Life on the Edge

A quick postscript to the last blog entry.

I awoke yesterday morning to snow in the hills in the Roaring Beach water catchment area. Across Storm Bay, the distant hills to the west (photo) looked like a wintry Colorado scene. Walking to the beach for my surf, there were white pockets of hail scattered throughout the sand dunes. Brrrrr.

Normally, I would be ecstatic over such a dramatic climatic event, with snow not seen this close to sea level in 19 years. Yet, the host in me frets over the contentment of any of my guests and I tend to worry too much over whether or not they are comfortable. 

Kabir or, perhaps Rumi, would say something like:

“When the guest is happy,
I am delirious with joy.

When the guest is unsettled,
my mood goes dark with anxiety.”

Occasionally, wet snow flops out of the sky onto the ground and quickly melts. Earlier, the only saving grace of being for my daily surf was that the water was warmer than the air—10C/60F versus 3C/37F. I probably looked a strange sight bobbing in the sea as the coldest day of the winter whipped up frantic waves.

But from my vantage point, when Melanie Mowinski came jogging down the beach at the end of her morning 10K run, she was the one that looked slightly out of place in what could only be seen as a rather bleak setting. Between us, we couldn’t decide who was the crazier.

Melanie, arrived from the East coast of America at the tail end of a very hot July only to be hit with a blast of Antarctic air just as she was getting over jet lag. Pity.

However, as a Windgrove resident artist, she does have a heated studio, heated accommodation and a very hot shower to turn to for solace. Besides, this is a return visit after being here two years ago so she knew what to expect. From paper making to book making to water-colours, oils and wood cuts, Melanie uses the natural environment as both inspiration and contextual focus as she attempts, like many environmental artists, to help heal the human relationship to the natural world. I greatly admire her willingness to use her talents to seek transformation of the public’s perception of the environment rather than using her art as a path to fame and fortune.

Part of me would like the weather to be soft, windless and warm for the comfort of my guests and I, therefore, cringe a little bit each morning when the weather is a tad on the bone chilling wild side. Then again, I also know that whatever weather gets thrown at Melanie, it is a tool for learning. Set in this landscape, a very important tool, indeed.

I think she is loving living “at the edge”.

Reflections #One

The reflected image of the Peace Spiral on the pond this morning as it seemingly caressed the Split Rock made me think of:

...those tiny events in our lives that have no firm basis, no longevity, yet are capable of filling our whole day with a solid sense of beauty or wonder. 

The multi faceted dancing spiral in the water disappeared within minutes, but in the moment I caught its form, it shot me up with enough joy to last through the morning and into the afternoon. I carried this image with me longer than I would have carried an image of the “real” spiral. Reflections of this sort have an element of magic within them that casts their own spell.

Reflections #Two

Here is a photo of the current Windgrove Resident, Louise Morrison. It’s somewhat out of focus image conveys a hint of the reflective quality she is in as she uses her time here to collate into a visual diary her year in countryside Japan as an apprentice potter.  She rereads an entry of four years ago and is transported back to the ever changing mountains, the balanced presentation of the exquisitely prepared food and the temple like quality of her existence among humble Buddhist potters living close to the land.

Is this a “true” reflection of what actually happened?

Does it matter?  Isn’t it enough that Louise is transported into a realm that is as real as she wants to make it?

For me, the hard reality is that, like all visitors, like the spiral reflection, like the flying rainbow of a hummingbird zipping into my life for a brief second before zipping off to who knows where, Louise will be soon gone.

Sort of. 

Che - painter, sculptor, photographer - has been a resident Windgrove artist for the past three weeks. Most of his days (and nights) have been spent working on a number of paintings, but during this time he also prepared on Roaring Beach a Prayer Pole for Peace. This past Saturday, just on dusk, with the lightest of drizzles wetting everything but our spirits, the Pole was set alight. Saturday, the 12th of March, was chosen over the 21st (equinox) because of its being just two days past the New Moon, a symbol of new beginnings. If there had not been any clouds, we would have witnessed the slenderest outline of the growing crescent moon: faith rewarded after a period of darkness. Hope kindled anew.

