There are momentous happenings and great swathes of change. Then there are tiny happenings that push us quietly in one direction or another like tides we barely feel.
This month the momentous has finally subsided for me. I’m now alone with my daughter and dog in the cottage I love so much, with a new job and enough of the domestic stuff muscled into some kind of rational state to feel a modicum of control. Whatever control masquerades as – temporary safety, temporary peace.
I don’t really know what this blog space is for me anymore. It’s been months since I’ve felt able to absorb and therefore reshare inspiring creativity of others. And yet during the immensely thoughtful and strangely beautiful time of breaking apart the structures on which life has been built, coming to know an old self in new ways, I have been full to the brim with things to say. Somehow, I just don’t want to say them here.
So for a little moment – which might be a long, long moment – I’m officially going to take the pressure off this project and give myself the license to disappear into my creativity, without an audience.
This short hello today is a declaration of my deepest gratitude to everyone who has followed me and supported me over the past two and a half years with Chasing Angels. Every bit of moral and financial support, every kind word, has meant so much. You’ve all, collectively, been what I’ve needed, to help guide me to wherever here is now. And I just want to say thank you.
There’s still a podcast to finish editing, and a swathe of beautiful film footage waiting for me to sculpt – and maybe these, or other things, will suddenly appear here one day, when the dust has settled. But for a while I just need the complete openness of empty space – free of the pressures I’ve been inventing for myself – to ride the tiny tides and make sense of all the momentous that has been.
Midsummer seems as good a place as any to draw a line – where blooms are shouting through the light for us to share their brief moments.
With love, and my most sincere thanks,
Agnes