Watched

I watched from three places
on his wall
through the golden eyes
of three feline women
three painted portraits

I watched them, and she
especially she
would look back at me
surveying my surreal features
amid a fantasy landscape
and the bird that hovers near my lips

I watched their dancing bodies
understand each other
I heard their whispered words of love
rolling out across the night

Their contrasting skin
an echo
of their divided minds
laid temporarily to rest

A Realisation

Tonight I had a realisation, definitely not the first one to reveal itself during a a yoga class. It was towards the end, after a physically challenging hour of yoga. Where the ever-enthralling life and times of oneself, the tumbling ever-present thoughts, were pushed firmly into the background, mere white noise to the palpable reality of aligning my body in difficult yoga poses, and consciously circling breath throughout my body.

This is the magic of yoga, dragging the meandering mind into the present reality, but clearly my subconscious was doing its own thing, as a realisation popped into my mind perfectly formed. A perfectly new thought, as I lay there quietly, on my back, hugging my knees to my chest.

I realised that I had been in love a number of times, I had thrown myself completely into the experience, and this was a beautiful thing.

I don't mean I was perfect or perfectly selfless. And there were dramas at times, many times. Fighting and confusion, hot tears. Sometimes I lost a clear sense of my own self. Some relationships lasted much longer then they should have. But I gave my heart freely away...sharing flaws and scars, kisses, secrets and life stories. Lives became intertwined, accountable, complicated. And each break up was devastating, for a time.

I have had, I guess, four long-term boyfriends. I have probably even loved a few more then that. There are many kinds of love. I have thought of myself, disparagingly, as a 'serial monogamist'. After researching the term online I have even less clarity as to what it means and if I am one!

Somewhere along the way I embraced the beguilingly cool mantra of 'forget and move on'. It was easier to believe that loving this person, who probably knew me better then anyone, was some sort of shameful mistake. A black comedy of bad choices. Reason enough to push them out into the cold, and behind an impenetrable wall. Countless moments rewound from memory. Anger was the prevailing emotion. A simple and primal way of containing the hurt.

I have learned that letting go is different to forgetting. That acceptance is more revealing then denial.

I think I have come to this realisation because I am in a good place. I can forgive myself, forgive those I loved. I can reclaim my entire life. Every piece. I thank each and every one for the experience we shared.

Walk

I have always needed to walk. I'm not trying to get anywhere. I am already there. I wander around a new place to understand how it fits together. I wander around an old place to tease it apart. I lose myself for hours. Sometimes I really get lost.

I love to explore. Whether it is the dark suburban streets of the Inner North, where drawn curtains, glowing at the edges, hint at a life behind. Or at dusk on one of Canberra's mountains, where I am as still as the magpies and kangaroos. Pausing as one in the dusty peach glow.

I don't feel afraid at night. This is my place.

Walking calms me. I think it is the rhythm. It takes me out of my head and into my body. In to place.

I walk fast. Stroking cool leaves as I pass. I collect tiny flowers. I smell damp soil, heady blossoms and cooking dinners. I smell the seasons changing.

I hear droning televisions. Muffled discontent. Humming street signs.

Possums turn to stone as I pass.

The dim street lights collect halos of bats and moths. Under one lonely spotlight my pale hands look like they are not my own.

When winter winds succumb to spring, I am intoxicated. When mild autumn evenings turn bitter and wild, I am exhilarated.

I wonder about the invisibility of the wind, moodily tossing hair about my face. Filling my ears. I love it all. If there is a full moon then I am done. I am undone. The blacks of my eyes are swollen with her secrets. I will not sleep.

Walking inspires me. I find myself somehow home writing about fallen magpies, falling leaves and hidden lives. It is past midnight and I am wide awake.

If I could write a letter

Dear Leah

This is not an easy letter to write. I am more than twice your age but am I so different to you? I don’t know any 16 year olds. But I knew you once.

I have discovered many things in my life, about family, love and death. About myself. The journey is so rich. But I don’t have all the answers.

I know you are under a dense shadow. The blackness is pervasive. It blocks everything else out. Your mum and sister are faded, peripheral to you. Your grief is self-centred. I know your desperation, your emptiness. Your anger. I know.

