Dear Artist,
Louise and I left Glasgow after packing her digital piano, the Rhodes, the amp, the cables and the mixing deck into the back of her Vauxhall Corsa. We curled the off-ramp and headed north, the moorlands expanding around us in mounds of soft jade and broom. As time passed, our words awoke like an old engine — at first in little tumbles, then chugging with a warm hum. By late afternoon we’d crested the northwestern tip of Skye and arrived at a crofter’s house, now called Red Roof — a miniscule, chapel-like café with a pitched ceiling, a weaver’s guild, pottery studios, orbited by a flock of sheep. Artists’ spaces and holiday rentals sit hungry for future poets. I got out of the car and stood in the thousand-year-old wind.
“Loch Coruisk, Isle of Skye”
oil on canvas, 1831
by J.M.W. Turner (1775-1851)
A recent survey by the U.S. National Parks and Recreation Association found that 38% of Americans describe themselves as “always” feeling rushed. Mindfulness junkies call it “hurry sickness” — some even interpret the Chinese ideogram for “busy” as made up of the characters for “heart” and “perish.” Labels aside, under Skye’s long gloaming I felt my imagination open like a cloud-break. “It is in our idleness, in our dreams,” wrote Virginia Woolf, “that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top.”
The inhabitants of Skye discuss the weather with a passion New Yorkers reserve for things like real estate and parking. Stories of winter gales and writing by hand at dawn, of hill-running and lighthouse keeping, set the imagination to the rhythms of nature — the pace of every daydream measured only by hours of daylight or twilight and the cadence of sheep bleats coming from the fold. A gateway to creativity motions from the blowing grasses and the distant earthy lip of a skyward tilting cliff edge.
Here are a few ideas:
Omit something from an over-scheduled schedule.
Pay attention to the hurry of a small task — slow it down.
Look for a long time.
Walk slowly without destination.
Arrange a shrine to slowness and keep it within view.
In sacred creative spaces, let there be no timers.
Watch the weather.
“Loch Scavaig, Isle of Skye”
oil on canvas, 1883
24 x 38 inches
by Sidney Richard Percy (1821–1886)
Sincerely,
Sara
PS: “Art is the means we have of undoing the damage of haste. It’s what everything else isn’t.” (Theodore Roethke)
“I only went out for a walk, and finally concluded to stay out till sundown; for going out, I found, was really going in.” (John Muir)
Esoterica: By the time we reached Ullapool, our heartbeats had synched to the rhythm of the sleepy tugs pushing their shiny reflections to the harbour’s edge. I pulled at an ancient doorway and slipped into a vestibule stacked with slow things: a catalogue of charts showing remote Scottish islands, a book of Gaelic poems, sheets of music, cake recipes, essays on politics, the environment, religion. “The geographical pilgrimage is the symbolic acting out of an inner journey,” wrote Trappist Monk Thomas Merton. “One can have one without the other. It is best to have both.”
“Stare. Educate the eye. Die knowing something. You are not here long.” (Walker Evans)
If you wish to print out the letter, the icon is now with the other SHARE icons. It is the last icon to the right!
67 Comments
Oh, Sara–What a heartfelt letter this is…You have eloquently illustrated the push and pull of excitement in fulfilling goals, the sad goodbyes, the doldrums of the voids, and the creative spirit in all of us to “Carry on and Keep Calm” with mindfullness. I could truly feel your rich experiences and thank you for sharing them… (-:
Thank you for keeping these letters coming. This was a particular important letter for me. I seem to always be in the action mode and not in the defuse mode. Slowing down can be so important when it comes to painting. Letting the mind rest sometimes show us where we can improve a painting, a poem, or just our thinking about a subject.
Wonderful wonderful letter, I’m trying my best to slow down. Sometimes it works. I must get back to Scotland again, land of my birth.
To Sara’s ideas for slowing down I would add “Say no to some requests for your time. “If I had said “yes” to yesterday’s request to sit the gallery an extra day this month, I would not be able to paint today. I would be rushing around to fit time for family into the holiday instead of savoring the company of people I love. It sounds counter intuitive but sometimes the word “No” is not a negative thing.
