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Truth Cycles

Truth runs ahead, circles back and tiptoes around

Updated: 2015-11-24T06:35:18.338-08:00




I am here
Three years later
So much has changed.

My words are clunky

That which they are
trying to describe
seems indescribable.

The sun patch dances
It is me.

 The wind moves 
bright green leaves
dance in front 
of a turquoise ocean.

Where does the denseness
of self,
her fears, her grooves,
so deeply felt,

and where does the lightness 
of being begin?

Perhaps they are already one.

dancing the body


my late adolescence was both extremely challenging and strangely beautiful. i spent much of my time feeling alienated, yet, often felt deeply associated with the spaces, surfaces and textures around me. disacosiated from my own feelings and body i projected a deep longing for union onto place, object and moment. 

yet, there was a time that i did feel completely present. when slowly i absorbed back into myself all the wonder and magic glimpsed in moments of peace.

floating on air, my feet sunk deeply into the earth below the concrete. allowing my body to be moved by a current other than the disjointed static of my mind, i felt safe in the moving flowing river of me. 

My hair swirls, my toes grip, my arm float on a wild free current. each part of my body stretches as far as it can and then return to hug itself closer and closer. In, out. Up down. Shaking, shaking. Flying. 

I throw my hair back, take a deep sip of black label and grin at a boy admiring my dance. i am free.

glories and graces.


searching for an achievement to celebrate i turn around in the moment and look back towards my birth. What do i see. I see a succession of landscapes. Some are deep green meadows, slumbering under a blanket of light, some narrow concrete corners chewing on dust. and through them all a narrow ribbon of light and a coyote shadow. together these two represent all the small victories and failures that make up the achievement of my life.grabbing the ribbon in my hand i dive into the shadow. a memory is a bright clear day in the Karoo, 1979. Sun reflects from the sky found in a kidney shaped pool. Light dances through the water streaming down the backs of children breaking from the pool's blue surface and plunging back into its coolness. outside me laughter and movement. inside me doubt. desperately i scan the scene looking for patterns to emulate and become part of the whole. my face feels stiff, my mouth dry. Time slows down yet i am unable of the moment until i am able to unlock its secret. the moment shifts into another. my first LDS experience. Laying on the soft grass of a local park i am unable to hear the sound of the stream nearby or sense my companions. i am locked into three interlocking thoughts visually represented by three moving kaleidoscope patterns. the first is. i am fine. the second: its just the acid. the third: it will end. but the thoughts are impatient. instead of waiting for each to fully appear they jostle into each other merging their patterns before their meaning has time to crystallize. Five hours later they finally fade away.these experiences are repeated over and over. the shadow stalks me through failures like surrendering my self respect and body in a desperate plea for love, through hiding from myself and others in drug experiences and through running from the stresses of the corporate world. The ribbon glides The ribbon glides through the achievements of joining a martial arts school and discovering the strength and flexibility of my body, in overcoming my addiction and in finding the stamina to finish my degree with the highest marks in my class. the ribbon is woven from three strands. the ability to keep on trying, to have compassion for myself in my deepest hours of self doubt and self loathing and the belief in a deeper more joyously mysterious reality than the one i often feel stuck in.i come to honor the warrior maiden leaping forth from the ribbon's light. sometimes she runs screaming towards the shadow brandishing a arrow of light. sometimes she slowly stalks the shadow until it falls asleep and she can quietly sit next to it watching its history swirl through its powerful wild body. she does not give up. i do not give up. i strain to be born into a new reality. i collect new age mediums, Buddhist meditations, chi-gung breathing techniques, kundalini chants and the songs of the wind breathing from the sky. i open up to my pain and i focus on my breathing allowing a reality beyond my pain to shyly reveal itself. slowly i introduce movement to flower from paralyzed moments. help comes from many places. a wise chi-gung master opens my eyes, a gentle Taiwanese nun opens my heart. my friends listen to me and tell me why they love me. members of my family holds me in acceptance and lifts me with their prayers. voices speak from books, sings from cds and whisper from the delicate petals of flowers. again and again i slip behind the barriers i erected in my mind and around my heart. a fear of others, of getting things wrong, of rejection, of freezing and becoming unable to belong. i keep on hunting. running towards and away from myself.when i return from the hunt, tired, discouraged, angry, scared and sad I release the need to know. i gently call myself back, wind the ribbon around my little finger and fall backwards into the vastness of the unknown. in letting go of reason i can also let go of its deep mistrust. out of the unknown a presence emerges. she holds me in her arms and sings of unconditional love and hope. at her fe[...]

