weaving loss into life
Wilderings: Overcome by Wilderness
April 5th - 11th, 2020
April 5th: Find a bit of nature that can hold part or all of your weight. Rest your weight on it like you just came home from a trip and you’re setting down your bags. When your mind wanders, collect your bags and set them down again.
Describe your weight and the weight of the thing on which you rested.
April 6th: Return to whatever you rested your weight on yesterday. Sit so you can see all of it at once. Look at all of it. When you mind wanders ask - what else? - and keep looking.
Write what you noticed in sentences starting with the phrase “and also you” alternating with “and also I”.
April 7th: Return again. Choose one detail on which to focus. Look at that one detail. When you mind wanders ask - what more? - and return to the detail.
Describe that detail. Start every sentence after the first with the word - more.
April 8th: Return once more. Notice everything around your bit of nature. Don’t look at your bit of nature at all. When you’re tempted say - not yet - and return to everything around it.
Describe everything else. Begin each sentence with the phrase - beside you.
April 9th: Imagine you’ve separated from your bit of nature. Write and/or draw a correspondence. Take as many of your images and as much of your text from your previous days’ exercises as you can.
Alyna O'Hanlon
Dear —-
And also you
are a teacup from the fancy shelves in Rosey’s kitchen. I
don’t understand
how it’s ever full.
At night.
How is it full?
Beside you there are petals. Beside you there are brown
birds with black heads. One brown bird who moves the dirt
with her toenails then eats
from the new-raked soil.
I don’t understand the moon.
—- Yours
Dear —-
My weight felt like something someone put on a table that
doesn’t belong
on the table. A small thing. And also,
I am not sure how to move
when the wind blows
you are so spread out, how do you not come
undone?
Even though I looked away,
I still heard the birds.
—- Yours
Dear —-
And also you are soft, like an old woman. And also
I am soft.
Should I prune you?
I don’t know
if that’s what caring looks like.
I am not someone you ask over.
And
also
I am here, even at night.
And also
—- Yours
Dear —-
Beside you
there are pigeons.
Beside you there are pigeons.
Beside you there are pigeons who drink from water
I’ve set out.
Beside you there are petals that
fell, and
when they fell they hit the ground as if
they were full
like fruit.
Your petals,
I guess.
The table doesn’t mind –
it could get used to it.
—- Yours
Dear —-
This could be the moon
I’ve set out
Beside you.
—- Yours
Dear —-
Beside you there is sunlight.
And also
more.
—- Yours
Laura Green