School holidays

I have always loved school holidays. 

It was a time to reconnect with my children, to embrace them, hold them, hug them tight and cuddle in front of the telly without constraint. 

It was a time to cherish them and be a fun mum who wasn’t necessarily telling them to hurry up or to get ready or do their homework or ensure they showed me notices.

It was a time to make pancakes, cuddle in bed reading books, visit the museum and the zoo, and go to the park without needing to be home at any specific time.

One time we wrote a story after a walk when a dog followed us home and we had to find its owner and get it home.

And sometimes we would walk to the koala crossing just down the road and put leaves in our mouth and cross the road pretending to be koalas crossing the road.

And later I would get the kids to eat salad by pretending to be different animals....lizards and koalas and giraffes.

One time we made plasticine figurines and made little book scenes, and we read Enid Blyton books and went to the library and came home with as many books as they allowed.

I wrote letters from the tooth fairy with wondrous descriptions of how their perfect teeth were being used to make necklaces and stars. And even got my friend to write a letter when they were at a sleepover. Just because I could spread some magic and joy. So I did. 

I showed them how books could open up whole worlds, and pretended to be a waiter for our very own restaurant that sold home made meals and had a set menu, but there were menu cards and I would take their order nevertheless.

And when they couldn't sleep, I invented sleep cards, and I made a card for every bed time with a benefit of sleep and why they should try to go to sleep and what we would do the next day.

Car seat day was on a Thursday I think. The day I'd put a little something on their car seat when I'd pick them up from school just because.

And i got to go to excursions and camps and play like a kid again. I had never been on camp before I went with them.

And every day I would just gorge on their awesomeness and just love them. Savour every moment that I was fortunate enough to get to be their mum.

How lucky did I get to have the two best children in the world be my kids? Mind boggles.

These kids have saved my life. And I will never say otherwise. With every bit of joy I imparted, a small bit of me healed and put me back together. 

They have shown me how to love unconditionally and I will adore them for being who they are until the day I die. And probably beyond if it is in my power to do so.

They have taught me patience, how to regulate my emotions, how to breathe and let little things go. They have taught me how not to stay angry and let a fight go straight after I admonish them. They have taught me to correct behaviour and not who they are.

They have taught me that the most important thing in life is to live, and not what you have at the end of it, whether it be material or qualifications. They have taught me that you can be perfect at being imperfect. 

And that even I can love without hurting.

That I can love without hurting.

My biggest fear before I became a parent. I didn’t want to hurt them. That’s why I didn’t want to have children for such a long time.

They are truly the best thing I will ever do. 

They are the result of healing and peace, the result of years of introspection and a wish to be something else, to break a cycle I had no choice in.

I am forever grateful to them.

Who knows if I’d still be here if I had not chosen a path that included children. 

They are so pure and fun, and untouched by cultural norms and innocent and warm. Loving and even in their teens, taught me to let go and allow freedom and independence. In their horrible moments, they taught me to love them despite their anger and frustration and yearning to be separate from me. 

And now that I can feel everything again, I am so absolutely and fully in love with those human beings.

All I can say is please don’t wish them back at school. Enjoy their red cheeks and happy smiles. Enjoy their small uncoordinated attempts at cooking and allow their exploration and breakages around the home. It is so worth it, and they really do grow up too fast and inevitable fly the coup. As they should.

I told this to a co worker today who was pregnant. She told me she often hears a lot of negative comments about motherhood. And so do I. But honestly. It’s 99% wonderful and only 1% shitty. I don’t know anything else that has such fantastic odds.

Enjoy your parenting journey.

 

 

Tectonic

 

There is a fault line in my earth.

A fault line that formed as I was emerging from the earth. The earth cracked and shifted as I crawled out of the ground. The water seeped into my groundwater and broke the innermost core of me. And plants grew in there. They used the water and they made me with the air and fire above. And I grew from there.

The fault line lay open for years. Unmoved. The whole of me grew above.

Then, the me above started to get heavier and heavier. And the ground was not strong enough to hold me. The fault line started shifting.

I became unbalanced. I noticed rumbling and quiet stirrings that moved me slightly. And before I knew it, an earthquake started and my whole foundation crumbled to the ground.

I fell onto the earth and I lay helpless.

Then the fault line continued to move, and shift, and bend, and fold, and ripples of mud and hay and fire and air and vegetation mixed together and enveloped me and held me and reassured me. And I took it, and had to stare at it in the face. I looked at it.

