“Where are your feet?”
It’s a pretty obvious question and the old me would’ve probably jumped in with a “on my legs!” with a sassy snicker to follow. But for all of its apparent simplicity, its been a question that hasn’t been all that easy for me to answer lately. It takes thought, an inventory, and then a stern talking-to when I inevitably discover I’m lying to myself.
Over the past few months, I have been actively trying to be more present. What started as a quirk became an indication of a more serious problem. I found my mind drifting further and further, from innocent daydreaming, to the need to escape, to becoming a prisoner in this world I had created. Very long story short, I became lost. I still am. Often.
Untangling the “real world” from what I have been living has been like picking at knots. A little tug here, a pull there; slowly the root of the mess comes into focus, but you know you’ve got your work cut out for you. With the knot disappearing, a dividing line begins to take shape, distinctly differentiating “here” from “there.” Herein lies the question. “Where are your feet?” reminds me to take stock. Am I here or there? Am I where I need to be? Am I present?
I know there are merits to waiting until a series of work is complete before presenting it, but I want to share “Where Your Feet Are” from the beginning. This series is about the unraveling of the knot- about progression rather than the final product. As I take time to be mindful and present, I find myself in a quiet exploration of the world (for lack of a better term) that I’ve long neglected. There is beauty in simple, banal scenes. To acknowledge the place of these scenes in my every day, to study them, is to be thoroughly present. It’s like seeing everything for the first time; reading a novel in the light and shadows of a simple dish towel, of the fragility of the dust on the shelves, the strength in a lopsided stacks of dishes. It is a recognition of the precarious balance of permanent and temporary existence.
As my understanding of place continues to evolve, this series will evolve with it. Photos will come and go, but I feel the most important part is the changing vision. Right now there is quiet, there is a lot of contemplation. Over the next few years, maybe we will see brighter, louder counterparts. Who knows? If I’ve learned anything these last few months, it is that the mind is not to be rushed. It can be best to let things just come in their own time. In the words of an old friend, just “be where your feet are.” And my feet are not running anywhere.
