“But most important to one’s own growth is to see oneself leave the safe ground of accepted conventions and to find oneself alone and self-dependent. It is an adventure which can permeate one’s whole being. Self-confidence can grow. And a longing for excitement can be satisfied without external means within oneself; for creating is the most intense excitement one can come to know.”
Anni Albers, “On Designing”, 1943 (1979), p.51
I’m not sure whether the field mice sucked the long grass with ecstasy or with need. I couldn’t take my eyes off the many tiny mice, by the canal, sucking away as if their lives depended on the grass. I am like those wee mice by the canal when it comes to quiet.
Yes, I admit I’m “strange”. I do “sit in on my own and listen to classical music (and other music)”. Isn’t it “odd”! I do, at times, prefer to “get into myself” rather than “out of myself”. And, let’s face it, “the quiet ones are the worst”. I hear the advice from my culture to turn myself inside out, and to screw my head on the right way around. I really should “sell myself”, turn up my volume and drink more. I’ve tried it. I’ll stick with quiet. Yes, I’m quiet and strange like the blue drangonfly, the white swan and the brown mouse are quiet and strange.
It’s no surprise to anyone when the “loner” or the “quiet one” commits some awful crime. Yet, headlines recently stated that the British public had been “duped” by an extrovert celebrity. Even, with extroverts, it seems, there is other stuff behind the surface. Stuff kept hidden. Stuff kept back.
I’m not suggesting that we introverts are constantly sorting out our own dark depths. No, we might just be feeding our need like the field mice. I think it would take a greater commitment to go very deep inside, for introvert or extrovert, to truly find and face up to what we are.
Sadly, when I returned with a camera the field mice had moved on to some other party.
Other Inspiration this month:
People’s Art is ON now at Touchstones Rochdale and yours truly is exhibiting a mixed media picture.
Also, I laughed aloud many times when reading Julie Walters’ autobiography, “That’s Another Story”.