I want to tell you a story. As I write these words, I have no idea what the story will be about, but I have my laptop open and my website page for blogging in front of me and I wondered how much of the Zentangle philosophy I could apply to another creative expression - writing. I'm so grateful to be able to do this and I thank you now for passing by to read it.
My four corner dots are to put a frame around my blogpost - I'm going to tell you a story. Dot, Dot, Dot, Dot I go in the corners.
Now for a string. It will be a swirly sort of string because I tell swirly kinds of stories, with more than a few twists and turns. I meander quite a bit, but now I've told you that, I feel I have laid down my string.
First part, first tangle. I haven't done this before so I will stick to the basics. How about a Crescent Moon-like start? This lends itself to a story that begins nice and solidly...with lots of ....and then, and then, and thens...like the auras around each 'moon'.
A man moved to a house in the country. The first year, he lived there and watched what grew on his land at different times of the year. There were several trees - some had almonds, some had figs and some had plums. The second year, he planted trees that would bear fruit, cherries, nectarines, pomegranates, more plums and more figs. And the following year, he picked the fruit and with the excess, he made jam. The next year, he planted nut-bearing trees - walnuts, more almonds and pistachios. Some of the trees didn't grow well but the following year, he managed to collect a good quantity of nuts to store and to eat during the next months. He didn't need to plant more trees in that year. He had to protect what was growing. He watered them and he tended them, providing shade for some and clearing space around others. . Organicall tended, watered, tidied and harvested, some from seed, some already growing. A lot of careful and repetitive work on a regular basis. He now has trees enough to provide him with fruit and nuts, to make jams, compote, nut milk, cakes and with spare to sell.
This first part is the story of my husband. He is Crescent Moon incarnate in the daily auraing of the tasks he does in our garden and land. The daily tasks he does of careful repetition are difficult to really appreciate until you step back and see the whole effect that the labour of love has created.
In the second part of my string, I will draw Hollibaugh. Long lines stretching from one space to another, in layer upon layer. Lines that can curve, disappear, reappear. Where there is always a risk of crossing another line - no mistakes, right? But lines can be crossed and when they are, all we can do is make the best of the situation. Sometimes, we think we know where the lines are going - and then they surprise us. I have put down three strong Hollibaugh lines in my life. They are my children.
My children began their lives following the lines I laid down for them, but over time, they have begun to follow their own paths. Sometimes, they disappear into their own worlds and I wait to see them re-emerge again and I wait close to the original line, where I expect to find them. Occasionally, their new lines are slightly off the ones I expected. I can't control this - and sometimes neither can they. Together, we have had to build some Bronx Cheer when the lines didn't quite meet up or didn't stop soon enough to avoid stepping over another line. And the good thing is that when we step back and view this from a distance, usually a distance of time, we see that we did good by adding something extra, something different, taking remedial action, accepting and dealing with a 'mistake'. Some lines we leave crossed because they are deliberate - they are a statement and that is OK too. There are some crossed lines that take more time to manage in the right way. Occasionally, a line goes off at an unexpected tangent and we fear it will not work out well. And yet, it does! It has found its own way and proved that some other instinct is at play that has nothing to do with the maternal. It needs space to create a new pattern and lay down new lines and somehow, it's clear that it will be absolutely fine. Let well alone. And sometimes, the Hollibaugh lines tranzend everything. They change all other lines into something new with a creativity and a determination so strong that we must look again at everything we thought we knew. And this is the story so far of my children.
Part three. Printemps, always Printemps. My story. I swirl around. I do one swirl, then start another. I've been doing this all my life. For a long time I could have described myself as flippant, irreverant, sometimes careless, inconsistent, self-centred....a lot of negative words. It's maybe stretching the truth to ascribe how I view myself now, to Zentangle. It would be a good story but it wouldn't be truly. Yes, it's changed my life but it hasn't changed me. This swirling image goes back a long way. Let's limit this Printemps link to the period of my working life when I often described my job as plate spinning. It was an essential part of the work, to have many projects on the go at any one time, to know when to run off and give a neglected or slowing one a quick spin. Keep things alive, keep things moving, manage a variety of things at a time. I was in my element to be honest. A nightmare for some, never knowing what might come crashing down but equally exciting to see, from time to time, something sprouting wings and flying off on its own. And above all, I believe I always had time for people. The most important thing. Time to talk, time to have fun, time to listen. Spiralling around has so many advantages. Look at things from 360 degrees, for instance. Stop from time to time and allow the sparkle to shine through. Step outside the line and unravel a little, within reason of course and always with the option to recurl! There are hidden depths to Printemps. Never assume that the ones on top are the same size as the ones underneath or that the coil has the same tension. Yes, Printemps can shine brightly but those spirals contain a lot of ink. Printemps can be centre-stage, cheerful, self-contained or spill unfettered into other sections. It teams up with other patterns, fills spaces where there are gaps, changes shape and dimension when required. I aspire to be like Printemps. It's enthusiastic, adaptable and cheerful.
My fourth and last part has to be Florz.
We walk the ground and expect to find it solid beneath our feet. Florz. Floors. Cool tiles. Sometimes we find it rising up and billowing out like a balloon and we slide to the edges and into the shadows. How many times have we confidently stepped out onto what appears to be solid ground, only to find ourselves falling? Florz can also be a net that lets things pass through to the unknown below. But a net can also hold us safe, lift us up. Florz is the pattern that links the other three together in this basic story. A way to pass from place to place. A link between the parts. A moving pattern that can provide the necessary give and take, or be the firm ground we sometimes need.
