Some time ago I stumbled upon a amazing blog, a magic place of creations, with stories for both eye and soul. I don't remember how I got there, but presumably by forces of moon and stars, more than numbers ticking away on the electronic web. A gate-builder between worlds, and multi-talented artist is she, Rima Staines, and you can find her blog here.
What caught my eye back then, was this symbol, a wheel with rooted tree-people with raised fists, and words trailing along its outlines. It is called Rise & Root, and Rima urges you to take it and run, and do with it what you like. According to her, this is a seed of revolution, a revolution of hope and solidarity. (Please go there, and read her post). A seed most certainly flew over the sea from Dartmoor to this small island of mine, and quietly settled itself into strange and unknown soil, where it has been hibernating until recently. In this quite flegmatic soil - which is soil consisting mostly of dark, fat clay - the seed has undergone some sort of transformation. The revolution has moved from suburbs, pavements and shopping malls, it has made an offshoot, that grows outside the city, away from public toilets and chrome-and-concrete, it burgeons forth and grows where there is green and quiet (except for the sheep). But it is still angry, there are still raised fists to the fight, and roots in the earth!
The word revolution is almost universal, most languages has got the exact same word, just with different and charming ways of pronouncing. It can also be spelled in numerous ways, for instance: transformation, uprising, shift, change and reformation.
The country in which I live, has got an insane amount of waste matters, one of the highest levels of consumptions per inhabitant of all, in the whole, wide world. Reusing is almost an unknown concept here, we have these big refuse disposal plants, where everything is burned to ashes; plant/organic matters as well as furniture, clothes and tons and tons of plastic. There is truth in Shakespeare's Hamlet: Something is rotten in the state of Denmark!
Simple, and rather understated, I know, but I'm a Scandinavian, so this is how it goes.
(The following pictures are taken by my 9 yo son, who also made my jewellery)