I know how much you can love. How you put a dozen photos of your dad on your wall.  A reflection of your documentary zeal. A loving memorial. Only to take them all down a week later. The first of many…putting away. Putting away the past, putting away your dad. Hiding your tears. I know it was easier to pretend he never existed then accept he was gone. The shock of your beautiful family of four, becoming three. Without your permission.

Your beautiful dad. I knew him too. He loved you, all of you.

I so want to help you. If I was there I would hug you. But I know you might not let me. I’d scream and cry with you, we could throw things, throw cartwheels, dance like crazy, and laugh at ourselves. I know how creative you are. How many poems and stories you write. How you ask, why? I would write with you. We could try to find answers together.  

I know you never got to say goodbye. Whisper it to him now. Say goodbye a hundred times. Tell him everything you are feeling and how much you miss him. Never stop talking to him.

I am so grateful you met your boyfriend, how he holds you, while you cry and cry. He is young, but he knows to do this instinctively. He never pushes you, but I know there is so much you want to tell him, and your mum and your sister, but your throat is constricted. You can’t breathe. I know you dream of silent screams. What can I say to release you?

I am so proud of you, how you front up to school each day, where he used to teach. How you look towards the science department, how you can’t bring yourself to go there. How you look towards the teachers car park, where you would meet and drive home together. You were so happy in his company.

They have built a memorial garden for him. You pass it each day. People seem a little wary of you, they don’t know what to say. You are barely aware. You are empty. You have put walls all around you.

I worry about you, you see, how you are burying it all inside. Deep in your belly. Creating a hard place there. All your fears will grow from such a place.

If I was there I would lead you to your mum, and make you hold her hand. You feel so alone, but she is there. Your mum and your sister know. They feel it too. I need you to open your eyes and see them. How can I convince you that you are not alone?

I want to say to you, that however you’re feeling, it’s ok, you fight through this any way you can. There is no template. No right way. All I can promise you is that it will get better.

One day you will remember your dad with a smile, instead of angry tears. You will think how very lucky you were to know someone like him. How knowing him has helped you to live a beautiful life. You have adventures ahead of you. You will be so loved, and you will deserve to be loved. I promise.

I know you loved your dad with every cell in your body. It was the most natural thing in the world. You had something very special. No-one can ever take that away.

Your dad is part of you, just like he is part of your beautiful mum and sister. You have his sensitivity, you have a little of his skepticism. You are drawn to science and nature and documenting the world, just like him. You are with him every day just by being you. He would be so proud of you.

You are beautiful and you are loved and you are not doing anything wrong. Keep feeling every moment with vivid clarity. Let it wash all over you. This is life. This is why we are here.

I love you. And I am thinking of you always.

LC

I Dreamed A Dream

Many months ago, when I was still living in California, I had a dream that was thick with sadness. I woke from it very early in the morning, conscious only of the blackness shifting to a pre-dawn grey.

It was a sad dream. And lying there, unmoving, I felt the dull and empty kind of sadness you feel in the face of death. And this dream was about my death.

I was in a hospital bed, and a man I had loved was at my bedside. We had broken up recently. Yes, we were broken. Our relationship was like a clay pot riddled with air pockets, shattering in the kiln. Shocking but not surprising.

I knew I was dying and I had requested some pills to bring about the end quickly. I felt pain for a moment, but it quickly passed.

And then I changed my mind.

I didn’t want them to work, I didn’t want to leave yet. We rushed to the nurse to reverse the effects of the pills, but no nurses were to be found. Some time passed and I was still alive. I believed the pills weren’t working, that I would live.

The details of the dream have faded, even as the emotions resurface. But I remember that I died suddenly, soon after this. I watched myself fall to the floor. But I thought I would live, I whispered to myself. I felt betrayed. Once death comes there is no going back. In my dream I experienced the absolute and desolate finality of this.

I remember watching my friends and family gather beneath me as I floated over their heads. I felt frustrated, stuck in a form where I couldn’t be part of their lives anymore. My friends became a writhing mass of movement, a musical number, with my mum swaying in the centre. I remember feeling briefly amused, they were dancing up a storm.

