When is a good time to start?

Seven words that do what words do. Confuse things. As soon as they are uttered they have already made a mess.

This first post is directed at me first

When to start? If you read on, this question, and a few others will never sound the same again. Yes, I am warning you off. You who is reading. If you do not want to be moved, move away. If you are not ready to change, sit elsewhere. If you are still here, and there is some speck of wonder left about what connects you and me, then you are in the right spot.

When is a good time to start? What useless words. It has begun before you even started thinking about it. No matter what the it points at. It has already started.

I can almost hear you asking the follow up. Logic demands you asking about the what. What are you talking about? What will you start?

And suddenly this abstract rambling becomes practical. About how I get things wrong because of language. Asking ‘what’ is so unreasonable. It is an unfair question. It pushes you into a corner. It asks for a title above an empty page.

What, comes slowly into focus. And it differs from the imagined. It is not what you expected it to be. The what does not lie in the future, it slips into the past at the arrival.

Can you feel the shift underneath the words happening? Me, pulling the carpet from under you? The old cosy rosy carpet?

I am saying you -and I- have no choice in when to begin, and cannot know what we are heading for. Of course you can ignore this, and pick a random when and what. It will keep you busy, distracted for as long as you wish. Asking when is procrastinating, deciding what to make or do is cheating. It will take shape as you do it. It will mirror you. You make you as you go.

You are made up as you go. Not randomly, not unbound. And also not rigidly. It is a creative endeavour. No plan. But the limits are in place.

Are there rules? Maybe. Lets just say, if it breaks it wasn’t a rule. So try breaking the rules. Only the real will hold. They will break you if you are not careful.

I wish to move you. Because there is a good chance you are stuck. Times have pinned us down. We are caught in a web with many sticky threads. Struggle makes it worse. You need unsettling. The world wide web consists of more than the internet. More than steel, stone and tubes. There is life outside. It is possible to fly again. To swim, walk, dig and dive. To find freedom. Not by fighting. Not through resistance. Not by quitting.

Accepting it has already begun is a great first step onto the floor. Any floor you like, be it dance-, office- or forest-floor. Because you are invited. A highly personal invitation has been send. It lies waiting for you to be picked up and start imagining what it could be like. End of letter to myself, the first reader of what I write. I hereby open up what comes after. You are welcome to join from here on.

The inner sanctuary

Imagination, language, processes, exploration, music, building, cooking, sewing, painting, growing food and becoming more sovereign. These themes will return regularly in different outfits. Weekly posts of explorative thinking, probably several long threads will spawn a vast mycelium connecting the spheres.

The core activity in the inner sanctuary of this space is a story with a long arc. I have written most of this wide tale in the three years before today. Become a live witness of this fictional world and choose to let it unfold right here and right now. An experiment that will keep at least me on the edge of my seat. If you come along you will become part of this adventure.

What you will not find here are cultural references, quotes, names, credentials. These pages do not respect the borders between realms. No academic habits in these papers. I will walk through walls and façades. I will be all over the place, so do not assume to know what is coming.

Good advice at the end of this beginning. Do not assume to know what is coming.

Thank you for sticking with me in this very personal reminder to write for myself first. This will increase the chance of creating something real enough that works for you too. I am learning as I go. The English language is not my native tongue and I do not have degrees on anything I write about. Still, the story must be told and these pages help in the practice of telling. This is not about launching a career as a writer, or marketing my book. If anywhere in the coming pages over the next few years I will be able to touch someone, to re-connect a single heart to the soil, it will be a beautiful byproduct. Otherwise, this is just me celebrating the mystery…. …guardening the spheres.

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