I've written my Zentangle story. My name is all over this piece. I have tangled and shaded each section and now I will step back and look at it again. Do we appreciate everything in our lives as we appreciate Zentangle? Can we accept each part with understanding, gratitude and uncritically? Not always easy but focusing our attention on the important things helps to create deeper understanding. Knowing when to stop is perhaps the hardest thing...when to leave things alone. And to show a yourself a little appreciation.
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Quiero contarte una historia. Mientras escribo estas palabras, no tengo idea de qué se tratará la historia, pero tengo mi computadora portátil abierta y la página de mi sitio web para bloguear frente a mí y me pregunté qué parte de la filosofía Zentangle podría aplicar a otra expresión creativa: escritura. Estoy muy agradecido de poder hacer esto y te agradezco ahora por pasar a leerlo.
Mis cuatro puntos de esquina son para poner un marco alrededor de mi blog: voy a contarte una historia. Punto, punto, punto, punto Voy en las esquinas.
Ahora para una cuerda. Será una especie de cuerda en espiral porque cuento historias en espiral, con más de unos giros y vueltas. Me refiero un poco, pero ahora que te lo he dicho, siento que he soltado mi cuerda.
Primera parte, primer enredo. No he hecho esto antes, así que me atendré a lo básico. ¿Qué tal un comienzo similar a Crescent Moon? Esto se presta a una historia que comienza agradable y sólidamente ... con muchas ... y luego, y luego, y luego ... como las auras alrededor de cada 'luna'.
Un hombre se mudó a una casa en el campo. El primer año, vivió allí y observó lo que crecía en su tierra en diferentes épocas del año. Había varios árboles: algunos tenían almendras, algunos tenían higos y otros tenían ciruelas. El segundo año, plantó árboles que darían fruto, cerezas, nectarinas, granadas, más ciruelas y más higos. Y al año siguiente, recogió la fruta y con el exceso, hizo mermelada. Al año siguiente, plantó árboles con nueces: nueces, más almendras y pistachos. Algunos de los árboles no crecieron bien, pero al año siguiente, logró recolectar una buena cantidad de nueces para almacenar y comer durante los próximos meses. No necesitaba plantar más árboles en ese año. Tenía que proteger lo que estaba creciendo. Los regó y los tendió, proporcionando sombra para algunos y despejando el espacio alrededor de otros. . Organicall tendió, regó, ordenó y cosechó, algunos de semillas, algunos ya en crecimiento. Mucho trabajo cuidadoso y repetitivo de manera regular. Ahora tiene árboles suficientes para proporcionarle frutas y nueces, para hacer mermeladas, compotas, leche de nueces, pasteles y repuestos para vender.
Esta primera parte es la historia de mi esposo. Él es Crescent Moon encarnado en el auraje diario de las tareas que realiza en nuestro jardín y tierra. Las tareas diarias que hace de repetición cuidadosa son difíciles de apreciar realmente hasta que uno retrocede y ve todo el efecto que ha creado el trabajo de amor.
En la segunda parte de mi secuencia, dibujaré Hollibaugh. Largas líneas que se extienden de un espacio a otro, capa por capa. Líneas que pueden curvarse, desaparecer, reaparecer. Donde siempre existe el riesgo de cruzar otra línea, sin errores, ¿verdad? Pero las líneas se pueden cruzar y, cuando lo están, todo lo que podemos hacer es aprovechar al máximo la situación. A veces, creemos saber a dónde van las líneas, y luego nos sorprenden. He puesto tres líneas fuertes de Hollibaugh en mi vida. Ellos son mis hijos.
Mis hijos comenzaron sus vidas siguiendo las líneas que les puse, pero con el tiempo, comenzaron a seguir sus propios caminos. A veces, desaparecen en sus propios mundos y espero verlos resurgir nuevamente y espero cerca de la línea original, donde espero encontrarlos. Ocasionalmente, sus nuevas líneas están ligeramente fuera de lo que esperaba. No puedo controlar esto, y a veces ellos tampoco. Juntos, hemos tenido que construir un poco de Bronx Cheer cuando las líneas no se encontraron o no se detuvieron lo suficientemente pronto como para evitar pisar otra línea. Y lo bueno es que cuando retrocedemos y vemos esto desde una distancia, generalmente una distancia de tiempo, vemos que hicimos bien agregando algo extra, algo diferente, tomando medidas correctivas, aceptando y lidiando con un 'error'. Algunas líneas las dejamos cruzadas porque son deliberadas: son una declaración y eso también está bien. Hay algunas líneas cruzadas que tardan más en administrarse de la manera correcta. Ocasionalmente, una línea se dispara en una tangente inesperada y tememos que no funcione bien. ¡Y aún así lo hace! Ha encontrado su propio camino y demostró que hay otro instinto en juego que no tiene nada que ver con lo materno. Necesita espacio para crear un nuevo patrón y establecer nuevas líneas y, de alguna manera, está claro que estará absolutamente bien. No entremeterse. Y a veces, las líneas de Hollibaugh trascienden todo. Cambian todas las demás líneas en algo nuevo con una creatividad y una determinación tan fuertes que debemos volver a mirar todo lo que creíamos saber. Y esta es la historia hasta ahora de mis hijos.
Parte tres. Printemps, siempre Printemps. Mi historia. Me giro. Hago un remolino, luego comienzo otro. He estado haciendo esto toda mi vida. Durante mucho tiempo podría haberme descrito a mí mismo como impertinente, irreverente, a veces descuidado, inconsistente, egocéntrico ... muchas palabras negativas. Tal vez sea estirar la verdad atribuir cómo me veo ahora, a Zentangle. Sería una buena historia pero no sería realmente. Sí, ha cambiado mi vida pero no me ha cambiado a mí. Esta imagen arremolinada se remonta mucho. Limitemos esto.