A Residency in Curiosity

As writing seems to be carrying me somewhere I cannot yet see, another longing has quietly begun to emerge alongside it.

I would love to find a place to land for some of the winter months. My next explorations are in Bosnia, but I’m longing for some warming latitudes after that when winter starts creeping in..

Not simply a writing residency. Something more like a Residency in Curiosity.

A room of my own and a table to write at. Enough silence and space to disappear into the work for hours. Nature close enough to wander into when words have had enough of me. A place where I can give myself fully to whatever is asking to be written.

But I don’t want to disappear from life.

I find myself longing for a curious combination of solitude and meeting. Other curious humans somewhere nearby. People to return to around the kitchen table after hours alone with words. Long, intellectually alive conversations about existence, consciousness, nature, the body, philosophy, art, psychology, spirituality and all the strange territories between them.

People who can take inner work seriously without taking themselves seriously all the time.

I want depth, but I also want play. Lightness, singing and joy.

I want beautiful food and meals that accidentally become three-hour conversations. I want nature, plants, embodiment, conscious feeling, laughter, strange ideas and creative experiments. I want the kind of encounters where nobody knows beforehand where the conversation will lead or what it might awaken.

And there is something about muse that keeps coming to me.

I could easily imagine being a muse in someone else’s life for a while. Not as someone who simply inspires from a distance, but through living encounter: bringing questions, perspectives, stories, beauty, friction, imagination and another way of seeing.

And I would love a muse in my own life too.

You could be mine. I could be yours. The land could become one. The conversations, the meals, the winter, the plants, the silence, the things we make together and whatever happens in the spaces between us could all become part of the creative process.

I don’t know what we would create.

That is rather the point.

I am not necessarily looking for an official residency, retreat centre or established community. It could be someone’s home, a little house, a family, an artist’s place, a piece of land or something I wouldn’t know to search for.

What matters is the quality of the space and the meeting.

A place where solitude does not mean isolation, community does not mean losing oneself, and inner work is not separated from ordinary life. A place with room for silence and writing, but also curiosity, philosophical inquiry, creativity, nature and co-creation.

Somewhere warm would certainly make this northern creature happy, and being close to natural waters feels important.

So instead of trying to figure out where this place is, I am putting the call into the world.

Many of you have been reading my writing for quite some time, so in a way you already know much more about me than I could fit into an introduction. If you are newer here, you are warmly invited to wander through what I have written. It is probably the truest introduction I can offer.

Someone reading this may have a room, a place, an idea, or know someone who does.

Or something in you may simply say:

Come here. Let’s see what we might create together.

If it does, I would love to hear from you.