By Lilly Blue
One week. Three childen, one birthday, four theatre shows (one worked on, three seen)- two meetings, four rehearsals (including one in the playroom) one class, two new future projects and a swimming carnival. And BIG. I am finding it hard to write on the blog, and easier to post the words/pictures of others. Perhaps this is a good thing. I don't know where to start, I have too many words.
I write a to do list late at night, after Twyla has fallen asleep, her questions and and body exhausted, finally. Not that I rush the intimacy of pre-sleep conversation, I relish it, and grin my delight quietly, adoring her and her quirky view of the world. "Mummy do you like donkeys? I like donkeys, not scary ones, friendly ones. Mummy I can hear someone practicing the flute, it is the next door neighbor. Can I see it? Why? Why are they doing it? Is it dark time now? Why? Why Mama? When the light comes can I have a swim? Talk to me Mama, say words, no mama say them loudly not quiet like that, why are you saying them quietly" Her sentences run into each other and she talks until the breath before she is asleep. I feel her body soften under my hand. I inhale deeply, breathe out, lie still for a moment and wonder if I have the energy to crawl out of the dark and meet the night. I always do. I seem to have inexhaustible stamina for BIG, perhaps in part because I want to offer an opportunity for that powerful, imaginative world that Twyla inhabits to be available in the pages of a magazine. A celebration of make believe, made real. A carnival of new ideas and unreasonable dreams.
Two of the Festival works I saw spoke of children. Artists children. And the stolen generation. I have essays on each. Maybe I will link a research page to BIG, I will build a house furnished with words. I wish you could cook with them, then words could contribute to my ailing domestic sphere. Tonight Lilly writes for us both, and her shadow birds on the water above land here in Perth with the tiniest splash of rain to break the heatwave for a dream of a minute.
I ache to be in the studio spending more time with Boatbird, the Grumpi Ladies and Jo. Yet I know that for BIG to grow well and strong it is important to create a strong foundation. I try my uncertain hand at a business plan, excited to be in such unfamiliar terrain and loving the steep learning curve. I hear Jo's voice in my head as I write, in moments wondering if the words are mine or hers. The mysterious territory of co-authorship and six months of conversation history provoking the unfolding of a shared vision. It's like unwrapping a present over and over again, charged and irrepressible.
Still, even with this urgency and excitement, I turn mostly towards Twyla and her needs as the days fly by, and relish the magic and beauty of our shared world. It goes so fast, this life, perhaps BIG will help us remember to relish every precious moment of it because before too long our own little birds will be flying off into the world to make their own nests. I don't want to miss a treasured second of it!
Says the actor (Ernie Dingo) in the play tonight, "According to the accordion, there's only one talent that we's all needs to possess. Look after ya children and ya family and let life take care of the rest".(Waltzing the Wilarra by David Milroy). Indeed.