Life at the moment is a lot of just getting on with it; getting on with the sewing, getting on with the soldering, getting on with the traces, getting on with the decision making. It’s all turned in to the very practical period of doing. ‘Doing’ is boring to comment on; ‘doing’ is a happy, safe, comforting, friendly place. My fingers are occupied so my brain can mull but just float on that surface and gently feel the passing of time. ‘Doing’ makes me feel like a worker, a noble grafter with purpose, even if the job is just sewing a length of material or constructing a mini wire door. Let me just hum and do, just occasionally branding myself with the hot solder iron and slowly scratching away the ends of my fingers with jagged wire and needles.
Sometimes it really feels that the action is where the sense lies; it is the core, where my practice lives, it’s the friendly face, where things are more in harmony with my being, more mellow. It’s the calm in my head, in between the searching out and the making sense, away from the eyes and thoughts of others. It’s the eye of my storm. Quiet and deceptively simple.
