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Process: Stirling Steward #3

Head bowed & hands in pockets, I walk & sing becoming a lament. I hear myself better this way. Looking up every now & then to notice outside to sing out. Sometimes there are thoughts, sometimes not. Do I sing from Blood? from Heart? from Womb? from the lake beneath my feet? A pathway within many pathways & evidences of footsteps, following my breath to a sound, to a song. I feel myself getting stronger, becoming more woman - The less clothes I wear the more I am dancing from my blood I stamp, I stand strong aware of the details, of fingers & hair & skin.

I am keenly aware of myself here - obvious, clumsy, noisy when I move. I am the red in the white. I am witnessed by this place so much more clearly than any other I have experienced. I am drawn to the subtlety in the land & gradually feel myself finding its reflection in my body. The specific sensations & emotions evoked here are strong & present, yet simultaneously I am very aware of the world beyond the horizons of other people engaged in the stuff of life: the mundane & extraordinary, the purposeful & the precious, the practical & the emotional, the real & the imagined. I find the collective in my solitary experience in a way I have not known before.

Stirling Steward

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