Article Particles and Living Stones
Since the last issue, I’ve been gathering article bits and bobs to share with you. Today, a hidden island sparks my daily writing ritual, plus updates on a guest article and the book Dolor y Luna.
The Writing Island
Quickly taking a few minutes to write before the day begins in earnest. As an antidote to scrolling, seeing what is visible IRL keeps me present right here. I believe that this sort of attention can bring out all that is good in what I see and do.
This morning, I see how the pile of clothes waiting to be washed disturbs the space on the black and white tile patterned floor. Above, the skylight shows treetops in the overcast day. But I leave that basket and clothes pile for now as I want to write. In the kitchen, dishes from breakfast and last night’s dessert are in the sink, while the dishwasher is filled with yesterday’s newly washed. Not yet. Not till after the writing. In the living room, panels wait to be painted - the holes of these panels1, to be precise - stacked at the round black table. The work area is covered in home depot plastic sheeting, but the light is off, and I’m not doing it just yet. Now, you see, I have to write.
Beside me on the couch the dog is sleeping and I hear her breathing in and out as an almost-snore. I cross my fingers that she’ll stay this way long enough for me to do some writing.
Past the overcast sky and the sea beyond the trees and the neighbours’ houses across the road, I spy the small rock island in the bay. Depending on the conditions of the air and season, it appears to come closer then farther away. I see it large some mornings, small other times, and there are moments when the sun breaks brightly to shine only on the water near it, or sometimes a ferry goes past it and I get a sense of the scale of the thing. I’m naming this “Writing Island”. From now on, when I look at it, I can see it as a reminder to write sometime. It is small but comes into view every day when the world clears away.
Writing Island can come close, but the next step is up to me. This is a “mountain and Mohammed” situation. I have to go to it - it can loom a little closer but the metaphor has its limits. It is only reached by inner means, you see, not physical at all. I can only go there when I, too, become somewhat metaphorical myself. The idea of going over, crossing the water, reaching that island, is much like the planet of the Little Prince, as Saint-Exupéry illustrated.
Just a little thing, not large, only room enough for me. This tree-covered rock in the sea is like that. It is not a big thing.
Sometimes hovering between sky and water, sometimes shining in sunshine, sometimes looming. Like an animal perhaps? I don’t need to wax on. This is simply an aspect of the landscape that I named today as a reminder to write.
Wait! A glimpse of thought - moving over from the rock of that island to the many stones in the gravel on our driveway. Each one of these little stones is also a reminder to write. Each could be a letter or a word or an entire treatise or novel or even a living being who has a special message to whisper to me.
And you might want to know that I’ve seen the white quartz rising again and coming up in places that I know had no quartz in the rough gravel. I first mentioned this earlier here (under Quotes and Quartz):
So it is living, something the Elder, Abe Burnstick, always said about rocks. I recall him telling us in Edmonton about giving a stone to someone for healing, and then it would come back to him later, across many miles - for there were miles back then. We hadn’t yet crossed the continent in kilometers. Living stone.
Back to that stone, the Writing Island. It looks as if it were floating above the water, but it is actually part of things. Any underwater diver could see how it is connected to my own island, which is also such a rock.
Well, now the dog is barking and the active day begins. I look out the window for the little rock in the sea, but it is an invisible blur, misted out. I guess there’s no time for writing today after all.
Last month catch up
My article Poetics of Aging was featured in Susie Kaufman’s Substack. Click on the hummingbird to read. (And consider subscribing to her work, too.)
Update on our Dolor y Luna poetry book. It’s now listed at the Salt Spring Island Public Library! And here’s a quick promo video based on the book introduction.
Cuba needs all our help these days, and all proceeds from the sale of this book go to support Juan Carlos and his work with art and education through both Farmacia, and PROBAF animal care. Dolor y Luna, in Spanish and English, is on Amazon worldwide, but if you don’t want to go through them, contact me. I have some copies available directly.
Find many more details here:
I’m gathering more bits and bobs and will have some fun new things coming up for you next time.
Thank you so very much for reading and sharing this post. Remember, you can also listen to this using the app. This issue’s photos are mine (except the Little Prince cover - one of many versions found on the interwebs).
Please click the heart if you enjoyed reading, and comments are always welcome!
Curious about the rest? Writing, editing, and island life at carolsill.com.
For James K-M’s next art project, now in process, I’m helping paint holes in panels. More details next issue.
My body understands "mile" as the distance covered in 15 minutes when walking at a full steady stride. Or, four miles per hour.
I have no corresponding understanding with kilometer, or kilometre. Does the physical body have an intrinsic feeling of 0.625 of a mile?
Thank you so much for acknowledging our collaboration on my substack. It's so precious to meet up with someone far away whose thinking feels close at hand.