Grief summons with heft.
In its wake we gather what pieces are left.
Grief resides in the warp and weft
Of seconds, minutes, hours;
Its hand is deft
At stitching itself to the fabric of our day, until the two are cleft.
Forever are we seemingly bereft
Of our precious moments, sensations and scents,
For they are now held by the tenuous threads of grief.
Come to grief,
And let it swathe and bathe you.
May it provide some relief, however brief.
Come to grief.
Before I was born, I had an uncle who died.
He was the youngest of the three; the golden child.
The family was broken; their tears locked dark inside.
The houses were steeped in unspoken words as we grandchildren grew.
Moments of affection were few.
I felt unheard, unknown and unseen.
Their eyes were glossed with a sheen
Of grief for one who had been,
But did no longer abide, amongst the living.
No pictures, no words, no stories, or misgivings.
Only tears uncried.
So it’s been a while since I wrote. Things have been rather tumultuous on the homefront; my younger child had a serious medical crisis and we’re still dealing with the fallout, and adjusting to a new norm. I tried to write about it, but I couldn’t integrate my experience in any meaningful way to form coherent ideas. I feel like I’m just starting to come out of shock and transition into a recovery period.
I recently discovered the writing of one Elizabeth Gilbert. I had deliberately steered away from her work, as the first I had heard of her was “Eat Pray Love” and its widespread popularity. Luckily for me, I came across “The Signature of All Things” and from the first page I was captivated. From there, my sister suggested “Big Magic” which I am yet to read, as I am waiting for it to come back into the library, but am currently hooked on her related podcast “Magic Lessons”. Magic Lessons are, simply, a revelation.
I feel like I’m attending a masterclass in creative manifestation, and I now feel a great urgency to bring forth my deepest creative desires. Which brings me to this post. It seems my creations are hovering, quietly, in the wings, waiting for me to emerge from the dressing room, to glide onto stage in one, beautifully synchronised, perfectly polished and orchestrated work…but I’m not ready. I’m behind the door, desperately thumbing through the manual, looking for the notes I scribbled in the margins about how best to execute one’s ideas. How To Be Ready.
And then I realise. It’s impossible. There is no manual for this shit. You have to start with what you’ve got, and pull it together as you go. There’s nothing to polish if you never produce anything to start with. Time to get scrappy.
I have been unemployed since December 2015. I was made redundant twice last year, and have been steadily applying for jobs since then. My first few weeks were unmitigated panic, which (due to some very compassionate financial support) then subsided into the guilty pleasure of free time, which has now become full blown, strident joy. A Lady of Leisure (who applies for several jobs per week).
I’m gardening more, catching up on paperwork, helping out friends, meditating, taking care of my health and catching up on sleep, which has been hard to do since having children. Still haven’t organised my house properly, but I have read “The Art of Tidying” by Marie Kondo…it’s a work in progress.
What has also emerged is unbridled creativity; things which have lain dormant for years, or put on the back burner. And to be perfectly honest, it’s been overwhelming.
As a supporter of a Universal Basic Income (UBI) in Australia, part of my argument is for the creativity and innovation that would theoretically result from people having more time and less financial stress (which I happen to be living at the moment). What I didn’t expect, was to have to develop skills to manage the emergent creativity!
Still don’t have it down pat. I will report back later when I can identify said skills…
I’ve started this blog because I think I may need to give my brain a legitimate outlet. I have very patient friends who politely listen to my latest epiphanies, knowing that I’ll stop talking after a while.
So far, I am finding it useful to put my mental processes on paper (so to speak) so they can exit my brain. I visualise my mind being like a fairy floss machine; it spins around really fast, and every now and then a daring individual, very carefully, trails a stick around inside and gradually teases out a long web of gossamer, longer and longer, twirling it around into one, cohesive mass, ready to be presented to a willing recipient, and then consumed.
Let’s see how much fairy floss is in there.
the unstable creative 