Time and Time

I am pressed for time this week.

Marketing deadlines have forced me to make decisions about the project that I don't feel quite ready to make, but putting them into my workflow hasn't hurt me. I have made the decisions and feel that they were the right ones.

This way of using time is not the way of the Handless Project.

Part of this process has involved giving up control over when things happen. I have to trust that they will happen when they will and that the people who should be involved will be. Communicating this to people who have deadlines of their own is, I fear, speaking in an language that isn't shared, but it is absolutely what the story of the Handless Maiden teaches. Our brave maiden leaves home and wanders with no destination in sight, only the faith that "compassionate people will give me as much as I need". Without her hands  her ability to do anything has been compromised and yet see what she accomplishes when she trusts the direction her body chooses for her.

Here is a beautiful illustration of what it feels like to be in a process where you trust that things will happen. If you can stand that geekery (I love sci-fi) watch what happens when Jodie Foster gives up control. She even calls out "Control! Control!" again and again while she judders and shakes distressingly. Then watch what happens.

That's what it feels like when I trust. I have done a heck of a lot of work for this and have assembled a team of people whom I trust to work with me. I also trust the story and it's interest and usefulness to other people. If I let go, I can enjoy this: floating along enjoying what is being created through and around me. If I try to control too much or in the wrong places, the ambition of this project will wear me down.

I am going to trust myself. It's the only way it will work. Enjoy.

Home

I'm at my mom's house. I've been calling this place HOME (capital letters) for the past several years since she moved here from another flat around the corner. It's warm and has a big picture window with a large ficus standing guard.

Richard Redgrave - The Emigrants' Last Sight of Home

It's been an indoor Christmas. Lots of food, lots of sitting, lots of laughing. This morning the sun was shining so brightly and the cars on the street were so beautifully frosted that I had to go out. On the high street I looked into the window of a local estate agent and saw the house my mother lives in with the word "Sold" written across it. My mom rents.

The area mom lives in (for now) is full of redbrick terraces of varying sizes, most of which have a small front room with a picture window. Walking back I saw Christmas trees and matte paint, dining tables and pianos. They mark this place out as being different to the parts of London in which I grew up, they also mark this place as somewhere I want my mom to live. If her home is insecure, I feel insecure.

What is home? I mean what is HOME? For me it is a complex concept. I have lived in many houses, not all of them so secure. Now, the home my mother will leave is where I want, not to live, but to be from.

Can you learn to sleep?

I assume not, but then, when researching sleep for this project, just the thought of bringing books about sleep into my bedroom changed something. I slowed down, but what slowed? My thinking? Maybe. I know that as I thought about a sleep ritual remnants of one emerged. 

I made tea. I already have “sleepy tea” - as my mom calls it - in the cupboard. I just had to make it and after just considering a sleep ritual, I did. It occurs to me that I was also aware of the texture of my bed sheets and the motion of my limbs as they did things like “slide between” or over or into the sheets.

Sleep is not a given. There is too much to potentially get in the way of rest. It is too often described as an indulgence so no doubt there are psychological barriers.  I wonder what the value might be in formalising and publicly enacting a sleep or rest ritual? Would the same thing occur in others as it did in me? Would we respond to the suggestion collectively?

Where has Aleasha been?

I am trying something. I feel like I have neglected this blog and its tiny, but dedicated audience. I

don't want to do that. I also want to show up and be honest about the process of creating The Handless Project in a way that invites others to join me in sharing something of the meaning of our lives. The thing I will try is writing shorter less composed posts in between longer, more considered essays. I hope that this doesn't change the quality of your experience while engaging with it.

In the spirit of this I will give you a quick update on the project and where we are headed next.

"...and at sunrise she set forth, walking the entire day until it was night."

The Girl without Hands Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm

Drawing from The Handless Maiden story I am now looking at the idea of journeying with a 24 hour ritual journey around Liverpool. We will walk, roll, ride or be carried around the city, visiting places of emotional resonance to people living here and enacting small performed rituals marking each spot. Like the maiden we will begin at sunrise on the first day, but we will continue until sunrise on the second. More details about where we will be and how you can get involved will appear soon.

I have two companions who will be journeying with me and they are Joanne Tremarco and Vicci Riley. Both are performers I admire for their ability to listen deeply and to improvise from a place of compassionate awareness (my words not theirs). I can't wait to show you what they do.

I am also going to try and grapple with some of the more difficult intersections between the story and our 21st Century world. Disability (why does she need to grow her hands back in order to heal?), sexual violence, Hejira, religion. Thoughts about these issues have been swirling around my head for as long as the project has been in existence so I will be inviting your thoughts on all these issues. Do we need a new version of the story, one not filtered through J & W Grimm's squeamish christian lens?

All this and more coming soon.

How to know

Why do we resist knowledge? It is a question that is on my mind lately. Why does it take pain and suffering or loss to learn some lessons? There are answers. Ones that go to the heart of what it is to be human and ones I continue to struggle to accept.  At the moment I am experiencing a palpable paradigm shift in relation to The Handless Maiden story, one that is potentially far reaching for me. I am now really invested in it as an initiation story.

The Colour Orange

Afraid, today I chased a woman into an underpass near Broadgreen Hospital. I didn't want to walk through alone. I also didn't want to alarm her  so I speed-walked , level six, to close the gap between us, my trolley-bag rattling behind me. I needed to make sure I could see her for the whole of the forty seconds I was in the tunnel. Joy of joys, as I got closer, I saw she was wearing a uniform, sister colours, same as the man sitting on a wall just outside the exit. Thank heaven for navy blue uniforms.

Here Anyone Can Live Free

What a week.

I have felt as though the world is ending, felt terrified of other people, got a hold of myself and then found my way back to something resembling calm.