Main St., Lostwithiel
Lisa lent me a copy of the book “The House on the Strand” by Daphne duMaurier. Treesmill, Par, and Lostwithiel feature heavily in it. As I've been reading it, I have been remembering a past-life regression I did in college with Fred Fengler, author of “Manifesting your Hearts Desire”. I can't actually remember what the class was, though I think it had to do with his book. I’m a big believe in manifesting, as it got me to where I am today in a lot of ways. I credit it for my fiance, my house, my work, my trip here... I recall from the PLR that we were to imagine finding a door in a clearing in the forest. When I went into my door, I went into an old stone building where an elderly man and woman sat by a large stone fireplace. The woman was doing some type of piece work, and the man was smoking a pipe in front of the fire. The low-ceiling-ed room was sparse and dark, the furniture basic and rustic. I remember being able to picture all of this clear as day, more vivid than a dream. As I looked at who must have been my forebears, Fred's disembodied voice told us that we would now leave the door in the clearing and enter into our life’s most important work, and next thing I knew I was in a barn with a pair of heavy shears, the likes of which I’ve never seen. They were some sort of scissor used for cutting the wool off of sheep, and that was clearly my job, as the barn contained sheep and I knew my job was to shear them. I'm not sure what it is about Cornwall that brought that memory back, but it does almost feel like I've been here before. And I don't mean when I was a child and we traveled to England. I mean some deep memory that I can't fully recall but get glimmers of here and there. I know I'm repeating myself again, but there really is a inexplicable magic here.
Treesmill.
Yesterday I started to tally the results of the previous evening’s jurrying of the calendar photos. The competition was stiff and it was not easy to narrow down the finalists. Part of me wishes I’d entered a piece, but another part of me is glad I did not have to subject myself to hearing any kind of critique whatsoever of my work! I need to get over that, I know, but I’m not ready for it just yet. Julia assures me that putting your work through the Masters Registry will take away any fear of critique, because you get SO much that you can't take it all personally! Granted, the calendar jurrying was more silent: having critique on paper in front of you, undeniable... that's what I dread, though I know it would be invaluable to the advancement of my work.
We ate at the Bodmin Gaol again tonight. I just had spicy parsnip soup and sauteed mushrooms, thinking I’d save room for clotted cream and strawberries. But there was a huge platter of chips served, and between that and the 4 slices of bread, I was too full for the splendid wonder that is clotted cream. Hopefully we'll be able to do a cream tea on our last day here. Ahh, it's fast aproaching! Siiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.
Mmm, spicy parsnip served with a smile!
and finished with a smile too!
After dinner, a brave crew of 5 did a self-guided tour of the gaol. It was creepy albeit a little cheesy. Had we gone during the day, it would not have given the chills, but at 10 pm after a cask pulled ale and a glass of wine, the imagination was a little loose. It only added to the spooky atmosphere that we had a prankster with us who delighted in popping out of doorways to scare us! Certain rooms in the prison gave you that feeling that you weren't alone. It was great!
Today I'm trying to get my piece past it's ugly phase. I'm already thinking of other photographs that I'd like to turn into repousse pieces. This isn't an easy technique by any means, but it has such potential, so I intend to keep practising.
1 comment:
I am so glad that you have been able to document this as you go! It's fun to 'hear' you tell the stories, and it's obvious you've stumbled on something really special! Keep writing and have fun!
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