I think I need a nap

I was awakened by an earthquake this morning. Jeremy was blowdrying his mane (all the hairdressers are closed - we are still in lockdown) when a loud rumbling began. The bed shook, the walls shook, I shook. Jeremy switched off the hairdryer and reality started to hit. This is no hairdryer. I didn’t want to believe it. “It’s probably the wind, right?” I asked assuredly, even though nothing was blowing around outside. “No, it’s an earthquake,” Jeremy confirmed. It felt like it went on for a while. A minute feels like a while when everything is shaking and you have no idea why. It stopped eventually. Jeremy went to check that his action figurines were fine. I went to look at my plants, God knows why.

I’m sitting at the waiting area of my GP clinic an hour later. The news channel on the wall-mounted TV flashes “Breaking News” repeatedly, alternating between scenes of fallen bricks, videos of rooms and plants and water shaking, the construction workers’ protests on the streets of Melbourne and police in hardcore riot gear. The waiting room fills up with masked people who have caught wind that the clinic is offering the Pfizer vaccine for the COVID19 virus. The phones are ringing non-stop. My phone buzzes with messages. The GP calls my name. All is good. Take your vitamin D! Put it next to your coffee! 

I return home to make my breakfast and coffee. I place my tablets next to my coffee. I take all my tablets. I think about my to-do list for the day. I muse at how easy it is for life to just go back to normal business so quickly, like we did not just feel everything shake for a whole minute at 6 on the Richter scale this morning. Yet, my body isn’t so sure. It holds some remnants of the sleep I did not get to completely complete. My head feels somewhat floaty. I’m now returning to the pages of the book I’m reading about existential philosophy and philosophers, laughing inwardly as they did, about how the very moments that inspire philosophy are also the very moments where there is no time to philosophise. What am I doing here reading this book with my coffee? What am I doing suddenly blogging again after years of silence here? I think I need a nap.

glass of single malt whiskey hidden in the bottom drawer

intravenous arrival of sound

not just any sound

breath covers me from head to toes

breath i can breathe easy now

the glaring awareness of our aloneness/separateness

that i wrap so comfortably around myself

not knowing what to do with love sometimes

what do you do with love sometimes

when you suddenly feel like you've heard your voice for the first time

in days months years

until these moments

in between these moments

you numb cloud distract blind with motion plans thoughts words

anything to keep yourself from seeing and hearing

how far away you are

from yourself

▶️⏺

Are you in my dream

Or am I in yours?

Headphones on in a tower records

Boy on a bus

Overexposed colors

Long curtains of hair

Swimming swirling stumbling

Staring at the ceiling

Papa’s mixed tape spins its way into my dreams

Wake to Papa’s breakfast cds today it’s Ottmar

You rewind it all back to songs 1, 3, 7, 10

And I don’t even know where that tape is anymore

And maybe that’s why I linger here for a while

To remember everything like the first time

To feel everything for the first time

Grasping never holding

forever saturday dream

Flashing pictures keep me in a trance
So that my thoughts don’t stand a chance
Glacial perception
Conscious deception
The repulsion is immense

This giant space rock keeps moving along
Under these sheets I don’t feel what’s wrong
Eyes adjust to darkness
Overwhelming starkness
Disguised by each incredible song

Face your fears they say
Just do it they say
I face my fears everyday
Just rising from the hay
Can’t that be enough for today?
Can’t that be enough for today?
Hey.

golden bubbles olden troubles

Golden bubbles
Hiccups
Are part of life
And sometimes of love
Of my life
Is this you?
Swirls and whirl
Pools of destruction and chaos
Is my middle name
What’s in a name
That no one knows but
You are divine.

I said five lines and more
Lines and more
Time to say things
Are fine I guess
I guess a lot these days.

Clock strikes 12 on a Tuesday night
Half the week’s not gone
But half the golden is
Bubbles
In my
Breath
Like air
Hiccups
Are part of life and
Love.
And Wanting
You.

Today

These last few years, I've been growing more silent on the surface. The irony is that I actually have so much more to say, so many answers to my questions and wonderings, some of which I placed here, so many more questions that came as answers. 

These last few years, I dove deep into the waters of my heart. Well, sometimes life kind of held my head under these waters and I often felt I was going to drown inside of myself and never see the end. The deeper I dove, the more there was to be said, and at the same time, the less there was to be said. 

These last few years, there was so much to be said, there is so much to be said, more than ever. The stripping away of protective winter layers dangerously approaching the bare nakedness of my being. Silence, the curtain falls as the show begins to start, she feels the lights go out. In this darkness and solitude, there is terrible fear and loneliness. But she is not alone for kind eyes too roam the world, kind ears, kind hands, kind hearts. They hold her in their gaze when she can't bear to look. They hold her gaze. 

