Squirming

I’m not a control freak.  Really.  I just like to be able to ensure, for as much of the time as possible, that I am not going to make a fool of myself.

Tomorrow, I am going on a journey; both physically and emotionally.  Physically, I am travelling from Honiara to a Village on the Weather Coast – a rugged and remote part of the Solomon Islands.  Emotionally, I am going way out of my comfort zone.

The trip involves a 6- hour boat ride in a 10-foot dinghy followed by a 3-hour trek into the village via swollen rivers and muddy pathways.  Generally, that all sounds fine.  I like boats – even smallish boats – and I like a good bushwalk – even an adventurous one- so I’m not scared as such… It’s just that I’m going with guys who do this every couple of weeks.  For them, it’s a known quantity. A comparable experience for me might be grabbing my passport and jumping on a plane to head overseas; it doesn’t phase me. 

Much more than that though, I think my issue is that these are guys I work with, guys I’ve worked hard to build a trusting and professional relationship with – guys who come tomorrow, I may be needing to lend me a hand, or who may watch me slip and slide in the mud, or take a tumble (oh how I hate a public stack!) or get nervous about stuff they find very ordinary.  In short, these guys will see me in an unfamiliar situation I have no control over and I will be in some way vulnerable and need to trust and rely on them completely.

The good thing is that I know I can.  And ultimately that’s why I am surrendering to the experience and embracing it. And in some ways, it actually makes me feel pretty good.  In the seven months I’ve been here, we may not have completed as many tasks as I would at home and we may not have accomplished everything that needed to be accomplished.  The things we have done, may have lacked polish and been a little rough around the edges, but we’ve done them together.  And that’s happened because I genuinely like and respect them.. and I think they feel the same.  As individuals, I don’t know them very well, and they really don’t know me – but we must know enough to know that the foundations are solid.  And I’m hoping this week will really help to build the launching pad for the second half of my experience here.

Watch this space, by Saturday night I’ll either feel incredibly foolish and want to hide out for a while, or I will be singing the praises of one of the greatest trips outside my comfort zone ever! 

I’ll let you know.

Dark Sky, Bright Moon

I wonder what

cosmic collision severed my soul

and yours.

I am adrift from you, but revolve around you.

I’m the moon, you are the earth;

I’m your Gemini satellite.

It seems you can evolve and

change without me while I am powerless

but to observe

ever turning, looking over my shoulder

to find you there,

there, there.

But seen or unseen by you,

I am always here

pulling at your inner tides;

your evolution a result of the cycle

of embrace and exposure our attraction affords.

I wax, I wane, I change

but I am ever the great reflective sphere

In your dark sky.

New Moon

This is not meant to be a manifesto, but maybe it is one of sorts. 

Everyone is talking about the moon. 

While I’m here, I keep up with the news in a few different ways; there’s BBC world news, which if played for longer than half an hour will drive you mad with repetition; there’s the ABC breakfast news show which is great for keeping up with home politics and economics but again, if you watch the nightly news, 7.30report and foreign correspondent as well because that’s all there is, the same faces, opinions and sound bights are enough to make you turn off for weeks at a time! (It seems Australia is like a long running soap – you can tune in every couple of months and the only thing that’s different is some long lost politician is back from the dead by an improbable twist of fate.)  The other way I get my news is via the weekend Australian (delivered to the local ex-pat café a week late), through much coveted copies of the Guardian brought by like –minded visitors and of course via the net and my favourite on-line journals.  And as I said, this month it seems, everyone’s talking about the moon.

I guess it’s logical.  This month marks the 40th anniversary of the lunar landing – an event that captured the imagination of a generation.  Just, not really my generation.  The Eagle, one small step for man and the hype surrounding the greatest milestone to date in the space race, all happened three years before I was born.  

Still, for a long time now, I have been intrigued by the immense beauty and mystery of the night sky.  This is due in no small part, to my father.  At first, I remember him listening to Radio National space programs and getting out the dinky little telescope we had to show us the moon’s craters and particular constellations. Then, when Halley’s Comet showed itself in the Southern skies, we camped out and watched the heavens together as a family; all 3 kids inevitably disappointed in not seeing a hugely blazing comet tail lighting up the back yard.

