It Doesn’t Have To Make Sense

“Be still and let me teach you”, I heard.
 

I put my old painting shirt on and sat down to write. My feet were cold and I wanted a mug of tea, but the shirt felt familiar and kind of comforting. 
 
I’m in Lucca, Italy, taking a break and making time to refill my tanks. The apartment has brick floors and giant beamed-ceilings, riddled with beetle-rot and painted white. 
 
I’m sure I expect too much from holidays. I never stop to let them know beforehand what I’m wanting or needing. 
 
I know I want the buzz and energy of a different culture, but also the peace and quiet of nothingness and to be left alone to decompress and to find a way to think new thoughts. 
I want to be carried away in crazy new plans, but then hesitate about how that will integrate with my life back home. 
I reach into the magic and mystery of somewhere new, that thrills my senses, while still staying tethered to my old life. 
 
But hey, we’re all such complex beings, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who carries a knapsack of emotions when I eventually arrive at my holiday destination. Holidays are cauldrons for awakening and the words, ‘Let me teach you’, came wafting into my mind one wet morning and made me smile. 
 
“Yes, sure”, I whisper back, “I’m here”
 
This ancient city, with thousands of years of hidden history in its dust and debris, is a mind-boggling muddle and patchwork of buildings, stretching back through the ages. Nothing is straight and everything is a response to something that fell apart and needed repairing. Ramparts and fortifications, gateways and towers, tunnels and the most incredible medieval city walls. Alleyways like deep ravines and grand, breath-taking architecture everywhere…..this city never fails to thrill and delight. 
 
Complexity is the name of the game. And I realised that it’s complexity that makes this place a never-ending exploration of wonder, that sparks the imagination at every turn. Nothing stands alone, everything props up whatever is on either side; they all depend on each other. The old and new rub shoulders together; a 12th century stonewall labyrinth, sits beside a 20th century carved door, Roman remains lie buried 9 metres beneath relatively modern 16th century flagstones.  
 
Allowing life to be complex and messy isn’t what I’d choose, but oh so slowly, I can see that it’s where the richness lies. And the alchemy can only work when the grit and the gold swim together. 
 
Last evening, I tried to write a few intentions for my art life, as I sense a new chapter might be on the horizon. I wrote…
 
I want to hang out with wilder work, getting bolder and letting go more…. pushing my work to unknown places…and 
I want to make more time to ‘do nothing’ and learn to be still and listen to what I love and what gives me joy, as this will give the clues for future work.
 
And finally, 
I want to trust the complex and messy as part of the mix and not try to control events, opening the journey to a bigger, ’What if…’