living breathing me

today it felt so good, to be whipped by salty air.
my favourite air to breathe.
i inhaled deep.
it threw my hair in tangles. my eyes wept in stinging and cleansing as my body warmed from walking and talking and clearing my mind of all the fear and worry.
i battled today.
sometimes it feels constant and unforgiving, a little piece of everyday.
sometimes it creeps into my dreaming.
sometimes.
but each time, i learn more. and when i need it most, words of wisdom stoke my will to fight.
it’s not
all always
sunshine.
but today i turned the darkness into light as she walked by me and told me stories. as she smiled and we laughed and i knew it was
all alright.
i was lashed by the cool wailing wind
of autumn by the sea.
it stirred me up
and then it set me free.

the healing vibes of the great outdoors

i remembered what he said when he told me how the earth breathes. he told it to me in waterfalls, that man with missing teeth and black hair tucked behind his ears. he showed it to me, the heartbeat, the rise and fall of her lungs, the way she moved as earthly sounds spread, echoing across her skin. and it moved. it did. the earth, she breathes.

and i remembered this as i walked along a stretch of coastline that brought me back to myself. as i stopped and watched the clouds, the sea, moving and breathing with me as we tracked along steep cliffs that plummeted into the wild aquamarine. crashing waves and blackened rocks. rolling hills and rocky trails. trees and flowers and shrubbery. just three friends and me. we trekked lightly as she held us up and pushed us forward in soft wind and light shadows from rolling clouds above, all warmth and cool, just right and just enough.

i don’t know why i stayed away so long, when i know, i always know, one breath of clean, crisp air, one step into the wilderness, one more step away from all sounds of civilisation… and i’m free.

may day

i counted grains of sand on the beach today. it’s been too long, and for quite some time tonight i stayed. barefoot, a flannel shirt tied around my waist. i sat. alone, scribbling nonsensical poetry with my favourite inky pen on blank pages dedicated to life to you, and i counted grains of sand without my hands. knees to my chest, i pushed my toes in to the silkiness a little more. they cooled in the shadowy damp.

the first day of may, it was warm, and i need.

tonight the moon rose, behind a haze of cloud, almost full, it hovered. and i couldn’t quite grasp how my moon is your moon…
[one moon one world, we’re not so far apart.]

as the moon rose, the sun set, but i’d never have known to where. the sky was all sea and the sea was all sky and it was all horizon all unending all eeriness and beauty, the world in unique glory. and i’d never known the difference but for a glowing yellow sun reflected on water too still, as it made its way to make the night and cool my flushed and swelling heart.

you’re on my mind.

i wrote and i counted and i watched the sun set to nowhere as light faded slow.
i heard the unfurling of waves on the shore. left to right, white noise.
a seagull.
or two.
nothing else.
i heard my heartbeat, unsteady. i heard the gliding of my pen, the ticking of my thoughts, the humming of the air that brushed against my cheek.
i heard my ears ring in the silence of the settling wind.
i heard my past in flecks of saltiness, and saw it falling there. toward the shore, to the whitewash of all it was before the counting and the writing and the falling falling falling.

therapy.

IMG_0233
[photo: west beach, south australia]

i needed to swim in the ocean today. i needed to saturate my bones with the searing saltiness of this southern sea. on the edge of the country, i stood, as the waves tickled and buried my feet in the sand. for a moment, i gave into the sinking and the sticking before i wriggled my toes from the heaviness.

the water was unusually warm. i dragged my legs through the shallows, wade by wade by wade and dove into the surf, as the smallest of swells churned the water so constant, so refreshing so fucking crystal clear. under two feet of ocean, i spun to face the sky and opened my eyes to look up through that searing saltiness at the scorching, summer sun – a bright, white light that shifted upon the glassiness as the ocean moved in its own deep breaths on my behalf.

my eyes were burning long before the salt and the sun in the sea today. but, today’s pain brought relief from the home it has so recently been threatening.
and so,
my heart,
in peace,
it floated and it rested.

and i kept telling myself to give in, to feel how it feels, to let it cleanse me. let it renew me. let it be the therapy i was in so very desperate need of. with no words and no poetry and no writing and no talking and no thinking. let it be no feeling. let it be no afternoon nightmare. just let it be.

it seems i always forget
how much i need the sea.

bring me home, be my guide, walk with me into the rest of my life.

at the bottom of the sea

i’d never done it before, to lay on the ocean floor, open my eyes and look up at the sky.

today though, i did just that. through salty water, i stared into the light, at the strength of the sun, casting shards of glowing gold. i stared at the blueness of the sky, blurry clouds passing by.

i sat on the beach with her, we spoke about just this. about the seeing of things. the discovering, appreciating and witnessing of more than just life at its surface, as it plays out in front of our eyes. it’s conscious. it’s moving. and today i saw it anew, from the water, through all the blue.

don’t miss the little bits and pieces that together make triumphs of the smallness. tie yourself to shooting stars that fly through the nighttime. let your perspective move and change. shift your frame of mind, and find it all, just by opening your eyes, looking up or out or in or through or any which way you’ve never looked before.

notice, see, listen, feel. dive in, look up, revel in the silence and the stillness. feel the rush of seeing things for the first time, or seeing old things with new eyes. there’s beauty everywhere, it lives in everything. turn yourself upside down and stare a while.

dear friend

i’ve been up for hours.

i was up before the sun. before the roosters screeched hello. before the neighbour’s hungry baby and before the chirping birds in trees above, in trees below. i was up and it was dark as i rode my bike. the street lights turned off, one by one, above my head. my phone was a flashlight, a yellow raincoat kept me dry.

i met her in the darkness at the coffee shop down the road
(you’d love her, you know).
we drove.
and light took over night and turned the dawn to day.

we stopped.
she ran across the street and picked a bag full of plumerias – her face deep in her task, her smile wide as she raced back to the car. excited and alive.

we reached the beach, its water washed with the sky’s delightful pastel pinks and blues of perfect morning hues.

and then we saw them swimming. off the coast, a pod! so many! babies and mothers and fathers and brothers. families of dolphins jumping and playing.

we swam to join the fun.
we swam.
and swam
and swam.

we dove, we chased, we played with them, deep in the blue and through the haze of that underwater world.

it’s sunset and we’re all we have. i’ll know it better soon.