flip the table ; be in the wind

There are two phrases I find useful when I want to move in a new direction, whether out of a funk or some flavor of stuckness. They have a specific order. 

First, I think about flipping the table. This could mean to completely upend or just gently rotate elements of my life to see a new refraction. It can mean changing my schedule slightly to wake up a little earlier to fold a new ritual into the everyday; to build some beauty into the hours before time accelerates. Or, it can mean to throw all of the contents of the bag of my life on the ground, literally or metaphorically speaking, and do some sorting: what’s working, what’s broken, what’s stale, what do I need to release, what do I want to keep close. 

Then, after the table has been flipped (or turned, or even undramatically reoriented), I allow myself enough levity (fearlessness? foolishness?) to be in the wind. The wind could take one to a new place, or just a nearby tree, or a new upside-down way of being with material. After all the clearing, there’s more room. Space becomes open for some whimsy, play, breath, and then something unexpected comes. A vapor.

That’s my process, for what it’s worth. Sometimes this relationship to desirous change can be chaotic or even painful, but it does render more surprises and unexpected beauty in my life and work. Grain of salt in a breeze. 

Here's some Remedios Varo (“Cazadora de astros”) magic for mercurial inspiration.