It may well have been on one of these nights that the more existential conversations with my father first began.  Through discussions about space, my dad introduced me to concepts such as relativism and though I didn’t know it at the time, to the philosophies of Plato and Socrates.  I still clearly remember one conversation in particular.  Dad pointed to a star and said something like “I love stars.  The light from that star is taking years, maybe hundreds or thousands of years to reach us.  So in all that time, it may have burned out and ceased to exist.  We can see it, but it might not really be there." As a 14 year old, it blew my mind; it was so logical and yet it seemed like he must be lying! So it was that in discussions that started with stars, he taught me amongst other things, that truth is seen as a relative concept.  That its our perception and the meaning we ascribe to absolute truth that builds our world, constructs our ethics and defines our own truths.

And yet even through all this, still the moon sat; a silent, silver disk.  Beautiful, but silent nonetheless.

Aside from the aesthetics and romance of stargazing and my layperson’s appreciation of astrology, (which I love but only know enough about to get me into trouble in discussions with skeptics), my excitement and interest in space is especially peaked outside our own solar system.  

So, my personal ethical and spiritual framework is made from a grab bag of traditions; from Judeo- Christian philosophies to Buddhism, mysticism and a few things in between.  But I don’t think belief in a “creating force” precludes belief in a parallel world of sustainable life somewhere beyond our own.  And for a long time, I have believed it.  Mainly because a significant amount of stars have planets around them and scientists point out that some of those may exist in what is known as a “Goldilocks Zone” where conditions permit liquid water to exist which in turn, permits life.  Our nearest star is 4 light years away though some are billions of light years from here.  Clearly, though the capacity for the kind of inter-stellar travel that would mean reaching these systems hasn’t yet been invented, it may well be a long term goal for enterprising nations entered in the space race.

And here I come back to a set of perennial problems that have somewhat worsened for me since living and working here in a developing nation; questions about exploration, colonisation, development and resource utilisation.  As I was reading all of these articles on the moon- about the way in which it has peaked humanity's common interest in discovery and exploration- even I thought, surely resources are better spent here on earth than in persevering with the bare and cratered moon, landing a crew on Mars or endlessly photographing the universe. 

Stephen Hawking says that argument is unimaginative.  He says its akin to arguing prior to 1492 that no resources should be spent on expeditions to the new world.  His argument is that those expeditions shaped the future of the world in ways those involved could never have anticipated or comprehended at the time. So, it's as if the act of the lunar landing might itself have fumbled with the time/space continuum and locked future events in place.  And that’s my fear.  I can’t imagine the Native Americans, Chileans, Peruvians, Australian Aborigines or other Indigenous tribes everywhere being thrilled, had they been given the option of having their lands “discovered” and while on one hand, my visionary and imaginative self says "Yes, fund exploration!" On the other hand, I have a profound fear of our expertise at fucking up every environment we touch.

Which brings me (finally!) back to the moon.  In my more recent and growing engagement with the moon, it seems I find she is an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, wrapped in green cheese.

It is said the cosmic collision that began the earth’s development also created the moon; that the moon is a piece of what earth once was- a snapshot of our former selves floating in perpetuity.  I never knew this (or if I did, I wasn’t paying attention) and it has stirred in me a poetic sense of loss.  If you personify the earth and moon, it is almost as if they were twins separated at birth.  One seems to have developed beyond measure- whilst the other has seemed to lie dormant – and yet the influence it exerts is profound.  For it’s claimed also that the moon’s influence on the tides helped to encourage the evolutionary process.  By creating a circular pattern of ebb and flow, water- based creatures may have learned to spend some short time on land before they were claimed by the safety of the tide- eventually making a full transition to dry ground and evolving into mammals, including humans.

And yet, the plan is to colonise her.  To use her as a base from which to launch expeditions further into space.  Here we go again.  The sons and daughters of the moon’s blue twin, set to colonise; to rape and pillage and plunder- using her for our own gain, perhaps not truly understanding the ways in which our actions will disturb the precise and yet divine nature of earth’s interaction with its twin soul.  The same way we have continuously ignored natural systems and complex environmental interactions for hundreds of years- at our peril.

I concede there are those that may well be able to calculate those interactions though – so about space exploration I am unresolved. But I know I fundamentally believe in knowledge- and the exploration of possibility.  So to that I say yes.  I don't want to believe that "there be dragons" out there on the periphery of our knowledge, so decision making about what to do with any newfound information can come later – and I hope with some wisdom and the force of lessons learned.

