Leaping onto the crest of a breaking wave, waist-deep in the ocean, and hurtling to the shore on a bodyboard. Deposited sprawling, on the sand, as the sea ebbs once again;
Or that moment in choir, a few bars in, when the vibrations of sixty bellies and breath from one hundred and twenty lungs meld, in soaring harmonies. At first we are he…
Leaping onto the crest of a breaking wave, waist-deep in the ocean, and hurtling to the shore on a bodyboard. Deposited sprawling, on the sand, as the sea ebbs once again;
Or that moment in choir, a few bars in, when the vibrations of sixty bellies and breath from one hundred and twenty lungs meld, in soaring harmonies. At first we are hearing the notes, but then we become the music. When our final notes fade away the applause startles us;
Or, when seated at the piano tinkling the opening to ‘The Heart Asks Pleasure First’, the tune demands my hands to start moving in opposing directions. I must commit to the music. I plunge, the notes taking over.
Or the moment, at a kitchen table in the early hours, when someone suddenly says “what time is it?” and you realise you have been surrounded by the warmth of friendship for eight or nine hours and it feels like a minute.
Or, making my Dad comfortable in the minutes after he died. Ruffling his thin grey hair, smoothing the wool of his jumper against his chest, tucking a soft blanket around his waist to ease his passage between worlds.
It is a feeling I return to. Weightless, timeless. Perfectly alive. Between worlds.
A sense of being in this world and no world.
You only know you were there after you have returned.
This. Wow. This really caught me off guard. I'm crying (and I'm not one for tears). Though they are such personal memories, I connect with them all. You're so right, 'You only know you were there after you have returned'. Thank you for writing this.
Oh I love how you write. Always have since you first joined the project, but this one found me at just the right time. Each section is so complete in itself but the way they come together to make your last sentences resound is both soulful and very skilled. And how much I love this line in particular 'the vibrations of sixty bellies and breath from one hundred and twenty lungs': you write about music (a skill I am sadly without) in a way I would happily read in book-length.
I'd love to know what you're working on this season, if you have time to say. I think your MA is ended or is it part way through?
Thank you Tanya, always. Here I am in the final 6 weeks of the MA, working on a portfolio of c.25 pieces, all different topics, treatments and lengths - between 250 and 7,000 words. Total submission is 25,000 words. Despite the immersion I couldn't avoid your prompt, it's a special one. Wishing you the very best, with love, Sheila
Oh Sheila. All my very best for the last weeks of your studies. It's been an absolute privilege receiving pieces from you for this project, and I feel sure I will be reading your work in long form one season soon. Are you entering the Nan Shepherd? I do hope so. xxx
Speechless Shelia! A resounding yes to all of those moments you have captured so exquisitely. So many wonderful lines, incredible moments all perfectly summed up in the final line. A beautiful read. Thank you.
Hello Tracey. I have just made the connection between your presence here and on Instagram - I'm afraid I'm not the best on social media but do love how it weaves ideas and people and places. Thank you for your lovely comments. xs
Leaping onto the crest of a breaking wave, waist-deep in the ocean, and hurtling to the shore on a bodyboard. Deposited sprawling, on the sand, as the sea ebbs once again;
Or that moment in choir, a few bars in, when the vibrations of sixty bellies and breath from one hundred and twenty lungs meld, in soaring harmonies. At first we are hearing the notes, but then we become the music. When our final notes fade away the applause startles us;
Or, when seated at the piano tinkling the opening to ‘The Heart Asks Pleasure First’, the tune demands my hands to start moving in opposing directions. I must commit to the music. I plunge, the notes taking over.
Or the moment, at a kitchen table in the early hours, when someone suddenly says “what time is it?” and you realise you have been surrounded by the warmth of friendship for eight or nine hours and it feels like a minute.
Or, making my Dad comfortable in the minutes after he died. Ruffling his thin grey hair, smoothing the wool of his jumper against his chest, tucking a soft blanket around his waist to ease his passage between worlds.
It is a feeling I return to. Weightless, timeless. Perfectly alive. Between worlds.
A sense of being in this world and no world.
You only know you were there after you have returned.
This. Wow. This really caught me off guard. I'm crying (and I'm not one for tears). Though they are such personal memories, I connect with them all. You're so right, 'You only know you were there after you have returned'. Thank you for writing this.
Thank you Jane. xs
Oh I love how you write. Always have since you first joined the project, but this one found me at just the right time. Each section is so complete in itself but the way they come together to make your last sentences resound is both soulful and very skilled. And how much I love this line in particular 'the vibrations of sixty bellies and breath from one hundred and twenty lungs': you write about music (a skill I am sadly without) in a way I would happily read in book-length.
I'd love to know what you're working on this season, if you have time to say. I think your MA is ended or is it part way through?
Here is your link:
https://thecureforsleep.com/stay-this-moment/#sheiladecourcy
Txxx
Thank you Tanya, always. Here I am in the final 6 weeks of the MA, working on a portfolio of c.25 pieces, all different topics, treatments and lengths - between 250 and 7,000 words. Total submission is 25,000 words. Despite the immersion I couldn't avoid your prompt, it's a special one. Wishing you the very best, with love, Sheila
Oh Sheila. All my very best for the last weeks of your studies. It's been an absolute privilege receiving pieces from you for this project, and I feel sure I will be reading your work in long form one season soon. Are you entering the Nan Shepherd? I do hope so. xxx
Speechless Shelia! A resounding yes to all of those moments you have captured so exquisitely. So many wonderful lines, incredible moments all perfectly summed up in the final line. A beautiful read. Thank you.
Tracey xx
Hello Tracey. I have just made the connection between your presence here and on Instagram - I'm afraid I'm not the best on social media but do love how it weaves ideas and people and places. Thank you for your lovely comments. xs
Hi Shelia! With the SM name being different it isn't easy to make the connection. Thank you for connecting 🙏