something about...

Something about wilderness
something about the days, weeks, months, years of waiting
something about being on the outside looking in
something about the yearning that makes heart feel heavy
something about the pinprick of hope that gets us up in the morning
something about waiting
something about plodding on
something about persevering
something about mountains that seem to stand in the way
something about mustard seeds
something about sunrise
something about holding on to a promise
and holding on
and holding on
something about remembering
something about a future we barely dare to imagine
something about dischordant
moving toward harmony
something about crying out
something about the One who hears
something about uncertainty
something about the Unchanging One
something about Something Bigger
something about our name
and the One who knows our name
and the One whose name is I AM.
I AM PRESENT
Something about today.
HE IS. Here. TODAY.

highlights

highlights of this week (in no particular order):

1. butternut squash and chocolate cake at Nia cafe in Brighton (and a very kind boyfriend who paid!)
2. new boots! which were just what i'd had in mind, AND reduced, last in the shop and found without any shopping effort! Thank you God for caring about the little things... I'd been praying about it! :-)
3. breaking - i have started training again and there's lots of people coming to dance on a Monday which makes for a good atmosphere. i am pondering learning some locking since if i am very honest with myself i'll probably never manage to do most breaking moves! doh.
4. wholegrain bagels with cream cheese... why have i not eaten more of these in my life?!!
5. horseplay - a monthly night of poetry, music and randomness! i performed 2 poems which i was pleased about and they seemed to go down well. was a mixed evening but there was a brilliant, quite spiritual, moment at the end with some beautiful music and appreciated honesty
6. housemates. they are just great
7. new life - this week two friends have become mothers and one friend a grandmother for the first time!

CRAVE

-Craving to go swimming- said Helen and I thought -Yes-.
Swimming in and surrounded by and under and filled with and moving and playing and surrendering and taking a risk as feet leave solid ground.

Only to be, only to be with you…

-CRAVING- said Helen
And the word plucked a string buried deep within
causing a sound to ring through my body
a sound almost dischordant
almost uncomfortable in its intensity

CRAVING
it sounds almost animal,
Humanity at its basest level
A desperate need
An urge
Not well presented, polite or polished
NO.

CRAVE
we almost dare not say it
-how uncouth– we murmur with raised eyebrows

CRAVE
When breathing becomes heavy and gaze becomes fixed
When
Nothing else
Nothing else
Nothing else
Nothing else
Matters.

CRAVE
When the world dims to irrelevant and I know the lights will only come back on when you return

CRAVE
This longing that aches my heart
That causes my stomach to twist
Trying to forget its emptiness
And my arms try to run run run away
O please hold me
O please hold me
Take my arms hands face cheeks back eyes ears face body mind thoughts dreams soul
Take me over
I want to be so close to you I can feel your breath
I want to be so close I don’t know where I end and you begin
Hide me under your wings
Envelop me

CRAVE
More than –I want-
more than –I would like-
more than –I need-

CRAVE
is perhaps the only word I can use.


(22 Jan 2011 by me)

dates wrapped in bacon...

... my new favourite dinner party treat!

mm mmm mmmmm!!!

It is the word...

“Poetry, my teacher: light the certainties of men and the tone of my words. You see, I risk speech even with bullets piercing phonemes. It is the word – that which is larger than its size – that speaks, does and happens. Here it reels, riddled with bullets. Uttered by toothless mouths in alleyway conspiracies, in deadly decisions. Sounds stir on ocean floors. The absence of sunlight really does darken forests. The strawberry liquid of icecream makes hands sticky. Words are born in thought; leaving lips, they acquire soul in the ears, yet sometimes this auditory magic does not make it as far as the mouth because it is swallowed dry. Massacred in the stomach along with rice and beans, these almost words are excreted rather than spoken. Words balk. Bullets talk”.

Paulo Lins, 'City of God', (p.16)

fave pics from france, december 2010