petrabrown.me

creative expressions. thoughtful ideas.

[petrabrown-me]

“Midway upon the journey of our life I found myself within a forest dark, For the straightforward pathway had been lost.” Dante I first encountered these lines ten years ago, in the final year of writing my PhD. It seemed to perfectly fit the process of trying to write my way to thesis submission. More recently, the lines have returned to me. Or rather, I have found myself again with a sense being ‘within a forest dark’. The digital collage is also inspired by Munch’s Woman in Three Stages (1895), which explores the archetypes of maiden, mother and crone - deeply shaped it is said by Munch’s own difficult relationship with women. The crone is the old woman, who in various versions throughout his art is dressed in black, and begins to take on the appearance of a corpse, as she seamlessly seems to blend into the dark forest. Her reproductive and sexual functions have ceased, and she has no further place in the world. To me, the experience of menopause (which is now coming closer in my horizon) is yet another journey ‘within a forest dark’ for women, who are often treated as though they are now superfluous to society. They no longer hold the promise of budding sexuality, as ‘young virgins’, nor the full sexual flowering of the mother, who brings new life into the world. These themes run throughout Munch’s representations of women, to which he returns, again and again. I find myself conflicted when confronted with Munch, and his portrayal of women. To be judged only by one’s reproductive functions is a terrible thing, and yet - when one is judged for years precisely by that measure, the dark forest also offers a measure of release. For who knows what a woman might do, keeping her own company in that dark forest? No-one knows, for there is no-one to cast judgement. And so she might finally be left alone in that forest, to become whoever she wants to be, unconstrained by the demands of her reproductive capacities, or the need to control the sexual desire that ‘inconveniently’ accompanies every woman’s reproductive system. For now, I’m still wearing my red cloak. But I wonder, when the time comes, will I find “myself” at last in the dark forest? https://www.instagram.com/p/CZjcT2uPwEe/?utm_medium=tumblr

[petrabrown-me]

From “Terns” and “Where Does the Temple Begin, Where Does it End” by the American poet, Mary Oliver. I came across these two snippets of poetry in a short video that randomly appeared in my Youtube feed: “4 ideas for a more creative 2022” by an artist, Ian Roberts. One of the ideas was to “pay attention to your artistic and poetic vision.” This is where he referred to these lines by Mary Oliver. Then he said something like this (paraphrased): both of these quotes speak to the spirit of the artist, of really seeing the world, believing in it, being arrested by it, and finding some way to give personal expression to what you have seen. I was arrested by the message in these words, as I have been reading Rod Michalko’s book, “The mystery of the eyes and the shadow of blindness”. Michalko writes that neither the artist, not the blind person, can forget the visible world (it is impossible) but in a sense need to do so in order to be able to depict the world ‘artistically’. Both the artist and the blind person “confront the difficulty of discovering both their world and their depiction of it [...] It is never ‘easy’ to capture the world artistically or to live in the world without seeing”, writes Michalko. For artists and blind persons, seeing cannot be taken for granted. For others, writes Michalko, “seeing is easy” because most people are “satisfied with seeing whatever there is to see”. I take this to mean that in accepting what we see, we are reassured that the world is as it is; there is a satisfaction and comfort in relying on sight in this way. What both Roberts (via Mary Oliver) and Michalko point to is the act of paying attention to your vision (both literally and metaphorically). This is important in ‘seeing’ the world - not necessarily as it is, but in the meaning of the seeing that emerges from within, as a subjective expression back into the world, in “looking with arms wide open”. I love how you can be doing a completely trivial activity (scrolling through YouTube), when something suddenly catches your atttention, and serendipitously connects to half-forms ideas that have been meandering their way around the corridors of your mind. https://www.instagram.com/p/CY2P39Fv-Qh/?utm_medium=tumblr

[petrabrown-me]

