creativity

Day 870

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For all of us who aren’t sure, it is possible to be Christian/Hindu/etc and gay.
It’s also possible to believe in God and science.
It is possible to be pro-choice and anti-abortion.
It is equally possible to be a feminist and love and respect men.
It’s possible to have privilege and be discriminated against,
to be poor and have a rich life,
to not have a job and still have some money.
It is possible to be anti guns and still believe in one’s right to defend one’s self, family, and property,
it’s possible to be anti-war and pro-military.
It is possible to love thy neighbor and despise his actions.
It is possible to advocate Black Lives Matter and still be pro police.
It is possible to not have an education and be brilliant.
It is possible to be a devout follower of Islam and also suffer at the hands of terrorists.
It is possible to be a patient and a healer at the same time,
To be sane and insane, all at once.
It is possible to be different and the same.
We are all walking contradictions of what “normal” looks like.
Let humanity and love win.

(Inspired by Cynthia Stamm Clark)

Butterflies are Us

Art, healing and unifying us.

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Day 868

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Last year Si brought back a large packet of tulip bulbs from Amsterdam. Special pots were bought, gravel and compost lovingly layered, appropriate spots chosen. The planting happened at the end of December last year. Si and I have fingers of all colours except green. So, we waited for absolutely nothing to happen but to our utter delight, little shoots appeared last week.

The days are longer. The air is lighter. The light is brighter. One season has gone making way for another. Daffodils are raising their pretty heads and trees are sprinkled with white and pink blossom. Meteorolists worry and blame global warming for an early spring but I am happy. After many months of being cooped up in a cup-board, a blue linen dress found its way out into the fresh air this morning. First one this year!

Today is the 20th anniversary of PAPYRUS. We celebrated it as a group of 80-90, discussing the past, present and future of the charity, extending support to each other and sharing ideas about increasing the reach and impact of the work we do. For me, it was a day of hope.

“If I knew to convert
even this day’s riches?
Be content with articulation
Of Earth’s wisdom:
One state must have its duration;
Produces from itself a second;
One state and then another
Leading to an end I cannot presuppose.”

  • From ‘The Mystical verses’ by Joseph Maning, a gifted poet who delights people with his works on the Southbank.

Ref:

https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2017/mar/01/northern-hemisphere-sees-in-early-spring-due-global-warming

Day 867

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Kooning
(The Attic, by William de Kooning)

In the 1920s, a Russian film director, Lev Kuleshov filmed a male matinee idol staring in turn at a bowl of soup, a young girl in a coffin and an elegant lady reclining on a couch. The actor got rave reviews from the audiences on his ability to effortlessly evoke hunger, grief and desire in the film. What they did not know was the fact that the director had used the same shot of the actor each time, just cut to each different object.

Humans have an innate need to impose order on the world. If we are presented with disparate images, we will try to assemble them into a meaningful order. It we are given a bunch of jumbled unrelated words, we will try to arrange them into a sentence that might mean something.

In the mid-twentieth century, Wiiliam de Kooning emerged as one of the pioneers of Abstract Expressionism. His art is known to put brains in a tizzy, desperately trying to order and make sense of the shapes within. Faces? Animals? Semi-clad human forms? Women? Doors?

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(The Excavation, by William de Kooning)

Maybe life is the same – unrelated images randomly juxtaposed, the human mind desperately struggling to make sense of them.

Ref:

William de Kooning: http://www.theartstory.org/artist-de-kooning-willem.htm
Kuleshov effect: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_gGl3LJ7vHc

Day 862

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He often watched ‘How it’s made’ on TV. He was fascinated with the process. Be it guitars, dream cars, ballistic missiles or bubble gum, he was intrigued with how things were made. In school he studied Design and Technology (D&T). As a project he had to design and make something in his last year at school.

Together we came up with the idea of a jewellery stand. We discussed the desired features, materials, shape and size and over time he refined the idea with the help of his teachers. A few months later he brought home this beautiful piece of work. He had managed to add a mirror, adjustable fittings and decorations to it. I was immensely proud. Another one of his many gifts! May be his finger prints are still on it, intermingled with mine. 

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(Saagar, slightly blurred, in the background in his school D&T lab)

Two hundred and thirty one children in the UK died of suicide before finishing school in 2015. Nearly 100 children aged 10 to 14 killed themselves in the UK in the last decade, according to figures from the Office for National Statistics (ONS). The more I look into it, the more my heart breaks. I am sorry if my writing has the same effect on you. It is such a waste! We are loosing our future to suicide!

 “There can be no keener revelation of a society’s soul than the way in which it treats its children.”   – Nelson Mandela

Ref:

https://www.theguardian.com/society/2016/feb/04/female-suicide-rate-in-england-highest-for-a-decade-in-2014-figures-reveal

Day 847

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My box…

“I will put in my box
A confirmation certificate
And words of praise for my bishop.
My husband’s compassion
And the heart beat of the sea.

I will put in my box
Chinese fire crackers that
Spit and spark at the devil.
Silhouettes of palm trees
And lightning during the monsoon.

I will put in my box
A teenage tomboy
Forever-happy climbing mango trees.
A far away memory of mother’s laugh
And a fisherman’s hook.

I will put in my box
Only good stuff
A glowing friendship and
A sweet cup of tea.

I will put in my box
My youth and
All the fun of the fair
With donkeys and candyfloss.

I will put in my box
The smell of my first baby
A lot of understanding
And a day in the New Forest in a church
Waiting to hear Dancing Queen playing on the organ.

I will put in my box
A guinea pig from long ago
So sensitive and soft,
Squeezing into a ball like a cat
An orange tree I climbed,
Scared of nothing and such rewards!

I will put in my box
The circus at Blackpool and dancing
Girls in swimsuits.
The smell of mango
And juice of young coconut.

My box is made of
Garden scents and music
With ribbons and buttons and all sorts
On the lid.
You can unlock it by wishing quietly.

I shall keep my box
High on a roll of thunder
And watch the dice
As they tumble down
An evening by the beach.

  • By a creative writing group of elderly patients with mental illness.

What would I put in my box?

I will put in my box
The infectious laughter of my young man
The warm embrace of my sweetheart
The healing touch of my mother’s fingertips
running through my hair
All the colours of autumn.

What would you put in your box?