sometimes i’m writing. my body is writing and she doesn’t know . she doesn’t know what / how/ where. the body just doesn’t know yet what to say. how to say it.
my body writes what is doesn’t know yet.
what is put down on the page, the words and language doesn’t know either. what is it trying to say?what does it know? what doesn’t it know?
i was going to say that things become clearer in the process. but that’s not true. in the process more questions are raised. not answers. but more curiosity, wonder and play.
here, i’ve cultivated a safe space. a safe container where i can be intimate and vulnerable. i can experiment and play to locate my voice, my knowledge and wisdom.
i embark on another journey with my body writing what she doesn’t know after completing an amazing commission/ gig/ assignment. i’ll share soon. i feel depleted after fullness. i’m tired but also lost.
i know i need to rest before anything else. so i rest for now. i rest in the not knowing.
Unconsciously I set myself the task of being creative everyday. A good way of marking this practice, was and still is, turning up here on this blog and posting something. Anything. A word, a quote, an image, an essay, an epiphany.
Some days, I’ve not had the time or energy or bandwidth to create anything, other days when I’ve felt this way, I’ve still turned up and done something. Anything. I’ve wanted to bring in some consistency within a world where consistency is irrelevant and pointless in the grand scheme of things. When the world is on fire, when Palestinians are dying of starvation and gunfire. When anti-immigration riots erupted once more in the UK. When tropical storms kill people in the Philippines. And when Syria returns to bloodshed. The list could go on of more countries and peoples around the world suffering at the hands of others, who do not see them as human or care about them.
I get sick of hearing the news. Watching the news. Seeing the headlines. I look away. I look away because I can and then chastise myself for dong so. There’s something in witnessing it all, even though it hurts my soul. What can I do? What can I say?
I get frustrated with all the hypocrisy I witness. The double standards. The lack of justice. People saying we’re doing this to them because we’ve been persecuted for so long so have a right, or are justified in persecuting other people now. I’m a white man and I rape women and children, but I’m protesting about (illegal) immigrants coming over here and raping our women and children. Everything is operating within this world to keep a few in power and wealth at the expense of other people deemed inferior and dispensable.
I hate hate. I can’t stand it. I see it in the screwed up faces of people hauling abuse at vulnerable people. It’s been there within the marrow of their bones for centuries. Grown white adults, hurling abuse at little black children. Not seeing them as children but as beasts, beasts to destroy. It breaks my heart and disgusts me, but what can I say? What can I do?
I can stop myself from feeing powerless. I can stop my handwringing, and getting frustrated with myself and use this energy otherwise. I can make art to bring about change. No matter how small that change, starting from myself and vibrating out.
I can create stories of an imagined alternative, better, other world. I can create zines which challenge and refuse what has already been refused of us. I can blog about my own experiences in order to connect with others. I can paint/ print posters to raise awareness and change the messages of hate to love and hope. I can create community and create change together, one stitch, one word, one voice at a time. I can create poetry to create conversation. I can self-care so I can in turn community-care. I can donate time, money, resources to a cause I believe in and that is bringing about a better society. I can lean more into mutual aid to divest from racial capitalism.
I can keep showing up here, craving out a safe and brave space on the internet that is liberatory worldmaking, on my own terms.
It’s a week since I’ve been here nearly. I’m not going to try and backtrack and fill in the gaps. Let them lie, because I’ve been healing. And today I’m beginning to feel more like myself again. This is my first image in a week. I ventured out not far from my front door into the sunshine, into my local park. It was glorious to get out as well as to feel a load or two dropping from my shoulders. I didn’t realise what stress and worries I’ve been carrying for the part month or so until they were let go.
More recent was an emergency extraction of a cracked wisdom tooth. Tooth hardly there at the back of my gum, but cracked on some food, cracked all the way down. I was advised to get it extracted. A simple procedure. Done in half an hour or so. Let’s just numb up the area. Little did the dentist know that my teeth are strong or that this little fucker was fused to the bone. An hour later or more and I stumble out of the chair into the growing dusk and I’ve got a gaping hole in my gum, held together by 4 stitches.
Fast forward to today, and me out walking in the sunshine and not allowing my self-pity to get the better of me. I look like a chipmunk and talk as if I’m drunk. But it could have been worse right. I daren’t think what would have happened if I’d left the cracked tooth and gotten an infection, not just teeth, gums but down to the bone. The dentist said I’m lucky. I said no I’m not. I’m intentional I said. Health is wealth, and I’m not going to mess around with mine, I said. The dentist said, he respects that. He said he liked my energy and made his evening, going in with my emergency. Made the time fly by.
Glad to be of service. Aren’t I always glad to be of service? Doesn’t a lot of people feed off my energy. Don’t I just bring my ‘A’ game for a lot of people. This Summer, I’m turning up for me. I’m giving myself the time and space to heal and breathe. My energy is low for other people, as I want it to be high for me.
I’m a shining light that creates space for other people’s lights to shine. I make people feel at ease and comfortable at the same time as inspired and tuned into themselves. I create space for people to air their cares and worries. For them to find a way back to themselves. And I don’t even get paid for this. This is just who I be. And I’m not complaining. I’m not having a ‘woe is me’ moment either. I’m just stating facts.
Fact is, this wisdom tooth brings wisdom. This wisdom tooth gone but left a wound, a wound I need to heal. A wound that needs time and care and space to heal. And I’m here to give it to myself as no one else will. Don’t worry I’ll still be turning up here as this is my space. I’ve not been bought by any corporation. I’m sharing my art not a commercial. I’m not selling you anything or getting paid. I’m free. I’m just sharing this little light of mine and my heart.
With the warmer weather and the slower pace, I’m so ready to lean into the lazy, easy, light and breezy days of summer.
My six weeks off the clock summer holidays are just around the corner. I can taste the sweet sweet honey of rest. But I’m not quite there yet. Still things to complete, anniversaries to celebrate and forms to send off.
But it’s close. I can smell the cut grass and strawberries and syrup already. The long drawn out of days of doing fuck all. Hell to the yes!
Reading is top of the agenda. Summer self-study of topics and issues that are making me buzz. I’ve already started my crime fiction reading as I get back into the DCI Ryan Mysteries Series from L J Ross, all set in the north east.
And now tonight, with an hour to spare before pick up I dive into We Refuse by Kellie Carter Jackson. This is just what I need coming off the back of completing my black mothering and fugitivity chapter. But it also is adding fuel to my fire of refusal and divesting from racial capitalism.
I’m only a few pages in and my heart is singing and I’m thumping with energy in the recognition of finding my space, my safe place where my desires and wants for freedom on my own terms is not weird or unachievable. But is very much necessary.