It was an ugly, deep, dark hole. A huge scar in the earth cleaving me in half. And I took it and I told it I didn’t want it any more.

I acknowledge you, chasm. But I don’t need you and I don’t want you to rule my foundation any more.

I took it and I gently turned it into malleable sand that seeped through the cracks and allowed water to enter and roots to start to enter the earth, and take new hold. New footholds and spikes in my new foundation. And this took a long time. This took years of slow growth. A millimetre at a time. And then I’d get it wrong, and I’d have to go back in and clip some of the shoots off and start again.

And only recently I have actually seen something stirring above ground. For so long I have tended the roots and nothing showed for it.

Then not long ago, a small shoot emerged. I looked at it and it was beautiful. It was me. I re-entered the earth and emerged unchanged, bur forever altered. For I am grounded back to my earth and my water, and I am the fire and the air and the excrement that formed me. For they are all beautiful molecules that make up what I am.

I am matter. I matter.

I can now focus on growing these shoots and I know now where the roots all are, so if I need to trim one of them, I can go back into the earth, dig a little and find the one I need to trim. Delicately and lovingly, for I know the fault line lies dormant, as it has settled back into the ground, and the more I trim and the more I do in there, the more it settles, a day at a time. It still quietly rumbles, and the small cracks that are still in there slowly fill with sand. And this will be forever. For the fault line is in me. But it is not me. It is my foundation  and my roots. I cannot deny it,  but I am settling it. I am filling it and quietening the earth that I came from.

My ground. Mine. My roots. My being. Me. I can see me.

Fair accummulation of debris

 

If I falter, if I fall.

If I should propofol my life.

Then be silent. For you are not the owner of this real estate.

The magic continues and dances in the dark behind midnight.

For the curtain is not drawn.

And the pain is finite.

There is clay in the recovery.

There is madness in the fold of the wings that will elevate this flight. For I shall never forget that the rescuer is me.

There is no solitary seagull that plagues my nightmares. There is only a reason. A season.

I am a soother. I am a rescuer. I am a fool.

For I am still a witness to that horror. I am still bound to old doctrines and rules.

Forever searching and never finding. For the wrong canal shall deliver rape.

I am not broken. I am damaged. And not beyond repair. I will just spend my whole life on this project.

And never find what I really want.

For my destiny is predetermined and passed down by generational trauma.

My purpose unfulfilled.

My happiness dependent on a covenant.

For this is a test. A test I hope to pass, but not before my heart is torn to pieces and I learn how to be in pain.

And yet still thrive. Fuck the pain.

For I am stronger than that pain. For I am stronger than even I suspect. For I have more love where all that came from.

Well maybe I will learn to bestow it on the worthy.

Maybe I will learn that flames burn.

Maybe I will learn that hurting me is the worst kind of pain.

I am no longer expendable.

I am no longer ok to be used.

I am no longer the one who should carry the shame.

For this is the way the dice fall.

For this is the way life ends.

I am a beacon of light.

I am a goddess of earth and light.

For I sublimate into the horizon

And submit to the demands.

I am free to soar.

I am free to dream.

I am free to cry and I am free to dream.

For I have been bitten in half and I have spent my life finding the demigod.

There is no divinity in despair.

There is no divinity in suicide.

There is no divinity in pain.

There is truth in purpose.

There is growth in the evidence.

There is strength in the pain.

For I shall not acquiesce to the bait that dangles,

And the control that’s spent.

For my love is pure and innocent,

For my love is deep as red clay.

I shall return to the earth. I shall become one with the dawn.

There is no pride in winning, for the sun will come up again.

And the hunger will continue,

For the journey is not done.

Let there be tomorrow, let There be a sunrise.

Because I am not even close to finished.

Even close to gone.

I will continue thriving until the light has but gone out.

For I am not done. I am not even begun.

My life has been in darkness,

But I am living in the light.

Every step I’m closer.

Soft and purposeful,

Magicians of the universe,

And teachers of my life.

May love take me places I know I may never belong.

For it will never be in vain and will I never be in vain.

For love can build bridges and bridges can build kingdoms, even if they rot and burn.

I am here.

I am true.

I am sentient.

I am frail

I am vulnerable.

I am steel.

I am waiting.

I am living.

I am beyond.

I am not in sync and tuning. I am above the life-less survival

I am truly just some arrows

As they motioned for the pedal 

And the reason to be right.

