Showing posts with label flowers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flowers. Show all posts

Friday, 6 November 2020

The Wild Nun: The Path of Illness

For a few short years I thought I knew the path I was walking. 

Now, that time of grace long gone, the way is not so clear. 

I keep walking anyway. 


* 

Every now and then there appear bright spots in the gloom, gifts from Source that bloom into being, and my wellspring fills and then overflows. 

These blessed moments nourish my dark depths during spells of creative and spiritual drought, those unavoidable elements of the climate of chronic illness.
 
Waratahs in the mist


Words and images from my Instagram project @the_wild_nun

Tuesday, 20 October 2020

The Wild Nun: Foundations

I am starting slowly, from a low-to-the-ground place.



*

The future grows from the ground of the past —

The past is mother to the future, to possibility, while it holds us steadily, solidly, in the present —

It is the foundation that cannot be denied —

Only honoured and shown gratitude for the many lessons that push us onwards towards ourselves.

Tree, Merrion Square Park, Dublin, July 2005

*

If it is the journey and not the destination, then it is the longing and not the attainment.


I must tend to my longings, feed them, encourage them to grow from the ground of my being, so in turn they nourish me.



*

It’s not easy being a late-bloomer, often a complete non-bloomer, and occasionally dying right back down to the roots to spend time hidden and safe in the underworld, to get some good old composting done before the next furtive emergence.


The world is not always understanding of such changeability, of an adherence to inner seasons that cannot be tamed and forced into production on demand.


It’s not easy but I can’t be rushed. I have to take my own sweet time dancing with the invisible.



Words and images from my Instagram project @the_wild_nun

Friday, 3 April 2020

Beauty for Strange Times

A few weeks ago I felt a strong call to withdraw from social media and to turn within. I was looking forward to the pursuit of quiet, slowness, and inner work. 

Then the pandemic crisis escalated and many of us were forced into some form of isolation. Though social isolation is not unfamiliar to me (as I am sure is the case for many people who live with chronic illness or disability), it felt wrong to cut myself off from the world. As torn as I am about the value and healthiness of the internet, I can see that it’s performing an important social function in these uncertain times.

And paradoxically, now that I am actually forced to stay at home, I feel as if I’ve been called back into the world, and I’ve been paying all the more attention to beauty. I’ve been sharing quite a lot of photos on social media, of birds, and the moods of the mountains, as well as quotes and art and things I have made.

So I thought I’d leave some of those images here, as gifts for anyone who is online, looking for beauty, and some respite from the anxiety of these strange times.


The potent medicine of water: for calmness in turbulent times … and ducks!




Superb fairy wrens: a female; and a male growing into his adult feathers.




Beautiful morning skies.


Little garden beastie (an eastern water skink) making the most of the autumn sun.


A strange line in the clouds.


Mountains, and mountainous cloud formations.


It’s mushroom season!



A watery start to April.




Mountain devil in flower.


A satin bowerbird who was a little annoyed at me.


And cockatoos, looking smug as always.



Friday, 15 November 2019

Memories of Spring

Since finishing my last painting, which I thought was returning me to a more sustained state of creative flow, I have not been able to do much. Another painting was begun, but then abandoned. Another idea was scribbled into my sketchbook, but has not progressed. Susan Griffin’s quote about the illusion of wellness has never seemed more apt.

The imagery and words that had started to spill out have now retreated within, tangling inside me, with no outlet, no freedom. Such are the seasons of illness, I suppose. I must simply endure, and wait.

Still, I can at least share with you some memories of spring …

A silver-eyed Australian raven.


Reading my story published in the second volume of Heroines, from the Neo Perennial Press.



Showy blossoms and new green.



The beautiful fabrics I bought for (yet to begin) sewing projects.


Mist on the mountains, and the pitter-patter of rain—particularly sweet memories in these dry and dangerous days of fire around the state.






Two red wattlebird chicks, waiting patiently for their next feed.


This handsome little man, strutting his stuff—a superb fairy-wren.





A fast growing wattlebird chick feeding herself from one of the thirteen waratah blooms we had on the bush in our front yard.




Expansive skies.


And sweet little gifts.


It looks like a long, hot and very dry summer is ahead of us. Rain would be most welcome, but in its absence I will keep seeking what small, succulent gifts I can find.

Thursday, 20 September 2018

The Greatest Gift: A Poem

The Earth returns me to myself
By taking me out of myself

Bassian (Ground) Thrush (May)
Pied Currawong (May)
King Parrot (June)
Whipbird (June)
Eastern Spinebill (June)

Eastern Yellow Robin (June)


Superb Lyrebird (July)
White-browed Scrub-wren (August)

Heath Banksia


Hairpin Banksia






Laughing Kookaburra