Around this time, I also had dreams of being hugged by a male friend, it was a different friend each time and I remember each one clearly. People I had shared a special connection with, in the distant and recent past. And each time it was the strongest, warmest, safest hug you can imagine. Like a hug a father would give. 

 

Calling Oakland Home

After an exhilarating and exhausting ten-day road trip across the states, I have moved to Oakland, California. Close to San Francisco, close to art, dance and yoga and within reach of California’s incredible national parks! 

So, Oakland. The most dangerous city in California. Christened ‘baby Iraq’, with around 10,000 Latino gang members and a murder every three days. I admit I’m getting this from possibly sensationalist media sources, but the crime stats definitely hold up. Worse in West and East Oakland neighbourhoods (I’m in the centre at least).

Check out this doco on YouTube ‘Gang Wars’.

Being a delicate Canberran (well, not really true, I originally come from the ‘wild west’ of Dubbo) my imagination and heart ran a bit wild reading all of this, and checking out things like gang territory maps (oh I see, the Norteños run this part of town, better leave that red t-shirt in the cupboard).

But I’ve been in all kinds of cities in all kinds of countries and so far I like the energy around my new neighbourhood, but I am taking extra precautions (mum).

Anyway, always reassuring to see Christian fundamentalism alive and kicking in Oakland with a large billboard featuring T Rex and promoting the Creation Museum (‘prepare to believe’)! Just like ‘home’! (Mid-West USA that is). 

Check out their new exhibit designed ‘to expose the scientific bankruptcy of the evolutionary interpretation of the famous so-called ape-woman Lucy.’ 

Ugh, almost more depressing then violent crime.

I cruised around Lake Merritt on my first day and on a few golden evenings since. Former sewer (before 1875) now wildlife refuge and Oakland community hub. A lovely lake that reminds me of Canberra’s lakes… and smelled a bit similar ;). How can I not love a place that has a ‘Fairy Land’ and strange twisting trees! 

It is the USA’s first designated wildlife refuge and there are HUNDREDS of water birds of unusual size and number dominating the shores of the lake. I’m really not exaggerating. Geese, Herons, Ducks, Pelicans and many more! They are slightly scary (I’ve seen to many aggressive geese/swans on ‘Funniest Home Videos’ to be complacent). 

I also spied flyers promoting a rally scattered around the lake.  A City Council member has proposed to ban 'tools of violence' at protests. Apparently ‘the way this proposed ordinance is written, any and everything can be deemed a 'tool of violence' by the police and used as a pretext for an unconstitutional arrest including water bottles, protest signs, mobility devices and camera monopods.’  America, the Police State.

My new housemate is energetic and fun and dances salsa! We went to an exhibition ‘closing’ with some of her friends the other night. This unfolded in a tattoo parlour… I carelessly ducked through to the next room to find wine, only to catch a glimpse of a spreadeagled individual undergoing some kind of tortuous tattoo ritual.

The exhibition showcased Hoda Rashad’s photo-journalistic style images and launched her book 'Rising From Tahrir' which ‘weaves together ten stories of Egyptian activists, writers, celebrities and regular citizens into a tale of culture, courage and the fight for freedom.’ Basically, stories of the key people involved in the Egyptian revolution which forced President Mubarak to step down. Needless to say it was a riveting and intense experience, especially as she described and showed video depicting awful violence and abuse of human rights. I needed that wine and a debrief with my housemate on the walk home.

In more recent news, as I walked to the bank past the usual colourful characters like a woman on the street in her PJ’s and robe, wearing an olive green face-mask barking instructions at her male friend who was cleaning a microwave in the gutter… I walked right past an unfolding crime scene! There was an ambulance and police car out the front of an office building, a police officer snapping on blue latex gloves, and several people staring resignedly into the boot of a car. Um yeah (?) :S

I always enjoy exploring my local Wholefoods, this time the good looking check-out dude asked me about Australia. He said that the world map should be up the other way, with Australia at the top. He said ‘word’ a lot - it was sublime.