“When we follow our bliss, we are met by a thousand unseen helping hands.” Joseph Campbell 
I came across part of this quote reading through week 3 of Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way. She makes reference to “a thousand unseen helping hands” (attributing this to Joseph Campbell) and then describes creativity as a “tribal experience”, in which “elders will initiate the gifted youngsters who cross their path”, something connected with synchronicity, or “a fortuitous intermeshing of events” (via Carl Jung).
When I read the phrase “a thousand unseen helping hands”, something else came to mind. Something much more embodied and real - the many hands that I have seen and experienced, felt on my body, touched in turn with my hands. It brought to mind the many ways our hands connect us to other people, whether through direct touch, or a ‘helping hand’ that acts for others in some way. It is often the many acts of helping on behalf of others that are ‘unseen’ - not in a mystical way as though universe somehow aligns with our desires, but in the way individual people choose to help another, even without receiving recognition, or without ‘being seen’. 
I think teaching in all forms (which is actually also a type of tribal experience) is often also like this. We don’t know the impact of our teaching on others, whether in the moment or years later. Healing professions, whether they address the physical, mental or spiritual needs of a person, can also have deep impacts that can unrecognised. 
And too there is something about the sheer diversity of human hands in all their expressions that testifies to a plurality in the “thousand unseen helping hands”. I think this is really beautiful. Just as no two hands are identical, so the helping hands that we encounter are diverse, and we should not presume to make judgements about any hand that is offered to us when we are in a time of need. Nor should we assume that a ‘helping hand’ always looks a certain way (I.e. just like mine!) 
Just some thoughts that came to mind when I read this quote that I wanted to explore in a digital collage and a few scribbled ideas.

[petrabrown-me]

grandmother trees 
steadfast sentinels 
eyes no longer bright, 
wisdom brings its own insight 
ample girths, 
scarred from bearing new life 
and hopes and dreams of others, 
not their own 
some, 
rent in half 
enduring with a spine of steel 
yet, soft curves remain 
echoes of a youthful, hopeful past Julia Cameron recommends a weekly artist date with your creative inner artist/child. Effectively, quality time with yourself, set aside to nurture your creative consciousness and a time to develop ‘self-intimacy’. I love that term, as it implies coming to know yourself, even in the face of resistance against some self-disclosure. She writes in The Artist’s Way: “It is probable that these self-disclosures, frightening though they are, will lead to the building of a real relationship, one in which participants are free to be who they are and to become what they wish […] In order to have a real relationship with our creativity, we must take the time and care to cultivate it. Our creativity will use this time to confront us, to confide in us, to bond with us and to plan.” I find this a powerful (if not also challenging) incentive to take up the artist’s date idea. This week I took my inner child-artist to the local botanic gardens, as it is currently the most COVID-safe environment in my local area. It took a while of wandering (and wondering) along the paths of the garden, in order to leave the adult-self with all her pressing concerns behind, and to listen to the child-artist within. She noticed the bottle trees, like grand old dames, guarding the entrance to the garden. “Brachychiton rupestris” my adult self would later tell her - a member of the Malvaceae family. Commonly known as the Queensland, or narrow leaf, bottle tree. It’s a succulent tree, as it retains water in its trunk. In warmer climates, they can grow up to 15 metres tall, but remain much smaller in South Eastern Australia. My child-artist did not know or care for these facts - and noticed instead the rotund bellies, the deep scarring, the peering eyes, and the voluptuous curves. So I shrugged my shoulders and watched as she played with the “grandmother trees”.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CYVFBp_vdYu/?utm_medium=tumblr

[petrabrown-me]

“Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.” It seems poignant that this was the quote on my daily calendar for the Christmas weekend, on the very day that Desmond Tutu died. Photo taken earlier in the year, the view from my mother’s potting shed. I had stayed to care for her plants and ponies. She needed to be with my brother who was undergoing neurosurgery. I don’t think the window to the west has ever been cleaned. But the sunsets are all the more spectacular for it. I was reminded of hope then. Now as 2021 draws to a close, I’m hoping for hope as we await the arrival of a new year.

