Indigo

Last night's Prog at the BBC on BBC4 was excellent. Compilation of some of the greatest names and British bands in prog rock, filmed live in the BBC studios in the early 1970s. Featuring stadium names like Yes, Genesis and Emerson, Lake and Palmer alongside much-loved bands of the era, including Caravan, Family, Atomic Rooster and more. Found myself wondering if my resonance was just nostalgia for the '70's (ie pre Thatcher) but decided not. Then today DC and I visited the Granary gallery, Berwick to see the Joan Eardley: The Sea at Catterline exhibition also excellent. On the drive up and stopping for coffee DC and I continued a conversation about consciousness, basically as per previous post.

The following pictures are some from the exhibition:

 Turner came to mind but this has a quality of its own.

 

The sea seems to be about to run off the canvas.

Powerful sense of shore.

Raw white water.

The quality of the indigo is perfect in capturing the sky and sea.

Summer.

The bay, white water and elevation.

The pastel of indigo caught my attention - indigo is such a remarkable colour. Back in 2013 I wrote about the colour blue, its spacious, mind like, portal quality... And connecting with Prog at the BBC, the consciousness conversation, a sense from the '70's when I was a child, a certain quality almost like 'what is your nature, your particular flavour, what through you is being expressed?'... came to me... and does the name indigo capture that? I find it does in part.

Randolph's Leap

I'm spending a few days in Scotland resting and hopefully recovering from the after effects of covid. I'm determined not to name this long covid or post viral syndrome etc. although I clearly have some kind of post viral fatigue. It feels like the exhaustion and light headedness of a hangover (but thankfully without the throbbing headache). I seem to have about half a day's worth of energy before I feel foggy and tired. I've worked right through the whole thing including the stresses of our recent house move but I've got to the stage where I know I have to slow right down and rest - my head gets too foggy to keep reading all the work emails, processing them and responding efficiently. I wasn't too badly affected by covid but this ongoing fatigue is starting to get to the stage where I'm not able to function properly. In truth it comes on top of a hugely stressful period and it's clear to me that my system has just decided to put the brakes on as it were.

So, today after a leisurely breakfast and gradually getting ready to go out I took a short drive over to Logie steading and somewhat half heartedly perused the second hand book shop and art gallery before getting some lunch. I then drove the short distance to Randolph's leap and ambled by the river and amongst the trees before returning (somewhat fatigued) to the car to head back here to my lodgings. I'm feeling a strange mix of tired, light headed, generally blah and as if I might pass out - although I'm fairly sure I wont! I'm definitely ready for this malaise to be gone! Here's some pictures which alas fail to capture the swirling waters of the Findhorn river:

About two thirds up the picture a white patch is actually two mounds of froth circling each other in an eddy

The froth is actually swirling

 

Even the roots of trees seem to swirl

The river heads towards the narrow gap of Randolph's leap

The movement of the river unlike the typical charging, constant roar of fast water in a gorge is a mix of smooth flowing flat water, rapid lively energetic cascade, foam and above all there is a swirling motion which seems to be in a constant state of flux as far as speed and patterns go. And somehow there is a (sort of visual) polyphony to all this. And as has happened to me before in this place I'm suddenly aware of something else. I look about and standing all around are the trees - still in meditation. I would not have been surprised to have seen something out of our everyday experience in the spaces between the trees, between the river and the trees, between the stillness and the motion... It has been said that this is a place where the 'vail between the worlds is thin'. Best not to go into such musings too much me thinks. And it's obvious why anyone might say such things here though. I had been studying the water for a while and looked up at the rocks and in some visual equivalent of sea legs the rock squirmed for some time and was not still in my vision. It settled and I looked again at the swirling waters then back at the rock, again this strange and slightly alarming visual illusion - the rock in motion. I turned my attention to the trees and their bright autumn colours. The sun was very weak but there was just enough golden light to bring vibrancy to the foliage. I spent a little time walking down to the confluence with the river Divie before heading back to the path to the road where I noticed the path continuing upstream. I walked a short way to see the cascading river Findhorn approaching the narrow gap of Randolph's leap. The river the other side of the gap is so full of flux and the thought came to me that from upstream the gap appeared like a birth canal into a new life for the waters of the river. Certainly there were many 'dramas' ahead as the water would pass through rapids, eddies, smooth powerful turns, calm pools and many more ways of being. There would be changes in hue, lustre and depth, dressings of foam and interplay with rock and air. And much more would be happening below the waters than I could know of even having seen the gentle boiling of currents from the depths coming to the surface. The river seemed an allegory for our own lives - we enter this world through the birth canal and the currents of our existence flow on - our life a complex of streams flowing, weaving, making us moment by moment. Yet the trees stood largely still with only the slightest of swaying to the minimal breeze. Stillness was present too. In this place these two aspects of our existence seem so present and clear to perceive. And there is something, something... whatever. And I thought - oh, is this just my habit to relate experience to form and emptiness? I could hear DC chiding me playfully. I walked back to the car feeling tired headed back for a cuppa and a rest.

What it is about blue

Last night reading in bed with Satie gnossiennes - 1. lent playing I glanced up at the window opposite. It was the blue hour and through the curved top sash window the sky was deep blue and glossy; blue glass. Both the music and this blue glass each individually take me to a space of contemplation, together more so. A portal opens. I think of those Rothko paintings that though muted somehow form a pulsating portal through which we might almost step through. Almost; the transcendent remaining somehow visible and yet remote. No, this blue glass forms a frame through which it seems I've already passed; somehow although it remains 'out there' on the other side of the room, I am already through. The sky beyond though not visible as such is much deeper than the distance to the window and I am somehow there; through the window. And there is the sensation of BLUE. No other colour has this energy.

Horizons

I am definitely out of the habit of posting here. I find writing takes quite a bit of time, I can often get ideas to come up and gel but getting them into the words of a post whilst not hard is labor intensive. Writing like any creative process is iterative. And my slow four finger typing impedes progress; I am of the generation and background that doesn't touch type. Come to think of it, whilst technically minded (I am after all, a chartered engineer) I fear that the day may come when I need a teenager to help me switch on everyday technology... middle age eh?... Anyway, I am involved in stuff here in the Findhorn Foundation and I notice just how much more energy I have when busy and involved. As the old saying has it 'if you want something doing ask a busy man'. Considering my energy I see that being in my mid forty's has not exactly less energy but a different pace to my younger years. Speaking today with on other gay man I discovered that he too finds that he is much more able to see how he  might relate sexually to women now. We discussed how with less of the intensely driven need for sexual contact with other men, a need very much expressing its self in very yang exchange, space seems to be opening up for some flow of yin energy. How far this might go is uncertain. I wonder how many other gay men come to this space.  It is not greatly talked about as far as I know. Perhaps I should also point out that I was never one of those gay men who preferred the company of women. The only women I liked were feisty and yang. All that said, I was very much aware of the visceral level of my sexuality on Wednesday when attending a performance of BalletBoyz. There is something deeply life affirming for me in seeing beautiful men moving together beautifully. This is part of yet beyond lust. This is a deeper expression of the life force. I wonder- do straight men and for that matter women have a similar contact with this force (not just lust), in viewing dancers of either sex? I suspect not in quite the same way. This is interesting territory, this exchange of yin and yang energy beyond the hormonal drive as the years pass and new horizons open up whilst the old ones pass by. Looking at some of these photos on the BalletBoyz website I see how very sporty and macho the dancers look. What I like about contemporary dance is the access to the life force without the 'perfume' of sport and machismo, so its interesting to see the choreographer play with this energy.