So, more than two months have passed since my last blog and what have I been doing? Readjusting to life in the UK after being in Australia and Hong Kong, wondering what comes next and finding no answers.
Really, none at all.
And then this morning I rose at 5 a.m. to meditate. In the deep stillness of early morning I finally realised that this 'not knowing' (also known as floundering) is as much a part of the creative process as anything else. I'm unsure whether to repeat what I've done in the past or whether to sharpen up my receptive faculties and see what arises. I've decided on the latter and will wait for as long as it takes.
The stones project has never been about speed - it moves with the velocity of a snail and now is proving to be no exception. Floundering is only uncomfortable when I'm pressing myself to move forward and expecting something to happen. Waiting for the next instructive dream, or an idea that rockets me into action. But there is no idea for now and no dreaming, apart from one small glimmer of an A-5 book of stones and stories.
Beckett had a lot to say about waiting. Various railway companies also have a lot of announcements to make about waiting. There are waiting rooms and waiting times, people who wait on tables in restuarants, waiters and waitresses. Ladies in waiting. Artists in waiting. I am waiting on something and have no idea when it will arrive.
Meanwhile then, I am returning to play, something that has been almost edited out of my life over the past couple of months. I'm painting again, writing little things of no consequence, staring at blank walls and dreaming. Lying in hot baths until I'm wrinkled like a prune. The only thing of note, at least the most interesting thing of note, was the liberation of a lobster on the 20th December. Since then, lobsters have begun to crop up all over the place. I'm not sure what this signifies - although it's probably something fishy and profound - so if you have any ideas please let me know.
Until the next blog, I wish you all a magical new year.