Tuesday, August 7, 2018

Through the Looking Glass...

I've always appreciated the quirkiness of Alice's adventures through the looking glass.  How reality is torn apart, twisted, reflected and morphs into a prism quagmire of curiosities.  I've always been prone to question the solidness of the reality I move through daily, having too many times found the face is a mask, the mask a cover for yet another layer of possibilities that may be solid or just another facade.  Most challenging to incorporate, to understand, were the long-lived realities I thought solid, with long, strong roots which eventually shattered to darkness and nothingness and the shallowness of pretence.

One of the most difficult adjustments is not just how to realign your inner certainties - or if you ever can (which I truly feel is the real issue), but how to step yet again through the mirror? 

Yet I recognize - sadly but truly - that one of my most persistent character traits - one which has causes me endless pain, disenchantment, even self-loathing - is my apparently unshakable core of belief in people.  It seems no matter how many times I am shown to be foolish, deceived, to be torn and rend with word, thought and deed, give me a little time and BOOM, I'm back there ... the imbecilic belief growing yet again ....

Right now, hair swinging, band tight around the tresses, I have stepped through yet again.... to face the Red Queen and trade repartee... wrestle with TweedleDee and TweedleDum... and no doubt find yet again I am simply a fragment of the Red King's dreaming thoughts...

Saturday, August 4, 2018

where the sea meets mountain

I follow the coast road which twists and winds, sinuous as a snake writhing up and down and around the undulating ribbon of road as the mountains fall to the sea which crashes and snarls and sighs onto the rocky shore.  The green furred flanks of the soaring rocks breathe into the sky, sighing a grey misting breath into the glaring yellow orb of the sun.

I walk along the sifting sand and feel through my feet the promise of cold, dark depths as the surf grumbles onto the rock-strewn shore.  Air, clean and bracing and promising a song in the soughing cry of its fluttering breeze, caresses my face and smells of sweet, tart, piquant home...

Gulls, gannets and other sea birds soar above my head with harsh, discordant cries which mingle with the pounding surf to weave a rhythmic wonderful cacophony of sound and music that throbs in my heart and sends my soul fluttering into the misting sea foam of surf and salt.

I close my eyes as the tide pulls at the paleness of my feet and long to dive into the dark oblivion and richness of the world beneath.  I feel anxiety like a discordant note soften and then dissipate, the sweet lulling pounding softening and wearing away the jutting edges.  I stand alone, swaying in the coolness of the Atlantic sea, feeling I've come home.

Saturday, July 7, 2018


An old friend - a very good friend - is visiting right now.  I love her dearly and her family as well. They were a second family to me, taking me in when lost, angst-ridden and fragile, I started to grow up.  A big boisterous family, always willing and able to shove closer together to set another place at the table.  Twin brothers.  Both just friends for a very very long time.  Then a fleeting, very short-lived moment with one during a period where I thought myself abandoned, bereft and alone - they also in the same sad place, this so long ago, the date escapes but  at least 38-40 years ....

Coming back to haunt me ... to plague me in whatever the hell the dynamic is between D. and I these days - non-sexual, non-intimate, yet tightly entwined by history, experience and the tattered remains of a great love.

As she is visiting, her brothers who live in the same province and within easy distance of my new home - are coming too for a visit, an overnight.  One with wife, one with daughter - and nausea threatens to knot and bloat and destroy my hard-fought but tenuous and fragile equilibrium.  I am bloated and heavy with past sorrows and carry in the gross flesh which envelops, a trillion unwept tears and unsaid words.  Words which swirl in heart and mind and tumble with sharp edges behind my eyes, and I feel the aqueous swell of ocean gathering behind the placid surface in an ominous promise of havoc.

Not for the friend who comes to visit - he is and has been for more decades than I can count - a distant acquaintence - but because even now, D. who has refuted me, condemned me, raped me, and left me shivering inside this gross shell, even now he has the ability to rend and tear and condemn.

I am angry at myself, disgusted and contemptuous ... that after all these years he still has the tools to leave me teetering on the edge of the abyss... yearning to embrace the nothingness and throw myself into an endless fall of sorrow.

The years of therapy are the why - why I am open to the visit of someone who I know will trigger his own great swelling of issues and exacerbate the many I have never resolved nor even confronted. A rational, unemotional yes to a good friend who wants to see her brothers. Brothers who I knew when young and now have a glancing but completely unconnected relationship to... brothers who like me, have married, have borne progeny, have lived their lives, unconnected, the only slender line connecting us being their sister.

I sit here waiting and feel so defeated... I think that might be the greatest commonality in the long, twisted road which D. and I have tread since almost the first time I glimpsed his face at 16... despair and a complete and utter sorrow which seems to be the only emotion we can retain between the mutuality of our damaged souls.