Hurricane, oasis, desert and flood

 There have been times in my life when the universe decides that it will pick up the base I am sitting on and literally throw everything into disarray. Completely rearrange every piece where it will fall. Completely reset everything and shake up the foundations of everything I have ever built.

And everytime this has happened it has led to a change for the better, a transformation that has led to growth of my soul and taken me closer to nirvana, or where I am supposed to be, or divinity, or whatever you call it in your world.

It never comes without tears, or pain, or change. But it always seems to make sense in the end, even if it takes a while for the storm to clear and for me to be able to see what is left afterwards. 

I am forever confused by changes, and there have been so many. Moving schools 15 times in 12 years, being the new kid at school 3 times in 3 different countries, learning 2 new languages, transplanting to a new culture, adjusting to divorce, sole parenting, a 6 year degree. A child with autism and ADD, a transgender child, homosexuality, mental health struggles, and just simply teenagers who want to hate you and love you at the same time.

And not to mention throw in a bit of trauma to spice it all up and just make it that little bit trickier and interesting. And don't think that you'd have time to settle those debts. Oh no! Throw in cancer deaths and unanswered questions to the mix....

Life is not simple. It never has been, and to be honest, that is the only consistent lesson I have learnt so far. It doesn't matter how seasoned you feel, you are always a newborn in the face of your next challenge. 

And life is painful, and emotions simply toss you about and storms and seasons of the world pick you up as if you weigh mere grams.

And it's hard, and you lie to yourself, and you discover truths buried by shame, and laughter, and uncertainty.  You sabotage your journey, you find yourself at a crossroad you left yourself at years ago, only to retrace your steps and take the same road over and over again.

Until you get a small glimpse of where you're meant to be. 

Before you know it, the focus shifts and the world has turned on its axis and confused you all over again.

No certainties. No rules. No absolutes. Only you. 

No true calling, no true destiny, only the one formed by your steps. The only solid form, where you tread. And you go back and find yourself again, and hold you, for you are the only one who will ever understand how much you are worth. You are the only one who will ever love you most. For you are not like some who were born into the world of abundant love and understanding.  You have to work for yours, for you owe a debt you will be forever paying.

And you take that treasure and make something with it so you can shine as bright as the shiniest star. Even though you will never be gold. Because you don't want to be. And maybe you shouldn't be, or don't deserve to be, or were transformed long ago.

To be part of the stars and belong to the earth's crust is sublime.

For from dust you will come and to dust we return. Nothing more, nothing less.

The storm is in full onslaught of my being. I'm trying to ride the waves with grace. Unbalanced but observing in silence and trying to watch it all pass by. For I know from experience that it will. And I will reach the other side of the ocean with new gifts and incense to burn.

But I know what it feels like now. I know what to expect.  I don't expect to understand it, but at least I'm accompanied by myself, the one who has been here before. My companion. My loyal follower. My critic and witness, my lover and mother. My goddess and artful dancer. Embrace me, hold my throat and squeeze, close to your breast.

Everything will not be alright. But at least I know it now. At least I know I can weather it. I know I can live. 

Prematurity

 To be torn from a womb prematurely,

To be left to learn to breathe before my lungs even expand.

To be awakened long before anyone's alarm goes off.

To be awake like a ghost in the dark and feel alone in the gloom of awareness.

To learn to read before your peers.

The alphabet seems trivial compared with calculus and essays in year 1.

To be the first and yet the last.

To travel empty roads....kilometres and kilometres of empty roads,

For they are the ones less travelled.

To be fulfilled by lessons learned by centuries,

To be abandoned by reason 

And lose myself in delicious blissful madness.

To wash in waters dirtied by boredom.

To lose the plug and float mid-air instead. 

To yearn for freedom most only dream of at the end of the journey,

To realise how to live ahead 

And yet survive, thrive even.

To risk the rewards, to be afraid and do it anyway.

To understand the book before you read it,

To live ahead....and yet always be behind.

To realise the meaning 

To understand animal souls 

To channel music in silence,

To expand horizons with a smile.

To suffer the consequences of love lost before you walk,

To understand how to live regardless.

And to return the loans,

The loans they did not mean. 

The smiles that did not reach the eyes, 

The souls that are shallower than an eye in the desert.

Heed the warning in your heart,

And still try.

Because the meaning must be somewhere,

Promised by the wind.

There must be a sense to it,

Even if it's 42.

Simplistic answers for simple minds.

