13 December 2009
Terms & Conditions
18/Dec/09 09:16
Isla arrived yesterday for our final mentoring session of the year. I lit a fire and made ginger hibiscus tea, whilst she gifted me the loan of a beautiful pair of Polish dolls, an upside down doll and two rag dolls that she and her sister had made as children. I balanced them under a lamp, and they looked at home, interestingly they suddenly looked animated, as though revealed in a unique dance and conversation. The tiny colourful tableaux signified the exchange between Isla and msyelf, how she has helped me throw light onto my work, reveal my aspirations, focus my energies and has helped turn around my professional practice. “Where did you find her” a colleague had asked, and I replied that I had approached Women in Rural Enterprise to ask for a mentor. “HEEEELP” I had cried down the phone, and Isla was the answer. I believe that angels come in all different shapes and sizes, and the first thing I was encouraged to do in getting to be (fake it till you make it), that is, more businesslike - was to create a map of all my activities/interests/work. Overwhelmed, I could not fit them on an A4 sheet of blank white paper, so it ended up as a giant scribble created on a carpet of cardboard on my conservatory floor. Aha! I thought, no wonder I am confused, as I saw the different aspects of what was then apparent as the diversity of practice as an engagement artist - with me being the artwork. Since that time, at each monthly session, I am brought back to a place of clarity, positive attitude and focus. I am like a swan, looking like I am gliding, but my tiny feet paddling furiously upriver. I think the mentoring process has encouraged me to stop mid-stream every now and again, to reflect, to give permission to as yet unborn aspirations, to place a value on my work in the world, to map out opportunities and new directions. Through this process my business has flourished and we have found ourselves mutually inspired, exchanging skills and gifts. Whilst I had felt totally incompetent at living the creative life and being organised and business-like in the same breath, I have promised that for 2010 I will produce and let everyone know all about my TERMS AND CONDITIONS!
Tulip 2
16/Dec/09 15:10
I have been contemplating how best to develop the project over the six sessions. The first two has been information gathering, getting to know everyone, encouraging a diversity of topics and exchanges, comparing language, bringing objects, including a beautiful carved Indoniasn figurine puppet (a Wayand), photographs of fabulously dressed women, tiny boxes, wedding gifts of ruby rings, and heavy gold bangles!!! Today we also shared a small feast of foods from around the world, with discussions of spices and cooking, and a show/ telling with much laughter of how, if you wear a sari, you have to walk differently or you might fall over then a husband may not pay for a new set of teeth. There was fun demonstrating putting on of eye make-up and fashioning golden sequined clothes from childhood. We saw scenes of deserts of Iraq and learnt that we are in the tale end of the Year of the Rat (Chinese). Suzette was wearing a national flag over her abundant hair talked about how in Trinidad many different influences made the country what it is - English, Spanish, French and that all religious festivals are celebrated as a holiday. Julie arrived having been stopped by the traffic police right outside where she lives in Gorse Hill, and after all the flurry calmly and kindly presented to the group a small angel, and a gift of a pair of Greek traditional dolls, a sparkly woman's head brooch and a Spanish flamenco dancer in a fancy box. I thought of Marilyn when the lady from Nepal unwrapped a warm spicy potato, and wondered if you are up for that journey, whilst one of the other mum's arrived with a small boy not feeling well, and everyone was so supportive, soon we had him scribbling to his hearts content. So, things are cooking!
Time for Something Beautiful
14/Dec/09 10:25
“Have you run courses together before?” asked Mandy the manager of Urchfont Manor, a once upon a time home, now a Wiltshire County Council educational centre, whose vision is “Where everyone matters”. “Errr, yes...” was the vague reply, which somehow summed up the entire process of how Jan and I go about things. Whilst of course being skilled highly trained experienced facilitators, we are in truth naturals at just making it up as we go along. But, we were, somehow still surprised to find ourselves, feeling rather under par, on a late December weekend in charge of a beautiful book-lined library with grand piano, together with a lovely group of women who had signed up on a residential course invitingly entitled “Time for Something Beautiful”. What they were not to know was that I had nicked that title from Hilda, and Jan had decided to sneak me in the back door as it were. It was in fact her course that promised participants time out, to relax and explore the therapeutic benefits of Aromatherapy and Qi Qong. However, when we put our thoughts together, something magical was weaved. But on reflection we forgot to let participants know about that slight change, and we never did do that thing you ought to do, that is, with total confidence and clarity declare projected aims and objectives and consider outcomes. Gasp! I am sure we ever got round to that bit either. Frankly, how can you plan a mystery? Instead, these dear people found themselves in a flow of this happening and that, which thankfully Urchfont staff summed up as an experiential Enriching Weekend.