In science, No is as valid as Yes; it is not a negative, it is the discovery that something does not work, or cannot be replicated, (TUrning lead into gold.) Yes, I, too, am learning to say no – but it has taken me 80 years to become quite good at it!
How I’d love to see all the broom in bloom! As good a lupines here in NS…where open skies are close to home and fuel my soul. Thanks for recalling my own trip to Skye (1953) to me!
The “Science” comment, thank you, gave me the courage to write this. It, I think, turns the ideas of haste and slowness upside down. The “heart-body-mind” is connected, throughout, by the speed of light. The intellectual mind (conscious thought) by the speed of verbalizing. To quiet that noisy verbal brain is, of course, the issue. Difficult to explain here, and difficult to grasp without concentration and faith, why some of us cannot stop “thinking” is explained (in 3 different ways) at bornforjoy.com. Not for the faint of heart.
My husband jokes he can “teach” you how to say, “no” in three easy steps:
1 Open your mouth
2 Say “no”
3 Close your mouth.
I need to remind myself of this very often. No explanations just a clear and simple “no”.
Good suggestions for taking the slow route, Sara. Thank you. TW
I learned the power of “no” when my children were small and I was asked to volunteer for various worthy causes. At first, I said yes to most requests, not wanting to seem uncooperative, ungrateful, etc. The results were predictable: less time with my family, no time to make art and feelings of resentment and frustration. The first time the light bulb clicked on and I said “no,” much to my surprise, the world did not come to an end! From that moment on, I became very intentional about how I used my time. At 74, it’s something I still do each day. This blessed life is not a dress rehearsal. Pay attention, slow down and relish it.
Sara…..Just came back from Scotland (Wigtown – the book capital of 1000 inhabitants in it’s little village) and the quiet and slowness, along with its extraordinary beauty, was what struck me as well. It really is a strange thing to race around all the time and then enter a truly quiet and mindful place where internet is difficult to get and news comes locally at the pub. It makes one realize that no matter our speed, the world will still go on in one form or another. I often tell my painting students to go fast, go slow. A paradox, but one we can take with us in everything we do. Thanks so much for your postings
For the rest of my life, whenever a breeze blows I shall think of that thousand-year-old-wind — and slow down.
I agree with you Tom, what a beautiful line that is.
Sara, ‘slowing down’ brings to mind my first painting trip to the lovely land of Cornwall in 1984. It, too, was at a ‘ slow pace’ and Ioved it! How, it has taken me to my eighties, to put it to practice. I now frequently say ‘no’ to art projects, so that I may find my final years full of painting and sketching, at a slow pace! … Thanks for the beautiful writing!
Don Getz AWS
Thank you for this. Warms my heart.
Sara, your writing is so good it makes me drool.
“A thousand year old wind” – boy does that say it all.
Ditto. Thanks Sara
Thank you for this wonderful reminder to all who will listen. It’s a perfect time to be aware of this need to slow down. I’ve often been criticized by “faster” people. Yet I NEED to be slow, to take my time in a place. No one has time to feel the wind, smell the air, watch the sky, experience the sunrise. Paint those feelings!
Thank you Sara, again for your delightful, enchanting post here. It reminded me of one of my favorite poets W.B.Yeats here. The mists of the holllow to you in all you do…Love Merri
INISFREE
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping
slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket
sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
W. B. Yeats
This poem by W. B. Yeats is so beautiful, it brought tears to my eyes. I have walked the moors in Scotland. When I feel the breeze now I think of the ‘thousand year old’ winds, and I am very grateful. Yes, I paint too, and the best is when I paint from my soul. The results are far beyond what I could ever do on my own.
Thank you for sharing Merri, and God Bless.
Thank you for sharing this Meri. What a beautiful poem, it really centred and calmed me.
Apologies Merri, I spelled your name incorrectly.
Oh – one of my very favourite poems – it made my heart sing just reading it here. Thank-you
Oh Sara, you write so beautifully, painting pictures with words. Thank you for this letter. I find that “slowing down” is often a challenge and “making time” to just be, and SEE is so very important. Here’s to building shrines to slowing down!