And now, after years of silver silence, the moon speaks to me and I’m captivated.  I note its influence on the earth and within each of its inhabitants but ultimately I’m captivated by its ever-changing beauty and its own mythical existence .  And of course if I connect to it, then I relate it back to love.  And it seems to me that love is like this new moon of my imagination; it can wax and wane, change shape and change colour with the atmosphere; but its always there, seen or unseen, pulling at our inner tides.

The inner workings of a sheep's heart

I was looking through some boxes this morning and I found a page of The Weekend Australian that I had scribbled a poem on while I was sitting in a cafe - sometime in March this year - a couple of months into my time here in the Sols.

Reading it again, I'm not sure I'm quite finished with it yet.  It needs some work but one day it might capture the ebb and flow of a tide, a rising sense of urgency about drifting to isolation and the end of a relationship... wanting to fight all of that, and then for a tiny moment, accepting that there are things you can't change...  

This island is floating

in the Pacific.

Beth Orton plays in the café on the island, floating

in the Pacific.

I read a poem about sheep dissection, in the

café on the island, floating

in the Pacific.  And somehow, I think of you.

It speaks of heart-strings that bind

the beating muscle; hold it together-

and I wonder what’s holding our hearts together

for it feels like I’m this island. Floating

in the Pacific; further and further away.

Are you content to watch me go?

To wave from the shore

like everyone before you?

Perhaps wading into the foam-

all the passion and abandon that would require-

would mean getting your feet wet.

Perhaps. But its more calm than I thought here, as Beth Orton plays on

in this café on the island, floating

in the Pacific.

Realisations

Now, although the rest of this post may seem like a few "feel-good" faux philosophy emails you may have received, I saw it on a friend's facebook "notes" page the other night and really liked it.  Vain as I am, I particularly like the opportunity to insert my own contributions to each line and broadcast them to the world at large!  Therefore yes, I agree, this post is completely self indulgent... aren't they all?

1. I've come to realise that my job...

is a privilege..and an extension of who I am.. which I’d better get used to. 

2. I've come to realise that when I'm driving...

I am mostly really happy

3. I've come to realise that I need...

few luxuries but lots of mental and emotional engagement

4. I've come to realise that I have lost...

too many of my friends and family to Cancer

5. I've come to realise that I hate it when...

I feel rejected

6. I've come to realise the person I like...

will make me laugh like a kid… and will find a loving and supportive way to kick me in the butt when required.

 

7. I've come to realise that money...

is meaningless stuff that comes in and out of my life ..and I probably need to get a grip on that at some stage soon!

8. I've come to realise that some people...

lack the courage to do what their hearts want them to. And that it’s ok.  It’s their path.

9. I've come to realise that I'll always be...

someone who is not fond of detail.

11. I've come to realise that my cell phone is...

actually not an extension of my body and can be left at home, in the car etc for short periods of time

12. I've come to realise that when I woke up this morning...

I wanted heaps of messages from the people I love.  Because I am a message pig.

13. I've come to realise that last night before I went to sleep...

I let the candles burn out and that was probably pretty dangerous

14. I've come to realise that right now I am thinking about...

home.

15. I've come to realise that my dad...

was not perfect – but remains one of the biggest influences in my life 

16. I've come to realise that when I get on Myspace...

I must be really bored and its time to step away from the computer!

17. I've come to realise that today...

might have seemed boring and frustrating in parts but is really one in a chain of days that I will remember and appreciate for a long time

18. I've come to realise that tonight...

would be better shared with real people in the flesh than over cyber space

19. I've come to realise that tomorrow will be..

whatever I make it

20. I've come to realise that I really want to...

live by the beach and play guitar for money

21. I've come to realise that life...

is something I take for granted

22. I've come to realise that this weekend...

would have been better shared with a lover

23. I've realised the best music to listen to when I am upset...

is my “good set” playlist on itunes..Rhythm and melody is the source. Swear to god.

24. I've come to realise that my friends...

are my family and shape my world in ways I can’t begin to describe  

25.I've come to realise that this past year...

has been one of the most challenging of my life in every respect. 

26. I've come to realise that the last person I kissed...

might not know they are the last person I kissed

27. I've come to realise that when people walk out of my life...

I find it difficult to accept it is their loss and not mine.

28. I've come to realise that my vices...

are some of the best things about me!

feel free to post your own responses to these as a message in response to this post :-) 

Pijin Love

So, after 6 months of speaking pijin pijin, I had my first proper lesson today.  Although my conversational pijin is pretty passable, my aim in the next month or so is to be able to facilitate a training session fluently in the local lingo.