birthing myself


i am unsure when the me who wants to be present in this world was born. i do however remember the exact moment this self miscarried. at the age of nine i first became aware of my power to be. to become a self who is deeply rooted in a wish to be seen, acknowledged and heard when speaking of that which move me. the sound of the wind through trees. the sun catching a leave and then slowly letting it go as it travels onward across the sky. the home which every night awaits it beyond the first evening star. i also became aware of the pain born from not being acknowledged. from not being able to assert my power. from being swept into the conflicts, feelings and fears generated by a family of six. from failing to create a place of safety for us all.sitting next to a river, flowing past a small stop and sleep-over bed and breakfast, i invited my newly forming self to leave my body. to flow from me and into the round smooth stone beside me. i then gently placed the stone into the river and asked it to take care of this small part of me. to sing to her and lull her until i was ready to claim her once again.when did i claim back this seed from the river? did it first take hold in my womb when i allowed myself to dream of creating a future rather than just dreaming of a true home beyond the stars? did i become aware that i was pregnant when i woke up one morning in my own flat, after rushing away from the disorganized and demanding presence of my first long time lover, only to find myself missing him more than i missed the security of not missing anyone? and when was i born? when i surrendered to a cesarean rather than a home birth? when rather than drifting above the room in order to escape from the humiliation of a shaved vagina pried open to the bright operating lights and a catheter, i pulled myself back into the room, my body and my chant so that i was fully present to the wonder of my daughter's first breath?or during the visit to a sexologist when i whispered my deeply private sexual history and fantasies past the flush on my face, the lock on my throat and the frantic lock around my heart? forcing my sexual voice through layers of shame until it burst into this world, this moment, shouting its joy and defiance?and am i born and reborn every time i hold my friend, my sister, my mother, my lover, my daughter in my heart? when a need to hold and rock my daughter pulls me into this body, this world? My breasts get tightly full, dripping milk on my clothes, my pillow, my sheets. in the first months i found myself singing to her in a freezing bathroom at three in the morning, holding her naked body close to mine and trying to ignore the small puddle of milk forming around my feet and the cold which her small blanket cannot protect me from. now i build a life each day becoming a stone which holds me steady as her small stream joins with those whom i love and become a river which surrounds me. [...]

my birth.


We come spinning out of nothingness,scattering stars like dust.Rumi

when did i first get born?

was it in the instance when finite matter became an infinitesimally small, infinitely hot, infinitely dense singularity which in turn inflated, self imploded into the universe we now know?

or when rda molecules bloomed into dna, starting a chain of ancestors who all came together when my parents eyes first met?

or did i get born when i gave birth to you my lovely daughter? when under the knife of the surgeon my heart opened and i loved you from a place where i always before felt alone? the place which previously made me long to return to a place and time before my birth?

and will i now infinitely get born and reborn through your eyes meeting that of another?

for as long as i had memory there was a myth surrounding my birth. my father had to fetch the obstetrician from a new year's party. meanwhile, back at the hospital my mother's screams cut through the bullshit of medical bureaucracy. after being bullied, for a month, by a new doctor, his carefully impenetrable birth calculations, and his faithful nurse to shut up, hold back labor and wait until they said the time is now, she had enough. not another minute would she wait. her birth time was now.

so my father dramatically entered the phalaborwa new years ball, crying out that his wife was in labor and in need of her doctor. in my child's imagination, women in bright silk dresses and men in formal black tuxedos parted, allowing the doctor, holding a martini glass and a thin brown cigar, to step through. then, with my father leading the way, thoroughly embarrassed by the laughter and his simple safari suit, the two men stepped into the very first, very early morning of 1972.

