Woke up to chainsaws, diesel, cigarette smoke and the death of trees. Cracking branches splitting my heart. Tidiness destroying wildness. Shade, shelter and vitality crushed and chipped and blown into the back of a truck. Beauty disappearing in favour of efficiency. Another patch of pavement because, clearly, we need more.
— heidi kalyani, 2018
from the *nothing is black and white* project: illustration created out of meditation with a single unbroken line
I sat today, on the shady steps of a series of houses that were all for sale, with a five year old who was carefully spreading hummus on crackers with a miniature spoon, then stuffing the little savoury “cookies” into their mouth — whole — and chomping away with incredible focus and devotion as if nothing else mattered. In the middle of the adult-generated whirlwind of questions, decisions, timelines, facts, factors, finances… there was a centre of calm. Spoon. Cracker. Hummus. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
— heidi kalyani, 2017
from the *nothing is black and white* project: illustration created out of meditation with a single unbroken line
I feel emboldened
by the astonishing courage of plants
as they poke their tiny green heads
above the soil
Is it faith,
habit,
instinct,
that allows them to burst forth
with such boldness?
It seems a mad disregard for safety,
and a deep embracing of vulnerability,
to come into a Northern spring
tender, naked and green
— heidi kalyani, 2017
{Thanks to the lovely folks at Open Heart Forgery for publishing these words in the Open Heart Farming 2017 issue!}
Your eyes are burning with a longing most of us are afraid to see — we turn away, drown in distraction, pretend it’s imaginary, try to protect our own disappointment with the way things are. Your longing is a fire that emits intense heat. It’s raw and visceral and inflames each draw of breath so that you gasp on your inhales and pour out great plumes of fire on your exhales. It’s a longing for wholeness, for depth, for connection, for a kind of beauty you thought was natural until you were taught that no one else believed it was true. But I believe in it. And I’ve been dreaming of finding you. As I drift into sleep, lie on warm grass gazing at clouds, or scratch words into a notebook as fast as my hand will allow, I whisper softly to the universe, “I am here! I am alive! I want to build a new world with you!”
— heidi kalyani, 2017
from the *nothing is black and white* project: illustration created out of meditation with a single unbroken line
In the middle of the night when I’m not sleeping, I imagine other realities that might have been if I’d expressed my attraction to this person or that one, or run off to live in the woods or on an organic farm, or if I’d never been told that I couldn’t sing or that my legs were too short and my thighs too wide. What if I’d gone to art school instead of travelling the country, or taken my clothes off that night by the river, or said “yes, but…” instead of just “yes”? What if I’d business-partnered with my boss, closed doors as I walked out of rooms rather than letting the people I was walking away from follow me? What if I had done everything differently? Turned it all upside down? The number of possible worlds I could be living in is overwhelming. And in some ways, under the cover of darkness, and with the delirium that comes with too much raw energy and not enough sleep, each of them seems not only plausible, but real. I can feel the baby at my breast, I can see the bass-string-sized blisters on my plucking hand, I can hear the seductive laugh of the roommate I was too afraid to kiss, I can taste the fresh sweetness of the mangoes and avocados that grow in my backyard. And after a time of revelling in the realness of what might have been, I slip out from under the blankets and begin work on what might still be!
— heidi kalyani, 2017
from the *nothing is black and white* project: illustration created out of meditation with a single unbroken line
if i could manifest extra arms at will, i would make two for encircling you, two for pouring tea, and two more for juggling the cosmos.
heidi kalyani, 2016, from *project 139 (or less)*
I wonder, as we walk on the dusty dykeland path in the still warm sun of late summer, if you crave human touch as much as I do. If you also want to reach out across the invisible but, sadly real, societal boundary between us ― to take my hand in yours, to feel its warmth, its alternating roughness and smoothness, the history of its microscopic scars, the story of its aliveness. Each day, in a multitude of ways (some tiny, some huge), we buy into the myth of separateness, of us as isolated islands, unconnected to each other, to our surroundings, to the visceralness of life around us. And each day, we starve a little more, our hearts shrinking, our capacity to reach out to each other evaporating, our collective memory of the power and naturalness of connection decaying like roadkill. Who will step up and offer the courage, the trust, the simple open-hearted compassion to reach a hand across this destructive and manufactured divide?
— heidi kalyani, 2016
from the *nothing is black and white* project: illustration created out of meditation with a single unbroken line
“The most important decision we make is whether we believe we live in a friendly or hostile universe.” ― Albert Einstein
What’s happened to you that you wake up every morning believing you live in a hostile world? Who doubted you? Harassed you? Demeaned you? Took their anger out on you? Who didn’t watch your back or offer to help you when you fell down? Who silenced you when you asked questions that hit too close to home? Told you that your curiosity was dangerous and inappropriate? Was threatened by your energy and intellect, your unique way of digesting the world? Who shut you down?
It could have been anyone of us, or all of us. Our fears leak out all over the place. We’re afraid we’re not smart enough, not energetic enough, not beautiful enough, not fill-in-the-blank enough. We separate ourselves from each other, and sort ourselves into divisive binaries; “that side yucky, this side nice”. We compare. And compete. We create top-down power systems where most of us “lose”. And in the anger and frustration of our loss, we start believing that we live in a hostile world, because in our suffering, it feels like one to us. We are islands of unhappiness. Islands of powerlessness. And because we don’t know how to break the cycle of despair, we act out. As if for our survival, we kick, we scream, we push other people down.
But what if we start believing that we actually live in a friendly, benign world? That we are not separate from each other, or from the planet that sustains us. What if we believe that co-operation makes us stronger, connection makes us more resilient, love helps us envision and accomplish anything? What if we are gentle with ourselves, gentle with each other? What if we wake up each morning ready to embrace and support each other?
Could we change the world?
— heidi kalyani, 2016
from the *nothing is black and white* project: illustration created out of meditation with a single unbroken line
The seasons have shifted today — if even for awhile (I know winter will be back!). Yesterday the snow was crunchy underfoot, the air was calm and still and I breathed out giant wisps of steam, like a puffing dragon. This morning, after the darkness of sleep and a few restless dreams, the snow is melting, my breath is invisible, and the wind wants to blow my house into the field next door. It’s on days like this that I sweep the cobwebs out of my studio, clear space at my desk, start new files on my computer, and throw open windows to let fresh oxygen in!
— heidi kalyani, 2016
from the *nothing is black and white* project: illustration created out of meditation with a single unbroken line