Maybe That’s It

Making sense

Brings its own questions

Like floating through space

How is that possible?

And the pink in the rock

And the blue and the green

How do they come about?

And a cats purr

Why do I remember the peace when I hear it?

And it is peaceful

Like a lake or a crisp sun in winter

I don’t want to make sense of the why

Maybe that’s it

As if I did, maybe magic wouldn’t exist anymore

Nerves

When excitement comes

I think it’s right for me

But my body vibrates

And I’m sensing as I would, if stress were rocking the boat

So, in these differences I can talk myself through

But my body

She knows how the feeling flows

From one side to the other

Reaching the same heights.

If There Is Such A Way

Surrounded by a million tones, not woven by me

And I cannot decipher one from another

But there is a symphony of perfection to be drank all at once

And I am drunk

Drunk on the shades of spring

Yet still I chatter a thousand woes, haunting the evening waves

Am I a lunatic?

For it feels the moon draws all that dwells involuntary

Would I choose this crazy distinction?

I’d rather root beneath the worms and grow without this trouble

Where all I would want is to slowly dance to where I rest most comfortably

Or to climb the walls, not afraid of position

Is this my prison, believing I am not such a way?

That fate is my own doing

I often pray my thoughts to be swiftly caught by an eagles claw, then released far from land

Filtered by the salt and dispersed upon the seabed, food for the fishes

Ideals I’ve collected, are they to sculpt me? Like hands without permission roaming my naked skin

I quiver

And may I throw that to the birds also

So how,

If there is such a way

Am I to be?

Before Me Now

I wonder who I was before me, now?

What if I’d been a tree before I was a human

Or a decomposing leaf

Or I was the tree, the leaf, the rabbit that rummaged amongst the fallen leaves and the soil on the rabbits paw

What if I was the field that the rabbit dreamed of

Every blade of grass and dandelion

Or the roots of a weed

Or the bacteria that lives on the root

Or the worm that travels underground

What if I was the bird that ate the worm and so food that feeds her babies, could have been me too

Or the dirt in her nest or the twigs she collects

What if I was the shell on the beach that breaks when stepped on or the blood that trickles into the sand

Or the sand itself or the seabed

Or the crab or the jellyfish

Or the seaweed that dances on the surface

Or the salt in the sea

What if I was the pepper ground to a powder

Or the potato cooked to perfection or the metal of the fork before it was moulded

What if I’d once lived in the intestine of a whale

Or a shark or even the creatures we now find in fossils

What if I’d once lived on a meteorite which plummeted to this planet

What id I’d been every colour of the galaxy

Or a spark in the big bang, present at the start of beginnings

And endings

Recycled over and over until I got to be here

What if I’m ancient and my soul is so old I’ll never remember exactly where I came from

Or know where I’m going

What if I grew out of nothing and thats where I’m headed

Or I’m the smallest of everything floating within the infinite of nothing

I wonder who I was before me, now?

 

I


Where did I place I, 

       the capital, the stamp?

The stem that propped success 

Where did I get lost? 

       as not looking so straight as before

And falling into stand,

       but cannot find the footprints 

            where heels were dug so deep.

Searching back to written as proper

But now

         we melt 

              or so it feels

As we 

    becoming

Once I was drawn in water,

           a line dividing fishes 

               now tides remember  

So I ask where is I?

           knowing already,

               but pray to forget. 

Non-committed Writing


It’s been such a long time since I’ve sat down to commit to writing. Short, uncomplicated poems have been bursting from my hand like bubbles in pop but to actually commit to a thought that trails longer than a breath (which is how poetry feels to me, an exhalation, the next idea comes as quickly as the last) has felt weighty and awkwardly unnatural.

And I’ve been running with the unnatural by doing nothing. Not even trying to write beyond the poem. Not even brainstorming or journaling or thinking beyond the pauses, no longer stringing one idea to another to create a bulk of something that may or could or would mould into a story or reflection. And then I wonder if any of this even matters. Is this is worth even writing about, the not writing stuff. And is the not writing a symptom of a bigger disillusion? And what am I feeling disillusioned about… what has changed?

Everything has changed. Everything always does change, day by day. And these changes can build into a complete overhaul of how we perceive ourselves and the world. And that make me feel a little disillusioned at times as it only reminds me that all we label ourselves to be are only fleeting beliefs, constructed by everything we’ve absorbed till that point.

