"Silence is more musical than any song."
-Christina Rossetti
I am down to my last five days of solitude.
And I am of two minds about it.
On the one hand, I want to cherish every second and slow the hands of time in the last days of my self-inflicted hermit's pilgrimage.
It is all (rapidly) coming to an end.
And on the other hand, I can't wait for next week. I will move into a new chapter when this all comes to an end. Only then can I look at it from somewhere above, and figure out what, exactly, my self-inflicted hermit's pilgrimage is all about.
(Hard to do when you are in the middle of it.)
On this clear warm Tuesday on Ocracoke Island, (after much mulling), I am stilled.
As, at the centre of my conflicting thoughts, I find balance.
I now feel no sense of urgency, no need, no restlessness.
And so I stay put, and (as a nod to the Cistercian Monks about whom I'm reading) work in silence.
No radio, no music, no talk.
But first, I squat beside Chester for a moment, lying happily on the deck. He has been down to ground level, (to the tangle of woods behind the cottage, although briefly), and now seems content to lie on the weathered boards of the upper deck in the soft morning sun. I stroke his head, his ears, so he knows how much his companionship means to me, and then I get to work, in silence.
I am focusing on the figure work I call 'Water Girl', the only sound, the pencil scratch on board and the bird song through the open windows. The bird song, first a call close by, then a distant answer. And again. And again.
The world carries on - truck passing, fridge hum, helicopter overhead, insect buzz.
But within, I am holding my thoughts like a vessel, letting them turn and churn, slowly and without insistence, letting them gradually become polished and bright.
My mind stills until I see only my drawing, hear only my breathing.
If I take home nothing else from my time in this place, it is the thankful realization that I can now find the deep still place within. It is this still place I draw from, the heart of my creative ability. And I have found this by being given time. Time to myself. Time for my work.
My art allowed to be central.
I continue to work in this stillness, and when I have no more to give to 'Water Girl', I stretch out on the deck on my back and stare at the sky.
I see the elements, the spirit of this place - earth, air, water, fire - the elements so clearly present on this island.
The earth, the fringes of land, touching the water.
The water stretching to the horizon, touching air, meeting sky.
The sky, aflame, opening and closing the day.
And the fire within.
The silence around it.
Silence. Solitude. Stillness. Rest.
Morning, then afternoon, pass in this musical silence.
A radiant sunset, then all the world bathed in silvery moonlight. The silent stillness, the elements, the fire within, all find their way into my evening drawing. A part of it all.
And then I sleep.
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