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Tuesday 5 November 2019

Mingling. Riffing. Images. Lyrics. Prose. Poised.
I like the single page approach.
A piece of writing. A photo. Sometimes both.

Letting Go
I'm still sifting through the compost, the dust and decay of decades and letting go of things, becoming lighter, a lightness of being. And. Seeing. The light of day.

So much of my stuff is on shelves, stored, archived.
I'm vaguely working towards making a worktop so that I can spread things out, a landscape to explore, rather than stacked on shelves, a mountain to climb. I'd rather wander than climb.

Running became dancing, became working, became writing, teaching and photography. An approach, my attitude became what it was about. Doing wasn't what it was about. It was about my attitude to doing. This is what I vaguely held onto from that experience of thinking about running in my teenage years, and later with dancing, although I think the alcohol and cigarettes blurred my perception. And later going to college shifted everything, an earthquake of consciousness.

I like the idea of picking, plucking, a line from a song, a poem, from anywhere, and riffing off that.

And strangely, and these thoughts and feelings resonate with a film I made at college in 1979, 'to see ourselves' - which was about 'ways of seeing' ourselves seeing. I still have the slides from that film. Be interesting what I will make of them now, maybe to arrange and re-arrange them in another way.

A little morning practise. A landscape of being. This awareness. Noticing for a short while, a moment. Things melt, float, only becoming solid when I shift my perspective and name something. I go back into this open landscape of consciousness for a moment, letting things go, letting be, just being. This, for a moment, a practice. I'm still arranging, sorting, sifting, taking things to the charity shop, letting go, raking over memories, spreading things out, slowly, rearranging. Gradually orienting towards making flat surfaces for doing things on, rather than shelves for storing stuff.

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