[petrabrown-me]

I am is the ‘power to fix my own word on myself’; it’s ‘a power that leaps over the succession of hours and days to determine the future now’, writes Alphonso Lingis, in his essay reflection on the words ‘I am a ...’⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

‘When she says “I”, she impresses it upon herself, and her substance retains it. With these words, she takes a stand and faces ahead.’⠀

I hear these words, as though they were addressed uniquely to me.

To say ‘I am’ is to speak my own being into the world. The ‘I am’ directs my thoughts and my deeds, and presences my being in the world. ‘Our word I’, writes Lingis, is ‘the first and fundamental way we honour ourselves’. And servile are those whose words are not their own, or ‘she who is not in her actions’.

Reading Lingis, I am reminded of prioritising my own ‘I am’. How I struggle with these two small words.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

My writing is powerfully self-revelatory. It is as though the words themselves determine the direction. My hand clutches the pen, but the words themselves are in charge, seeking life and expression into the world. I find my mind racing to catch up to these words that create their own ideas. They’ve emerged from me, somehow. Not because I ‘made them’. Rather, they overflow from my presence in the world. They emerge through me, but I cannot claim either agency or ownership.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

I know that I am most present to myself and in the world, through writing. I am fully present in my action, as I write. To write is to practice presence, and my writing testifies to my presence in the word, and in the world.

And so the most difficult ‘I am’ of all...⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

I am a writer.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

[petrabrown-me]

Set myself a challenge to cope with Iso Life - 44 days of finding something beautiful in the everyday. Day 44!!! Sun salutations at dawn, accompanied by Howard Shore’s Evenstar. I knew I could work in Lord Of The Rings for the final day of my challenge. 😁

[petrabrown-me]

Set myself a challenge to cope with Iso Life - 44 days of finding something beautiful in the everyday. Day 43. Is there anything more beautiful than a glass of wine after am alcohol-free month? Smashed sober September and hello October 1st!

[petrabrown-me]

Set myself a challenge to cope with Iso Life - 44 days of finding something beautiful in the everyday. Day 42. On this very day in 2019, I was on my final day of my 43 days exercise challenge. What a beautiful memory in my photo feed. 😊

[petrabrown-me]

Set myself a challenge to cope with Iso Life - 44 days of finding something beautiful in the everyday. Day 41. Amazing moon tonight. Apparently the halo is caused by high altitude ice particles. Image credit to Ye Olde Melbourne, via Reddit. No way could I capture this with my ageing iPhone. 😊

[petrabrown-me]

Set myself a challenge to cope with Iso Life - 44 days of finding something beautiful in the everyday. Day 40. Evening walk at dusk in the neighbourhood. Yes, you can have the joy of Christmas lights all year around.

[petrabrown-me]

Set myself a challenge to cope with Iso Life - 44 days of finding something beautiful in the everyday. Day 39. Difficult to pick a favourite speech from Lord of The Rings, but Sam’s speech seems very timely during a time of global pandemic. “Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer.”

[petrabrown-me]

Set myself a challenge to cope with Iso Life - 44 days of finding something beautiful in the everyday. Day 38. Short meditation 🧘‍♀️ tonight, listening to “Spiegel Im Spiegel” by Estonian composer, Arvo Pärt.

[petrabrown-me]

Set myself a challenge to cope with Iso Life - 44 days of finding something beautiful in the everyday. Day 37. Maya Angelou reads “Human Family” poem, accompanied by amazing photography. ❤️

[petrabrown-me]

Set myself a challenge to cope with Iso Life - 44 days of finding something beautiful in the everyday. Day 36. “Freaky Beaky”, our little Kakariki parrot enjoying some freedom out of his cage today.

[petrabrown-me]

Set myself a challenge to cope with Iso Life - 44 days of finding something beautiful in the everyday. Day 35. The color and texture of the paperbark tree.

[petrabrown-me]

Set myself a challenge to cope with Iso Life - 44 days of finding something beautiful in the everyday. Day 34. Whilst driving, I caught a glimpse of a recently reopened playground, full of children playing ... watched over by masked parents. Those last words would have sounded ominous six months ago. Instead, after months of restrictions, an active playground is a sign of resilience and hope in a world where adults are trying to find a way through into a new normal.