To start, Jan brought a cornucopia of delights, including a packet of Thorntons finest chocks, golden and purple silken and cottony cloths, buddhas and healing bowls, blankets, books and fragrant oils from places all around the globe. I managed to restrain myself for once, and simply packed some writing materials, a music CD of The Dreaming Hour and my camera; plus the gift of a pair of leather slippers to keep my tiny feet warm. We started by clearing the library of its conference centre artefacts and feel, which included a stern looking set of facts on flipchart paper. We then hid IT kit, opened shutters, swooshed around regency furniture, turned up the warmth and flung fabrics and fragrance from here to there. We then blankly looked at each and asked “What exactly are we going to do?” The clocked ticked on. We sipped tea, looked at THE PLAN again, worried a bit more. “Lay down” I said. “You are not going to do anything painful are you?” Jan said. I sighed prophetically and then proceeded to walk around on Jan’s back, listening to a set of cloudy sinuses clearing after a winter’s cold. “Now your turn” she said sweetly, as I lay down. She then proceeded to slap my legs from top to bottom, squeeze my shoulders and stretch my arms. “Crikey” I thought...”This is just the ticket”. Participants started to arrive, faces contracted, stressed, concerned about what was to take place, but then so were we. Somehow, we started, a small intimate group, until we realised we had lost one participant...we subsequently found her in the dining room, well in with the Shackleton set, where there was much loud talk of brave adventures, colder climes, gannets and smelly toilets. Somehow, we unfolded, arrived, shared stories, slapped our own legs and arms, stretched into arriving. The weekend went on to include tears, laughter, talk of things lost, found and yet to be born. We massaged each others strains from our faces, moved, stayed still, wrapped each other in colourful blankets, brought in nature to enhance the space and simply took time out to breathe. Jan led a Qi walk to 207, a beautiful Beech tree, where we felt our feet, putting our roots down slowly as we crossed a lawn newly frosted, to then hand encircle a tree ancient and wise. We talked of forgiveness, of finding the soft and hard within ourselves. We were nourished by good food, honesty and acknowledging how tired we truly were. There was talk too of re-finding a sweetness, of discovering a mischievenous of nature, allowance of grief, of taking up more space and of allowing time to simply be and journeys needing to be taken. We mapped our dreams and thoughts, resisted and softened. Late in the Saturday afternoon I felt overcome with weariness, and perhaps surprisingly for one who was supposed to be assisting with events, decided to lay on the floor in a cocoon of woolly warmth whilst Jan dished out a living pharmacy of oils, wisdom and concern. Tiny blue bottles got filled with personal mixes of essential healing fragrance, which she described as being her friends. In the midst of all the women started to support each other, share and find common ground. “This is fabulous” was commented. “I learnt so much about myself this weekend” was a comment too. But what I never learnt myself was how to manage the noisy plumbing situation around the forbidden 11.00 pm zone, or exactly how I managed to find the strength to pull the light cord off the lamp over my bed, which was indeed so periously closely balanced to my pillow that I decided with lightbulb removed and newly washed hair to sleep elsewhere for fear of my life. To close our time together, we each took turns to sit in the garden blessing seat and reflected on our experience. With the library back to its original self, Jan and I drove away, discussing the art of transformation, of the courage for occassionally being out of one’s comfort zone and started to mutter about the potential for possibly a labyrinthine Spring time happening!
To start, Jan brought a cornucopia of delights, including a packet of Thorntons finest chocks, golden and purple silken and cottony cloths, buddhas and healing bowls, blankets, books and fragrant oils from places all around the globe. I managed to restrain myself for once, and simply packed some writing materials, a music CD of The Dreaming Hour and my camera; plus the gift of a pair of leather slippers to keep my tiny feet warm. We started by clearing the library of its conference centre artefacts and feel, which included a stern looking set of facts on flipchart paper. We then hid IT kit, opened shutters, swooshed around regency furniture, turned up the warmth and flung fabrics and fragrance from here to there. We then blankly looked at each and asked “What exactly are we going to do?” The clocked ticked on. We sipped tea, looked at THE PLAN again, worried a bit more. “Lay down” I said. “You are not going to do anything painful are you?” Jan said. I sighed prophetically and then proceeded to walk around on Jan’s back, listening to a set of cloudy sinuses clearing after a winter’s cold. “Now your turn” she said sweetly, as I lay down. She then proceeded to slap my legs from top to bottom, squeeze my shoulders and stretch my arms. “Crikey” I thought...”This is just the ticket”. Participants started to arrive, faces contracted, stressed, concerned about what was to take place, but then so were we. Somehow, we started, a small intimate group, until we realised we had lost one participant...we subsequently found her in the dining room, well in with the Shackleton set, where there was much loud talk of brave adventures, colder climes, gannets and smelly toilets. Somehow, we unfolded, arrived, shared stories, slapped our own legs and arms, stretched into arriving. The weekend went on to include tears, laughter, talk of things lost, found and yet to be born. We massaged each others strains from our faces, moved, stayed still, wrapped each other in colourful blankets, brought in nature to enhance the space and simply took time out to breathe. Jan led a Qi walk to 207, a beautiful Beech tree, where we felt our feet, putting our roots down slowly as we crossed a lawn newly frosted, to then hand encircle a tree ancient and wise. We talked of forgiveness, of finding the soft and hard within ourselves. We were nourished by good food, honesty and acknowledging how tired we truly were. There was talk too of re-finding a sweetness, of discovering a mischievenous of nature, allowance of grief, of taking up more space and of allowing time to simply be and journeys needing to be taken. We mapped our dreams and thoughts, resisted and softened. Late in the Saturday afternoon I felt overcome with weariness, and perhaps surprisingly for one who was supposed to be assisting with events, decided to lay on the floor in a cocoon of woolly warmth whilst Jan dished out a living pharmacy of oils, wisdom and concern. Tiny blue bottles got filled with personal mixes of essential healing fragrance, which she described as being her friends. In the midst of all the women started to support each other, share and find common ground. “This is fabulous” was commented. “I learnt so much about myself this weekend” was a comment too. But what I never learnt myself was how to manage the noisy plumbing situation around the forbidden 11.00 pm zone, or exactly how I managed to find the strength to pull the light cord off the lamp over my bed, which was indeed so periously closely balanced to my pillow that I decided with lightbulb removed and newly washed hair to sleep elsewhere for fear of my life. To close our time together, we each took turns to sit in the garden blessing seat and reflected on our experience. With the library back to its original self, Jan and I drove away, discussing the art of transformation, of the courage for occassionally being out of one’s comfort zone and started to mutter about the potential for possibly a labyrinthine Spring time happening!