What a wild world we live in. It’s scary as hell and more beautiful than imagined galaxies, more surreal than dreams, more intense than heightened cravings. And to think about what I want want to write about overwhelms me as there are a million feelings worth exploring and endless sinarios that paint a complex tapestry of chapters. 

So poetry soothes this chaos, its eases the wordy pulse that quickens during 3am wake up calls. It makes sense to not try and make sense of anything, I wonder if we’re never supposed to understand. I’ve spent the past few years trying to find myself in a flow that suits. I still feel a little bloated and bulky during various moments of the day. That’s just me and I’m ok with that now.

Was I always trying to be an idea of myself, as I beat myself up for not writing the novel I once hoped I’d be able talk about to inquisitive strangers? Who knows, I certainly don’t. 

So I guess poetry is my commitment, steering frantic energies that would only bury themselves in my bones if I didn’t pick up the pen. It’s medicine to write what feels right. Fuck what I think I’m supposed to be doing. 

I’m supposed to be doing me, right now, being the only woman I know how to be. For now, anyway.

Something, always

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All this noise

Distracting me from birdsong

Did I once sit still for longer than an hour without ‘doing’

Even meditating can be a task, something to do as I attempt to do nothing

But doing nothing, for the sake of doing nothing

When I’m not watching or listening

But I am, always

Thoughts are cropped, shortened, thickened

‘Thinking’ I say out loud

Something, always something

The clouds are moving

The bees are working

The cat is snoring as she does nothing, dreaming whilst curled at the end of my bed

As long as breath fills me

And my eyelids open

I’m being

So I interpret as I wish

Take full responsibility for the tide I choose to ride

I’m something, always

Do Nothing

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The comfort of stillness

Can break my knees and lock my spine

And I question the pain and effortless violence

So meticulously executed, even before my awareness

As waves like celebration flags

Ripple through dense tissue

And tickle forgotten dimples yearning to be seen

I notice because I am doing nothing

Stillness invites interpretation

Or the understanding of it

I am no longer roaming fields of angry daisies

Where curious fingers disturb the ants

I see transformations

How summer can brighten stained glass

So I close my eyes and do nothing

To see layer upon layer of translation

Where clear visions are decorated

With young numbers and early sentences

But the whole self is nothing I have learnt

It is the growth of a bitten nail

Or fever sweating out the swords

The whole self is happening without my interference

I see all this

As I close my eyes and do nothing.

 

 

 

 

 

#26 Grateful for Minimalism

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The past few weeks I’ve been hard on myself and the state of the world. The more I cradle into news feeds and environmental issues and animal neglect and… the general crisis we seem to be plummeting into, I just wanna cry. Brexit (Ahhhh) Trump (AHHHHHH)… I could list ALL the shit but I’m not gonna, you know the deal.

Anyway, last night, during my wallow I got into bed early, flipped open my laptop, logged into Netflix and headed to the documentaries.

“More ‘real life’ crisis, feed me more crisis”

I’d like to add here this post is headed someplace more upbeat, I promise.

Then I remembered my friend recommending the documentary ‘Minimalism: A documentary about the important things’. I pressed play and I got even more depressed during the first 20 minutes (btw it’s not a depressing documentary, it’s hopeful, I really recommend the watch, it sure inspired me).

Modern day consumption is insane! The rate at which we are filling our oceans and landfills with crap is just beyond belief. Hey there missy! (I address myself)… I buy stuff wrapped in plastic, I buy water in plastic bottles when I’m out and get thirsty. I have a mobile phone, I have a computer, I invest lots of my time on the world wide web, filling up on information I don’t need (mostly enjoy, sometimes not so much). I check my instagram everyday, and I’m blessed to have a huge choice of foods on my doorstep. When more is available, it’s hard to not want to take it.

A comment was made by… someone (a psychologist or scientist, one or the other) in this documentary about how things cannot go on the way they are, we’re in full destruction mode – of our health and our environment. Flash thought in that moment: 20 years. 20 years could be it. At this rate, we’ll be lucky to have an earth that can sustain us in 20 years time… once the CO2 levels rise and oxygen becomes more precious than diamonds, that will be it. 20 years! I know, it’s an extreme thought but we are living in extreme times. I freaked out.