On the weekend I went to the bustling Farmers Market by the lake with my housemate. We sampled every kind of fruit, cheese, bread, dip and chai infused coffee!

I think I'm going to love Oakland!
 

Cactus Crazy

Note: I have learned that the plural of cactus can be cacti, cactuses or…cactus! I will no doubt apply all uses inconsistently in this post. ;)

On Monday we left sleepy Deming for Tucson, Arizona. But first we had to check out the nearby City of Rocks State Park. It looks exactly as it sounds. I was slightly skittish about scorpions, rattle snakes (oh and hantavirus!), but before long I was clambering happily between, up and over rocks for better views. There were only a couple of other people in the whole park. 

The park was beautiful and I lost all sense of time (and I lost Lashi). I came away happy and delirious from the heat. 

Back in the car for the day, passing breathtaking desert scenery, a few ghost towns, dust storm warnings, billboards for ‘Fresh Jerky’ (huh?) and flying through a time zone or two. I bid New Mexico goodbye (I love this joyful yellow sign) and welcomed Arizona!

I was happy to finally reach the appropriately named ‘Copper Cactus Inn’ - our Tucson home for the next two nights. A city nestled between rocky mountains literally covered in cacti. There is nothing more beautiful than a cactus forest, it is sublime. Cacti grow into all kinds of odd forms, some look sort of human-like to me, with ‘bodies’, ‘heads’ and ‘arms’. 

I just couldn’t get over the fact that people had cactus and rocks in their front yards instead of trees and rose bushes!

The next day was Venus Transit day! After a frantic site reconnaissance, we found the perfect spot. I braved poisonous cactus, mountain lions, rattle snakes and the afternoon heat to support Lashi in his obsession to photograph Venus for six hours as it transited the sun. Not such a unique obsession as it turns out, as we were joined by another Venus hunter with a similar impressive set up, not to mention the throngs of people who stopped by to check out the telescopes and witness the transit over the course of the day.

It was pretty amazing to witness that historic little black dot moving, oh a millimetre or two every five minutes (hehe), but I was soon distracted by all the beautiful things around me to photograph like the mountains, cactus, and a dozen discarded long stem roses (I wonder what the story was with these?).

 

Check out Lashi’s amazing transit pics here.

As the sun disappeared below the horizon a group of capoeira dancers turned up to take over our site. Dancing and singing, sharing a joyful ritual together. I knew exactly why they would want to perform it here. It was a beautiful, grateful moment.

A hot, momentous day was completed with a heavenly Vietnamese pho noodle soup. As we returned home, I witnessed a ‘Hollywood’ moment. Relatively empty streets with cop cars on every corner and crawling down side streets. Literally dozens! A ‘Ghetto Bird’ above us sweeping its spotlight looking for crims, right above our hotel! We darted from the car to the hotel and locked the door before we were taken hostage or something. ;)

Wednesday we travelled north to Flagstaff, Arizona. At this point I could change the title to ‘Caffeine Crazy’, you can imagine what hours trapped in a car does to people. It includes strange animal noises, rants, wild theories and delirious singing...you get the picture.

This epic driving day was to get us close to the Grand Canyon and early on Thursday we headed up. I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves, what an incredible place! On the way back we passed Native American stalls by the side of the road selling dream catchers, and I day dreamed as I passed through magical sounding places like ‘The Painted Desert’ and ‘Sacred Mountain’.

The next day we got up at 5.00am and drove 12 hours to San Francisco to be the ‘Aussie specimens’ at a 65^th birthday party in Mill Valley. We drove over the Colorado River, through the Mojave Desert and passed a town called ‘Needles’. 

Christian radio made a comeback (I thought we were in California now?)  with ads for ‘affordable, biblical healthcare’ (?) and statements like ‘we are not even capable of framing questions that the bible cannot answer’ which shows a remarkable lack of imagination I think! 

I also found my favourite plant so far, a strange sort of cactus-tree. I have other, clearer pics, but I like this blurry drive-by shot!

So there you have it, we crossed three time zones and drove almost 5,000 kilometres (think of driving from Cairns to Perth!). It was magic, and I miss cactuses!

