a postcard-sized scrap of headspace

“And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” –Anais Nin

i just spent 3 hours at the dog park with daisy, with the intention of chilling us both out. it’s moving week, and it’s been such a process for me that i’ve started to say that my fumes are running on fumes.

it was nice. i smoked a few cigarettes, talked, watched popcorn-yellow sunlight drift through the trees. wore a tank top and was completely comfortable. i came back only when it felt like my head was starting to ease.

in my head (and that is the beginning of the solution) i have been saying that i’m tearing down the house that depression built. it’s hard. i don’t want to look at the evidence of the healing i’ve done in the past few years, the healing or the grieving – and yet, i don’t want to take any of it with me.

in the next three days, i have to scrub, finish packing, and repaint. it’s totally possible, but i have to pick up my rate like four times. i spent all day burning cds onto my computer so i could leave their physical beings behind and i’m not sure the nostalgia was good for me.

one of the things i am going to try and do next is embrace change. i have already begun to galvanize myself to do it…moving to a new place, new neighbourhood; in terms of my finances, filing 5 years worth of taxes and applying for a credit card; working full-time – but it’s been bringing up a kind of adult homesickness. i’m already missing being a few minutes’ walk from field’s front door.

very good things are going to be happening when i move there. i’m not going to lose touch with field…and i’m going to be entering a community of friends i already know. i’m going to be closer to school and the canal. i’m going to have a separate room for yoga, and my computer (ie: writing space) won’t be in my bedroom. two balconies. i’ll be writing hard for my grad portfolios as soon as i get there. i’ll be paying less rent.

it’s been interesting, as i’ve slowly (over weeks) decoded the unrest in my belly: i am resistant to change that i know will be healthy and beautiful and growthful. i am unwilling to leave the place i am, even though it’s no longer comfortable.

i have to remember to breathe. breathe, and try to stay mindful and healthy over the next few days.

i am so looking forward to having the tranquil home space in order to write again!

(this is a poem i wrote sometime in the last few months…i somehow came to really identify with the turtle when i did a few tea readings a year or so ago, and found out that in different mythologies, turtles are considered the spiritual gatekeepers – being equally as comfortable on land and water, they guard the boundary between heaven and earth.)

Turtle

 A turtle moves towards the ocean
its strong green arms swimming against the sand,
stop-motion

the sun seems very far away
a grey witness awash
in a cloud-choked sky
pieces of bone and shell glittering
along the beach

There is a warm dark hole against the cliff, round, flipper-frothed,
a trail fanned out
between it and the beast,
its tough jigsaw claws drawing
its intention for the water
thundering along the tide pools

relearning the language of sunlight
after the imagined threat has passed,
its deliberate re-emergence

it knows the uncertain alchemy of the world
and yet cannot resist the call

~ by bee on June 27, 2008.