Play Areas

Life is a load of balls.

If you fill it up and pack it down, there's no room to move your balls around. There's no room to let your balls breathe. If your chosen balls fit all too tightly into their box, there's no see flexibility, no room for to and fro, for give-and-take, for pull and push.

There's no room to vibrate.

Every new-age Guru spouts on about vibration. I suppose it speaks to the universe. It has a somewhat pleasing attribution at a sub-atomic level. It's a nice word, and to many it's a nice feeling at times. It is a usefully vague concept. Critics might argue it covers a multitude of sins but there's something reassuring about it.

Imagine your life as an IKEA play area, no, perhaps a garden planter filled with tennis balls. If there are too many things in your life, too many balls in your box, there's no room for a random bit of Brownian motion, no room for things to develop in the spaces in between. And when you think semi-poetically about concepts such as this you stumble across areas that others have stumbled across. The Spaces In Between, I just realised was the title of an Edinburgh show I went to see a couple of years ago. And equally recently I stumbled across a concept that Daniel Kitson spouted last week in one of the hundreds of ideas he throws away brilliantly. (And who's to say if more of mine and Dan's ideas coincided, that he wouldn't have an even more successful career. You certainly wouldn't find me arguing against it).

But that is the point of course. Our ideas must coincide for them to connect.

They fly because they land.

Sometimes you have to take a ball (or two) out of the box to allow space for vibration. 

Then you can enjoy the rattle, the uncertainty. Deliberately add in a chance element. Challenge yourself with the space. Notice what you fill it with, or how it feels itself.

Allow the vibration of the universe to tickle you. 

In the balls.