I love what this post says about hope, how it arises from multiple directions, often not obviously linked, but cohering, not explicably, except maybe in art, a painting or in the artistry in this, the making of a post where quiet and exploration matter. Thank you for the question about quiet. It made me think hard about what I do, and by doing that, I discovered some things I hadn't known about what I do. I too stare. At clouds. At trees, - the way light moves on leaves, and sometimes if I have the Concert Programme on, the way trees and wind meet and deepen the music. I realised how much I do this, and how, until your question, I've berated myself for wasting time, not-getting-things-done. I like 'falling' as the verb for this. But more, it's the quiet that falls into me, changing the way my body is, so there's a kind of falling both ways. I'm so glad to learn this. So much hope in just that. Thank you dear Kirstie.
I love the idea that the wind and the trees deepen the music. And the hope we can find in just starting at clouds and trees. Yes, I hadn't realised how the needed-quiet rests there in our attention to the movement of leaves. And ah! The quiet falling into us. Oh, that is so very beautiful Carolyn. Thank you.
I love the memory of meeting the visiting Japanese lady being “like talking to a glowing ball of light”.
What to I do to fall quiet?
There are so many different silences. But one quietness comes and goes when I walk. Walking for long enough seems to water it and gradually it grows: my mind talks less, listens and looks more, and focuses on care in placing feet, breathing a bit better, and when and what the weather might be about.
Thank you Steve. Yes, walking - this is so true, that quiet arrives on the path at some point, in the trees and the dunes, in hills. The tuning in. Thank you for this.
Another beautiful contemplation, thank you Kirstie. I love the sound of your art study group - if there is ever a space, I would love to join! I find myself falling quiet when I walk the same walk, sit and watch birds, deadhead the flowers, hear the sea fill my ears...Also those moments when painting when I stop asking what, why and how and leave the brush to move paint around.
Thank you so much for these thoughts Liz. Your ways to fall quiet remind me of my own ways, an attention and gratitude to these sacred and simple daily movements into stillness. I love the let-go of allowing the brush to move. Let’s have a chat sometime about the group, maybe you could start another one? I think it would be amazing to have many such art-book-study groups!
I love what this post says about hope, how it arises from multiple directions, often not obviously linked, but cohering, not explicably, except maybe in art, a painting or in the artistry in this, the making of a post where quiet and exploration matter. Thank you for the question about quiet. It made me think hard about what I do, and by doing that, I discovered some things I hadn't known about what I do. I too stare. At clouds. At trees, - the way light moves on leaves, and sometimes if I have the Concert Programme on, the way trees and wind meet and deepen the music. I realised how much I do this, and how, until your question, I've berated myself for wasting time, not-getting-things-done. I like 'falling' as the verb for this. But more, it's the quiet that falls into me, changing the way my body is, so there's a kind of falling both ways. I'm so glad to learn this. So much hope in just that. Thank you dear Kirstie.
I love the idea that the wind and the trees deepen the music. And the hope we can find in just starting at clouds and trees. Yes, I hadn't realised how the needed-quiet rests there in our attention to the movement of leaves. And ah! The quiet falling into us. Oh, that is so very beautiful Carolyn. Thank you.
I love the memory of meeting the visiting Japanese lady being “like talking to a glowing ball of light”.
What to I do to fall quiet?
There are so many different silences. But one quietness comes and goes when I walk. Walking for long enough seems to water it and gradually it grows: my mind talks less, listens and looks more, and focuses on care in placing feet, breathing a bit better, and when and what the weather might be about.
Thank you Steve. Yes, walking - this is so true, that quiet arrives on the path at some point, in the trees and the dunes, in hills. The tuning in. Thank you for this.
What do I do to fall quiet?
I stare at the sky or the sea
this was beautiful Kirstie, as always. the tenderness in your words touch a tenderness in me. thank you
The sky and the sea - yes - I do this too. Thank you Toni for the resonance of your words.
Another beautiful contemplation, thank you Kirstie. I love the sound of your art study group - if there is ever a space, I would love to join! I find myself falling quiet when I walk the same walk, sit and watch birds, deadhead the flowers, hear the sea fill my ears...Also those moments when painting when I stop asking what, why and how and leave the brush to move paint around.
Thank you so much for these thoughts Liz. Your ways to fall quiet remind me of my own ways, an attention and gratitude to these sacred and simple daily movements into stillness. I love the let-go of allowing the brush to move. Let’s have a chat sometime about the group, maybe you could start another one? I think it would be amazing to have many such art-book-study groups!
A chat sounds great! xx