As with most myths, a curtain remained drawn across the more intimate physical and emotional processes of the actual birth, the logistics of who took care of the other children and the political turmoil splitting open the country of birth.

why i write

2011-07-05T06:42:18.454-07:00 can words ever define birth, love, the fiercely delicate shape of your eyebrowsyour eyes which see me without reflecting words back at me.your smell,the warm solid softness of your neckwhere my nose and your shoulder meet.with each beat of my heart the space around me grows until the room, the yellow indian quilt, your delicately shaped skulland the soft fine hair which covers it,the sound of your breathing, dog sighs emerging from down under the bed,the warmth of you, the hiss of the heater and the loud beating of my heart ...swirls around and becomes mystery. the mystery of this moment.of you.words are not moments. they are only markers which in time could lead me back to this. this moment. this love.[...]

a gift


this is just a small postbecause i want to start bloggingagainbut don't always have the present i juggle timebetween my new loveand my oldthe dishesthe wuselslearning the tarotgoing to yogastarting a women's writing circleexploring links between children, nature and spiritresearching career development in biodiversitywriting about food security and community gardens.some days i feel like my life have never beenas rich and fullof love and joy.some days i feel like my life will never bewhat it can i receivedthe gift of a few hoursall by myself.i cleaned the housemade some luncham doing a bit of bloggingrushing so i am ready to stepinto this beautiful daywith a camera in handand a heart which seeksout beauty*[...]



where to start? with the rain outside. the smell of it the way its coolness makes the late dusk seem bluer?or with tiny doors opening to show glimpses beyond patterns so old they seemed like an undeniable part of life.great rolling waves of resistance against change sometimes makes my days disappear. lack of sleep sometimes makes me disappear.and then i pick up a broom and start sweeping a small corner so that i can do five morning exercises. i cook lunch early so i have time to walk the dogs after my yoga class. i get a call from a friend. phoenix starts a new tongue movement it keeps her occupied for many minutes.slowly a new me is carried closer by a great blue stork flying across a dusky sky the blue so close to the color of her wingsthat i almost cannot see her.[...]

mother moon goddess


each night i am momentarily fooled by a streetlight doubling as the moon. i glimpse her through the corner of the bathroom window turning a small spiderweb to a rainbow and the blackness of the night to indigo blue.being a mother is teaching me about being the moon. about moving closer to god and my spirit. about finding the moons and mothers which surround and is enfolded within a child all i longed for was to be absorbed in an absolute light. an all knowing god that would sweep me up in his arms and love me totally. who would save me from all the suffering of not feeling good enough. as a young teenager i surrendered to drugs and the oblivion they brought. in their embrace i could see the beauty of the world and celebrate it free of fear. after rehab i once again started desperately searching for a god who could liberate me and send me flying high up through the stars.for a while before my pregnancy my search once again intensified. i started searching for god in nature, in the old gods and goddesses of india and europe. i chanted and prayed and meditated. at times i felt myself growing light as a feather drifting on a breeze. lighter and lighter until i became the leaves glowing in starlight or dust motes dancing in the late afternoon i hold a phoenix in my arms. she smiles at me, cries for me and needs me to love her all the time. i cannot escape from myself or her. i am pulled into this body. my arms are needed to hold her and rock her. My legs follow my feet in stomping out a gentle rhythm to sooth her pain. my breasts get tightly full dripping milk on my clothes, my pillow my sheets. i find myself singing to her in a freezing bathroom at three in the morning, holding her naked body close to mine and trying to ignore the small puddle of milk forming around my feet. her fluffy blanket keeps her warm but is not big enough for the two of us.i love her slow smile with eyes lighting up as she gently allows a new sliver of our world to slip into hers. i love the smiles that flash like light across the deep calmness of her eyes. i love the soft warmth of her skull cradled in my hand and the heavy weight of her when she falls asleep in my arms. i love that i cannot hide from her. she lures or tears me out of my safe isolation from where i use to search for god. she turns my longing to escape into a dream of being more fully present in love.[...]



