The new year heralded the news of…
1. a wedding (congratulations Neil Gaiman & Amanda Palmer!)
2. two engagements (yes, two! Within the span of two weeks!)
3. three people terribly sick with gastric flu (me, the Hubby & Joe)
… and terrible dreams of me wandering the deathly cold streets of chaotic Tokyo at midnight, pulling together a production that was way past its deadline and realising that a video due for screening this weekend was not completed yet.
Thankfully, it was was all just a nightmare (the dreams, not the announcements), which I gratefully got up from, albeit in cold sweat from both the stress and the breaking fever. It has not been the most promising of starts for 2011 and I can’t help but feel a sense of detachment, as I read/watch/hear everyone’s vivid, technicoloured celebratory messages.
Yes, it’s the new year. Now what?
Maybe it’s the general blahs I’m entrenched in, seeing how I’d just come out of a mad event-filled, sleep-deprived December, straight onto a plane to Japan, the freezing cold, further sleep deprivation and midnight flights, and now back home, rushing again to get many things done before the start of a new work week, all while feeling like I’m going to hurl my next meal out into the great white throne.
But it’s more than that. There’s a slight twinge of disappointment… as if, somewhere inside me, I’m asking, ‘Where was the wonderful blissful sigh of fulfillment at the end of the road?’ because the road doesn’t seem to have ended. If anything, it seems to curl ahead in an even more complex, diaphanous pattern.
I haven’t had the pause I needed. The breath between the strides.
I miss that.
‘Colour is a power which directly influences the soul.’
– Wassily Kandinsky
When life looses its colour, I know I’m in need of some desperate down time. I’ve been a grouch for too long and its starting to bore me. So today, I decided to start small.
I painted my nails a wonderful glittering blue, as if a jewel box shattered itself upon my fingertips and now, they sparkle, somewhat incongruously with my surroundings and, well… me. I haven’t quite lived up to that spot of colour yet, but slowly, bit by bit, I’m sure I’ll catch up.
Today, I’m a muddy brown with spots of blue glitter swirled in. Tomorrow… I’ll add some purples, orange and a shot of fuschia. Who knows then, how my world will be affected? I’m not worried. I’m not a new year’s depressive. I’m just sleep deprived.
‘Imagine a city where graffiti wasn’t illegal, a city where everybody draw whatever they liked. Where every street was awash with a million colours and little phrases. Where standing at a bus stop was never boring. A city that felt like a party where everyone was invited, not just the estate agents and barons of big business. Imagine a city like that and stop leaning against the wall – it’s wet.’
Welcome to my world – the place I live in.
A place where everything is possible and all dreams are tried out, at least once.
Now that I’ve worked out the tired angst within me, I am ready to dream about 2011…
… a year where all the roads are walked.
… a year where the adventurous will smile with great satisfaction.
… a year filled with more colour than I’ve ever seen in my entire life, more laughter than my belly can hold.
… a year when I will jump into puddles, skip into rainbows and dance with the clouds.
… a year I will experience what it means to be a little girl again – the one who only knew what it felt like to ride high on her father’s shoulders – taller than any human being, stronger than any other man, bolder than any other creature.
… the year I will live with ultimate abandon. Because of whose shoulders I ride on.
Hello Dream Maker.
I’m back for your dreams.
I’m ready for the impossible.
Now what is the colour of the conquerable impossible?