I don’t rage against the dying of the light in a Scottish Autumn. I like putting on lamps in the afternoon and seeing into people’s windows from the bus; stealing details for stories. I relish the warmth of the house in contrast to the new chill outdoors.
I’m letting the idea that, ‘what’s in the way is the way‘ guide my creativity since hearing it on a podcast. It’s illuminated a lot for me about further tuning victim narratives into survivor stories; I’m enthralled with the empowerment born from simple cognitive adjustments.
Read more about #52and40 here.
Sometimes, when we’d really like someone to change, we can be willing them on and unknowingly blocking them.
Anyone I’ve known who ever changed (including myself) did so because of a big shock; a lambasting, gargantuan shock of the hand grenade in the mind variety; the type that obliterates then rewrites whatever went before.
Willing someone to change isn’t enough. Stepping out of a space to allow change to happen is, perhaps, a gesture of acceptance and hope.
And gently freeing yourself from the barbed wire is an act of love.
To read more about #52and39 click here.
I’ve been thinking a lot about framing, about context and how things can simultaneously be different things to different people, depending on how experiences are framed.
Sometimes Edinburgh feels like The Truman Show. Boat times on Eigg were like that too. Ritual and repetition are framed scenes in touristy places, I guess.
A good view nearly always has an amazing, sometimes understated frame. Layers, texture, colour and cross sections sing to me when I’m trying to understand places.
I think it’s the same process for choosing cake – senses lead, recognition follows.
To read more about #52and39, click here.
The yellow on the wall there is my favourite colour. Ever. I love yellow. But I don’t love Gorse. I got caught up in one day when I was wee. It hurt. Lesson learned: all that is gold may glitter [but can also hurt in that way where you silent scream at first, eyes wide in horror, so shocking is the pain].
Gorse is a big feature in the natural Scottish landscape. I’ve had to learn to see its colour and let that shout over the top of the bad memory.