secret gardens

“the secret garden” (1993) is one of my favourite films. i love the idea of the garden as a symbol for our inner, most private and rich, selves.

(and the idea of sharing them. or not. is important to me as well.) 

i am wondering though, if i’m interested in gardens at all. i am interested in flowers. but when one is interested in flowers, one must be interested in flowery communities // and isn’t a garden just that? a community of plants. 

 * 

i have forever been trying to create space, a space. i’m not sure for whom. a space to share things — no, to gather things. let all the things i care about meet one another. 

(also just a space to not forget.) 

i always thought i needed something new, a new place to begin again. but i’ve decided i’m just going to use this space, this blog. a bit old-fashioned maybe, but other platforms/ social media just don’t work for me. modern life is too quick, there’s too much — i need slow, soft, quiet. i need nature and paints, and poetry (in all its forms and ways). 

i guess this is an introductory post. right in the middle of it all. 

(it’s summer, outside. not-the-right-flowers in bloom, the trees aren’t full yet. but it’s warm, not yet nine a clock in the morning but it’s warm. it’s lovely, a dream, but i also worry so hard about the summer that’s coming and all summers after this one. they seem to grow. i wish the world would calm down a bit.)

the poetry of space

i went to see the sea. it has been years since i saw the ocean and it’s been too long. i need empty horizons. it is so interesting how place and landscape work deeply into our being, soul even.

our relationship with landscape

how we don’t care about our surroundings equals us don’t caring about ourselves

/ but that’s not what i’ve been thinking about, lately.

i’ve been thinking about the sea a lot, the coast. our waddeneilanden. winds and clouds. their paths. seeing them come, watching their movements, development. shadows on water, waves.

the poetry of space.

all that ‘nothing’ that allows me to wander and wonder and watch. see.

it’s fields and oceans, for me.

when i wander around in my current surroundings i see so much destruction. i can’t imagine there’s less destruction near the coast, in the ocean, even though there seems to be less going on; everything is hidden beneath the waves, where air and land give way to water, salt or sweet, engulfed by another element.

but something about the immensity of the ocean, its currents and waves, its movements, its connection with the winds and the moon, makes it feel like a force that cannot be controlled, will not be controlled. and that gives me hope.

like the skies.

these are my homes.

*

i went to the sea and swam. well, barely, the waves were high and strong and i was mostly being tossed about but i was in the sea for a bit. it was heavenly.

i now miss the sea more than before. but that is ok. (i think.)

16 november 2022

it's not about reinvention. it's quite the opposite, actually. it's about clearing away everything that is not mine.

in some ways it feels like all those years ago, when the body felt like nothing, like it would move away with the winterwinds;

i went for walks and everything was realer than i was. i was not invisible but i wasn't real. 

it does not feel like that now. it feels like i was so heavily buried by so much onzin, nonsense. i couldn't get away from it. until something had to move, away away because i couldn't anymore.

(i don't care about visibility.
but i am not invisible. that is not real. 

i wish to be more real.)

*

my thinking feels restricted. i don't know how to change it.
i'm too literal, can't get away from the surface. i think it's my own fault; it's my own fault, for moving away from the things that move me.

going in circles.

why not take my love and hold it.
why not try to get to the center of the love. i care so much about certain things but have not yet found a way to make that care more real in the day-to-day.
it's not just my thinking that feels (/ is?) restricted. 

maybe it's this never-empty horizon. i miss the higher spaces i am so familiar with. the depths of visibility. the air moving on and on and on and i'm not there to witness it, it all.