“All we have to decide is what to what to do with the time that has been given us.”
— Gandalf in The Fellowship of the Ring, JRR Tolkien
When I discovered this weekend that all the files, the folders, everything I had written, and all the images too had disappeared from my laptop — I thought of the writer who told the story of coming down to her studio one morning after a storm, and saw the rain pouring in through the roof. After some moments of sitting on the stairs with her head in her hands she said to herself: First, I will write. Then I will figure out what to do with this roof. So here I am in my studio, beginning again with pen and paper. I am thinking of the title of my upcoming online class, grain of hope, and all the videos I prepared that have disappeared. This loss coincides in my mind with the growing sense of chaos, dread and danger for our world.
Nonetheless, I am even now beginning to feel restored by turning my attention to the inner world, and writing to you. What is the constant that holds us, the you that remains beneath every change and disaster? How long has the moon been disappearing and re-appearing, while orbiting this earth and witnessing every flood, fire and storm? The scientists estimate 4.5 billion years…
Online Course: Images from "Speak to Me from Everywhere"
Someone said that to not hurry is rest. We all need, as Gottfried Pott said, time under protection of the muse. How do we do this remotely? The paradox for me is wanting to design a course through this screen that sets up a structure for you to work, for a while, without any screens, watches or interruptions. My feeling is that this is a deep need, and essential to creativity.
My first online class is complete, and made possible by all you adventurers out there who decided to jump into this experiment. I am deeply gratified by the sense of participation that was palpable throughout the week.
Each day we worked, through writing, with a different principle of landscape. I want to show you some work from students.