last night i went to bed cryingthis morning i woke up crying.i am so tired. not knowing how much longer i can put one foot in front of the other and keep on going scares me.i fight with my partner, he storms out and leave the two of us and the person i now love fiercely.who makes my heart expand into more joy than i have ever known.i cry some more. waves of sadness hit me when i think of making lunch or having to get up to walk the passage. up and down. gently massaging the wind that rages through a small body causing my heart, which i carefully balance on my shoulder, to cry with rage and pain.i want to sleep. or go to the beach. go dancing. make love. have a bath. or a cup of tea.instead i feed her. as she latches on love pushes against sadness.we lie down on the bed.i listen to my neighbors getting on with their lives.she falls hour later she is still sleeping.the freedom goes to my head and makes me smile.yet every now and again i check if she is still breathing. her smell fills my world. the memory of her smile makes me stronger. once more i am ready to walk. watching my life contracting and expanding.[...]



once in a time far, far away I consulted a past life regression the time i was eager to birth a new life, and yet, I was finding it hard to care deeply about anything.As a result I flitted from new age therapy to new age therapy, feeling alive shortly for each colorful session while under the illusion that i was reaching towards realities which seemed brighter and more complete than this we started the regression session i felt little emotion. my past lives drifted past like shadows.Wearing a bright yellow dress I listlessly drifted across a glowing green lawn divided with grey stone walls and fountains.Pigs gathered around me as i stood staring into a deep well.A low white building hid me from view and allowed me to drift to sleep amongst purple lavender hedges.i become aware that this session is not living up to my expectations. slowly my vision starts changing.I see silver balls suspended from delicate strings. A slight movement in one triggered movement in the others. a voice speaks from deep within my heart. It tells me that i need to become fully present in each molecule of my being. That only then will i understand the subtle movements of my cells and my story. that only then will i truly feel and experience my life. Until then my past lives will mean as little to me as my present.18 years later i give birth to my beautiful daughter phoenix.three days after the birth i my doula comes to my house to do a massage integrating the pregnancy and birth process into my being. she asks me to write down what came up so that we can work with where i am at in our next session. Below are my notes. i would love to edit them further but then this mail might take another week to be published :)i find myself standing outside a door. Not going in. My whole pregnancy had a feeling of unreality, of not fully committing, of not wanting to bring it to conclusion.most sensation occurs inside my head. as i focus it moves down to my throat. there is a constriction here which becomes tighter down towards my chest. during my pregnancy i found it hard to verbalize what i want and stick to it. when my gynecologist insisted on booking a elective ceasar earlier than i was comfortable, rather than giving phoenix a bit more time to turn so that we could do a natural birth, i could have shown more resistance, yet as soon as he showed his anger and irritation i just agreed to his demands.during the massage i hear my baby and a feeling of deep sadness wells up from my heart as i realise how easy it will be to get swept back into life, rushing around, switching off - allowing this time this opportunity, this birth, this small miracle pass by. i am also aware of flo - worried that he is feeling left out and sad - feeling this sadness as outside myself makes it difficult to go deeper within. similarly when having to make a decision about having a c-section it was easier to give in to time streaming past, to be pressurized into something by doctor, to worry about him and his receptionist and what their expectations are than to slow time down and make a decision from the moment.i go into sadness - only to pop back into my head. i am thinking about what feeling of constriction could mean. while the c-section was happening i could not really feel it especially in the beginning. i felt very removed from the experience.I am standing on the edge. Perfectly balanced. Neither moving forward of backward. Itta asks me to allow myself to fall forward and see what happens. with c-section i also never fully committed to agreeing to c-section or fighting for natural birth. i hovered between the two - and kept trying to put of birth and final decision as if i could hover in the last stages of pregnancy forever.During the c-section the mantra, not my will thy will brought me bac[...]

white tara


a stubborn closing off,
pushing aside the unknown?

or a gentle opening
allowing a new way
of being
to flow in
with the sadness
of not knowing
what happens next?


a privilege not a duty


i belief that having a child, being in a relationship is a privilege, not a duty.

something to be celebrated. yes, there is work involved and sacrifice. but these should come from a space inside, where there is such joy and love in the bond of gentleness between us, that they are transformational experiences. a chance to let love rather than fear guide our actions.

that is why this morning. for the first time since you started feeling the need to be with someone else. to feel free from a relationship that is holding you back from expressing who you are. that is why for the first time this morning i am truly ready to let you go.

and to wish from the bottom of my heart that you find what you are looking for. that i find what i am looking for. and that somewhere in future our hearts can once again hold each other and both feel freedom because we care.

i love you my blom. my best friend. and i will miss you. a lot.

