writing and photo work that i share publicly. i am not one to post in the moment, rashly, or without thinking about it for an extended amount of time. 
i tend to let things it sit for a few days.
however there are dangers with this sort of methodology. 
such as: losing momentum and passion for an idea (on your part, or on that of the short-attention-spanned viewer), having a message come across too premeditated, and the one i think i most often might be guilty of: forcing an idea out that isn't meant to be out there because of guilt you feel in having spent so much time on it... because surely it's meant to be, simply because of all the time and thought you've already spent on it. 
such tends to be my thought process.

which is somewhat reflected in the article from this quote: 

"Technically speaking, it works. Does it work for me emotionally? No, because I’m not the kind of person who likes to do things so fast. I think if I had more time, I would reject more things, and bring other ideas or concepts in. But that’s also not necessarily better. Sometimes you can work things to death when you take too much time."

and so there's a balance to be sought.
as with all things.
i just hope i can stick with the pursuit of that and not embody this overwhelming issue that i am also so familiar with...

"Everything is so easily accessible, and because of that you don’t make a lot of effort anymore. When we were young, you had to make up your mind to investigate something — because it took time. You really had to search and dig deep. Now if something interests you, one second later, you can have it. And also one second later you also drop it."

a few more thoughts i had on these words can be found here.

Noisy Quiet

in

this is from a post i re-came across on my tumblr the today (yes. yes i tumblr. yes i write moody things on there that i don’t put here. you can perceive that however you want) from the summer of 2014.

it fit my mood so perfectly this morning, as i woke up in the early hours of the beginning day, before the sky brightened and the birds woke up.

i’ve evolved into so much more of a morning person, ever since the start of my twenties, and even more so now that i’m in the middle of them, and the noisy quiet is a perfect depiction to why i’ve come to love them so.

it's not very quite here.

there's thunder and leaves rustling outside that window, folk music playing from a corner, someone cooking in the kitchen, and air shushing through the air vents.

there's coffee steaming in a mug, candles flickering and static filled carpet under my sock clad feet (because noise is also visual).

there's quite a lot of noise. but nevertheless it feels quiet.

it's calming noise, these noises. i've never really thought about noise evoking quiet. but these do. 

it's in this kind of quiet, when i'm very still, that i most easily remember who i am and where i'm going.

things that are easy to forget in the midst of other noises. 

i wish i didn't forget these things so easily. but sometimes i do. 

so i'm grateful for moments like this one to redirect me. 

i'm grateful for this noisy quiet.  

Two Camps

in

there is so much going on in the world today and there are seemingly two camps in regards to addressing it.

the one: to ignore it which would be to selfishly turn a blind eye to the pain of others and our ability to try and begin to help and heal it.

the other: to address it which often invites overwhelm and despair in the recognition of the depth and breadth of the pain and suffering and hurt that is going on, which can often be so paralizing.

nevertheless the various topics on my heart, heavy with their weight, are ones i feel as though i go back and forth between these two camps in.


neither of our languages can reach it.
yours or mine.
 

however my hope is not in that of this world. 

which some see as naive, idealistic, and ignorant.

however i see it as the opposite. 

i wouldn’t know how to begin to function and be any semblance of “okay” in the world if i didn’t have that hope.


regardless, i pray for all that is going on in this world and just hold onto a dream that we can learn about and remember the things that are important, one of which above all is love.

Intimacy Lost

in

it’s a thing we downplay.
linking our souls to another’s.
for that is what you’re doing when you willingly join the intimate dance of a relationship.
when you choose to be vulnerable, a consistent kind of vulnerable, with another person.
because it’s a kind of shared intimacy that you only experience with one person at a time. 
sometimes even one person in a lifetime— should you be so lucky.
it’s an experience that often escapes words.

to show yourself, all of yourself, to another person in such a way, i don’t know that there’s a braver thing you can attempt as a human being. 
i’ve only truly, fully, done it once.
and it was something i took years to recover from once that intimacy was broken.
it isn’t a rare thing, most of us have been to this kind of depth with another soul. it isn’t always romantic either. for there are many ties that bind, and not all are made up of one kind of love.
and yet, we scoff and scorn the overwrought heartbreak of those of us who’ve gone there and have to come back.
we encourage the pushing-under-the-rug of the emotions and the reckless-quick-remedies of the sloppy mending of denied broken hearts.
we roll our eyes at the repetition of admonished pain, and tearful late night calls of confusion of the once-again laments of “if-how-why-when’s”

it’s not encouraged, this kind of process of grieving.
“get over it”
we say.
“there are more important things to focus your energy on”
“they don’t deserve your tears”
“it happened, but it’s in the past, let it go”
“there’s someone better out there for you”

but a healing is in order to properly let something go.

to let something go fully, you have to know where all of the pieces are.
otherwise you’ll continue to find them, scattered about, probing you back into the pain of a low-light reel of experiences past.
no, you have to gather all of the pieces, examine them, understand them to the best of your ability, and those you cannot, you come to terms with. 
and then, once they are all in your arms, once you have grieved a thing once whole, you release the pieces then, and only then. 
for prematurely doing so isn’t a full healing.
drowning the pieces with tears and whiskey doesn’t help (though for a night or two in the interim it might…)
throwing the pieces off of cliffs and into seas doesn’t help
trampling the pieces under your rage and fury doesn’t help.
running away from the pieces doesn’t help either- though that is the one most often tried.
it’s in the gathering, the cherishing, the knowing, of each sacred piece, of each experience, each memory, each circumstance in which you were brave. 

you were raw

you were open

you were honest

you were daring

you were loving

you were you

and celebrating that. 
celebrating the fact that you were a strong enough being to do that, to be that, to trust like that but that now, your strength is needed in a different way, it’s needed to let go.

that is the remedy for intimacy lost.

Transparent

in

trans·par·ent

transˈperənt/

adjective

adjective: transparent

  1. (of a material or article) allowing light to pass through so that objects behind can be distinctly seen.
    "transparent blue water"

i want to be that.

i want to be transparent.

because that’s what i want to be a vessel of:

l i g h t