When I looked at this waxing it reminded me of two of my previous posts – Imaginary Friends where I talk about the Don’t Hurtle Turtle (about a project moving at a very slow place) and Under Isa (about the same project being put on ice for a few years). Over the last few weeks, this project has ground to a halt… Things took an unexpected turn, which to a certain extent was a blessing as I went back to the drawing board, stripped out things I wasn’t completely happy about, made a few design changes, spent hour after hour editing and making tiny tweaks to please my eye. Then with maybe about half a day’s worth of work left to go, I thought to myself – What’s the point? Why waste even more hours finishing this?
Is spending thousands of hours on something, a reason enough to finish it? I don’t believe it is. I think that’s a trapping of quirky logic, like finishing reading a crap book because surely it must get better soon or sitting through a lousy movie because you paid to get in… Reasoning that you’ve invested in something so it would be wasteful not to complete, yet really, your time is of greater value so why waste even more of it?
Things ground to a complete halt when I took time off work and had enough time on my hands to go back over the whole timeline since its conception… Recent events had left me thinking that this project was tainted, going back through its history, it was abundantly clear that things had been stinking for a very long time. Timeline laid out in black and white, I wondered why I’d tolerated so much bullshit. I guess because I felt passionate about my work… But now, not feeling the love any more more, surely spending even more time on it was the equivalent of throwing good money after bad… I decided to shelf it yet again… Maybe this time, the bastard child would finally die… It can stay undone until I can refind some love for it…
I look at the waxing image and see the flow of pink through the icy blues… I see the Don’t Hurtle Turtle up again and on the move… I feel a little fluttering. A quickening? Some love returning?
I glance over at the rock that Mr S brought home for me yesterday…
He found it about 1.5 metres buried below the ground. He walked into the house declaring – Yours I believe! And tossed the surprisingly heavy rock towards me. I held it in my left hand… A raised part of the rock sat snuggly into the palm of my hand, my hollow being the exact shape of the bump, my fingers curled around the edges, naturally falling in line with the shape… A perfect shape, almost like this was a bespoke item made specifically for me…
I asked a friend knowledgeable about such things, what it might be? She told me it was fossilised rough colony coral that had formed very quickly before crystals could form in the holes, and that it was from the cretaceous period…
I look at my rock and its Turtle like shape that took 65 million years to arrive on my desk and suddenly 6 years feels like no time at all, though it does feel like it’s nearing the time to crack on again and put this baby to bed.
The pure and blessed way 