Kiting play to keep it dry and spirits high

Though I made an early start this morning, I had to spend most part of the sunny and windy morning inside. Still mucking my Augian Stables and filling the public paper bin. While Willemien is not seeing any progress made - only still big piles of paperwork - maybe orderly arranged now, but what’s the use of that, when you should throw it all in the mega trash bin. She cannot see what I am retrieving out of a total paper chaos, after being removed five times between three homes and four rooms. I’m really happy to have the opportunity to get order in this old mess.

I’ve found back a forgotten part of myself. Meanwhile I know that it will work liberating to leave this past and MariB has rightly remarked: “Your past work is not forgotten...someone, somewhere picks up the sword…even in another part of the world, that voice of reason is heard and passed on. Someone saw those papers and someone has passed them on.” That is a consoling thruth, thankyou. We realize that in some way we have to continue to rage against the dying of the time and the destruction of the earth. And that we need to play with our friends, as MariB says.

So every day anew we find/create that room to play, that intermediate or transitional space - as Winnicott called it - where we are invited to leave all these ego-centered purposive thoughts, and feelings, interests. You all know what I mean here, because this magnificent mega-photo- exposition shows a manifold of unique personal ways to find openness and access towards creative flowing - formless form - and looking into separate realities with eyes of invisibility and sharing its outcome with others.

For me it happens in my playing with the sea, the river spirits and the forest fairies, always unintentionally sur-rendering myself into an ongoing natural play of light and energy, a rhythm moving on from somewhere deep inside a dynamism of intertwining presences and absences. In which gratefully “I” happen to participate.

Again this afternoon I fully experienced that, barefoot in the surf, meeting wild waves, showing their weird mouthy shapes, you can see elsewhere. But the photo we choose may tickle your imagination: a multi coloured field of kiting players, walking or standing at the other side of the surfline. How do you try to keep it dry and spirits high?