But the most interesting thing I learned today spun me off into a world of thought that had nothing to do with the language lesson at hand..and everything to do with my greater life lessons right now!

I learned that the term for love in pijin is the same as the term for death..x 2.  Death, or to die is “dae”.  Love or to love is daedae.  And this reminded me that in whatever language you speak, to love is to die a little.

Why is that? Is it the heart-stopping, aching anxiety we feel in our desperation to not be rejected by a lover that feels a little like death?  Or is it the loss of ourselves?  The inevitable compromises we carve out of two (or more in the case of a family) merged lives?  Or is it death itself that starts its tiny seeds of grief with the birth of love?  Because everything that has a beginning has an end, of that we can be sure.  No matter how it comes.

Maybe the fact that I feel this way is certainty of the fact I’ve loved the wrong way (or the wrong people?)! One of my lovers once told me I was too much hard work – that she wanted an easy life.  Maybe she correctly wanted no part of the daedae kind of love I have a penchant for –and who could blame her really?

Another long-term partner told me I was her darkness and her light.  And I think that’s more the point. Because maybe life is about light and shade; about every silver lining having its cloud; about being able to distinguish a whiz, bang, sparks kind of pleasurable love when we see it because the flip-side of that same coin is the despair of isolation, loneliness and loss? Good daedae relationships can perhaps scale the heights and plumb the depths of life - knowing life doesn't all have to be champagne and roses all the time.  And in fact, adoring the challenge of that.

When the writer Jeanette Winterson opened her novel “Written on the Body” with the line: Why is the measure of love, loss? I felt like closing it as soon as I had taken in that one awe-some statement.  Not because I disagreed with it, but because in those 7 short words so beautifully fashioned, she had encapsulated a perfect idea. 

We ex-pats heap a lot of shit on Pijin for being backwards English – but there are some languages that are able to pour all their cultural experience and wisdom into certain terms – and I reckon daedae is one of those terms that resonates with a thousand nuances we can both grasp and never capture – all at once.

Yep, I reckon my preference for love is captured well in daedae – mostly because I prefer my love to come with a desire to fall completely, to lose myself in its wondrous maze – no matter how the bastard thing likes to prick me with its thorns and laugh when I can’t find my way out.  And if love is death, then so be it.  Now show me death’s sword, so I can fall on it again some time soon!

 

 

Great Poem #1

So, I am a self-confessed poetry nerd.  Some of the posts on this blog will be my own poems (feel free to skip them if you like!) but every so often I'll post poems I love from you know, actual, recognised poets!

 

The first will be from one of my very favourite poets who has recently become the Poet Laureate- Carol Ann Duffy.  She's just brilliant because she is sparing but precise with her language.  And for me, her imagery and metaphors are sparkling brilliance; she hits it every time.

 

As I am a Libran, and therefore completely Venus driven, the first poem post has to be a love poem.  Imagine being the muse?!  

 

YOU

Uninvited, the thought of you stayed too late in my head.

so I went to bed, dreaming you hard, hard, woke with your name,

like tears, soft, salt, on my lips, the sound of its bright syllables

like a charm, like a spell.

Falling in love

is glamorous hell: the crouched, parched heart

like a tiger, ready to kill; a flame’s fierce licks under the skin.

into my life, larger than life, you strolled in.

I hid in my ordinary days, in the long grass of routine,

in my camouflage rooms. You sprawled in my gaze,

staring back from anyone’s face, from the shape of a cloud,

from the pining, earth-struck moon which gapes at me 

as I open the bedroom door. The curtains stir. There you are

on the bed, like gift, like a touchable dream. 

Tangsiliu

I have stood at the rainbow’s end

with the jungle at my back. Waist-deep

in the molten, emerald sea

I embraced bullets of silver rain that

Sliced the billowing surface and bubbled, effervescing.

I have listened to the slick, glistening grass

and heard each drop of rubbery rain

glide from the surface of banana leaves and into resting pools;

the storm’s providence a bounty for creatures

that lie in wait beneath the dusty surface.

I have stood at the junction of colour

and seen the pot of gold

that lies in reach. And silently standing there my heart felt torn in two;

weeping, waiting for it all to disappear - but beating

with the primal pulse from which it came, and to which

we all return.