Wednesday, 25 November 2009


Buckets, bowls, towels and plastic sheets bedeck the house. How much more of this to come? At least we're not meters deep in it like those poor souls in Cumberland. But after all that rain this summer how much more can the saturated ground, not to mention gutters and downpipes, take?

Apart from that moan, what's new? Sometimes when Life seems to
go on as usual, not presenting anything at all excitingly out of the
old routine, it's easy to think nothing new is happening. But perhaps the everyday on-the-surface view isn't all there is. 'Things' may be on the move elsewhere.
Writing about Jacob Epstein these last few weeks has taken me on a journey into new levels of myself. And a conversation with Crysse last evening round the kitchen table has helped to stir things up - sort of bring them to the surface, clarify, allow in more light -all that sort of thing. With the subject of Synchronicity under discussion it was interesting, and actually quite delightful to find that, just as I had been focusing on one piece of Epstein's sculpture in particular, Jacob Wrestling with the Angel, I saw Crysse smile. Intrigued, I asked why. Turns out she has just written a poem on the same subject, affirming both out feelings about how synchronicity works its mysterious way.

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