July 30 - Clouds

This morning I woke up to a completely different landscape.

Yesterday had been intensely hot. Overnight, heavy clouds settled into the valley, bringing moisture and cooler air. When I looked outside, I couldn't see the mountains at all.

They had disappeared behind the clouds. That image stayed with me throughout the day.

How often do we orient ourselves by what is visible?

Today I spent some time writing about healing and asking myself why this topic is so important for me since so many years. I realised that my physical symptoms have given me permission to create this space for myself.

Three weeks at a thermal spa feel justified because there are visible symptoms.

Three weeks simply because I longed for silence, creativity and my own rhythm, ( I even do not know, if I really will create...) would have been much harder to justify to myself. Thats the hard truth.

That observation touched something deeper. How often do I still believe that what is visible is somehow more valid than what I quietly know inside?

A physical symptom is visible. Money or lack of money is visible. An artwork is visible. Results are visible.

But an inner longing or feeling... The desire to live even more in my own rhythm...

Those things are much quieter and for me still a bit harder to "justify". Yet they are no less real.

As the day unfolded, I noticed another thread weaving through my reflections.

Regeneration.

It has accompanied my work for years. The pentagon. And especially the starfish. A symbol for regeneration in nature.

A starfish losing an arm and growing another. Something extraordinary and visible. Because humans don't regenerate in that same way, a part of me always felt there was a limit to the comparison.

But the human body is regenerating all the time. Cells renew. Wounds repair. Life is constantly adapting, reorganising and responding.

Not always in ways we can see or that we expect. But regeneration is woven into life itself.

As I sat with this, I also understood something about my own work. For years I have described myself in different ways. As a felt artist. An art therapist. A mentor. An energy practitioner. Each description is true. But none of them feels like the whole picture. What I keep returning to is something much simpler. I love creating spaces where people can slow down enough to reconnect with the quiet intelligence that already exists within them. The same intelligence we find throughout nature. The same principles expressed in sacred geometry. The same movement towards balance, relationship, regeneration and life. I don't know what form that regeneration will take for each person. It may appear in the body, or maybe in creativity. It may appear in a relationship, a decision or a new sense of inner peace. That is not mine to decide.

My role is simply to create the conditions where something has room to unfold.

When I arrived home this evening, after my thermal treatment and a drive to the coast to return the keys to my daughter's apartment, the clouds had disappeared.

The mountains were there again, glowing in the evening sun.

The landscape revealed itself when the time was right. I think regeneration follows the same quiet wisdom.