Use your words

Austerlitz and Angus Autumn Birds Black at LACE Show by Sarah Seager

I find it impossible to write, stuck between lack of sleep and surreal images from the last several days.  Falling asleep last night, PBS was chosen to try to take the edge off of the evenings news.  The default setting for settling down the brain is ARTS, the MTV type program that lacks skin and writhing drunk teens, but instead features obscure clips of opera, classical music, dance and of course short movie clips.  At times the imagery is bordering on surreal, with tranquil music backing countryside then crushing clips of humanity clashing.

Waking in and out of this allows for the relative calm of dream states to become polluted with all manner of connections.  Except last night, nothing was stirred. The clock pushed closer to midnight, my eyes still open I watched hoping for sleep to come.  The alarm clock was set at the ready for a 5:20 a.m. sounding, from which there was zero in the way of room for snoozing.  All of this stirred, staying in a state of confusion, not knowing what to do, how to react, or what was to be expected.  In that state, surrender is found.

Turmoil is a part of life, perhaps something akin to a cayenne pepper.  Change can be found in it, though agitation and discomfort are the twins that always seem to arrive with it to confuse the stability that is being sought.  Don’t get me wrong, tranquility is fantastic.  Periods of still pools of water are the ‘go to’ for regenerating strength.  Yet turmoil stirs up things, creating possibilities and opportunity for new directions.

At 5:25 the espresso machine whined as steam built up pressure, a creme forming in the carafe, milk being carefully frothed.  A cappuccino consisting of three shots of espresso gently drizzled into the warmed milk was prepared just as my love emerged from the bedroom for a quick shower.  Neither of us had really slept, but the day had already begun.  Walking out into the morning air to unlock the gate and car, a tinge of spring could be felt in the air.  A tangy humidity hung about, along with a warmth that has been missing since October.

A calm comes in those moments, spending time with the ones you love, in the early morning hours before a day begins.  It may only be in passing, as coffee is consumed,  showers taken, or hearing the sound of a hair dryer going.  All of these are tangibles, memories to be stored for later.  The house will fall silent soon, with just a pug snoring in the other room (sleeping in of course), and myself, staring at the news.  A short while later, the book is launched into (nearly complete after a year and half), stealing the next 2 to 4 hours of my life, channeling the characters, the events, the wildness of their experiences.   Then the world once again rushes in, and the day within this life, my life, begins again.




About Sarah Seager

I am an artist that works and lives in the wilds of Los Angeles.
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