Che has written: The messages of prayer poles can easily be assimilated through any of the senses.   The intent and appearance provide an understanding beyond words and offer the possibility of intuitive comprehension.   In themselves the poles are ostensibly useless things. They do not obviously help crops grow, provide shelter or keep disease away. However, by constructing these poles within the community, the builders celebrate all living beings without anticipating personal gain.   The material offered by individuals is not in itself important. That it is of personal significance is the heart of the matter, thereby ensuring the fundamental integrity of the piece.   The poles depend less on what they actually are than on the degree of attention and compassion with which you join in the experience.

The burning of the Pole took only an hour, but it was the daily preparation and rituals surrounding its making that I found most rewarding. One lasting impression was being in the water on sunset just floating on gentle waves and seeing the then white pole strongly contrasted against the darkening green landscape. Later, as Che and I sat at its base tending the small fire that had been burning there throughout the Pole's making, the simple beauty of it all penetrated deeply. These moments of quiet reflection, whiffs of smoke drifting by, human art forms complimenting the aesthetic surrounds, purposeful intention of doing good: it all added up to something wonderful and life enhancing. May more people experience such encounters.

For twelve years the infrastructure at Windgrove has been slowly building. A week ago today, an inaugural group of participants arrived from America's Rhode Island School of Design to move the dream of Windgrove as a refuge for ecology and art into that of established reality. What transpired within the artistic souls of each of us during this intense, often emotional five day residency? Is it even possible to adequately describe what happened? Let David Whyte give a clue. Self-Portrait It doesn't interest me if there is one God or many gods. I want to know if you belong or feel abandoned. If you know despair or can see it in others. I want to know if you are prepared to live in the world with its harsh need to change you. If you can look back with firm eyes saying this is where I stand. I want to know if you know how to melt into that fierce heat of living falling toward the center of your longing. I want to know if you are willing to live, day by day with the consequence of love and the bitter unwanted passion of your sure defeat. I have been told, in that fierce embrace, even the gods speak of God.

Paulus Berensohn, the current Windgrove Refugee-in-Residence, has just completed this small batik with running stitches (approximately 35 cm/ 14 inches square). The title is: "The Current of Universal Being". When asked to pick a poem to accompany the photo of this work, he chose the following: "Variation on a Theme by Rilke" (The Book of Hours, Book 1, Poem 1, Stanza 1) A certain day became a presence to me; there it was, confronting me -- a sky, air, light: a being. And before it started to descend from the height of noon, it leaned over and struck my shoulder as if with the flat of a sword, granting me honor and a task. The day's blow rang out, metallic or it was I, a bell awakened, and what I heard was my whole self saying and singing what I knew: "I can". Denise Levertov

Until today, the only time I had ever heard any of Bach's Cello Suites being played was when Maurice Gendron's CD was in the stereo.

Late this afternoon, however, "life at the edge" took on a whole new meaning as Windgrove's latest refugee-in-residence, Tim Anderson, treated me to a solo recital of the Prelude for Suite No. 1. I think he was more blissed out than I, but nonetheless, using such a word as rapturous to describe how I felt would be an understatement.

Look carefully at the photo and there is a small fishing boat approaching. What reeled them in was a bow rubbing across strings on a wooden box. Blending with the sea air, the sea cliffs and the sea itself, a siren's call of rhythmic simplicity and warm seductive flow lured us all into believing that "This is as good as it gets".

Having flown in from America's east coast a week ago (Baltimore, Maryland) where he free-lances as a cellist in several orchestras as well as performing with the Live Wire String Quartet, I'm not sure Tim quite expected winter in Tasmania to be as stunningly beautiful as this.

If I have a secret hope, it is that a seventh cello suite might be composed in the next two weeks on these cliff tops and performed in Hobart at the Parliament House Vigil on August 19. If Tim can get fishermen to drop their bait, just think what might happen to our politicians determination to keep logging our old growth forests.

Up, up and away. Two weeks ago she came bringing sand angels, an athletic ability to jog through the landscape each morning, a mental ability to become Windgrove's Scrabble champion, a visual artist's keen eye and hand to put on paper what she experienced, and, a heartfelt desire to use her talents to bring peace to this troubled world. This morning, Windgrove's latest refugee-in-residence, Melanie Mowinski, began her long flight back to the east coast of America. May she have a safe journey.

May we all have a safe journey whenever we head off to new experiences.

May we all have the courage to walk on new lands and be brave enough to discard our notions of reality for a little while, at least.

May we all return home and love in a deeper way those with whom we live and work.

May we all return home.