There are many water roads in the brain of Mrs Metaphor…I’m sure they all lead to a remarkable ocean but for now, it’s just a stream of consciousness….
A friend of mine posted an excerpt from a TS Eliot Poem called “Little Giddings” recently. The part that stuck to me was this one:
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, unremembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;
When I read this part of the poem I am reminded about a place I’ve begun to inhabit a little more frequently these days, my own unremembered gate so to speak. I suppose basically I’ve been an artist of sorts for a long time. I’m a musician, writer and sometime poet, abysmal amateur painter and heaven knows what else lies ahead in the discovery of me as artist. It’s only recently, maybe the last year or so of my life that I’ve begun to put on the metaphorical clothing of this artist and walk around in it.
It feels all new and at the same time familiar…like coming home and finding all the things we love about a place still present and new things cropped up in the dead spots…new life breathed into a dying place…a secret garden.
Secret gardens, however, are in need of labor and attention. Left unattended they move into this state of hibernation or overgrowth. When I leave the garden for too long the gate becomes hidden. When I let life and circumstance determine my true identity rather than something deep within me, something Creator made…the lock becomes rusted…the key becomes lost…the gate becomes forgotten.
It feels like a luxury in this mundane, quotidian life of mine to step into the garden. It’s often the first to be bumped to the bottom of my list. It’s a shame, really, because it’s not a luxury, it’s not superfluous or silly. It’s foundational. Just because I neglect the gate and forget about it does not mean that it ceases to exist, yes? It is there, waiting to be rediscovered and awakened.
In a way, it’s comforting to me, knowing that hibernation doesn’t have to be forever and yet in some ways it only makes seasons like that even more unbearable.
I’m getting ahead of myself though, another bad habit…not living in the now…always thinking ahead to what I will be missing later. Crazy-making at it’s finest.
Ah…now we’ve reached the shore. Carry on.