knitted feelings
Forehead against robustly knitted sweater
it's autumn, but noone is wearing jackets.
Stepping out into the morning where the world is made new
everything in the same place yet we're radically different.
We rock against each other as the metro sways through the city,
forhead against sweater.
I am aware of my body for the first time
keeping his steady as he does mine.
I breathe his unpronounced promises for the last time
If we stay really still while the city flies by, anything could happen.
How else do you explain that we're here?
When we say goodbye someone whispers 'this is real life'
and then he is gone.
Knit one, purl one. Anything could happen.
Even a revolution becomes rudimentary
In so much of what I have been reading and learning lately, a common theme seems to be taking shape.
The contrast between incremental change and burning things down to start over.
Of course I see this in politics all the time, and with increased polarisation it has become abundant.
It is so seductive, the idea of complete reinvention. Of throwing everything out; the bathwater and the baby,
to build something completely new- radical- on a perfect idea.
In a world of instant pleasures and very little discomfort...
- have we lost sight of the value of hard work and incremental change?
We rage and call for the dismantling of everything, instead of doing the work needed.
A click for the revolution instead of signing up to create a better world together.
Brexit, Trump, the anti-trade movement, the anti-EU crowd, the surge of anti-establishment parties...
But maybe this holds true on a personal level too. I am not patient.
My favourite Sunday pastime is to compose the perfect way of living
and pretend that on Monday I'll cut the chord and reinvent my everything.
Mostly, I know that I will never get to the things I put into brackets, bullet points and concentric cirlces. Sometimes all I want is the freedom offered by imagining a completely different life.
But my dreams of revolution make it more difficult to start and stick to new habits.
Despite knowing whatever life I design would absolutely depend on me creating those new habits.
Recently, I started experimenting with watercolors.
Not counting my kindergarden years, I am a complete amateur in this pursuit which makes me a little uncomfortable. Ever the overachiever, I bought tutorial books and started following artists that inspire me.
Little did I expect the bliss of being a beginner to be so pure.
How liberating to dip the brush and not know what will happen once it lands on the paper.
Watercolors are a great teacher. There’s no right or wrong, only curiosity, slights of hand that turn into tiny explosions of color and a sense that everything is in its right place. I am sure in time I will get better, my confidence will make me think differently about the process and I will be able to translate some dreams onto my paper. And maybe this is how it feels to trust that incremental change and persistant habits are what really changes the world. That it all starts with me picking up a brush and sitting down to learn.
Eventually, even a revolution becomes rudimentary.
and patient persistence will be all we have left.
Wouldn't you rather be ready?
