I AM ROCK
.
solid
not redundant
but the sacrifice
to remain anchored
still enough
to be
a mountain range of insight
across the valley of her skin
the endurance of the watch guard
sensing
what is beneath the trees canopy
the understory
where one cannot see
adventures to be had
.
soft
bow down to serve
the fragility
as
she carves into her solidarity
she erodes her ignorance
she weakens her ground
living force
creating dimples of surrender
until she crumbles
holding her in the sweet song
of time passing
.
whole
less is new
although growth deposits
more has weathered
wandering sediments shed
sunk or slipped
diminished
and the stone is
not gone
but holding
she is dispersed
beside you
embodied within
This poem began when I was pregnant and pondering my relationship with my unborn child, my born child, and my inner child.
At Rewild Bush Camp, they sang the mountain song (who loves this song???) and I found myself as rock. Koa was immersed in the tribe and was loving being a part of the gang of kids. Then, I witnessed my first heartbreaking moment, when children ran away from my child. I’m still learning when to step in with guidance or even just presence in tricky situations with young children. Who else finds it hard to know when and what to do when challenges arise?
Today I am sensing the heaviness of being anchored, particularly with my lil one glued to my hip and my bigger one pulling on my skirt.
This poem developed further when I was invited in to the Butoh “solo performance” (I would say spontaneous ceremony process that was witnessed) I did at Simon’s @ancestralmovement retreat with @tony.yap.88 . On a rock in the middle of the river, in my second trimester, I felt my attachment to the rock. Like I had for Koa’s birth, I dropped into spontaneous ceremony to feel my own birthing as my preparation for Ira’s birth.
This was the position I ended up birthing Ira in. This is the position that made me cry in the water park when I saw my friend bow over her daughter to protect her from the dump of water from the huge bucket. This was the position that reminds me to soften from my often tensing response whilst learning to be with my children.
If I seem like bananas, it’s because I am. And I’m not. These moments don’t make sense in everyday life and yet in the bigger picture these gestures hold us. If you’re seeking some kind of ceremony but don’t know how to make sense of it, hit me up. Life’s big enough to laugh at yourself whilst doing something meaningful.
This poem began a year ago with a question.
For our morning contemplations, Simon from @ancestralmovement asked us to think our own thoughts. Revolutionary right? Drop what we have learnt about science and just be open to the pondering of Rock.
And since then the thoughts keep shedding like the thought first appeared.
There’s something about witnessing yourself in different ways. First in embodied experience, then in seeing photos by @andreafallettaufficiale , and then through my own playful painting. Revisiting it today with playful painting mock ups for my book of poems I am making. These incredible colours from @rucopaints are helping me explore lightness and flow. Because today, I’m feeling heavy and floaty at the same time.
Do you ever try to draw or paint an experience to give meaning to it?
