It seems appropriate to think about the relationships between art, nature, stillness, and impermanence this Monday morning.

These are clips from a documentary about artist Andy Goldsworthy, called Rivers and Tides,  which I plan to hunt down and watch in its entirety later today. I was linked to the first video by another blogger, and it resonated with me in a way that I can’t fully explain quite yet.

Until I have the time to create some art of my own, I’m just going to continue to savor this autumn and be thankful for this new seasonal awareness that I’ve never had before.

“Spelled out your name and list the reasons.
Faint of heart, don’t call me back.
I imagine you and I was distant, not insistent.
I followed suit and laid out on my back,
Imagine that.
A million hours left to think of you and think of that.

- Tegan and Sara, “The Con”

I have so much to say, and so much to show. Not for the purposes of this post, though; right now I’m just going to wrap myself up in songs like I would a patchwork quilt, and try to get my feet back on the ground, balanced. But I’m alive.

I consider myself to be a connoisseur of procrastination. It’s astounding how many ways I can find to distract myself from what I should be doing. There are obvious and easy distractions–video games, knitting, television, etc. After I can no longer justify doing those things, and the ticking clock starts to exert its pressure, my shifty mind tries to trick me out of doing work by leading me on quests that I’ll be 2o minutes into before I wonder why the hell I’m doing them. I’ll start re-organizing my computer’s folder hierarchy, or decide that making sure every song on my iTunes has artwork CANNOT wait. This can go on for hours.

But tonight I found a whole new way to procrastinate. My English instructor is a TA, who mentioned in passing (as if TAs ever mention their accomplishments entirely in passing) that he’d had an essay in a book that one of our other essays was from. Curious (and procrastinating), I Googled the book and his name together to see what it was about. I found not just the title of his essay, but his personal/professional site, a literary journal/podcast he used to do, and several media blogs that he contributed to. I haven’t read or listened to any of this yet, because it’s 2 am and I need to write, oh, 5 more pages and figure out how to properly use footnotes, but I’m still astounded when I find the digital footprints of someone I know. It’s voyeuristic and intriguing, and I’m not sure that I’ll ever get used to the fact that people are so easily trackable online just through Google alone. But anyway, had I known he was such an awesome web geek before, I probably would have paid more attention in class.

Except when he was lecturing on Freud. Don’t even get me started on why English academics have such a hard-on for Freud (and yes, I realize how that sentence lends itself to Freudian interpretation).

I’m not quite sure why 3-4 am seems to be my magical writing time, but hey, whatever works, right?

I just needed to say that sometimes, nothing makes you feel better than a couple of good conversations. As an introverted person, I spend the majority of my time wrapped up in my own head and avoiding contact with other people. It’s easy for me to forget that talking to others doesn’t always result in being socially and emotionally exhausted–in fact, sometimes it’s just the opposite and I feel reinvigorated by the connections I’ve accidentally managed to form with some truly amazing people.

So thank you, Universe, for reminding me of the importance that other people play in my happiness and well-being.