#universal soup

No, but I am universal soup

I used to be one of those people that always wanted to maintain a certain image.To fit in, to be cool, to be one of the chosen ones. I kept what was really going on for me under the surface deeply hidden (albeit not very well). I went about my days, spouting off sentences and views that were not connected to my own heart and voice. I spent my money on clothes that were uncomfortable and ridiculously expensive just to make myself look good. I also spent my money on champagne and other things we won't discuss here as well as food that wasn't nourishing my body.

When I was working in the corporate world, most of my time off was spent trying to make myself feel better from working in the corporate world. I surrounded myself with other people that were living in the same way. Never showing their vulnerable side except perhaps to one or two other people. All with the aim to maintain that image and perhaps due to the fact that they didn't feel safe with many people.

When I developed Chronic Fatigue one year ago - my 'cool' went out the window. First of all I was struggling hugely with the feelings that were coming up to the surface. Lot's of anger and grief that I hadn't processed properly before. So I started dealing with the feelings in the only way I knew how.

BRUTAL POETRY.

And did I keep the poetry to myself like I should have? Kept it locked away in my personal journal for nobody to see?

Bah, who wants to be liked for being cool, calm and collected anyway? I bared my gnashing teeth, broken heart and crying soul in the pages of my blog, I posted them to my facebook wall, so everyone could see, my family, my friends, my ex work colleagues. I wanted everyone to know that it was ok to have these feelings, that it was ok to be grieving and angry and morbid.

That it was ok to be uncool about things.

I'd seen so many of my friends repressing really big painful experiences in their lives, tears prickling under their eyes as they recounted the stories of their hurtful moments - but holding everything back, holding everything in. Refusing to let go and let those juicy tears flow. Because crying's for wusses right?

I just felt like shaking them (gently of course) and saying "just cry godammit!" I felt huge sympathy for these beautiful people in my life. Some of them friends I'd known since school. And I watched them harden slowly over time. As they continued on with this facade of being "ok", of not feeling anything that wasn't happy or positive. Holding this mask of their corporate identities and lives. I watched them start to turn grey. It was like they were no longer coloured in. These people are the reason why I've shared in my journey so openly.They are the reason why I've shared that I've gone from an above average salary to being on the sickness benefit, to being a happy and complete person to being utterly depressed and literally down and out - a la - bedding provided by the salvation army. They are the reason why whilst sharing instagram pictures of their meals and new shoes, I've been sharing words about my grief and madness.

I wouldn't change a thing. When I'm better again I never want to go back to how things were before. I don't care if I'm never 'cool' again. I want to be free to feel and express as I am. I want to be loved and seen for who I am and I want to love other's for who they are also. To be soft and open is the key to my happiness.

Another part to this story was that I was too ill to work. Cue social convention - "So what are you doing with your self?" Um.... but poor people are losers right?

I don't need lots of money to have style, I prefer my clothes now (all second hand) to any of the ones I had when I was buying them all new. I like to wear strange hats, high waisted 80's jeans with the foot stirrups and dinosaurs on the butt - $1.50 in Thames thank you! And obviously to top it off - silver moonboots (think Napolean Dynamite). I actually enjoy dressing awkwardly. I know! I enjoy looking uncool! I don't need lots of money to have a nice house, I live in a beautiful tree house and I'm very lucky. I don't need lots of money to eat well if I'm good with my garden and my budgeting. 

Then there was the weight gain. It's even still a little hard for me to write about this one. I was so in love with the way my body looked before I was ill. Weight gain is not just a symptom of bad diet. There are a multitude of reasons why it happens, but I can't help but get irked when people suggest that I need to do this or try that. I do still enjoy the odd burger, but I also eat really good quality whole and organic foods. I'd say my diet is the best it's ever been. I do love my body now, but it's certainly been a journey to remember the beauty of it, that runs deeper than the "beauty" of it. If you know what I mean..

So this experience has completely flipped my script.

Life is precious, it's short (it's the only one I have at this stage) and long (I'm going to be here all my life) and I want to appreciate every last drop of it. That doesn't mean I need to be on crazy adventures every day. It doesn't mean I need to be friends with the shiniest people and drive a cool car. For me when I'm having a bout of fatigue it's as simple as loving having a bath and reading a book.

I don't put all these huge pressures on myself anymore. To be anything more than I am in the moment. I'm human, perfectly imperfect in every way.

Awkward, slightly chubby (I like it call it juicy), beautiful, crazy and cool to the people that matter - namely myself.

I hope anyone who has felt uncomfortable watching my journey unravel lately can take this as a sign to look inside to their own vulnerable feelings. Don't make yourself sick repressing them like I did. Go in there, how do you feel? What do you really want to be doing with your life? Are you really happy? What are you going to do about it?

in the glowing glade of my open heart.

Having traveled through the dragon's mouth.