Wonderful post. I went to Iceland earlier this year and experienced a real sea change to my whole view of my life and work. Such a sparse country but so rich in time and those Thousand year old winds. What a beautiful phrase, thank you.
hi Sara. I don’t post very often, but I love your posts as I did your father’s. Yes, I avoid stress. I no longer have to work, but even when retired it is easy to get hooked into stressing out . I take classes at the university, but as an audit, so I don’t get grades. I paint, draw, write letters everyday. I was wondering if you read the outlander by Diana gabaldon? It is historical fiction about Scotland and Skye. It made me fall in love with Scotland. Thanks for the post.
A poem to slow… from Iquitos, Peru, where I am setting up a studio and live over the river…
I g u a n a R e s t i n g
(Iquitos, Peru)
Always seems to sleep,
though eyes are open.
Occasionally birds
fly near, a boat
goes past on the river.
Magical — iguana
is there!
Green scales
against the bark
of the kapok tree.
Iguanas eat leaves
and so are found
amongst this green
and yellow flow.
Watching for weeks
I finally see
him eat,
even manage
to photograph his tongue
extended to snag a leaf.
He seems to like the
older leaves
and I imagine
them sticking
in the throat.
But there is no
coughing, wheezing,
throat clearing
like I must do
every morning.
Whatever he eats
is not sticking
in his throat.
The iguana goes back
to its motionless rest,
a guardian for this river,
my lookout spot,
the birds and fish,
the coming and going of boats,
and the people collecting gas
or unloading giant bags
of charcoal, children
and dogs, the big-screen TV’s
walking onto their
small boats, enough
to connect them
to the cities
I’ve left behind.
I am becoming
the iguana resting,
and it is a good place
to be in this time.
nice, it’s good to be the iguana. enjoyed your poem
thanks for sharing your adventures . life is a journey to be enjoyed . not a race . don’t go too fast or you will miss so much .make memories to be savoured later on in your journey .as with painting , enjoy the process as much as the result . great letter Sara .
Most of what is valuable in life comes from paying attention, and paying attention takes time. Excellent essay!
Yes! Yes!
Unfortunately, “slow” has such a negative connotation. It has come to suggest poor productivity or intellectual weakness.
Maybe we could adopt the word “deeply” to describe this approach to life and creativity. As in, “I don’t work slowly, I work deeply”.
If you or your readers want to explore this further, I recommend “World Enough and Time” by Christian McEwen.
Thank you, Sara for taking the time to continue this newsletter. I really appreciate your voice in it.
Ok! I live in Scotland and believe me when I say I’m rushed off my feet between teaching in college , painting, exhibiting travelling, workshops and of course family life. My mother visited from California and she said everyone in Scotland seems to be in a hurry, they are always busy – oh the irony!
I think being in a place that allows you to get off the carousel of life, even for a short while, is good for the soul, wherever that might be. A time to think and contemplate- getting away from your life is the key.
Very good point, Angus!
Your Dad is smiling! Wonderful letter Sara!! Thank you!
“sleepy tugs pushing their shiny reflections to the harbour’s edge” — fabulous!!!
I thoroughly enjoy your letters and stories Sara, there is so much of your dad in you in the way you write and think. I love the feelings you impart and your wonderful outlook on life. I loved that expression, the 1000 year wind. I have been to that part of Scotland and it is a remarkable memorable place.
Paul
I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE
I HAVE PAINTED ‘THE EILEEN DONAN CASTLE AND LOOKING AT THE MANY PHOTOS
OF MY CLIENT, OF SURROUNDING LAND AND WATER. THE ISLE OF SKYE IS SO BEAUTIFUL.
I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE
I HAVE PAINTED ‘THE EILEEN DONAN CASTLE AND LOOKING AT THE MANY PHOTOS OF MY CLIENT, OF SURROUNDING LAND AND WATER. THE ISLE OF SKYE IS SO BEAUTIFUL.
Paul, I agree that there is so much of her father in Sara’s writing and thought. Now, when I open the “Robert and Sara Genn Twice-Weekly Letter” e-mail, before I click through to this site, I try to guess who the writer is (if it isn’t obvious). Sometimes I’m quite surprised!
