Hilary Hawke
Elastic Experiences
“The world is not what I thought, it is different and more, and I have seen it with my own eyes” - Mary Oliver, after watching a spider in a web for many days.
There’s a knot in my stomach as I’m about to board the plane heading back to LaGuardia airport, NYC after being at Rensing Center for 3 weeks. I am aware this post is public so I need to state a disclaimer that I’m writing this from the heart. Honesty is messy, and that’s what happens if you let yourself be honest. So here it is, knowing without a doubt that we will have different experiences depending on our mindset and how elastic we allow ourselves to be.
Today, Ellen drove me to the airport, which she proclaims is one of her favorite moments with the “Rensings” because we really get to talk. She’s right, it’s a good time. The Prius pulled us out of town, but not before she started telling me about a podcast she heard about how the brain becomes more flexible and elastic with the more discussion, interaction, and stimulation it has. I began to wonder if this also meant that the more you get used to stimulating your brain, the more enjoyment you will obtain out of life.
The thing is, I am really comfortable residing in my creative mind. I love being there, and after a year of having the music world shut down, and only surviving creatively on livestreams, I was ready to be alone and isolated at the Rensing Center to solely work on my music and writing. Being alone and isolated is not what happened the whole time though, and while at the Rensing Center I felt my mind pull and stretch as I adjusted. I won’t keep you in suspense, so I’ll tell you right away. The support I felt at the Rensing Center was unlike anything I had received in my artistic career. There were aware and positive people in the community and on-site, all devoted to making the Rensing Center successful as well as celebrate my time there.
The day I arrived, everything was feeling perfect as I met the talented residents (Doreen and Carolyn, and then Kayla and Heather) and saw my peaceful space in the Forge. I had an amazing communal dinner that night with the brilliant John Fritz, Ashley Felder, Ron and Benny, and (eventually met dear Evelyn and many other volunteers and friends at these dinners).
The next morning, weary from a night of bizarre dreams from all the travel, I went to the waterfall and walked all the way to the end. I walked straight there quickly, only stopping to read the clay markers that named some of the highlighted plants and trees on the path. I made a goal to memorize all those markers so I would know some of the plant life in this part of South Carolina. Feeling very acute, determined, and much too disciplined I walked all the way to the end of the trail and found my fellow resident there enjoying a sit on the lawn chairs that marked the end. I briefly said “Hi”, and then went on my way, sure that I would find more trail to continue on. There wasn’t a visible path anymore, but I still crossed the stream and walked through tall weeds and wiped away wispy spider webs until I slipped down the embankment landing on my rear, and letting out a loud “whoop!” Feeling embarrassed, I was hoping that my resident friend didn’t hear me. So I sat there on the green spongy ground, and realized, my mind wasn’t really there. I started thinking something was wrong with me. Why wasn’t I more comfortable being social, and being around people? I wondered. I hiked quickly back home to the peaceful solitude of the forge and settled into my space. That night, and the next morning I wrote and wrote like there was a geyser of thoughts spurting out of my mind dissolving and transforming onto the paper. It was like I was all bottled up until I got to Rensing Center, and now, like the waterfall, it was pouring out of me. When I needed a break I returned to the waterfall, again and again. Everyday I went and wandered through the stream, right into the water with my shoes off. I walked on the stones as the stream bended and curved deeply through the woods. I stared up at the sun splitting it’s light through the branches that hung like giant umbrellas over the stream. I took pictures of the tendrils and vines, and of the bent tree and mossy logs and put their images into my writing. I was completely, hooked and utterly spellbound. I was surprised it didn’t hit me the first day, and it occurred to me what a state of mind I must have been in to miss this moment.
How many other moments do I miss when I’m in that state of mind? Am I utterly starving for this connection to nature? So, this is why I included the Mary Oliver quote at the beginning. To me, it’s about perspective, and the state of mind that we allow ourselves to be in. If we go to a new place, and only see the world through what we need to accomplish there is only a small part of our surroundings to see. If we decide to allow some of the surroundings to effect our state of mind, we see further and deeper into what is really around us. So, it begs me to ask, what is the reason I craved a residency? What is the reason you want a residency?, as you sit here, possibly reading this far into my blog post.
Ellen reads a Robert Louis Stevenson poem before our communal dinners every Sunday. Call it a toast, or a prayer, it is a wonderful perspective to keep in mind. The line that calls out forth, loudly to me is, “Give us courage and gaiety and the quiet mind”. When she would finish reading this, I always would say in my mind, and sometimes out-loud, “Quiet mind, quiet mind, a quiet mind!”. It’s worth cheering! It is what I found at the Rensing Center! It’s what I was craving from a residency.
As I conclude my post, I would just like to add a note about the music from the community and the wonderful nature opportunities in the surrounding areas. Do go see it, experience it! Gaze into the different spider webs you’ll see on a trail and think a million thoughts! Get lost in the brilliants sounds of a fiddle as it plays an old Appalachian tune. Allow yourself to stretch and be pulled into these moments because they are your moments to enjoy!
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