pure.mango.juice.

Today I gained a lot of respect for seafaring people. When I was out on the open ocean and the wind and water were spraying up into my face, I started wondering how they put up with that for months on end. I love it, don't get me wrong. It makes me feel so very alive when I am out there, I embrace the cold, and look into the wind, but I think I would tire of it. I think, eventually, I would want a warm bed. A bed that didn't rock or roll and a view other than the amazing waves and the horizon. These I think I would also, eventually, grow tired of, but right now they still make me feel connected to the earth, to nature. I love the way they roll, seducing anyone who dares watch for more than a few seconds. And then out of the water, just above the rolling mass of water, you will see a whale's blow (it actually reminds me of the way fungal puff balls spread their spores). And, slowly, the back surfaces. Today we saw one flipping and twisting, its tail out of the water, and flapping on the surface. These whales...they make me feel something...I am not quite sure what it is, but it is something. It's real and deep, though. Maybe it is a connection to earlier times, times when we respected them more. Maybe it is friendship; I often get the urge to jump into the water with them and swim away.
A little girl yesterday asked me if whales were my favourite animal. That made me smile because, frankly, I haven't thought about 'favourites' for a long time. But, maybe they are. I sure do love them. I love their mystery and their fragility. Their connection to the past, their, seeming, wisdom.
In one of Di Brandt's poems, there is a line; 'the whale inside you' the phrase is later repeated as 'the wail inside you'. But, she makes many a reference to whales as fragile parts of ourselves. Do I have one of these huge, magnificent beasts living inside? It sometimes feels like it.

Peace will come to all humankind when we make peace with the whales and hear their song.
*ancient prophecy brought to the west coast in 1988

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vitamin c in a bottle

What am I doing here? Although doubt has yet to completely take hold of me, this question has plagued me for a while here. It is not quite as I expected...but I know I just need to give it more time. I need to meet people my own age and get out of this house more. But it's hard. It's hard to be motivated to do things alone. I want a friend to come with me to the ocean so I can hold their hand and we can jump over waves together. I want someone to laugh with when I see all the cliche small town things. I want someone to hug.

I suppose I'm just spoiled. My whole life has been spent surrounded by people who love me and who I love. I am so lucky to have so many friends and people that I can hug and play with and laugh with. But it's hard, this solitude. It's very hard for me. Maybe because now I'm really having to take a good look at who I am, without these other people, or maybe it's just hard. I don't know.

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
*Anais Nin

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jasmine and orange

the moon is beautiful tonight. She's reminding us of hope. And connecting us in so many ways we will never know. I have learned to find so much hope in her light. when I look out my window and see her rising in the night sky, it overwhelms me with joy. Sometimes the joy feels sorrowful too....but it is definitely joy. She is the light rising through the darkness, the hope that you sometimes can't find. She is 'walking through the valley of death'. Every night donning her walking shoes and and braving reality, taking what seems like an endless abyss of black. darkness. and turning it into something beautiful. Some nights she hides, as we all do, behind clouds, wind, rain. But always she returns, still shining, cycling, changing.

The moon reminds me that I am a woman. And that this is something of which I am proud. She reminds me of the deep, beautiful connection I share with all other women. Looking at the moon sometimes makes me long for the days when all women were truly connected through the cycles of the moon...but now we all twirl alone, our connectivity lost through pollution, electric light, and stress. But her ability to connect, to inject our arteries with the pulse of mother earth, and to know that others, too, are sharing in this beat still remains.

Is that what we have to settle for these days? The things that still remain. Small, insufficient remnants of what once was a beautiful future. I hope not. And hope is all I can really do.

hope dangles on a string
like slow spinning redemption
winding in winding out
the shine of it has caught my eye
*dashboard

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another

breaking
wind
breaking
skin
nose running and cheeks
burning
horns honk
sometimes mine
but usually not
usually at me
usually not yours
Beep beep beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeeeepp
it goes
beep?
i ask
looking for clarification
wanting to be let into the lane
in on the secret
and i see you
anger
shame
embarrassment
get out of the way!
get a light

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dry hands and an empty glass

why he can't just say it
i like you
and mean it
and mean it more than once
why he can't see me more than once
more than once and want it
why he can't want me again
want me again today and again tomorrow
and and and
why his hands call me baby
but his eyes call me friend
why he can('t) simply
be
happy.

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Who'd Have Known

I've spent a ridiculous amount of time writing biology cue cards today.

I wish I had a comfortable relationship full of love.

I'm realizing that maybe, like the mission statement of House Church, I should be happy 'going not knowing'.

I'm trying to find joy in the small things in life...making a good dinner, laughing with my Mum, sunshine.
Yet I feel unsatisfied with this...whether it is because I am simply someone who will never BE satisfied, or because I want to know what is real, what will make me feel truly happy, and that life really, truly is worth living. That MY life really, truly is worth living.

Who have I affected, changed. Who is different because of me? I write earlier that everyone affects everyone with whom they come in contact with...but if this is true, perhaps my quest, my longing for more, is even more meaningless. Perhaps this means that, no matter what, I will affect as many people in my life as the average white housewife living in upper middle class suburbia having an affair with the mailman.

I'm listening to a lot of Lily Allen recently...and she's making me think that maybe I should try to find happiness and joy simply in the little things in my life. And that I should stop taking life so seriously. What do all these little, insignificant things mean anyway? What do they matter, in the grand scheme of things? And who ever got to decide what is right and what is wrong...morally, even?

I am wondering how it is that I am affecting people. When my parents speak of me as a child, they speak of a balanced girl, a relaxed soul, one who wanted only a hug for Christmas. And I wonder who this beast is that the little girl has become. Who WANTS so much, who feels like the rope is constantly slipping through her fingers, who is anything but relaxed.

I feel like, so often, my stress, my preoccupation with school, with my own life, prevents me from really being able to listen to others, to their souls, to my soul, even. I think sometimes I get so caught up thinking that my life is so important and is really all that others need to know about, that I forget that they have their own lives, which I do not know, but they might want to share a small piece of it with me.

And the scary thing is....I often think the tiny piece of their life that I get to try, tastes better than mine.

You put your arm around my shoulder. It was as if the room got colder. We moved closer in together. And started talking bout the weather. Said tomorrow would be fun. We can watch A Place In The Sun. I didn't know where this was going.

When you kissed me.
Lily Allen*

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cold, cold water

I'm all mixed up.

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