SLOW DANCE

SLOW DANCE

slow down,  

and listen to the land

lie down on my soft belly and feel me breathe

I am a wild, untameable woman who will not be rushed 

and if you can slow down and listen long enough

you might also gain the courage to be wild

you might hear the myriad secrets that I hold

the thousand daily miracles that I unfold

in every single cell of my magnificent body

you might dare to dance with me

your hearts beating time with the timeless heart 

of this wild and wise woman who will not be hurried or rushed

slow 

down, 

down, 

down, 

and listen, 

really listen 

to the Earth

 by Bríd Wyldearth 1999

Pictures with spoken words are followed by credits, which, in turn, are followed by pictures with written and spoken words. 

I was lying on the coastal path in Cornwall, in 1999, feeling the pulse and breath of the earth beneath me, when these words came to me. As I prepared and collected the photographs for the exhibition, "In The Footsteps Of John Piper" at the tower at Oriel y Parc, St Davids in the summer of 2013, I noticed that they seemed to go well with the words of the poem. It was at the private view of this exhibition, where I performed the poem, that Cheryl Beer envisioned this digital story. 

The photographs are all taken in West Wales, except for: the cave roof, which is in Chinoyi, Zimbabwe and is dedicated to the women of Zimbabwe; the footprints which were in a labyrinth I created and danced in the estuary at Appledore Arts Festival 2002, North Devon; and the labyrinth in the sand which was in Mounts Bay, Cornwall.

Thank you also to Rhiannon, aka Kim Prangley, for taking the photograph of Bríd cradled in roots at Avebury, Wiltshire and to Ron for helping to crop some of the photographs.

Thanks to the inspiration and practical help and expertise of my friend Cheryl Beer, as one of the most wonderful birthday gifts ever, I spent yesterday afternoon in Cheryl and Jeff's studio recording this poem in one take and watching Cheryl create this digital story form of this photographic poem. 

Strangely I feel very proud and very humble at the same time. Sometimes, when I write a poem, I look for and choose and arrange and rearrange the words. I enjoy word sculpting and am willing to take some credit for being skilled at it. Slow Dance, however, appeared in my head and on my tongue fully formed. I hope it does not spook you to read that I am convinced they are the words of Earth and only my words in the sense that I am part of Earth. I have felt, from the moment they came to me, an urge and obligation to share them as widely as possible.

The photographs are always pure chance with me. I never feel I have time to stop and manually focus my digital camera, which is always set to automatic, and I am always grateful to her and chance and the moment and place for the beautiful pictures I am given. The photograph of Chinoyi cave roof is even more of a miracle because it seemed completely dark to me. I pointed my camera upwards at a cacophony of bat screeching and stink of ammonia as a joke. When I had the film developed back in Cornwall, there wasn't a bat in sight, but this stunning cavernous cathedral that I never saw in the flesh.

Cheryl and I are both disabled artists and belong to Disability Arts Cymru and wanted to make this piece fully accessible as well as to show the pictures with no writing and spoken word voice over, which is how it was originally conceived. It seemed so appropriate to the subject matter that the experience of watching it should not be hurried and I love the happenstance that places the credits in the middle, leaving the viewer with an uncluttered, slow, final image.

Tribute to Nelson Mandela, Father of the Rainbow Nation

Last night, I heard that Nelson Mandela had died. I heard that "RIP Nelson Mandela" was trending world wide on the web. Words and deeds of this man that I have heard of before are sinking in more deeply and I am wanting to thank him personally for how he has contributed to and inspired me and my world.

This afternoon, I drew a heart shaped labyrinth on the beach and danced to her core, singing "thank you", "Hallelujah", "nkosi sikelele afrika", wishing him the deep dark peace of the African earth.

In searching for a way to pay tribute, I hope it is fitting that I begin my Rainbow Labyrinth Woman blog in his memory and dedicate this painting in gratitude to the father of the Rainbow Nation?

More than ever before, I am bowled over by how this man refused to become as full of hate and anger as his oppressors had been. It is only during the last month or two that I have realised how angry I have been for most of my life with a woman in my family who labelled him and his comrades "terrorists" and "communists" and "evil". I was dismayed to realise how like her I had become in my bitterness and anger. This woman was cruel to me but she did not imprison me for twenty odd years. In my upbringing "forgiving and forgetting" meant allowing the crimes to be repeated:

Re-membering by Bríd Wyldearth 2007

To forgive and forget is to allow injustice to be repeated.
Nobody learns from the experience
and the victim remains a victim.

Forgiveness is a process,
not an act of will.

It is impossible to forgive,
to give to the past
and move on from,
wounds that we cannot remember.

Amnesia is an illness,
not an accomplishment.

It is only when we forget how much we love our beautiful planet,
how much we depend on her for our very survival,
that we can poison,
rape
and destroy her.

It is only when we forget how much we love our beautiful children,
how much we depend on them for our very survival,
that we can poison,
rape
and destroy them.

It is only when we forget how much we love our beautiful selves,
how much we depend on ourselves for our very survival,
that we can poison,
rape
and destroy ourselves.

We must remember
and re-member,
reconnect with our severed limbs,
our disowned parts,
our humanity.

Thank you Madiba for showing me how to forgive and be determined that the atrocities never be repeated. You have allowed me to begin to reconcile with the word forgiveness.

"No one is born hating another person because of the colour of his skin or his background or his religion. People must learn to hate and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite" - the truth of this seems so obvious now but I grew up amongst people, some of whom I loved and some of whom said they loved me who did hate and fear "evil terrorists and communists" and seemed unable and unwilling to listen to an alternative perspective. It seemed to me as if they had been born hating and I did not dare hope that apartheid would end in my life time. As a child I was also confused because many of the people I knew who were full of this hatred and fear also espoused Christianity and a god who commanded them to love their neighbours. When I questioned them I was dismissed and silenced. In hindsight I wish I had had the courage to stand up more strongly for my beliefs and to be more optimistic. Thankfully Mandela and the ANC did have the courage of their convictions and risked their lives for freedom from oppression. I wish I had met Mandela.

What I can now do is try to contribute to a better world and I am currently doing so by painting a dream I had that the earth is a rainbow labyrinth, that we are all part of her, that our individual uniqueness is what we all have in common and that human hatred, fear and cruelty is irrelevant to her beauty.

Deep peace of the quiet earth to you Nelson Mandela
Deep peace to you
Deep peace to you
Deep peace to you