GRIND//GROUND: when a plan takes a turn
tangential trajectories // body + rock
I am experimenting with writing shorter work-in-progress posts here. A mouthful rather than a whole meal. This is in support of my committment to making and sharing work within smaller time frames, that can be digested more easily. Playing with form to allow for freedom and movement.
Tangential Trajectories: body//rock research.
In the skin-softening heat of last Wednesday, I packed a bag with snacks, a flask of rose tea, a large chilled water in insulated metal and a stash of books, pens and laptop and headed out for the day.
My initial destination point was the quiet museum cafe in Narberth. With it brewing to be a scorcher the villages along the coast would be full of basking and milling visitors.
Today was a day to go inland. Not wanting to sit indoors for too long and seeking that novelty and stimulation this brain so avidly requires.
The gentle bump of energy needed to kickstart its motors can be found in more subtle pursuits these days as I become more aware of its subtle whirring and workings.
There is an art to choosing a place to work outside of the house. Akin to an Olympic high jumper finding the curve of their run towards the pole. The legs rocking back and forth, the kiss to the heavens, the flex of the arms as they prime their core and limbs to propel forwards and up, up, over, flipping calves and ankles free on the downward arch.
Museum bound I go, thick-headed from a disturbed night’s sleep. Driving the few miles up, up and over the hills, flipping away from the streams of visitors heading down to sea level.
The final crest greets me, as I knew it would, as I had daydreamed about through the morning of staccato faffing of bringing together the things needed for the day (you don’t think I packed that bag seamlessly and precisely do you?!).
The dusky haze of the Preseli hills to the north greets as an old friend, up, up and above the valley and town, away from the frenetic hum. Change of plan. No question. No deliberation. That’s where I’m heading today.
There is a seeming paradox here.
The need for novelty, for stimulation, for something new to motivate and inspire me to move on with the tasks at hand, and yet the tender fizz of feeling overcooked from the previous day’s exertions and light sleep in hot sheets means a different flavour of connection is required. That of rocks and Skylarks and whatever else might greet in the hills today.
As the traffic thins and the roads become narrower my shoulders soften. The buzz of cattlegrid under wheels. Shorn sheep and angelic white ponies flipping their tails against flies in roadside bushes.
Pulling the van into a small lay-by the smell of sweet dry grass and the tractor hum of haymaking welcomes. Tightly bound stacks of winter snacks for hungry cows.
A sweet and soft sigh of gladness escapes my lungs for this decision to switch things up, touched with the awareness of fossil fuels to get me here and the dissatisfactory edge of rural life requiring its use.
The next couple of hours are spent sitting cross-legged on the rug looking out from the sliding door at the back of the van. The basket of books. Snacks and drink containers lined up for sustenance.
Nature is my Ritalin, at once soothing and stimulating.
As words and ideas begin to bump up against each other in my static bones, I feel the need to move my limbs.
The summit of this hill is inviting. There is a cluster of rock I am longing to visit.
Summer dressing is not my forte. This body does not enjoy tight clothes and too hot skin in busy places with other people. But out here in the hills, with few witnesses other than the sheep and heather bushes, there can be less self-consciousness.
Fewer moments of pulling down that bit of fabric, or pulling that up, and concerning with the belly or the thighs, baffled by this bosom and its social requirement to stay under wraps.
Breathing heavily and relishing the muscular flex of the climb I greet the alarm call of ground-nesting birds with a quiet reassurance.
Soon arriving at the low forest of slow-growing lichens atop rocks.
Flesh meeting stone.
Bone meeting rock.
Moving alongside, on and with.
This is today’s dialogue.
I leave stretched, dusty and sated, whispering a thank you to these bold, boulder, boldest of friends.
-KJ
✺ g e n t l e a t t e n t i o n ✺
A warm thank you to everyone who entered the NATURAL INK raffle in support of the splendid Glasbren’s Crowdfunder. The winners have been notified and the NATURAL INK. prizes will be winging their way to you very soon.
Glasbren raised over £42,000 which is utterly excellent. This money will be put to such good work. If you are in the south/west Wales area (or further afield) and would like to join a volunteering day, or a community event, would like to sign up to the veg box scheme reopening next year, or would like to stay in touch with their news to see about future developments, the Veggie Love Newsletter is a gentle and nourishing joy.