dear friends,
hello from rainy, cooling days in Istanbul, where I’ve been for a few weeks now, wading through the dark, swampy waters of my psyche; touching the tangled red threads of my past, present, and future.
I’ve been dreading and delaying this homecoming for months, maybe all year — like a descension into the underworld; like wandering through a museum of a life I so deeply loved, and left — and I’ve realized that there’s no gentle way to descend; there is only a sudden plunge…
a sudden plunge, istanbul — kening zhu
a painful homecoming
but Istanbul comforts me, as it did five years ago, when I arrived and decided to make a home here — based purely on a feeling.
in the quiet of European cities, I felt the weight of my inner turmoil, my too-muchness — but Istanbul was an exponentially too-much place — a watery world with air like molasses, a mythical knot made of a thousand villages — forcing me out of my head and into the material life of the everyday: into the topography of violent hills, skies clamoring with seagulls, street corners filled with cats, simit thrown from ferries, oceanic traffic jams, and a slow death from secondhand smoking.
these days, Istanbul still holds me, like a warm hug, like a fresh wound.
istanbul courtyard, winter — kening zhu
the view from my bedroom this month - an apartment where i’ll spend christmas and new years alone with a black cat.
the best thing that’s come out of the breaking of a physical home — is that I’ve been forced to deepen into making a psychic home for myself — using the tangible vessels of the notebooks/sketchbooks I carry around with me, and the sensorium of my body.
my art is my home. my practice is home. making art is how I keep breathing, how I live inside today, this moment, right now.
these days, I open my sketchbook every morning, close my eyes for 3 min, and draw whatever I see — or sense — with my inner vision. there is always something I encounter there. I am trusting that whatever I meet in those psychic worlds — will hold my hand, and lead me, as gently as possible, into tomorrow…
🍃 recently — on process
on how my creative practice is not only a refuge that lives inside of me— it is the barrier ecosystem which surrounds me, holds me, and allows me to breathe.
my creative barrier reef ecosystem — kening zhu
creative practice as barrier & breathing ecosystem
how do I truly “land” in a place? reflections on using my sketchbook to arrive, to see, and to then, to perceive.
arriving, seeing, perceiving: marseille diaries — kening zhu
finding myself, in a new place
🌔 recently — my sketchbook
after years of struggling to keep a regular sketchbook / analog painting practice — I’ve been burning my way through the pages. apart from my life circumstances, I attribute this to a few practical reasons:
the power of micro-practices — which I call “time spells” of 3-8-22 minutes, which I first wrote about and experimented with last year, here, and currently teach inside of Labyrinth.
the rhythm of ~75-90 min evening painting sessions. I realized that night painting, with music, is so soothing to my nervous system. I started facilitating weekly “time magic co-working sessions” for Labyrinth, and usually I paint in them.
my 3 min psychic sensing practice — closing my eyes and seeing images. I used to have a problem of “what should I paint now?” — which I tried to solve with my mind, and failed. trusting in the abundance of my inner world — as a skill/muscle I can develop — has changed everything.
the momentum/pleasure of completion — getting a dopamine hit anytime I look at completed sketchbook pages (whereas my digital paintings were always hidden inside a disorganized Procreate).
some things I painted recently:
glass rivers scream — kening zhu
the feeling of broken glass
night sea psychic shadows — kening zhu
shadows on psychic waters
fire & storm days — kening zhu
pulling out a storm
welcome to life, my dear — kening zhu
the first storybook page for talya
a tomato heart a day — kening zhu
painting my vegetable heart
🚣 (slowly) resuming my podcast
well, consider this an intention — hopefully to be realized soon. my dream is to be more intimate & spontaneous on my podcast, to make an “audio flow” practice, like speaking into / making a river.
hello again, a new season — kening zhu
planting wildflower seeds
🧧 digital abundance — open for self-study
this is my 12 week business class-expedition — a distillation of a decade’s worth of paradigm-shifting work — about how to alchemize creative wealth into material abundance.
I created and taught this class live this spring with an amazing group of participants — (you can read their experience here). I’m very excited to share these materials for self-paced study.
explore the class
✨ Work from the Journey
May Ngo is a writer, editor and former academic with a PhD in anthropology. I loved reading her reflections on how the writing process is like being pregnant. Explore working with her in the Writer's Compass — your forest guide into the woods of writing.
🗝️ artifacts from the labyrinth
I’m currently voyaging with a magical group of 38 members in Labyrinth Library this season — in deeply generative, endless feasting ways. we’ve been doing various community experiments — with time witchery, zine-making, supporting each other through the changing textures of daily practice & process.
here are some of the recent artifacts we’ve been working with, through Virgo & Leo seasons…
tinctures: micro-practices for each moment — kening zhu
giving yourself what you need
making nesting dolls containers — kening zhu
holding internesting containers
threading the eye of the needle — kening zhu
a practice of precision
mirror: becoming a reflector of light — kening zhu
being the mirror in the world
throne room: claiming your sovereignty — kening zhu
channeling the infinite power of your inner sun
🎴 library memberships
you can join the monthly library membership to access the artifacts collection, my studio notes, creative trek resources, and book 15 min, 1:1 garden (office hours) slots with me.
explore the library
🤍 until next time
I’ll leave you with this moment from Saturday, when I took a ferry to prince islands with my moon/dog, Luna. there were no seats or places for us to sit down, so we stood by the water and she and I both watched the waves, the seafoam, the sun, the clouds, the sky…
today is a Mid-Autumn festival — where we gather with family, eat mooncakes, and gaze at the fullest moon of the year. normally this day makes me extremely melancholic, but today, I am just grateful to have my moon by my side…
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🪼kening
🍃 listen to my podcast: botanical studies of internet magic
🦋 join labyrinth library
🏔️ take a class: house on the webs | creative systems | sharing space camp | money juice cleanse | digital abundance
🪷 advising with me: book a session, liminal leap
💧 send me a gift: water my world
You just read issue #77 of kening's letters. You can also browse the full archives of this newsletter.