Sunday, 8 July 2012

Inspiration - where does it come from?

I've been thinking about what inspires us, how it presents itself and how we process it.  I'm going to share this picture that resonated with me the other day.  It's probably a good one to use as I haven't analysed it yet.  I wonder what it is about certain things that grab our attention.  What I found fascinating about this photo, is the fact that the body without the face attached is quite simply, dull.  The life is in the face.  Some commented on the fact that it seemed disturbing, but I felt that the soul or the mind was elsewhere.  Her body still carries the earthly trappings and trimmings, but her face was suggesting the enjoyment of a different plane entirely.

I think these odd things are in us all, which is why there's a frisson of something when we see them.  An ability to recognise a concept that runs deeper than everyday life.  It's amazing what the brain takes in in a few short seconds, too.  I calculated that the girl was happy and comfortable, she was warm, the breeze was mild.  There's probably the scent of flowers in the air, perhaps the scent of coming rain.  It spoke volumes, and much of this inner dialogue is impossible to put into words.  It's sensations and feelings - distant ideas and timeless memories.

So what do these connections wake in us?  There's a multitude here, if I could find plenty like this I would be pleased.  I am designing a deck of tarot cards, and would love to use images that speak to the very root of me.  It's made me think of painting, poetry, dance, music, and collecting things of a theme to see what I draw from that.  It's certainly a good way of relating how I feel about fibromyalgia.  There are days when I'm happier 'away from my body' which hurts constantly.  I think myself into a small holiday and give myself respite.  This is what I think the girl is doing.  So out of this photo, comes this poem.

The world is noise,
phones cars sirens talking.
nothing worth hearing.
The body is pain
pins knives cudgels
no sensation worth noting.

I think of the dark sea, the rocks, lighthouse.
My face peels from my head,
it's etheric layer floats up.
The lights in the channel blink, in turn,
my legs disappear as I feel the sand under my toes.
My neck evaporates in the soft breeze, I taste salt on my lips.

I'm gone, the physical body is static,
Like a mannequin, waiting for my return.
Symptoms on hold, I run, I am the wind.
I lie in the water, fly over cliffs, hide in the trees.
for a while....then

Back to world....back to body.




3 comments:

  1. I like this greatly, Jules! You have articulated something that I feel often. Sometimes, it feels I am just a thread away from divorcing myself from everything and just running away. Thankfully, I recover myself and just get on with it.

    I love the image, and the way you have described it.

    Kat

    P.S. If I could remove some of your constant pain, I would shoulder it. Truly.

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  2. Your analysis of the picture is so profound and the poem is wonderful. I can't even find the words to express what this post evokes in me.

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  3. Thankyou both, Kat you've put a lump in my throat. I've I had the money, I'd buy a plane ticket just to come over and hug you!
    Mum, I'm imagining that's good, as an eloquent person you're not often lost for words. :D

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