20 fucking years!

I woke up thinking about it, I ate my breakfast thinking about it (even though I’m trying to be mindful when I eat, 20 years of life on earth is not something you can so easily put to one side as you crunch on puffed rice). What the hell is the point, of anything? I even said the words out loud.

“What’s the point, nothing matters!”

Light bulb – it ALL matters! We just don’t value matter anymore. If we don’t like it, if it doesn’t fit, we bin it and buy a new one. Disposable lifestyles R Us.

20 years? If I only had 20 years left on this earth, what would I do?

The calmest I’ve felt in very, very long time was when I thought about imminent death at the very moment I’d convinced myself we have 20 years left.

Shit, I got a lot of living to do.

And by living I mean loving and by loving I mean enjoying what I have and by enjoying what I have I mean enjoying this very moment, the now. I have sunrises to enjoy and wet grass to feel on my bare feet in the morning and animals to adore and people to connect with. So much living to do!

And what if it does turn around? We don’t know what the future has in store for us. All we can do is love what we’ve been given and boy, does the earth know how to share. We got mountains to explore (should that be something you wish to do) we got landscapes to paint, forests to walk through, oceans to sail, we got laughter to share and taste sensations to explode upon our tongues (from naturally grown natural foods). We got so much love to feel.

I gotta get loving!

I am going to get minimal too. I would love to be able to fit everything I own into a large bag, wouldn’t that be swell. It’s good to have goals. I am going to try with every fibre in my being to laugh more, to enjoy those moments that were once filled with ‘don’t enjoy this, panic instead as you know that feeling so well and it’s not safe to step outside comfort spots!’. I want to dance more, to smile more, to use my phone less (this is a big need I think) and to reduce my plastic consumption (a HUGE need)

Yea sure, some days are gonna be hard, some are going to be crap and grey and I might not want to even get out of bed on those days but as I may only have 20 years left, I don’t want to be miserable and hard on myself for too long. Besides, if everyone got minimal, well we might just have a good chance of beating my guess (based on unsubstantial evidence) of 20 years.

Cheers to loving the freebies of mother earth, she got us sorted, we just gotta show her some lovin’ and respect in return.

#22 Grateful for Reiki

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I blamed reiki for the small (epic) breakdown I had last year. Hear me out, I know now it wasn’t the fault of reiki, reiki didn’t do anything other than uncover what was already there but I was angry at how reiki made me feel and I needed something to blame. Kundalini yoga got a thrashing too but that’s for another post.

I took my reiki training over the space of a year or so and I completed the final master course in january 2016. Then… WHACK… I had a breakdown. I haven’t practiced reiki since, not really. I may have participated in a distant healing group but as things got worse for me, I quit the meditations. I stopped doing anything that made me feel… more. I couldn’t cope with much so I thought if I quit all the ‘spiritual’ stuff, things might settle down. They didn’t and I don’t think you can quit being spiritual if that’s who you are (and we’re all spiritual beings, some just tap a little deeper than others). To cut a long story short, I have gotten back to my reiki meditations and it feels GOOD.

After I completed the course and decided to lay off the practice, I thought ‘great, what a fat waste of money’. Oh how wrong I was. It’s NEVER a waste of money to invest in your wellbeing and doing reiki did more for me than, at the time, I could ever have believe. Even when I was at my lowest, I knew I needed to get a whole loada old shit to the surface, to face it, to release it and I guess it was reiki that got the ball rolling.

Now, I realise time is just… well what is time? Time is only as we perceive it and at the time I completed the course, it wasn’t time for me to practice. Who knows, maybe that time is coming soon. All I know is that now I am enjoying the prospect of welcoming reiki back into my life.

I am grateful for the intuitive move to begin the training, even though I didn’t know anything about it. I am grateful that sometimes we don’t need to know at the ‘time’ why we do something as all will be revealed in ‘time’. I am grateful for the faith I have in the process. Now the process is deliciously soothing, as I invite the warm energy of reiki back into my body (not that I think it ever left).

Self care is SO vital. It’s like eating and exercise and all the stuff we do to keep ourselves feeling good. Reiki is now on my self-care regime, a regime I welcome with open arms.