At the beginning of every… new chunk of experience, every time I move into a new place and new projects await, I make a giant wall calendar. It feels good and bides time for the apprehension that starting anew inevitably brings.
I clear space and banish the dog or jam a bunch of tables together and roll out the drafting paper, grab a bamboo stick and my jar of ink. I make grids and messy squares all waiting to be filled, have time pass them over, have events and joys and sadnesses scrawled and painted on them as life goes by. The crisp and messy lines of my brush and ink, more abstract than calendar, are paintings of life that hang on my wall time creating layers of cancelled plans and changed dates on their surface. They are paintings always evolving, a metaphor for life and time. The making these calendars is a meditation on what is to come but requires being wholly in the moment. With a blank and quiet mind I create blank squares that hold all the potential and preemptiveness of a blank canvas or an unwritten ending or an untold story. Incomplete things are almost more interesting than something complete, their unease of existence creates an engagement of imagination. Where will the line drawn? Where will the handle be placed? What will happen tomorrow?
Next time you look at your agenda or calendar I hope you (and I) feel the joy of an empty uncertain future and not the dread of it.