Thursday, 31 May 2018

Life keeps ticking like a time bomb

Been thinking a lot lately about ancestral trauma. Our genetic coding is multidimensional – within our genes exist all the memories and experiences of our genetic heritage. Sounds intense, but it works both ways - ‘what you heal in yourself, you heal for your entire family line,’ as Chani says. 

I haven’t really gotten personal on here in a long time! Couldn’t tell you why I feel like it now, just do. My poems are personal but there’s an element in the writing style that feels like scaffolding, or layer of mist, keeping things evasive and vague.  Writing ‘journal style’ feels pretty naked, to tell you the truth. I guess I’m doing it for my future self, who I know froths the nostalgia of reading old posts (like I do, indulgently, once in a blue moon). Blogs are weird little time capsules. Echo chambers. 

Anyway. I’ve been reading Big Little Lies. The thought processes the main characters have around raising their children have me all reflective on my own childhood (which isn’t anything new, ha) and the kinds of decisions and challenges that would have shaped my mother's life. But I’m slowly unfolding memories I didn’t know I had – if you’d asked me a few years ago to recall instances from my childhood, I don’t think I’d have much to say. Blank, a few images, sounds – a feeling, or two. Now things are coming back in full technicolour. 

I’ve been thinking about my parents and their health struggles, now that I’m going through my own. I wonder, at what age did they started getting sick, what streams of knowledge around their conditions did they have access to back then? What would it be like now, if they saw the doctors I was seeing? From what I can remember of their treatments and mindsets, I’d say they were very much in an 'aggressive' western medicine stream, and a part of the ‘old paradigm’ of symptom treatment. I count myself blessed to have access to the things I do know, it's an unrivalled privilege. 

I’m of the belief that all our physical illnesses and ailments are manifestations of trauma in the emotional body - whether it be childhood trauma or ancestral. It's a pretty meaty topic to get your head around, and it's not something I'll pretend to be an expert on. But it's something that makes sense to me, slowly, like waking from a nap and recontextualising yourself within your surroundings. Oh, so this is where I am. This is what I am. If you’re interested in this kind of thinking, I’d recommend The Metaphysical Anatomy by Evette Rose.

Separate note, but I've always had the most intense vivid dreams. I dreamt last night that I had various powers, like telekenisis and the ability to fly. I had to summon the spirit of my dad, to ask him for guidance around my powers (I’d inherited them from him, he was a witch). To do so I had to find a magic frisbee in our old backyard, and throw it into the sky. I did so and he appeared above an old willow tree (which had been struck down by lightning when I was a very small child and all my memories of it are ficticious and based of photos I saw later in life) his face glowing like a gold coin reflecting the sun. That’s about all I can remember. Vada thinks it means I have witch blood on my Celtic side (probably true). 

My main themes of today that I’m ruminating on are: Creating. I just ordered a copy of The Artist’s Way, I’m excited to push through some blocks in my creative output. I’ve been making stuff pretty regularly, but every time I put down the pen I have this fear I wont ever pick it up again, that I’ll be stuck. Which brings me to my other main theme – Fear. How do you know if you’re making your decisions from a place of fear? And if so, how do you stop? 

I’ve been doing a lot of free-writing, seeing what comes out. It’s been good to vent frustrations. I’ve been working out, too, which has been good for anxiety. I want to get strong. A pretty ambitious goal when you have cfs and have to go back to bed after a light as hell 20 minute session but whateverrr. Baby steps for this burnt out sag. 

Listening to:


Monday, 28 May 2018

breathe right through me

Been feeling fresh in the mornings lately, waking up with the sun and cooking breakfast and sitting at the table, the morning light glowing up the room like magic. Feels promising. I’ve been keeping a dream journal, writing in it each morning upon waking. You wouldn’t believe the shit my subconscious cooks up for me. I sit and try to piece the images back together, follow the tenuous thread of narrative. Often I’m in a building that’s falling down around me.  This is such a non-post, just felt like getting something out. Word-vomit. Hi to the ether. 

Sunday, 20 May 2018


I go through these periods of intense restructuring. It feels molecular & beyond prediction. Nesting in my room I tackle surfaces laden with material mementos and feel all shades of rawness in regards to my obsession with the past. I sit in my bed eating mandarin segments after coming home from work; some states of fatigue are blissful in their accompanying mental clarity.  

I throw myself into the process of intuitive action so fully that I feel completely stripped of mental scaffolding; previous neural pathways of assisted decision-making now loom suspicious — breaking trust with myself in order to build it anew. We rattle into the physical and form new questions to digest at night. I’m working on some answers.