I attended a Spill writers follow up day on Wednesday. Essentially it was a reunion of the group of writers from the Spill Live Art festival and a time to talk over our experiences. It was good to see everyone again and feel the allure of inclusivity. I say allure because as so often my own sense of ‘not being good enough’ didn’t quite allow me access to a place of belonging. I did however reflect upon how my experience as a writer and spectator at Spill marked me.

As I glance towards my book shelves I see my little wrapped bone from Sarah Jane Norman’s The Bone Library. A bone delicately inscribed with a word from one of the many dying Australian Aboriginal languages. I was asked to be its guardian, to look after this picked clean object and accept that I do not know its meaning or its name. This exchange of trust allows me back to a place of belonging.

Mmmm…a touch of irony here I fear!




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s