Sara, that thousand-year-old wind blew life into me here in southwestern Utah this morning, as temps flirted in the high 70s ( down from lows in the 80s). Your words, images and the comments with this piece are so stunning, I realize in 68 years, like other sages say, it took an entire lifetime to slow down. Saying No is brand new to me, but the more I say it, the more comfortable and creative I feel, time to watch clouds, paint skies and water. Thank you so much for everything.
This is deeply meaningful! Thanks so much for sharing your journey with us. Wonderful that the letter can now be printed and kept.
Brilliant piece!!
Sara, I am writing this from a place of thousand year old winds, Vancouver Island. I recently lost my husband, my soul mate and I am trying to learn how cope with the alone feeling in my heart. Your letter ” The art of slow” helps me validate the changes in my life. The Yeats poem that Merri shared is so touching, I haven’t read it for more than fifty years, since school days and I have a feeling I will be reading it often……Thank you……..Linda
fine and wonderful, thank you.
Linda ….. I too am on Vancouver Island…… and yes we have certainly been having the winds !…. your letter touched something in me and reminded me to be grateful for all I have in my life right now…..peace and blessings to you ……. Marilyn
My husband and I just returned from Scotland, including Skye and the Outer Hebrides. Wonderful ancient energy in the land and the people. I finally slowed down and stopped taking a million photos and trying to sketch & just breathed in and listened to the wind and the water and smelled the Highland mountains. I can still feel the memory is in my body.
Loved the art there – it reflected the feeling of the place
Thank you so much for your wonderfully evocative writing – I love the “1000 year old winds”…..unforgettable imagery. I thoroughly enjoy reading your letters. Thanks a million
What a beautiful letter Sara, thank you. As many other people have said here your writing is so evocative and I loved your ‘thousand year wind’ phrase. I can picture that in many places in Britain where the trees have grown pretty horizontal due to endless wind.
It was really helpful to me too to hear other readers’ comments about considering ‘slowly’ as ‘deeply’ instead, how easy it is to say ‘no’ physically in three easy steps (!) and how long it’s taken some people to master the practice. I shall keep trying.
To me, so much of ‘slowness’ is actually mindfulness – which takes me back to your post Sara and the ideas you posted.
Your letter reminded me of a scene I saw yesterday. As I walked over the foot bridge to the Cafe and Penguins I passed a lady standing on the bridge, just looking out to sea. She stood there for a full five minutes. I was rushing so much I didn’t register until your letter.
Thank you.
Carin
So very beautiful and so very true❤️
Your letter is pure poetry and oh how I love reading your words and your dad’s. Inspired for the day’s painting – and maybe some words too – today. Thank you! Jenny
Thanks for bringing back my memories of Skye, it is beautiful and the people are so easy to talk to. Wish I could have spent more time.
SLOWING DOWN A LOT HAS BEEN THE GREATEST GIFT OF MY AGEING PROCESS. I AM 78 AND IT IS PURE JOY FOR ME NOT TO FEEL RUSHED. THANKYOU SO MUCH,SARA
Sara your writing makes me melt. I am a wanna-be writer/poet and painter and I will share this with
all my writer friends. As a painter I was a realist for many years before going to surrealism and then
I met Josh Goldberg and he brought me to non-objective abstract where I plumb the depths and pursue
the possibilities. I saw your website. Wow! Now that is abstract . . . and poetic! Why would I be surprised?
Thank you. Thank you.
“Slow”
I’m slowing down the tune
I never liked it fast
You want to get there soon
I want to get there last
It’s not because I’m old
It’s not the life I led
I always liked it slow
That’s what my momma said
I’m lacing up my shoe
But I don’t want to run
I’ll get here when I do
Don’t need no starting gun
It’s not because I’m old
It’s not what dying does
I always liked it slow
Slow is in my blood
I always liked it slow:
I never liked it fast
With you it’s got to go:
With me it’s got to last
It’s not because I’m old
It’s not because I’m dead
I always liked it slow
That’s what my momma said
All your moves are swift
All your turns are tight
Let me catch my breath
I thought we had all night
I like to take my time
I like to linger as it flies
A weekend on your lips
A lifetime in your eyes
I always liked it slow…
I’m slowing down the tune
I never liked it fast
You want to get there soon
I want to get there last
So baby let me go
You’re wanted back in town
In case they want to know
I’m just trying to slow it down
Leonard Cohen
Sadly, I don’t think there are many occupations left where “slow” is the norm. With technology as it is, we are speeding up exponentially day by day. Being an artist, to my knowledge, is still one vocation where “slow” is an asset.. True there are times when mood and enthusiasm force upon us a need to just react quickly and apply paint or make our efforts happen without thought or contemplation.