a new beginning


one of my earliest childhood memories is of standing next to a pool in baberton in the eastern transvaal, staring at a group of children. they are running around the pool and jumping in shouting with joy at the sky, the water and each other's company. next to me a flat sheet of water is flowing while inside me confusion, fear and rage boiled. yet the boiling is so slow that it seems silent,almost frozen.confusion at why this is so hard for me yet so easy for them. not knowing how to join, what to do next, what to think next. fear at the thought of joining and being ignored, my face and body stiff, marked as existing in a slowed down time. rage at myself for being wrong, out of place, broken in some way. at my mother for just sitting there, with all the other parents, under yellow umbrellas, laughing and talking, not saving me. at the other children for being what i can never be. fluid. joyous. at 38 i still sometimes feel this way, although the river of frozen fire has worn away deeply into the sediment of my being. become an almost unnoticeable part of who i am.i want to unfreeze this fire with the cool water of compassion. of gentle acceptance of all the pain and anger i have carried for so long. i want to stop thinking about it, analyzing, pushing compassion at it. circling it. watching it from afar. removed. critical. angry.i want to just sit down next to it and breathe. slowly. without thought or intend. surrendering to forces greater than me that have been carrying me forward to a place i do not yet know. i want peace. and the knowledge that this place can also be good. soft and cool. welcoming. that i can experience pleasure and be made fluid through joy.i want compassion to drift around and through me. to sink into every pore. to dance me around until i forget to hate my otherness, exclusion, incompleteness and inability to that when our child arrives i am free to let him love himself. to discover the joy of pleasure and laughter. to know that he is loved unconditionally by his parents, his spirit, the trees, grass and sky and by his own imperfect self.[...]



everything is blue, green
grey, brown.
silence comes with dusk
while the dogs chase fish
through darkening waters.
a moth curls up towards
me. its wings pale
against the rose bushes.
it brings with it a magic
which exists between light
and dark. in between.
my thoughts escape
the ordinary and slip into
this world where a bright
yellow lemon is almost
the same tone as my skin.
above me bare trees riot
twisting broad strokes of ink
against a sky deep blue
with a pale yellow border. i
scratch the surface of a lemon
its smell becomes my world
reaching out and enfolding a
garden drifting through the
softness of dusk.
white flowers.
moth wings.
a star.



how to catch up a year's life, a move, a baby in the belly, a polyamorous relationship...?i will start with now, this morning. i did not sleep well tonight. someone left a comment on facebook last night..."are you in an open relationship" and my hormones picked it up an ran with it deep into loops of self-doubt and insomnia.i do not want to be in an open relationship. even though it has brought me much learning. i am learning to let go. to trust my feelings. to just sit with my mind. to hold myself while curled up in an empty bathtub. to stroke my own head. to open my heart. to go with the flo.i enter into this strange relationship holding my heart high. stepping into the unknown. not running away towards that which i cannot yet picture. i hold myself and i wait for clarity.and felix? the boy inside who i hoped for and still can't quite belief is there. who dances inside, singing songs about the stars, chocolate and coffee, white flowers smelling of honey and the smell of fresh earth? i love him already.i am scared of the changes that will come. i am curios about the rest of my life. i look forward to a new chapter of what i cannot yet imagine.i finish my undergraduate degree this year. my head is full of new knowledge. my heart ready for change. rather than the life of an academic i want to be outside. gardening. activism. children. food security. conservation. knitting.some of the things these relationships swept into my life: deeper knowing and tenderness for flo and i. a real sense of the caring and love between us. more honesty with ourselves and each other. a healthy doubt and uncertainty about my ability to control. a clearer vision of what i want in my future. renewing connection to friends, old and new. reflection. laughter. cleansing.and under it all a deep stream of knowing that all will be well. that i might never know. that i can bury deeper into each moment. feeling it glow with immediacy.[...]



