At this moment my homeland is 25 hours, 18227 kilometres, and two long plane rides away. It’s almost difficult to comprehend that my family, friends, bed, car are all so far from reach.
My heart was pumping through what felt like a million layers of gear as we paddled toward the first rapid. All prior confidence was gone, evaporated into the swirling air around us.
“She looked across her world
She could reach all the moments at once …”
Standing on that beach looking out over the waves, Fear was gnawing at me: fully-grown and yanking at its leash.
Tapu has a way of changing your behaviour, in the same way that it changes the atmosphere.
What if I was put with a houseful of wild Irishmen; or people who had no idea how to handle a vacuum; or a bunch of foreigners with whom I might have no common language?
Either which way … I had made my Irish bed, and I was about to find out how comfy it was going to be.
Oh for the sweet, glorious, infuriating, unpredictability of life.
There is so much to be said for the glory of feeling at home in yourself, in finding comfort in your own company.
What does ’empty’ mean to you? Does it speak of possibility, or fill you with dread?
Culling and packing, unpacking and culling and packing.
Right now it doesn’t feel like this can end with both of us alive. Either a vital zip will break, or I will.
Once upon a time, I had some feelings.
So I wrote a letter.
Then a poem about writing that letter.
Now I am writing a blog post.
So it’s a post about a poem about a letter about some feelings. You get it, right?