white tara

depression

a stubborn closing off,

pushing aside the unknown?

or a gentle opening

allowing a new way

of being

to flow in

with the sadness

of not knowing

what happens next?

a privilege not a duty

i belief that having a child, being in a relationship is a privilege, not a duty.

something to be celebrated. yes, there is work involved and sacrifice. but these should come from a space inside, where there is such joy and love in the bond of gentleness between us, that they are transformational experiences. a chance to let love rather than fear guide our actions.

that is why this morning. for the first time since you started feeling the need to be with someone else. to feel free from a relationship that is holding you back from expressing who you are. that is why for the first time this morning i am truly ready to let you go.

and to wish from the bottom of my heart that you find what you are looking for. that i find what i am looking for. and that somewhere in future our hearts can once again hold each other and both feel freedom because we care.

i love you my blom. my best friend. and i will miss you. a lot.

a new beginning

one of my earliest childhood memories is of standing next to a pool in baberton in the eastern transvaal, staring at a group of children. they are running around the pool and jumping in shouting with joy at the sky, the water and each other's company. next to me a flat sheet of water is flowing while inside me confusion, fear and rage boiled. yet the boiling is so slow that it seems silent,almost frozen.

confusion at why this is so hard for me yet so easy for them. not knowing how to join, what to do next, what to think next. fear at the thought of joining and being ignored, my face and body stiff, marked as existing in a slowed down time. rage at myself for being wrong, out of place, broken in some way. at my mother for just sitting there, with all the other parents, under yellow umbrellas, laughing and talking, not saving me. at the other children for being what i can never be. fluid. joyous. belonging.

today at 38 i still sometimes feel this way, although the river of frozen fire has worn away deeply into the sediment of my being. become an almost unnoticeable part of who i am.

i want to unfreeze this fire with the cool water of compassion. of gentle acceptance of all the pain and anger i have carried for so long. i want to stop thinking about it, analyzing, pushing compassion at it. circling it. watching it from afar. removed. critical. angry.

i want to just sit down next to it and breathe. slowly. without thought or intend. surrendering to forces greater than me that have been carrying me forward to a place i do not yet know. i want peace. and the knowledge that this place can also be good. soft and cool. welcoming. that i can experience pleasure and be made fluid through joy.

i want compassion to drift around and through me. to sink into every pore. to dance me around until i forget to hate my otherness, exclusion, incompleteness and inability to know.

so that when our child arrives i am free to let him love himself. to discover the joy of pleasure and laughter. to know that he is loved unconditionally by his parents, his spirit, the trees, grass and sky and by his own imperfect self.

everything is blue, green

grey, brown.

silence comes with dusk

while the dogs chase fish

through darkening waters.

a moth curls up towards

me. its wings pale

against the rose bushes.

it brings with it a magic

which exists between light

and dark. in between.

my thoughts escape

the ordinary and slip into

this world where a bright

yellow lemon is almost

the same tone as my skin.

above me bare trees riot

twisting broad strokes of ink

against a sky deep blue

with a pale yellow border. i

scratch the surface of a lemon

its smell becomes my world

reaching out and enfolding a

garden drifting through the

softness of dusk.

white flowers.

moth wings.

a star.

how to catch up a year's life, a move, a baby in the belly, a polyamorous relationship...?

i will start with now, this morning. i did not sleep well tonight. someone left a comment on facebook last night..."are you in an open relationship" and my hormones picked it up an ran with it deep into loops of self-doubt and insomnia.

i do not want to be in an open relationship. even though it has brought me much learning. i am learning to let go. to trust my feelings. to just sit with my mind. to hold myself while curled up in an empty bathtub. to stroke my own head. to open my heart. to go with the flo.

i enter into this strange relationship holding my heart high. stepping into the unknown. not running away towards that which i cannot yet picture. i hold myself and i wait for clarity.

and felix? the boy inside who i hoped for and still can't quite belief is there. who dances inside, singing songs about the stars, chocolate and coffee, white flowers smelling of honey and the smell of fresh earth? i love him already.

i am scared of the changes that will come. i am curios about the rest of my life. i look forward to a new chapter of what i cannot yet imagine.

i finish my undergraduate degree this year. my head is full of new knowledge. my heart ready for change. rather than the life of an academic i want to be outside. gardening. activism. children. food security. conservation. knitting.

some of the things these relationships swept into my life: deeper knowing and tenderness for flo and i. a real sense of the caring and love between us. more honesty with ourselves and each other. a healthy doubt and uncertainty about my ability to control. a clearer vision of what i want in my future. renewing connection to friends, old and new. reflection. laughter. cleansing.

and under it all a deep stream of knowing that all will be well. that i might never know. that i can bury deeper into each moment. feeling it glow with immediacy.

Release

 1. i awake
to silence.
 
my blanket
of words
falls open
 
how much can a heart expand
before it contracts?
 
2. lost in space
i climb your words
to safety
but it is the spaces
between our shared memory
that helps me release
into the unknown
a soft warm blanket
woven from past tenderness
streaming behind me.
 
3. five years together
you did not call tonight
and i awake
to an unfamiliar landscape
no longer sure
of what i know.
 
4. my heart
is a dog
waiting for its owner.
i will take her outside
to howl her fierceness
back from the moon.

i stand on the edge
of a balcony
beneath me
trembles a tree
its joyful vulnerability
reminding me
of what is found.
 
my heart smells
loss approaching
it turns around and sighs
searching for the warmth
we used to know.
 
we buried our love
under the oak tree
its for the best
they said
not strong enough
to be born.
 
in my hand
i hold a key.
shall I lock my heart
or keep it open?
 
gently my grief
unfolds me.
into this new space
falls
a leaf
a coin
and the feather of a crane.