These few days, a certain kindness and light has entered her own eyes. Just the other day, she found her sniffles exploding into grief. "It's ok," she said. "You are sad," she said. "Cry."

These few days, she forgives herself more. Laughs with herself. Listens to herself. Converses with herself. She is surprised to find some of that unaffected youth return to her heart. She still often makes mistakes, people still get mad at her sometimes, but she knows she is not her mistakes. She knows she can do better. She knows she is strong, brave, kind. And she knows that she does not need others to believe this for it to be true. 

Today, she still wrestles with the voices of shame. The icy waters of sadness and loneliness. The hunger to be seen, seen and loved completely. Today, she knows that the presence of these familiar friends no longer means she has no other choice. Today, she does not choose them. She chooses to stay in the game because she deserves a chance and she is worthy of love, just like everyone else. She wants to love from a place of strength, not fear.

Today, and everyday, she will probably have to keep making this choice. I will have to keep making this choice. 

Today, this is what I chose to say. 

sundown, unpublished

we were speeding along the great ocean road. the sun was setting fast, already long hidden by the clouds, pregnant with the sea, the sea pregnant with soon-to-be clouds. everything was quiet and we felt like the only ones in the world. i stepped on the accelerator, racing the sunset, and yet embracing it. sundown is the most beautiful part of the day. sacred even. the final moments of light, the yearning to hold on to whatever you can before you can't anymore, .

(written on 22nd June 2013) 

youth, unpublished

the lift door opens. i try my best not to look at you.
we are waiting at the same bus stop. i try my best not to look at you.
we are running for the bus. i try my best not to look at you.
your band is on the stage. i try my best not to look at you.
i see you at a party. i try my best not to look at you.
we are making a video. i try my best not to look at you.
we are at a wedding. i try my best not to look at you.
i look at you looking at me looking at you.
you hardly knew me. i hardly knew you.
and yet, for two, three, seven, eight years, i tried my best not to look at you.
i wanted so badly for you to look at me. but there was nothing much to see.
one day, i look at you. worse, i speak to you.
"wanna catch a movie?"
"sure."
i steal some glances, turning into gazes, and to my surprise,
you are not you, the one i tried my best not to look at.
funny how that is, i laugh ironically to, at myself.
since then, i don't try my best not to look at you. I could look you in the eye, stoic and unflinching.

we look at different people now. we look like different people now.

but sometimes, i like to go back to that time.
to 3am in the morning on a school night.
running for the lights at the creak of my parents' door.
heart bursting through the ceiling as your name appears.
you are just above me in our little tower. sleepless. searching.
me for you. you for another. maybe.
to the fresh bittersweet feeling of longing in secret.
to the stories of you i created in my head.
to the what ifs and surprise meetings.
to the aching pain of missed opportunities.


(written in Dec 2013)

fear, unpublished

maybe it's time to bring back hope.
maybe it's time to stop being a prisoner to this fear.
it will always be there, this familiar friend.
telling me all the reasons why i can't.
telling me all the reasons why i should run.
away from beauty. from truth. from grace. from love-ing.
"are you sure this is a risk you're willing to take?"
"are you sure you want to go back there?"
no, i don't want to go back there.
but i sure as hell am not staying here to rot.
i was created for life.
i am life.
i am joy.
i am light.

and it can just stay there, where it is, at it's allocated place.
and i'll just stay here at mine.
we may be at the same dinner party, but we're definitely not sitting on each other's laps.

(written on 9th Sep 2012)

sadness, unpublished

there are these moments when
beauty moves me crazily and i
feel like i could die that very second, because that's
the way
an end
should be,
happily ever after.

then
there are these moments when
sadness digs the deepest hole through the
center of everything and i
feel like i could die too in that very second, because that's
the way
an end
should never,
ever
be,
but there is no more road.

(written on 2nd feb 2013)

brave

to let go of that which never was in your hand

to remember that you will smile again; a smile is as much the effect of the mover as it is of the moved, the life force contained by both, uncontained

to sometimes harden a heart and double-take not, let your tears drip to the earth, let the wet trail be left only on the path behind your back

to love, again and again

a deep ache, a silent rage, oh god the fear, an abyss, dismal and dark

you are a brave thing, you are

you breathe out, you look down, you swallow, you walk

floods

the raindrops beat heavy, crash, they crash against the concrete and the tar. of your heart. there is no fear, no fear that the sky will bleed itself dry for you. perfect love casts out all fear, love begets love, and the warmth of the sun will summon water into clouds again and cool the parched spirits of man once more. all are welcome.