25.1.11

and another thing

men and women are not the same. there's no doubt that the edges blur for some, but for the most part - men and women are equal and opposite versions of the human animal.
i know how a woman thinks. at some level, i instinctively understand a woman's emotional landscape - whether her personality chooses to make theater of it or whether she tightens her emotions under her bonnet and deals with them in private - i can find a resonance in the fact of them.
funny therefore, to watch a young woman emote - to see vitriolic scrawls across a page painted with pain; to see her requests; her need for assurance; her confusion and her resolution to give not an inch. i perfectly comprehend her suffering and yet i remain unmoved because she's got it all wrong. if we were closer i might tell her, but i probably wouldn't.
this is of great interest to me, as i routinely get it all wrong. i cause myself angst which i create by illogical assumptions (assumptions in general, really), projections and my particular version of creative thinking - the thought experiment. he doesn't do this. he is a 'just the facts, ma'am', man.
i'm teaching myself the catch and release method of processing, now. i tug items from my bonnet one by one and if they really exist - i acknowledge them; if i've created them from emotional play dough, i let 'em go.

eh - i'm working on it.


24.1.11

on air

i'm building a castle for my princess, or maybe it's for me. i agonize over hues, heights and depths and change my mind. she waits and hopes it will be done one day - while she still needs it. 
oh, it's a beautiful thing, in my head. i glory in the practical prettiness of it all and curtsy modestly when i'm told, time and again, that i have a talent for design. 
"oh", i say, "i don't know about that".
 in my head, my triumph makes headlines. meanwhile, she waits for me to make a start.



can do

it is my business to feel his pain
i can be certain when he is unsure; i can be knowledgeable when he is confused.
if i am here - if we are here together - i don my superhero cape and lift the boulder from his shoulder.

as long as i place it gently where it can do no harm (and quit running with scissors).

23.1.11

late evening blurb

i hear rapping in the bedroom. her friend has written lyrics and is now performing before the camera whilst standing on the bed. i'll probably see it on facebook in the morning. i want to sleep. he sleeps. he sleeps sweetly but not before he made me tea and rubbed my shoulders and kissed me like he meant it. after my nap i grumbled to myself that i'd be awake till the wee hours, now. it was a sweet, deep nap and i liked it well enough at the time. i dreamed of new orleans and bourbon street and me wearing a white organza gown with a fleur-de-lis in my hair, holding a mint julep. i had a mint julep in n'awlins but it tasted like medicine. i preferred the hurricane from pat o'brien's. i still have the glass. come to think of it - how crazy that i have the glass. i rode into town on a bicycle from new hampshire and left on a bus headed to alaska - from there to boston and eventually back to new zealand. i still have the glass. that's something. the kitten came in to say goodnight or she doesn't like the rap. either way, we can play fetch with the ping pong ball, now. it might make me sleepy.


seamless

finding myself cleaning
finding myself explaining
finding myself sighing
finding myself hiding
finding myself resting
finding myself reflecting
finding myself sniggering
finding myself sharing
finding myself communicating
finding myself relishing
finding myself understanding
finding myself understood

special delivery

a bit like having a baby, i have an urge to push out all the language and rhythms and cadences that are flooding my busy brain. what would emerge first? i think the simplicity - a clarity and distinctness. then i'd deliver harmony and balance - something to sway with and hold on to. i'm not forgetting the heartbeat - the steady, trustworthy fundament of all the creativity and experimentation which skips blithely along beside. slowly then, the treasure is uncovered - the gem that ultimately pays for it all - not so fragile but invaluable. no need to take notes - it changes in the morning.



22.1.11

murmurs

i'm listening intently for my voice and there's a good chance i will find it here; in these posts; on this blog...


i'll listen to my belly and all her gurgles - that's where it begins.
i'll listen to my thrumming aches and nervous twinges - that's how i'll know i'm on the right track.
i'll listen to my breathing - she might try to conceal the path with loud sighs and sharp intakes, but i'll be prepared.
i'll listen to my thoughts... the lofty certainty and timid questions; the kaleidoscope of colours and swirling pictures - that's how i'll see that i'm close.
i'll listen to the stillness - that's where it will be.


then, i will call to my dreams - i'm ready.
catch me!

listening