Life has been a whirlwind lately and my heart and mind have been running wild amidst all that there has been to see, do and learn.
Seasons like these create both brilliant and dangerous paths to wander down at times and so I’m slowing my steps and measuring my breath to bask in the beauty of the former and guard carefully against the latter. I want to slow long enough to hear my heartbeat and to ask myself questions deep enough to uncover the undercurrent guiding my thoughts and my becoming.
In those moments, I’m reminded of how I love the quiet, unassuming beauty of the slightly undone, the worn, the well-loved, the mild chaos that shadows creativity and passion. Surely, it’s in these slowed moments that we’re reminded of who we truly are. And those moments can be gloriously, beautifully messy sometimes.
I love that when I create floral arrangements, marble and wood become strewn with foliage, shears and petals. I love that when I paint or calligraphy, the edges of my watercolour paper curl slightly under the weight of splatters of colours and diluted mixtures tested and tried. I love that when I write, my thoughts and words end up intertwined with threads of the poetry and prose I’m trying to draw out onto paper and screen. I love that when I bake and cook, flour dusts my palms and salt crystals sparkle on ceramic, clay and even the tiles beneath my feet.
I’m always looking for those moments. Those moments where we feel safe to make a mess, to try and to fail. To take something and turn it into something new. Because, more often than not, in the undoing, something filled with beauty and kindness emerges.