In the days leading up to my first solo show: Sacred Nude, I have asked poet and writer Francesca Simonelli to respond to my Sacred Nude drawings. What she did completely blew my mind away! Every day until the show opens I will post some of her very special, moving and inspiring poetry for you to enjoy.
Francesca Simonelli‘s poems have touched me and many others for many years and I was over the moon when Francesca agreed to write some words in response to the Sacred Nude series of artworks. Sacred Nude was inspired by a meditation practice that resulted in the healing of body and mind. I wanted to create a series that was dedicated to my meditation practice and the joy (and struggles) I encountered therein.
Exhibition opening: 22 September 2018, 6-9pm
Opening times: 1-5pm every Saturday until 20 October 2018
Inspiring and creative workshops each Saturday
Address:
Retreat Yoga Studio
367 New Cross Road
London, SE14 6AT
See home page to RSVP
Mindless-Mindful
By Francesca Simonelli
My heart
Slowed
To the point of emergency
Sounding the alarms
Of medical officials
I sat calmly
Questioning
“Do I want to stay…..
or do I want to go?”
I silently contemplated
Continuing the mindless monotony.
Exposed there
In the ER
Doctors swarming
Whispering
It may as well have been a dream
It was all so surreal
I sat
Neutralized
Seemingly unaffected
This wasn’t the first time.
With the near stroke
And inexplicable paralysis,
I panicked.
When in the midst of writing –
My hand simply stopped working
And I went numb.
Mindful
Only because my body forced me into submission –
That terrified me.
But this,
Now
I knew I could control my heart,
On some level.
I was in charge.
I could drop this body
And run,
Or let myself be lifted.
I walked out –
Mindless
Mindful
Perhaps a bit of both…
While the doctors were huddled
Not telling me their plan
Down the hallway,
As if I were already flat-lined.
They did not include me
In their conversation
As though I were an eavesdropper from the other team
Listening in on their mysterious tactics
While the head coach
Mumbled indiscernibly.
I did not trust their approach
Or methodology
But it was a Sunday
And my holistic doctor was not the “on-call” sort
Unless it truly were an emergency
I just was not convinced.
I would wait….
I was ok if I died waiting
But I knew in that moment
It was completely up to me.
With blind faith
I walked away
My legs still as sexy as ever
I could have been a dancer
I sauntered off that artificially lit stage
Where I would have been hooked up
And God only knows what…
Tested
Inserted
Grabbed
Handled
Poked
Prodded.
You know the routine….
The, “Lie down and take it” investigation
A ridiculous process of elimination.
Now
I rest my body when she calls intermission
My legs like antennae
One pointing to the heavens
Reminding me that I am made of stars
The other pointing to the earth
Reminding me that I am made of dirt
I may hide my arms behind my back
I may not let many people in
But believe me when I say
I am wide open
And I know who I am.
Mindful
Many fleeting moments
Still
Mindless
Most days.
