Erenlai - 按日期過濾項目: 週三, 25 三月 2009
週四, 26 三月 2009 01:58

When I feel dry…

I used to feel so proud of the continuous flux of my imagination… it was translating into poems, stories, new ideas for my work, new ways of relating to people... But, since a few months now, my imagination runs dry… Nothing is coming… no ideas, no glimpses, no insights… Like if I was deprived of the eyes and the heart of my soul… It is truly a very painful challenge…

Part of it, I think, comes from overwork. I just cannot stop, I do not take any real rest from my work. Imagination needs to be nurtured, it requires free time, greenery, walks in the mountain or the seaside, gratuitous readings… I do not indulge in these things anymore, and I am now dry like a waterless well. Another reason might be that, when I am tired, I rely too much on present-day technology: like so many of my friends I allow myself to be spoon-fed by movies, television, computers and handheld Palms...Like so many of my contemporaries, my imagination has been dulled and domesticated…

So, it is time for me to take care again of my imagination, the way you take care of a rare essence of flower. My imagination needs sun, nutriments, a good and rich soil, it needs to be trimmed, I have to protect her from dust and pollution… Nursing my imagination amounts to nursing my soul and restoring the integrity of my self. A few months of spiritual dryness might be a good lesson after all if it makes me cherish better the gifts I have been endowed with.


Drawing by imagination
In the course of this healing process, I have discovered that pressure and worries were indeed an important reason for this lack of imaginative power and spiritual strength that I am experiencing. As a way to overcome such a state – very close to depression really – I have taken up drawing. I draw by imagination. I can draw almost unconsciously, I let my subconscious do the drawing. I just take pleasure in combining colors and shapes, I let them come out from my hand without trying to control them. I do not even ponder upon what they tell about me. I look a them as if they were coming from someone else. I just take pleasure in seeing the red, the yellow, the blue, the pink, the square, the triangle, the circle surge from my hand as if they were surging for the first time from the hand of God.
Imagination is really about what we do not dare to say or even to think. So, sometimes, we have to let her run freely without trying to analyze or control her. These uncontrolled moves will teach us what we need to know at the exact time we need it. Being good to oneself, not too harsh on oneself, accepting anything that comes from the depth of our soul, this is truly what the wanderings of our imagination teaches us to do, and this is the best lesson she can teach us.

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It is already quite difficult to imagine what was our life when we were in our mother’s womb… So, imagining what I was imagining when I was an embryo… Still, slowly, there must be something like a sense of imagination that was awakening in me, right? I was living within the palace of the human body, I was progressively perceiving sounds, sufferings and, who knows, tenderness… Did I obscurely know that one day I would come out and enter a world far, far bigger than the one I was presently living in? Was I dreaming about it the way I now wonder what the afterlife world may look like? I was obscurely preparing for death and birth, united into one…

Maybe all the obscure feelings and perceptions that occurred to me during these months are the primal stuff that will feed up my imagination during my entire life: the obscurity of unknown rooms and castles, the life in the cavern that stirred the philosophical imagination of Plato, the fear and attraction towards water that is mine… Maybe, yes, all this has been awakened by my uterine life….

Imagining the world from my cradle
Here I am… I came out through the door that opens towards life and death... Around the little universe of my cradle (much bigger already than the womb from which I so painfully came out) I perceive shapes, sounds, moves, feelings, quarrels, chants and care… I am sure I understand them much better than they think, and even much better than I know it myself. I understand them as if from within… I know what they mean better than they do… I have still this sense of immediate perception that I had in the womb. And, at the same time, these things and these people are totally obscure to me... I have no words for: cat; milk; toy; bed… I slowly will have one word, one word for: Mom… and this one seems to encompass all the other ones… But who is my Mom? Someone I have to fancy and imagine from her voice, her breasts and her hands… I have to give a shape, a personality, a volition, a soul to this great confuse shape, to this presence so mysterious and immediate… Yes, I first imagine my Mom, I compose and recompose all I feel, fear and hope around the word “Mom,” and , from this point on, I start to imagine the world, as if the whole universe was emanating from the body of my Mom….

Imagining myself
Leaving my cradle, rummaging around the room, risking myself into the corridor, I explore my expanding universe… I can imagine how the doors open towards new space, I sense a hand when I see a glove, I imagine a visage from the voice I hear in an adjacent room... I know there is a world around me, a world that I learn to apprehend and to dream, to expand at my will within the other word that is my brain… I know much less about me… Who I am, what am I doing there, what do I look like, am I cute and lovable? I have to experiment in order to know who I am, I have to imagine experiments – hurting myself, crying or laughing out of purpose, exasperating the adults, seizing a piece of cloth… I have to imagine myself in order to assert my own existence…
One day, I meet with a mirror: Here I am! This is me! But does the image I encounter take the place of my imaginative powers? Not at all: the mirror gives new space to my dreams and my creativity: I take a hat, a scarf, the lipstick of my Mom, I stand naked, I ride a horse, I hide my face and still risks glances on the mirror to see who is watching me when I do not look… The mirror opens up new worlds, in which fantasy and reality become intermingled. Fantasy and reality are going to be mixed up during my whole life, but I still do not know it yet…


週四, 26 三月 2009 01:45

Joe's imagination wanders in Taiwan

Here are the images of several secret places in Taiwan where I let my imagination wander.

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{rokbox size=|544 384|thumb=|images/slideshow_en.jpg|}media/articles/JoeRusso_imagination.swf{/rokbox}

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