(image)  1. i awake
to silence.
my blanket
of words
falls open
how much can a heart expand
before it contracts?
2. lost in space
i climb your words
to safety
but it is the spaces
between our shared memory
that helps me release
into the unknown
a soft warm blanket
woven from past tenderness
streaming behind me.
3. five years together
you did not call tonight
and i awake
to an unfamiliar landscape
no longer sure
of what i know.
4. my heart
is a dog
waiting for its owner.
i will take her outside
to howl her fierceness
back from the moon.





i stand on the edge
of a balcony
beneath me
trembles a tree
its joyful vulnerability
reminding me
of what is found.
my heart smells
loss approaching
it turns around and sighs
searching for the warmth
we used to know.
we buried our love
under the oak tree
its for the best
they said
not strong enough
to be born.
in my hand
i hold a key.
shall I lock my heart
or keep it open?
gently my grief
unfolds me.
into this new space
a leaf
a coin
and the feather of a crane.




when words turn their backs
on me
i go blank.

but not today.

today i lean my back
against theirs
and i listen
their wordless cry
my own need to know.

my ideal kisses reality

confusion explodes
into my womb
i push and strain
until tired
i cry out
releasing new life
into the silence.



i want hope.wandering through a thicket of doubt, dusty and tiredi want to find an egg laid by a strange mysterious creature.the daughter of stork and glows with possibility.i go down on my news before it. it ignites me.i become luminous with desire. rather than remember what i lacki become ripe with what i want. on the top of a tree i glow against a deep blue sky.i am flower and fruit. and when the time is right i fall. into the earth i burrow.effortlessly i grow back towards the light.[...]

courage dear heart


can i let go into the flow of that which i cannot yet know? i roll around in the middle of a shifting moving reality.  a million faceless voices reflect through the cave of my skull. i stand on the side thinking "what the fuck?".energy course through my body. each cell dances its own direction. the static part squeezes its eyes shut. refusing to acknowledge reality until it figures out what is going down. or up. the ball of energy in my head paws the ground. it snorts and leaps forward to kill at the least provocation. or it pulls back in itself and whimpers. it cries. it fears. it is angry it is sad.meanwhile, the ringmaster cracks her whip. if it is in her head it is under her command. "be happy" she shouts and feels exasperated when the beast starts do i maintain relationship while my mind rearranges itself?[...]

a prayer



may that which is lost be found.

may that which is broken be healed.

may that which is empty be full.

may that which is forgotten be remembered.

may that which is joy take flight.


may we give birth to that which we long for.

truth and magic


(image) this world of ours

so beautiful 

filled with suffering 

and longing for truth 

can i let go

into the flow

where beauty hides

in mystery

of all that live

and breath

and grow


a place  

 i can not know.

(image) sometimes, when i give up hope i find magic. Falling into my body i sink into a space where  i no longer recognizes truth. suddenly i stand in the middle of a mystery so deep, so unknown that small breaths are all i become. although my body is hard with fear, new and old, i can soften with each breath.  rather than pull back can i invite this moment to sniff my hand and soften my heart? 

(image) The first walk i went for after my miscarriage was fueled with careful sips of air. On the way home i started breathing harder. i tried focusing on moving forward. everything was terribly bright. the green grass, wolf-dogs panting, small water washed pebbles, the air between florian and i. into this landscape a large white bird glides. its wings pulls soft colors back into me, the sky and the water. she is the largest bird i've ever seen. "what bird is this?" i ask florian. "it is a stork" he answers.


one day soon magic will once again fill my womb.



in this moment,after my body has let go of the painmy mind still reaches for the not my wonderfully logical pragmatic mind made peacewith loosing our seven and a half week fetusonce its hopes were reduced to a red blob in a silver remembered its project plans and thoughtits better this way. it is my heart. and the inside of my body. that feel hollow. without hope . left standing. in the space where possibility still blooms. not knowing what to think.i want to go back to sleep.  fuck, fuck, fuck![...]

a big adventure


i long for adventure.  a big one. with the sun slanting across an unfamiliar valley and mystery leading me deeper into the unknown.instead every morning i wake up to the familiaruntil i remind myself of my questto perceive the subtle magic of not knowingrather than looking out for a trail curving around a mountainor a teacher who initiates me into subtle mysteries beyond that which i know.its hard finding magic in research reports, unpaid bonds and student registration queuesbut among the weeds in our back gardeni find small white flowers.this fearof the mundane has followed me all my life like a shadowi have tried to stare it down with the sword of my intellectnow i just experience itit might swallow meor it might show me a path curling around a mountainnot knowing is the adventure.ooh la laah[...]