What Dreams May Come
sunset cruise on Table Bay, from the deck of the Maharani
I wake to the sound of wind swirling around our old house, tiny streams of air slipping between old cracks and windows made of lines not quite meeting in all the right places. Dave is missing from the tangle of sheets and blankets beside, gone no doubt to chase away midnight monsters from under Madeleine’s bed.
We are home after sixteen days away, though our bodies lie and keep Cape Town time out of loyalty to our shared adventure, now so far away. We’ve been walking around the house, feeling strange, remembering the rhythm of this place we call home. I find myself hiding in old routines, not wanting to lose my sense of feeling most myself overseas, not wanting to forget each face, each tender conversation about dreams and longing.
The best way to do this is a zine, I decide. I go through the rituals of preparing quietly as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening. I run my hands over hot pressed paper at the art store. I pull the sheets, pet the fat yellow cat that rises from the shop counter to brush his face against my chin. Add more ink to my pile, ask polite questions about watercolor, while mentally cutting the paper in my mind–one sheet, 12 squares? Is that right? Meryl will know.
I promise myself ten days to commit to paper whatever pours from my heart. I promise myself two more at the beginning to make a studio space, now that John who used to rent the attic space has drifted off. I pick a color at the hardware store in under five minutes, a never before imagined miracle. I paint my little cave of light that overlooks the back yard the color of sky–Song Blue. I worry it’s too blue, until I see how the yellow blossoms on the trees come on fire from my perch, until I see how the spring greens speak their thanks from our unruly yard below.
I buy a wall map of Africa online so I can learn a new geography for my soul to flourish and grow.
Everything that happens for the next two weeks will be from a space of creative overflow. There will be times when I can not put another line on the page. I know now from experience that this will be a sign for me to turn back to my keyboard and putter around for a few hours with writing a children’s book. There will be times when I will face a deadend and not know which page goes where. This will be my sign to turn back to my sketchpad and spend an afternoon on something else instead–wide open sunflowers for James with pale green leaves curled upward toward the sun, piles of radishes just pulled from the deep dark earth, one vine ripe tomato in full color.
Being in Africa was a Mondo Beyondo dream come true. Even more surprising than that for me was how being in that place reminded me of other dreams on that same list—things that seem so preposterous or impossible. Unless, of course, you are feeling your soul nurtured under the wide open Africa sky.
Blessings all in these early hours of dawn. I am happy to report that I met so many people in Cape Town, Franschhoek and Knysna, South Africa, who are holding close their own wild dreams, looking for the way to open soon, soon, soon. These stories and more will be my focus for a hand full of pages. Or so I hope on the onset of a new zine adventure.
April 16th, 2007 at 6:25 am
Awaiting your creative spirit splashed forth on new pages, unveiling your adventures, revealing dreams that have new wings and breath to guide them from your heart into the reality of this life. Creative overflow sounds wonderful, soulful, amazing! Blessings be yours as you go about this creating! (((JEN)))
April 16th, 2007 at 7:30 am
welcome home, friend.
i was a zombie wreck for about three weeks after coming home from ireland. it took a while for my soul to catch up with my body. be gentle with yourself during this time.
xo
April 16th, 2007 at 9:15 am
Welcome home, and welcome, it sounds, to your next big adventure.
April 16th, 2007 at 9:38 am
Welcome home! It is truly amazing what Africa can do to the secret places in your heart. I think, for the rest of my life, there will always be a cord pulling me back.
April 16th, 2007 at 9:46 am
This made my heart sing — can’t wait to see the zine, and catch up. Welcome back, dearfriend.
April 16th, 2007 at 10:21 am
Our trip to Tanzania is tentatively planned for 2010. After seeing this picture and reading your beautiful words, we may have to fit it in sooner. Thank you for sharing your journey!
April 16th, 2007 at 10:27 am
Sigh… with a smile.
April 16th, 2007 at 11:05 am
Welcome home and thanks for sharing.
All the best,
James
April 16th, 2007 at 11:57 am
You continue to be an inspiration Jen! I am so excited for you and your family. I can’t wait to order that zine you are working on. Best wishes always, Josefina from the Dominican Republic
April 16th, 2007 at 7:57 pm
I, too, have been following your journey. I have been moved by your words and images. Thank you so much for sharing your experience. It has left me feeling renewed. Welcome back, Jen.
April 16th, 2007 at 11:18 pm
Welcome back! I am go excited to hear that you are planning to create another zine. I can’t even begin to imagine how wonderful this experience was for you and your family. Life altering, I would guess. I look forward to hearing more.
xoxo
April 16th, 2007 at 11:59 pm
Yay! Another zine! Welcome back.
April 17th, 2007 at 1:10 pm
Yummy post.
I got so inspired reading about your new space-your commitments.
I love the sound of the blue and how you will flow from thing to thing.
Wonderful.
April 17th, 2007 at 5:55 pm
hey jen… i loved the line about feeling most yourself when you’re away. that’s me too.
x
April 17th, 2007 at 6:10 pm
welcome home! and thanks for sharing the adventure. i look forward to seeing you translate that experience into art.
April 17th, 2007 at 8:18 pm
Creative overflows to you. And here’s the next adventure.
April 19th, 2007 at 12:00 am
Looks like this photo should be on your wall.
Could you email me a copy?
Please and Thank you.
April 19th, 2007 at 12:37 am
you make goodness joy and energy spark and fly in my heart.
THANK YOU MIRACLE GIRL.
April 30th, 2007 at 6:59 am
[…] It takes time to really see. A lot of time actually. And for the first time ever maybe–I am starting to feel okay with that. Right now I’m experimenting with the radical notion of not rushing with this zine, with letting go of the fear that anything but a breakneck speed means I’ll never finish. Anyone who knows me understands what a miracle this is. I’m the girl who loves to do a lot of things at the same time very, very fast. […]
August 3rd, 2007 at 6:09 pm
[…] Allow myself to do more work as an illustrator-for-hire, trusting that I can do work within my passion and art sensibilities, and say no to the rest Write and send off book proposals for a manuscript that is gathering dust on my studio floor Buy an archival, gallery grade printer so I can offer prints of my work Take more artwork on commission–especially paintings to commemorate soulful transitions in people’s lives Learn the art of the business plan Finish the almost finished Africa zine, even though the content is more challenging for me than the last one […]