in the leaving, instead of letting go, i have been trying with grasping fingers to hold on to something that no longer exists… something that has crumbled to dust
in the leaving, instead of letting go, i’ve been scraping that dust into bowls, trying to make bones from the ruins, as if somehow i can pray things back into being
in the leaving, instead of letting go, i’ve been questioning the holiness of how it is
in the leaving, instead of letting go, i overlooked the love found, and chosen, right here in front of me
and here in the leaving, i get the chance to recover lost things…
+ another way to practise loving what is
+ another way to let shit go
+ another opportunity to be my own first choice
Nothing is absolute. Everything changes, everything moves, everything revolves, everything flies and goes away.
– Frida Kahlo
listening | Ta-ku + Cereal – Flight Track – Vol.1 and Vol. 2 + in her room podcasts by sara blackthorne – women writers on life, craft and changing the world
admiring | the genius behind this beautiful visual guide to formal, informal, and accompaniment place settings
dreaming | of cocoa & dandelion root truffles (with freshly ground organic coffee) <– are you reading this nic?
reading | “you want easy? take up stamp collecting” – notes on feeding the creative hunger by my friend David duChemin + A customer walked into his pizza shop and changed Philadelphia with $1 and a single Post-it note.
loving | the worlds first octographer – at sealife aquarium in new zealand! an octopus is trained to take photos of aquarium visitors + the instagram photos of new zealand (& other places) made by helena sofia + the new bowndling guides
buying | stuff from the creative market. like the lovely helena font. now i want the boho family of fonts and the brush up font and the manifold font!
thinking | we rarely suffer from any kind of ailments (colds, flu etc.) but i am tempted to give this antibiotic recipe a try anyway as it sounds delicious!
training | for the queenstown half-marathon in november this year (though i haven’t fully committed to it yet, by actually entering)!!
1-8 // this morning – mawhitipana reserve, waiheke island
In giving voice to what we feel, the darkest cry uttered with honesty can arrive as the holiest of songs.
– Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening
some days feel like an impenetrable wall of coded messages that i don’t understand.
there is a sense of exclusion that previously didn’t feel as if it existed – it leaves me wondering exactly when i was cut adrift
i’m not good with guessing,
as to what it was that happened
when one side of the conversation has ended and
i’m left talking to myself…
how do i cross the chasm, or at least gain clarity and closure when the other is silent?
disconnection possible even as the deep red arteries of the universe run through us all.
the (wo)man burns. kiwiburn 2015
- i don’t like clutter… it makes my head hurt and my eyes go wobbly. which is probably why this house is a constantly moving tide of things in and out
- i have come to the conclusion that i have too many cameras (ref. 1) so some of them have to go
- i don’t like chocolate
- nor do i like ambiguous emails – or conversations – that leave me wondering “what the … was the point of that?!” tell it to me straight
- nature is my holy place. it’s why we married on a beach, under a tree, instead of in a church
- be true, or go away. and by that i mean be yourself. i apply this rule to myself too
- i miss my friends in england & the usa/canada something fierce. skype is a poor cousin to face-to-face conversation
- never did i imagine myself taking up trail running. yet – if you follow me on instagram, you see that – here i am, about to do an 8km event tomorrow
- i have no idea what i’m doing half the time, but it doesn’t usually stop me
- i very rarely spend money on myself. not because i don’t believe i deserve it, more because i’d rather spend it on adventuring
- i want to live like this….
“Step into the fire of self-discovery. This fire will not burn you, it will only burn what you are not.”
1 – 6 // scenes from a moving train, going to visit my parents
7 // looking back down to a loop of the raurimu spiral. an incredible piece of civil engineering that enables the train to climb 139 metres in a very small space using the natural contours of the terrain & an amazing spiral/horseshoe design [here’s a photo of it from the air]
8 – 10 // scenes from a tiny regional plane, homeward bound
i will find my way back
» find my way back by cody fry
these words could mean so many many things for me right now….
today, it’s the one hour flight home that turned into a five-and-a-half hour journey due to fog.
today, it’s the golden light above the clouds before our tiny plane was diverted to another airport.
today, it’s having lunch with my husband in the city before boarding the ferry to come home.
today, it’s the tuis calling and chasing each other through the trees outside the window where i sit.
today, it’s being home.
i am chasing flies around my parents living room, armed with a lime green coloured swatter thats paddle is shaped like a hand. its more bendy than i am used to and my half-hearted swings lack the force required to do anything but push air in their general direction. lucky day for the flies.
my hair is getting longer… i pass a photo in the hallway of me around nine years old. the younger me has longer hair still and i pause for a moment, taking her in, noting the length and silently vowing to recover her shiny long locks (even though they will frame a much older face).
the grandmother clock in the corner chimes the hour, its quiet ticking making me drowsy. the aches in my body from HIIT, running & spin have me reluctant to take a quick nap on the sofa, fearing i will snooze folded at a weird angle and feel worse for it when i wake. ive been for a drive and scoped out a couple of places nearby where i can do a couple of loops to keep up with my new trail running escapades and plan to head out tomorrow morning whilst my parents are at church. nature is my holy place.
we have been out to the markets, and a local poultry club meeting, we have talked about gardening and making bread and how to darn things without a mushroom. we have flicked through my mothers book of collected recipes, reminiscing over plum sauce and ginger beer.
my mother is knitting baby booties and tiny hats that she gives to the local hospital for the prem babies. she has lost count of how many (hundreds) she’s made and tells me that she is thinking about her mother when she was her age and how she used to knit booties too. i can’t (don’t) knit and i don’t have a daughter, so the line will stop here – on the sofa – in my parents living room.
my bag for the return flight home will be stuffed with air plants, seed pods, cuttings and seedlings. a sure sign i have been visiting my mother.
28 february 2015, great barrier island
1 // nic sure knows how to pick a spot to celebrate his 40 turns around this planet. i am lucky enough to have spent the past 14 of them with him and we have some amazing stories already, with plenty more to come i’m sure.
2 // the six of us start the day off right with some champagne
3 // bbq turkey
4 // and coleslaw
5 // beach walks
6 // and swims