Having sat in the belly 

of the fire and poison.

Having swallowed everything I'd ever dealt to another.

To myself.

I sit in repose.

Blessed to breathe.

To be human again.

To understand that I wish to help the planet

but that I would prefer to do so in the fray. 

Wrapped in the tender limbs 

of my brother's and sister's embrace.

Warm and fuzzy arms and legs, 

twisted into each other.

Relieving the static and grey 

for a moment of colour and clarity.

We are all in this together.

I do not wish to sever my ties to the every day life.

Within that centeredness I feel respite.

I free the night, 

journeying within my darkness to birth the light.

Show you I feel it too.

Within the without.

Within the peace and rules.

I want to preach with you.

Tell the ones

that we are all in the same rhythm and flow.

Learn to grow

as we know the seed continues

without our sewing.

Blown about

by the breeze of ease and graceful knowing.

I want to face you.

Nose to nose.

Take the air from your lungs into my own.

To feel myself home within the dance.

I want to take chances.

I wish to take risks.

I want to stand in the shadow

of a giant obelisk.

And cry the rain into the dusty ground.

Creating fertile lands once again.

This is where I stand with you.

Sister of the dark and dank.

Creatures of the pirate's plank.

I walk shaky steps to the watery fall.

It beckons to us all

as we wait to drop into the looming abyss.

I will not miss.

I dream so bright now, I see lighter days, ways in which I'm walking from the daze I found myself in. I no longer crave to be unhealthy. I no longer wish for dishes of food that taste good yet do not nourish you. Dank and dirty cheese stretched up from my knees. I wish to feel the cool and calming breeze lick at my skin and hair. Questioning the midnight air and every choice I've ever made. I am saving myself for the one true flame, burning deeply in your name. I follow my yoni's sacred song. She wishes for their intentions to be pure. She no longer wants to endure truth less love. This ride we are on is so much fun.

And so it is,

the dance of the tenuous human experience reigns supreme. 

Let it go

Let it be

Let it love you

Let it see

We are all so wonderful,

so beautiful, pure and serene.

We must have faith in that.

In ourselves

and in each other.

We must honour our own inner workings.

The tremolo wrapped around the virbrato

of our heart's gentle strum,

We are all one.

We come in and out of each other's lives,

like thieves in the night.

Though, we are not here to steal anything

other than kisses and moments.

Unkept promises in the summer wind.

There is a silent promise

in new beginnings.

The dance of many to come, 

the song of all who've sung.

The saddest notes melt into one question.

The reply is endless, 

both pointless and precious.

We are all sunlight.

We are all rain.

We are all starting again

and again.

Not knowing that the river only wishes to bring us home.

It will always succeed,

no matter how far we roam.

My grandfather came to me in meditation today. He wanted to say sorry to me. For what he had done to my mother. He wanted to let me know that all the anger I feel against her, when she behaves the way she does is directly related to the pain she experienced within her relationship with him growing up.

He's so sorry.

He is the reason why she has such unhealthy relationships with men. He is the reason why she has to be in control all the time, why she doesn't seem like she listens. Like she's stuck on auto pilot, soul slumbering slightly outside of her body so she doesn't have to feel the pain. The pain was too much for her. She should have been safe with him.

I'm so sorry he confided, deeply to the honey comb chasms of my gently beating heart.

I'm so sorry he whispered through the rustling trees of my dreams as my tears melted like streams down my blushing cheeks, from my eyes that hold the Earth's sparkling reflection in their irises. The wounded healer, bringing life back to the mother. To feel the pain rise up from my aqua ducts and fall away like a tsunami, taking all forms of protective infrastructure away. Leaving me supple and open, ready to face new days.

He said he was so sorry; that he should have protected them all. They should have been tucked safely and tightly under his bomber plane's wings. The war wasn't meant for them. Not in that way. A war on their bodies, destruction to their minds, to the rhythm of their divine hearts.

Always beating in a now now time signature.

Never in the space.

Always waiting for the next bad guy to appear around the corner with malice on his face.

He said he's sorry and that I must feel it all out. That I must allow the Otaki river to flow through my dreams and out to the ocean's mouth.  To free myself and my family from the bonds of his war on our hearts and bodies.

He's so sorry he said as he pressed his hands to my chest and womb. He's so sorry, as I breathed life into the tomb of the old, buried deep within the folds of Tangaroa'sbed. 

He offered me a gift of a star shaped emerald green stone, that would make its home deep within my chest. He just wants me to rest within this space and be gentle for awhile. To see the world for what it is and I and her - the Earth's sacred child. Deserving of grace, compassion and forgiveness still. 

I will do this for you grandad, I will do this for us in trust of the ever opening and growing. Of the seeds of star that need sewing. I will feel it all in knowing. I will heed the call of the depths of sight, to birth the Earth to purer light.