another place

[A cop-out, related piece(see 'a start') - one I prepared earlier!]

I found a place that is calming and exciting, intimate and challenging. Evidently, I found an extraordinary place, though not the place I sought.

For days beforehand, I had imagined the colourful, theatrical sights, the musical sounds, the happy throngs, the carnival atmosphere. I knew the Edinburgh Festival street theatre would inspire the first assignment of my writing course.

But, on the anticipated day, I found myself in a dark, gothic cityscape; where torrential rainwater cascaded down steep cobbles and black granite rocks. Few people were braving the elements of that early morning. Those who did scurried headlong, clutching umbrellas like weapons; not smiling, nor music-making nor dancing in the streets.

To escape the ‘great outdoors’, I grudgingly approached the National Gallery of Scotland, a grand, imposing building, housing still, hushed, empty places – no carnival atmosphere. But inside this forbidding palace there are intimate, welcoming spaces with narrow, spiral staircases and warm-red walls that gently envelop us small persons wandering amongst vast artwork. Lifelike and abstract portraits vie for my attention, challenge me to be mindful of them, to look at them for a second, third, fourth time, startled by streams of new discoveries. Memories of my own familiar world are altered and enriched as I am caught in instants of other lives. Centuries, lifestyles, power, gender, age and race do not come between us.

I envy a 17th century Dutch boy, totally absorbed in the moment as he blows on a firebrand to light a candle, captivated by the brilliant flame in an intense darkness. An 18th century French boy is an acute reminder of a contrasting childhood experience; he is a boy with a lesson book, so clearly wishing he was elsewhere. A 19th century farm labourer’s daughter stands up straight, alone in a cabbage field, looking so directly at the viewer, at me, that I feel I know her or that she is me. A 1979 portrait of a contemporary icon is in a very different style; it is a loud and bold picture, but equally empathetic and moving as she is immediately recognizable and, despite the bright image, there is a strong, unnerving sense of a troubled life and sadness.

Time flies in this spellbinding ambience. I hurry to see one last portrait, “Rev Robert Walker skating on Duddington Loch” at the turn of the 19th century, a gallery highlight. The Reverend seems in no way troubled or distracted like other subjects who gripped me. He, according to expert skaters, is performing a difficult and sophisticated manoeuvre, but appears serene, refined and pleased with himself in a wild, inhospitable landscape. I leave this gem of a gallery with this reassuring image; as the sliding exit doors open, a row of glass-etched images of the skater glide effortlessly before me. I feel uplifted by my unexpected experience and by the dazzling sunshine now flooding through a break in the clouds.

cynefin

To do at dawn [see 'a start']:
Article idea: An autobiographical account of how an unexpected event a year ago radically altered my perception of time and consequently my appreciation of a woodland and shore that have become my ‘cynefin’. [a place in which I belong]
Introduction: Examples of sayings related to time – many of them contradictory and indicative of our ambivalent attitude to time and its passing. Brief explanation for change in my approach to time.
Main body: Description of how my ‘cynefin’ has elements that are constant and elements that are ever-changing. Instances of how the ‘constants’ are incorporated into comforting routines and how ‘changes’ are sources of wonder. Sketches of the changing landscape, wildlife, tides, weather and lives in this remarkable place.
Ends: A look at the rewards of opportunities to live ‘in the moment’.

Autobiographical Writing

"‘Autobiography’ Berger writes, ‘begins with a sense of being alone. Yet…All that interests me about my past life are the common moments. The moments – which if I relate them well enough – will join countless others lived by people I do not personally know.’ His aim is not an epic recital but the catching of what is ordinary and commonplace, and yet no less mysterious for that. Berger here is acknowledging one of his fears. He is almost afraid to write autobiographically because such writing implies a kind of loneliness, and loneliness, is to him, as to most of us, something we secretly dread. Autobiography is too private, too personal. No one will understand or feel any connection with what we say. How can we make contact with our readers? Memory, where the focus is on each of us privately, can make us feel alone, uncomfortably so, like children in the dark when the footsteps recede. We are alone, so what do we have to say for ourselves, about ourselves, to others? Berger confronts this fear, and we know that he intends to deal with it carefully. If he relates them well enough, those private moments will join with other moments lived by his readers, and this for him is one of the aims of autobiographical writing: it is to find a way of writing, remembering and speaking which will break down the barriers that separate writer from reader or listener, so that both can begin to inhabit a common space; so that, in effect, the footsteps will return."

Mills, P. (1996) Writing in Action. London; New York:Routledge.

A start

Here I go. I'm not going to find another reason to avoid this. What is this anyway?

This is a stab at capturing new and unexpected ways of being experienced this year. As a 'must do' person for the first 54 years of my life, I am still surprised and delighted by, and a bit shy of, the 'be in the moment' person I am getting to know.

Since I wrote the lines above I have taken a look at some of my recent autobiographical musings. I want to put them away again. But, one day I will use them on this blog. One day I will get up at dawn, my high energy time, and create the posts.


In the meantime, I am blogging some related pieces. A copout of sorts - but also a start of sorts. Hope you agree!