Generally, though, art is a contemplative “slow” process. Or at the very least it should be.
Its been some time since writing on this site. I’ve thought long and hard on the reasons why I stopped contributing here. Odd as it may seem, I had the same reaction to listening to the Beatles music when John Lennon was taken from us. This may not relate to some but I’ve been “slow” in coming to the realization that I need the community to which I was once a part. Hello Sara.
Hello, Rick. Thank you for being here.
And thank you to everyone taking the time to leave your insights. What a treasure of experiences here. Thank you all for reading and writing.
Sara and TPK Team.
I’ve been editing a lot over the last couple of years (paring down belongings and time commitments, etc)…the word I like is “depth”. I rather do more with less.
While reading this letter and the replies, however, I’ve decided to make an addition in the definite regular reading of these letters and responses. While I love having enough time, space and solitude, there is also the need of connecting with a community or tribe…this looks like a wonderful connection. Thank you all for contributing and believing in values that often can seem off the beaten path.
This is one of my favorite posts. Thank yo so much for validating my belief in renewal of soul. I am in my summer home in the Colorado mountains, far from the hustle and bustle of Dallas, our home city. I think my summer retreats here are the reason that I am living so long. Most thankful for that.
Where in Colorado? We live in Grand Junction and once had a vacation home in Lake City, summer home to some of the nicest Texans. Have a wonderful summer here!
Dear Sara: Just returned from running a workshop in my favorite piece of heaven on earth, the Door Peninsula of Wisconsin and just a day returned was already rushing headlong into “the schedule”. Door had put me in my slow butas soon as I returned I had started to lose the slow. Thanks for the reminder, I’m back in slow mode!
Sara, you have captured it oh so beautifully. I visited Skye 30 years ago and discovered Three Chimneys, a tiny “Taste of Scotland” restaurant housed in a crofter’s cottage. I believe it now also includes an inn. Skye has remained with me since then as an inspiration for things simple and slow in life. Thanks for the memories –
Interesting
This is do beautiful. Thank you and for the reminder. Made me cry to realize how often we (I) forget to see with my heart as well as my eyes.
Love this. Beautiful read.
I read this in the bi-weekly letter and appreciate knowing that others find it inspirational too.
Dear Sara, I loved the letter and the thousand year old breeze (more often a gale mind you) , and it was lovely to meet you at the Red Roof and to hear your music. And its true, life does slow down here. I watch my vegetables grow day by day , and of an evening we watch for the owls when they take to the air, and the days wander by. And I have surprized myself writing this.
Thank you Anthony, how wonderful to have met on Skye and now to be here together! I hope you’ll enjoy the letters and this miraculous community of artists.
In friendship, Sara
Pertinent & calming/ Thanx for the lovely read
Sara forgive me but somehow I missed this post. As I am reaching my 70th birthday this summer I am constantly reminded of the lightening speed of our journey through life.
Now, searching for memories of slow, contemplative and joyful experiences when as a young artist, my mind drifts back to weekend get togethers with close fellow artists in Ontario.
Wonderful moments of sharing thoughts, ideas, discoveries, painting, sketching, seemingly oblivious to the time or resonsibilities of scheduals. We met on Saturday mornings and spent the entire day exploring nature.
It is true these are the lasting memories. Slowly, or now I will say deeply walking this truly inspiring landscape brimming with possibilities with young aspiring artists, I will always be truly grateful.
Thank you to all the Artists who shared their words and beautiful poems and to you Sara for your insight into what helps us to continue to grow in all aspects of our lives.