Desert and White Sands

I left alien country today for Apache country (we dropped into Casino Apache!) and judging by all the bear imagery, bear country as well, not to mention Billy the Kid country (you know, that Wild West gunslinging outlaw teen!).

I visited the Space Museum in Alamogordo and made first sightings of cacti, dust devils and a sign declaring 'get your rattle snake vaccine here'!

I drove past the site of the first atomic testing, and I dug my feet into the silky hot sands of the White Sands National Monument! (275 square miles of gypsum dunes).

I loved the transition to incredible desert terrain...and I was transfixed by the clouds!

Our travels took us within 50 miles of the Mexico border and we were checked (for illegal stowaways I presume) by stern officers at a check point near Deming, New Mexico. My passport was conveniently buried under piles of luggage, but we were eventually allowed on our way. I think Lashi won them over with his enthusiastic promotion of Tuesday’s Transit of Venus event.

By the way, after much nail biting angst and weather checking, we decided to continue along our original route to Tucson, Arizona to shoot the transit!

We got into the tiny, arid town of Deming tired and hungry, unfortunately it was Sunday and 9pm and there were virtually no restaurants open. We ate at an atrocious Chinese Buffet, but the beautiful full moon rising over the desert landscape was all that mattered.

Here is our route map (subject to change on a whim!).


View Missouri to California Roadtrip! in a larger map

Aliens!

Awakening to clear skies in Amarillo, I continued my Texan adventure with a sojourn to Cadillac Ranch, a public art installation created in 1974. Basically this looks like ten Cadillacs buried halfway into the ground, as if they have been pushed nose first off a high cliff, out in an empty field, in a perfect row. Perfectly surreal.

They are also covered in lurid graffiti and spray cans are littered around for visitors to use if they want to get all art interactive.

After paying homage to this strange sculpture we continued traversing the northern tip of Texas, passing billboards for cowboy churches, jeans in ‘cowboy fit', and rodeos.






Country music on the radio set the scene and continued to impress with a rich variety of themes (i.e. women, booze).

I’ll include two representative favourites:

“Baby if you're in the mood you can settle for a one night rodeo,
You can be my tan-legged Juliet,
I’ll be your Redneck Romeo.”

and

“I ain’t much for mowin thick grass
I’m too slow for workin’ too fast
I don’t do windows so honey don’t ask
But I’m pretty good at drinkin’ beer”

Love it.

We continued on past mile long trains, silos, cattle ranches, dusty towns and ironic sounding establishments like ‘Oasis Nightclub’. As the New Mexico border loomed, I noticed a transition in the landscape and the radio-scape toward Spanish and Mexican influences.

And what do you think I saw right near the border? Fittingly, spectacularly, an enormous UFO shaped object, all wrapped up, on the back of a truck and guarded by a local Sheriff.

We drove past twice for pictures, wouldn’t you?

As ‘Only in America’ played on the radio, we drove into Roswell, primed for a close encounter and into what I can only describe as Alien Fun Land. The town is adorned with alien critters on every shop front and sign with alien merchandise spilling out onto the streets.

I think the saying goes something like ‘milking it for all it’s worth’. But hey, we’ve driven all the way there to see aliens haven’t we!

We had primed ourselves for Roswell by watching ‘Ancient Aliens’ and a few documentaries about ‘The Roswell UFO Incident’  so I was very excited to overhear a local discuss it with his date behind us at the local Mexican restaurant (where the staff wore t-shirts of aliens playing in a Mexican band).

“it definitely happened, and there were bodies” he states matter of factly, “but the government covered it up in order to secretly use the advanced alien technology that was discovered.”

Now I know it’s all true!

We spent a few hours at the International UFO Museum and Research Centre (in the company of other visitors wearing tin foil, getting into the spirit of things). I have to admit there was some pretty fascinating and compelling stuff in there, especially all the eye-witness testimonials.

I loved checking out the photographs of UFOs, the abduction stories seemed a bit more dubious, but the crop circle exhibit was damn intriguing!

Sadly, I didn’t experience an alien visitation, yet.

Leaving you with a cloud image - arrow shaped - pointing us onwards! No Photoshop, it was just like that!