Basic tenets for basic beings.

And yet more.

More.

Always more.

Growing in the broth of this poor diet.

Despite the lean helping.

For the strength seems to emanate from those who were torn out of that soup early.

For the chick that cracks the egg a day early,

The bird who falls from the nest and has to learn to fly from the ground.

This is where I come from and this is where I will remain.

For I cannot devolve.

I cannot be ordinarily assembled, 

Although I'd like to be.

For ease of consumption, it would be preferable.

But to stand at the gate

And say I have lived,

And learned, and loved, and yearned, and cried in despair.

That is not a bad life.

That is how I will make my dragon's hoard.

Truth

 

I used to think and hope that there was one absolute truth. 

When I died I wanted to know the whole truth of the universe, in one big flash of recognition and awareness, all of it unravelling like a scroll that ended my wandering. 

After nearly 50 years of living I realise there is not such a thing. Which infuriates me and frustrates me, but there is not a single truth. 

There is only your truth. 

What is true love? Only you know your own answer to that . Some people say it is destiny, God given, eternal, love of a wife or husband, love of  money, love of a cat, love of a child….we all have our own version of the truth. 

Why are we here? We are here to be better people, to serve God, to achieve greatness, to leave a mark, to enhance humanity, to make a difference, to be happy…what is your truth?

There are no absolutes. That is the truth. You make your own truth as you go along and you discover what your meaning is and what your path is. 

I could decide that my meaning of life is to find a husband who loves me above all other women, and not just for my looks, but for my mind, and my heart. I could kid myself that way and suffer for not having it. 

Or I could  make my own truth and say that this life is trying to teach me how to be alone, how to thrive despite being alone, how to love without romance and to pass on that legacy. 

And we kid ourselves into our own truth so that we do not wither and die hopelessly and have no meaning.

And that’s ok. 

We all fumble our way the best we can and arrive at the other end the same way we started, naked, alone, penniless. Whatever happens in between is our truth. 

We all hope exactly the same thing, that someone else will see our vision and share it. For the same reason that we all have: we are social animals who need each other, connection, reproduction, food, comfort, mental stimulation, sex and fun. 

And that’s it. 

Maybe my truth is a bit depressing, but it is real. 

All I hope is that a few share it and live it, so that I am not alone. 

I am frankly sick of being alone in my thoughts, out of sync with society and missing others in their journey. I am always too early, too late, too weird, too smart, too poor, too rich, too busy or too shy, too many animals, too ugly, too pretty, too fat, too wrinkly or too sensitive. Too depressed, too confident, too much. 

And my truth is seldom pursued, because our society still believes in what has not happened for me. And that’s ok. There is very little I can do about that other than alter my own truth. 

I do however agree that whatever your truth is, it includes happiness, personal fulfillment, love and feeling good. Accept that, it is ok. Whatever it is we strive for is okay, and good. 

It doesn’t matter that someone else think it is stupid, or antiquated, or too selfish. 

Do what feels genuine and doesn’t hurt anyone else. 

If that is a religion, or a sect, or an opinion. Then go for it, for as long as you are alive, you answer to your own truth. 

My truth says that love is of utmost importance. I do not eat those I love. 

I help, and selflessly so. 

I love, and selflessly so. Whether I get love in return, I give it. 

I believe I must grow and learn in order to matter. So I do, every day. 

I believe that my soul will one day die….and maybe linger if it is not finished. 

I believe that we are animals, and governed by the same laws that govern animals. We have instinct, and we have desire. But we also have a powerful brain that not all of us use to its full potential. 

I believe that I can make a difference to this world and the collective consciousness, whatever that is. As little as I am, I will make a ripple in the waters of the universe. And it will be imperceptible in centuries to come. But maybe someone will listen and it will make their life better. And I know that I need to believe that in order to feel that I have lived. 

I believe we are all valid and have our own journey, and we own it and I think maybe there is a substance we possess that repeats itself until you have learnt the lesson. If you call that God, I respect that, and maybe I believe that truth to a certain extent. 

I feel cursed by feelings. My truth includes yuckiness that others may not have experienced. But a lot have.  

My truth includes my children. And whether that is just biology, who gives a shit?

My truth says that you shouldn’t hurt anyone else. Is that a consequence of religious upbringing or truth? I don’t know. All I know is I like being good to others, and giving of myself over and over again, despite loss and repeated failures at relationships and love. 

So my truth is a little crazy. 

What about yours?