The cold appears to have returned again in earnest this campervan morning. A real chill in the air even though we are from tomorrow into meteorological spring. Once more warm breath on air and steam rises from a welcome hot coffee. Very feint flicks of orange colour the busy sky, clouds gliding southwards with purpose, vague hints of blue sitting behind. A firm frost on the ground, its blanket of white covers everywhere and everything. Two blackbirds sit in the nook of the oak drinking from the water that gathers there. Robins are busy, two or three dancing around the bushes and hedges on their morning forage. Starlings gather briefly in the Ash for their morning prayers. I can hear a braying donkey in the distance and that is kept some ways a way on the common. A busy morning indeed and nature proving a match for the morning commute, or maybe easier just to tune into it this morning.
A day drumming in a school yesterday working with little ones was rewarding and exhausting in equal measure. Reflecting this morning on something I came across yesterday ‘ seasons in creativity ‘or more aptly perhaps seasons in my creativity. I may have written this before, but I have never seen myself as creative. I could never draw, my handwriting was to put it mildly appalling, my spelling was worse, I couldn’t read music, my brain is just not wired that way ( Though I have my own form of notation ) and maths was just utterly beyond me. So creativity in my early years in the traditional sense was a bit of a struggle, a bit of a winter so to speak and in some periods quite cold. However I loved music and being exposed to new genres, bands ( Still do, though I still struggle with country and western ) and seeing live music too, from a young age. The early buds of spring in my creativity so to speak. Then I borrowed peoples drum kits ( My parents would never buy me one ) and bought drum sticks and bashed stuff around the house, pillows and cushions and spring got warmer. Then a good few years later I bought my own kit and we were into summer. Played in bands, still couldn’t read music so I copied and memorised stuff and devised my own notation, but improvised a lot. So we were stepping into summer. I then discovered drum circles and full scale community improvised music making and summer arrived in its glory. I realised there were other people with musicality in them that may have had the same journey as me and were stuck in winter and the answer was to come and make music anyway and discover it within you. I kind of knew and believed it was within me, I just had to find away out for it. So the summer of creativity is still with me, though I still have occasional autumns and winters, but that’s another campervan morning. Lovely days people.
“ Don't be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others. Unfold your own myth.”
Rumi.
Comentários