Everybody is alone onto themselves
That’s the dichotomy of being
We are social but nobody truly knows the other
All we negotiate is a common story
Outer Hebrides: weather warning
Reflection on stormy days
A howl so ancient it sits at the beginning of fire and light
I want to run
Hunt
Sail
Dance
And howl at the moon, hidden.
What is ‘yellow warning rain’ anyway?
Something we never knew about.
Outer Hebrides: Isle of Uist
This video was taken in North Uist, just around the corner from Balranald Camp Ground. There was an amazing amount of wild flowers in the fields.
Outer Hebrides
The last two weeks were spend camping in the Outer Hebrides in Scotland. Whilst kayaking and walking there were many moments for reflections and insights, I am going to share in poetry and blog form. I am also really excited to share some of my experiments with you. Working with the environment we were in, I created a ‘Washed Away’ mini-series around themes that follow abuse, such as shame, and fear. And another one focusing on taking a closer look. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy the images and sounds, and laugh, cry and think with me as usual.
Failure Poetry
So the last couple of days I was at a conference and one of the key note speaker made us either draw a picture or write a poem. Yeah of course I wrote a poem. The caveat was it had to be a poem about failure. And as you might know I always struggle with the failure discourse around having ADHD so my poem focused on that:
I fail to adhere to
Rules
Expectations
Norms
Often
Don’t ask me to
Squish
Wiggle
Squirm
Into
A place that doesn’t fit
Let me dance in the falling leaves
Ride on thunderstorms
Weave webs of compassionate togetherness
But do not
Not ever
Put me on a leash
Stories–a poem
A poem lingers in the back of my throat; scratching my vocal cords like an angry cat.
When I close my eyes words dart across my lids like alarmed starlings from the cherry tree.
The rhythm of words pulsates through my veins, like the bass from a subwoofer.
I hear the echoes of stories wanting told, wanting an audience, needing out–into the open.
Every cell of my body wants to tell stories; for in stories we live, we learn, we join the past with the future.
The library is too huge, large, enormous, endless, eternal, ethereal, intangible to crasp but the stories must be lived.
Are you in the right book?
What story have you chosen?
Good Morning Sunshine
‘But it’s raining.’
You say.
But could I sway;
You to see that the sun is always shining behind the clouds?
‘But it’s cold.’
You say.
But could I sway;
You to understand that exposure will strengthen your spirit?
‘But it’s a bother.’
You say.
But could I sway;
You to learn that you won’t grow in your comfort zone?
‘But it’s not fair.’
You say.
But could I sway;
You to let go of self-victimization and not hide behind excuses?
‘But I am so angry.’
You say.
But could I sway;
You not to feed that wolf but nourish your soul?
Could I sway you,
Just a little bit,
To change your perspective,
For your own healing?
Free writing exercise
Dooby-doo
Scooby-doo
You do you
Doolally
Musings
Coming through
Have you
Ever tried
To do not you?
Have you
Ever questioned
What you do?
Or even wondered
Who is you?
Or how it is to walk in someone else’s shoe?
Why not?
Summertime
Hot wind wipes like invisible fire across burnt grass
The brittle stalks rustle underneath my itchy soles
Dry lips burst in anticipation of a cold drink
I squint against the brightness there is nowhere to hide
Except for the lizards playing peekaboo in the rockery
Lazy days stretch in front of me as I tangle my feet in clear water
It’s summer
Carry the light
Be the light
You need in a dark hour
Bearing light
Is a relay race
Carry the torch
Pass it on
Ignite
So that there will
always be someone to hold it
Poetry by Nathalie 