9.24.2008

heart. solar plexus. navel. repeat.

the other problem of being single: not having someone to warm your feet each night. i abhor cold feet when trying to fall asleep. and it's beginning to turn winter already so that not even my flannel sheets make a significant difference on the icy exclamation points at the end of my legs. i put the heater on in the bathroom for the first time today before my morning shower and space heaters have manifested themselves in the foyer to be taken upstairs for their winter residence. the season is breathing down my neck.

one of the pieces that really stood out for my in the inspiring impressionism exhibit i saw this weekend was a dutch {?} painting of a winter landscape. there were a few ice skaters in the scene. a small village. lots and lots of grey sky. it was a monochromatic piece of brown/grey with delicate line work and sweeping space. standing in front of the piece i felt like winter.

what a lonely season. we wind up our windows, keep the doors closed, our bodies inside and bury ourselves in layers. it's isolating compared to the stripped-down and naked-armed freedom of summer.

and somehow the painting had it all.

thinking back to my experience in front of the painting i realized that i experience the seasons in specific parts of my body. spring and summer ride on my shoulders curling around my heart. i feel open and light. autumn moves down to the cavity just below my rib cage and seems to extend behind me to all the other autumns before. it's a nostalgic season of endings and internalization. winter moves down farther still to the space just behind my navel. a little black hole of hibernation and potential energy that shoots up my body and back into my chest as soon as the first warm{er} day has come. repeat.



currently listening to: radiohead on shuffle - {the songs that stand out - fog, down is the new up, like spinning plates (kid alive)}

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

You know, winter doesn't have to be lonely and locked away. Undoubtedly, winter is the more introspective season. However, one could argue winter requires us to be more alive and alert. Summer is so easy. Winter can be a struggle. Nothing lets you know you are alive more then a fight.

nathania tenwolde said...

i've been mulling over this since you sent it.

from what i know of you {admittedly it's rather a vague picture} your answer seems indicative to how you move through the world. and not just the fact that you obviously like your snow sports and the fun of the season, though i think those things are evidence of the same.

in contrast to that, i feel the most alive when i'm in those heightened states of effortless being. like the moment in sigur ros where the sound completely enveloped me and for a second i'm riding this wave of euphony and not even aware of the boundaries between myself and this concert hall full of sound. these moments are bliss and are about flow and i imagine it to be like surfing. and yet, getting there is a journey to reach that state and it often times is a struggle. particularly in artmaking.

and i think perhaps what you are saying is don't fight the struggle to get to these moments of aliveness? it's vivid living and part of the journey.

i do know this to be true. {i jokingly said about a month ago that the day there are no longer any walls to scale in myself, hand me anti-depressants} but thanks for the reminder.

i'm buckled in, winter. here we go.

Anonymous said...

"and i think perhaps what you are saying is don't fight the struggle to get to these moments of aliveness? it's vivid living and part of the journey. "
Yes. I was also saying that it is inevitable. Struggle is a part of life. Humans are dualistic in nature. There is no pleausre without pain. Momnets of struggle (and the journey) make the pleasurable moments more so. Of course, everyone deals with struggle differnetly, and what is best for one is not best for everyone. however, i believe the majority of people who succeed and/or are happy don't deny the neccessity of struggle. I try to revel in hardship, and knowingly approach it in the un-zen like way of head-on. Though i am aware of the idea of being like water (shapeless), i feel more comfortable and confident being... a blunt hammer.

nathania tenwolde said...

Your responses always force me to mull over them for a few days. not that i don't have an immediate response, but it's like i want to sit back and find the other ways the ideas you present can be seen in my life.

the first thing that strikes me about the way you approach things (not to be too overly symbolic): a blunt hammer, head on, aggressive, etc...those all seem really masculine traits. :} I do tend to aim for a more fluid approach, more embracing which I see as more feminine. Part of this approach is my greatest weakness: i am too accommodating. Don't stick up for myself enough. Take away my voice. And part of that is my biggest inner conflict: my desire to be in control and to understand everything. If I accommodate, I have the feeling of control, even if it's to ignore what I want. I derive my sense of safety from that and unhealthily so.

Actually, what i'm running up against in class right demands a similar resolution: I need to just let go, be okay with things being where they are and trust the process. I keep trying to analyze exactly why i do/don't say or think something and it's just not helpful. The conflict is the internal process of letting myself be okay with not knowing the answers and being okay in this state of discomfort. All very helpful as an actor.

Going in a full loop, I gather you are really good at the snow sports - physical ability aided by your head on approach to life. Snowboarding has always been a little bit of a challenge for me. I've only been three times, but I just have this need to be squarely in this place of comfort and safety all.the.time! which is not conducive to (again) trusting and growing in the process of learning and making mistakes and in the end improving and having fun.

Ha. trust is coming out as a bit of a theme here. Realized last week I generally don't trust men. eeek! didn't think i was one of those women. My consolation is that my ex (and still a best friend) said immediately after the realization: we haven't given you a reason to trust. He's one of the main exceptions of men very close to me that has never betrayed my trust....Anyway, not sure how these relate, except that I think I always assume the worst will happen or something....act out the certainty of my inability to be right or on the right path....hmm....need to think on it more. The common theme of trust is a glaring red flag here and I believe the way we do the little things are an indication of the way we do the big things.