Kinga Szumska
Sep 6, 20203 min
Somehow, with an uncanny providence, books just come to me for a reason or a season, as the poem says. I used to go to the flagship Waterstones bookshop near Picadilly to pick out a few books at random, and then I would sit on an available sofa or just the floor to explore each book before I bought it.
There was always some amount of randomness to my selections. But then that random chance became even more random: I would pick up a book when I heard of it from someone else. Of course, whoever told me about the book still had to spark my interest in it. This made my book-finding journey became even more fascinating. It was in this way that the book ‘Women Who Run With the Wolves’ came into my path, through a recent YouTube journey. There was still some similarity to the old Waterstones days: I sat on my own sofa and scrolled through YouTube interviews, watched something at random, and then heard about wild woman, Clarissa Pinkola Estés, and a book which brings all the childhood stories to life again. It was a no-brainer to simply double tap on Amazon Prime and have it delivered to me two days later. A wonder. But have no fear, this is by no means a book review. This is about the magic that happens when you believe that ‘spooky action at distance’ – totally contrary to what Einstein thought* – actually does happen. BING BANG! As simple as that.
And this act of kind, random chance came to me. It made me think of my old blog post, where I wrote ‘somewhere out there are the ideas which are waiting for you to be ready. Get up from the sofa and start doing something. Start small, start stupid, start ridiculous’. Keep going. Keep moving. And if you’re still not sure where to get ideas from, I wrote about this here. Keep moving. Welcome that spooky, but kind, randomness into your life. Keep dreaming, and every once in a while do something about it.
To show you what I mean, I am just going to quote the book itself. From page 183: ‘Do as the duckling does. Go ahead, struggle through it. Pick up the pen and put it to the page and stop whining. WRITE. Pick up the brush and be mean to yourself for a change, paint. Dancers, put on the loose chemise, tie the ribbons in your hair, at your waist, or on your ankles and tell the body to take it from there. Dance. Actress, playwright, poet, musician, or any other. Generally, just stop talking. Don’t say one more word unless you’re a singer. Shut yourself in a room with a ceiling or in a clearing under the sky. Do your art. Generally, a thing cannot freeze if it is moving. So move. Keep moving.’
That curious randomness was real when I read the quote from ‘Women Who Run With the Wolves’. I thought, the magic happened! I took my favourite pink paint, almost magenta pink, and painted something on a whim. Then I thought, hell, why not write about it on my blog? And so here I am. So, as Pincola said, and as Nike said, and as your creative child can say to you: JUST DO IT. And because I don’t care much about political correctness on my blog: Just move your bum and do it! Write it. (As once I did: 'Dreamford'). Book your flight (or, in a world struck by Covid-19, at least plan your journey, book in virtual reality). It’s easier said then done, so if you’re not there yet, keep reading things, keep talking to random people, call a friend. At some point, the magic of randomness will bring you to your dreams – to remind you of where the soul paints itself pink.
‘Where?’ You ask. I’ll be straight forward now if you have not got it yet: When you dream, and do something about it, your soul paints itslelf MAGENTA! :D
MWA! XX