Chapter 175
More of those ridiculous cloudless blue skies heading into the month of my birth to celebrate sixty wild years rocking around on this lovely little planet we all call home. Hard to bring it all into perspective. I recall sitting in a classroom in the far reaches of the past, musing on the ancient state I’d be in in the year 2025. And lo, it has come to pass! There are many who probably expected I’d have got into some terminal trouble well before now.
These months of blending into life with my parents have been blessed in many ways. Not least the grace of time – time spent doing unsurprising things together – cooking and sharing meals, hanging washing, watering Mum’s ever-splendid garden. Lifting, carrying, clearing table, making beds. Household chores transformed into timeless gifts, that as a child, hung like deadening weights upon my shoulders. Now the tasks rest easy as our days together are luminous, gentle and treasured.
Only a few years ago I recall sitting in a vehicle of some description on or around another birthday thinking “another year closer to god… or whatever one calls it”. Heading back to the source; energy reforming to take up space in different dimensions, colours, lights. Energy morphing and changing. We bend with the trials of life or we break and form anew. Whatever mad and chaotic things go on around us, our flexibility and ability to address each day with humour, positivity and grace, allow us to enjoy, to thrive, to live with some sense of purpose.
Sharing the delight and endless curiosity with which my Mum approaches each day is usually inspiring, occasionally exhausting, always entertaining. Sharing the oil painting classes she has been attending for the past several years, with an extraordinary, globally accomplished Spanish artist, has been a creative dream. I have expert guidance and a unique brilliance demonstrated before my eyes. Subtle and elegant techniques to emulate, a door opened into the mysteries of another form of creation, my creations come fast and with and without effort, pouring into the vessel that is this place and this time.
I’d like to fill this month’s missive with images – the rolling colours of the country here; the endless shades of ochre from the earth, rocks, hillsides. The dusty pale green of olive leaves to the deep green tongues of rosemary, the pale silvered green of pita plants and eucalyptus trees. The shades of white, yellow and orange of the pueblos, the pinks, tangerine, orange, purple streaks and blushes across the sky’s evening clouds and my feeble efforts to capture such feelings through oil on board or canvas. We are surrounded by sensations of light, drifting through a scene or illuminating a moment with such sublime drama that we stop the car, pull over, stand and stare.
There is time for bodywork with rescued horses – bringing release to animals ‘trained’ through violence, methods and materials used with absolute indifference to the physical pain and mental trauma thus inflicted. Standing in a bare desert of a paddock with aging horses, breathing, not much else. Sliding a feather-light touch, barely connecting over points of extreme tension, watching as the eyes soften, face relaxes and head drops, to finally culminate in yawning and stretching, the ultimate softening and letting go of the horse world. It’s a beautiful thing.
A day exploring deep below the earth’s thin skin, down into the caverns of the Mina Rica in Pulpí. I visit the Geode, largest of it’s kind on this earth. It’s a crystal cavern over 8 meters long, filled with bristling teeth of gypsum crystals up to 2 meters long. It’s an ancient creation that stems from geologic and geothermic interactions dating back millennia. A long walk downhill and about 150 steps down spiral and straight staircases, to peer into the depths of the geode for a mere 60 seconds. Access and lighting limited to preserve the stunning clarity and uniqueness of this phenomenon. Amazing.
Be amazed.
Kat Dancer
bodymudra@gmail.com 1 415 525 2630 (c)
