Have you ever felt this way about your body? That it's threatening to punish you if you don't follow the rules? If you don't keep away from the private, hidden places? If you get too close to something deep within, be it a feeling state, an old injury or a forgotten action of a muscle?
You can honor the sign. And smile to yourself. Because while we all erect fences to try to stay safe in our bodies, to protect what we we've worked hard for like peace or comfort or independence or mobility (or, in this case, the unseen bison on the other side), the boundaries of the body and psyche are there for good reasons. And they CAN shift. With movement. With meditation. With help. With respect. With showing up over and over again. .
After months of endless photographing, developing and scanning, I'm so excited to present my final body of work. Entitled 'Miles Away', I've reflected a delicate story of the most beautiful little girl called Alice, observing her placement as a rural child in today's society.
My new plants have me thinking about the narrative potential in the dichotomy between "hope and fear". New seedlings bring such hope... the future is bright green, vibrant, young, eager, and healthy. Wherever a story is, a character can find symbols and messengers of hope, to be warmed and rejuvenated, spirit lifted, imparted with renewed vigor.
But into hope creeps fear. For my seedlings I wonder of the disease, bugs, a hungry rabbit, or worse still... neglect. What dark tentacles begin to pull apart the hope in your story? A wicked turn of events, a new enemy, a painful loss, an impure thought, or a supernatural power?
Will hope or fear win, and what lesson may be learned?
For more ideas and prompts for creative writing and roleplaying visit cre8opedia.com. .
The German - Part 2
I opened the door in lingerie with a Trappist beer from Bruges in hand; an offering to my German cohort. He stepped inside grinning ear to ear, dropped his bag and kissed me deeply. He smelled like warm earth and cool stone. His eyes were more green than I had remembered. Like smooth, sparkling orbs chiseled from granite. I was genuinely happy to see him. We immediately fell back into our groove of conversation; fingertips grazing gently on bare skin, dancing to the sound of our jovial laughter. It took one beer before we were naked, entangled in each other's limbs. We came at the same time and as he fell onto the bed beside me I giggled, face still pressed into the mattress. "Well that rarely happens," I remarked. He agreed replying, "We are synchro... synchronized? Is that the word?" Yes it is my lovely German, and my god how you destroy me.
'He suddenly remembered the tablets Ervinen had given him... the millers brain began humming almost instantaneously. The powerful neuroleptics flooded into his alcohol-saturated bloodstream.' The Howling Miller by Arto Paasilinna