Wednesday, 27 February 2008

On parade for the big YES

Post bath. I’m sweltering. The apple-pear on which I am sporadically gnawing is calving huge, sticky droplets that are threatening to ooze onto the blue couch covering. One more mysterious tear, a sweet and tender fading ghost.

Lyrics from Conscious Life for Coma Boy are humming numbly, coaxing these words from me in the soothing tones of a mystic who knows he‘ll never be remembered: “I don’t know how to get there, I don’t know how to get there.”

The last couple of weeks have been good. I think it started with my flat warming, when I cooked up a storm. I made ridiculous things that took so long to finish, but it was strangely freeing. My body remembers things even when I can’t; it immediately took to the calming feeling of slowly crafting something, of easing it into being with kindness and curiosity.

Even now it is exactly midnight and I should be going to bed. But I’m not tired and it is better for me to write this than to sleep. I’ll sleep enough tonight. Despite my desire to put it all down however, I am struggling. This feeling I have at the moment, one so positive and hopeful. But more than that. Staunchly vigorous. Believing. Awake. Determined. Passionate.

In just two weeks I have seen two plays, attended my first book club, my first writing club and sat in on another writing event. In just over a week I’m off to a poetry night, followed by a comedy gig, then it’s Iron and Wine in May (Glasgow!) and two more plays. If I’m lucky I’ll see Tom Mcrae in April as well.

It’s like I had forgotten to breathe, for all of these years. Really breathe, deep and long, instead of the patchy creative panting I’ve lamented through, blaming myself, doubting myself. This feels like the beginning, somehow. The beginning of pure pleasure. A gala of vision, of movement, of freedom.

I am blessed at the moment to be in close contact with a lot of people would are undergoing a sort of creative regeneration. Signing up for courses. Writing books. Starting new jobs. Planning extended holidays to far away lands. All this fresh enthusiasm is rubbing off on me, the friction sparking ideas which spend all day multiplying inside my brain. Finally, I think. Finally - ideas. I have felt nothing for so long. I’m overwhelmed right now, ready to join every cause, hoist every banner, sing every song. Just let me at them! My love is a force. They’ll never be able to say no.

This isn’t about casting away any responsibility of consequences. This is intention that has been purified like dark water through moss, an intricate, lush process that never reveals all of its workings. Intention is the key. I feel it - sly conviction looped with innocence like silk ribbons around pussywillow buds.

I want to give this feeling to everyone I love. I want to bellow encouragement to every creative soul. This is the beginning of the big YES. Draw it with your bodies, sing it in your minds. Yes, yes, always yes. You see, how this little chant can clear a path? Ha! Just like that. Yes!

1 comment:

ps pirro said...

You came to visit me at Crooked Mile, and now I've found your captivating writings, and I'm so glad for it. I'm bookmarking so I can return when I have time to read more. Onward...