turn my world around

 

turn my world around

Walking forwards but always looking back… it just doesn’t work.

Our old people used to say that what you can see in front of you is your past, because that’s what you have created. Your future is behind you.

Regardless of how far you turn your head, you can never see the future aspect of your reality.

We can get an idea of what lies behind us… there are mirrors everywhere, but those mirrors are just reflections, glimpses, glimmers, imaginings, fragments.

I have been turning my head a lot lately, to try and fathom what comes next, to get an idea of the things I need to prepare for… but my past keeps shouting at me to pay attention to what is already here.

It’s a hard thing to do when I am feeling doubt, but that is what I committed to do, to walk forwards into the world I have created and to see it for what it is.

Starlight, might I borrow a tomorrow… for just one day. The fray is freezing and the chill sets my bones into an aching crack of denial. It’s a trial that sometimes I fear will ice me over and swallow me greedily. I am meek, hunkering down into the shallows of my trembling temptation, to pretend I cannot control my mind and the thoughts that pass through it.

Prove it, prove it, prove it again, and yet never really know for sure.

Uncertain understandings, futile futures, pungent pasts.

Be present and live.

I strive to stay steady, but sometimes I get the speed wobbles. I gobble the garbage that my mental projections prophesize.

I am greedy too at times.

I am a beautiful liar, lying in the haze of days as they float on by, living in the memories of moments gone forever.

I have created something, and now I do not know if I deserve to let it reflect me. I do not know that I deserve to exist, married to the mirage I have made mortal. I distrust it, I love it, I hate it, I have faith in it.

Faith is a scary thing. It makes you get up at dawn to move your body through the world at a speedy pace; running into life as you breathe in the boundless energy that tremors through the fracas. The chill makes your nose run and your hands try to shake warm blood into their extremities as you motion your way through the pasts you sometimes try to forget, but cannot.

And then, in the final throes, when you are sure you can no longer grasp for the air that your lungs refuse to imbibe, you tune your mind to the clarity of determination. You transform all of the fear, all of the failings, all of the falling down again fictions, into the steel of sheer will.

It is then that you sprint to exhaust the last of things that you imagine yourself to never possess.

After that final two hundred meters, as you exhale wisps of weak but exuberant elation, you know that you have all the faith you need.

And then you go home, stretch, eat breakfast, shower, and commit to all the present possibilities.

Forget the fictions of pasts and futures. Focus on forever.

crystal methodologies

methods

There is a glimmer, gasping for air, buried beneath the humdrum – beneath the rumblings of the daily mele life that takes all other breaths away.

Don’t stop inhaling and just trust that the thrust of gems, buried under the skin will begin to sing their songs of long forgotten facets, carat weights of wisdom, nourishment straight from the source.

Of course you have to know the precious lullabies are there first, before you can hear them.

We live so many lies, fictions foist upon us by the dead theater. They are like the screen refresh, they constantly flicker fantasies of falling into the dreamworld of dementia. We forget the shimmer of sense and replace it with repellent ridicule. We absorb the toxic teleology of televised trauma and take for granted the nature of now as noxious.

But those are simple, simple lies, that can be broken down and erased over time, so we can be human again.

I have had an intense, but thought provoking few days in Hopuhopu. I don’t yet know as many of the aspects of things that happened at Hopuhopu in recent history as I should. But it was a military base during World War One. When I see whenua that was occupied by the military in the past, my puku always tells me that the whenua was most probably taken by force, which indeed it was.

I woke up there yesterday morning at dawn and went for a run. The sun was still low in the sky and had not yet risen above the mountain range beyond the Hauraki plains in the distance, obscured by Taupiri Maunga in the foreground.

The red glow made me feel like fire, and reminded me of Tarawera; that hidden but palatable force of nature rising to the surface. It’s a tohu for me that things are coming so I need to stay alert and battle ready. I cannot tell whether I am preparing for an attack or defense, but either way I must not stay still.

I don’t know why, but the whole time there, at a research wananga, I felt like crying…I still feel like crying. Things that people said bought many feelings of the past to the surface.

I always keep my emotions in check because when I do not, they rage beyond my control. Sometimes sensations refuse to stay inside and I explode. It doesn’t happen often but when it does I get scared, mostly because I cannot cognize the person I become. I become instinct – reactionary and brutal.

And so my crystal methodologies manifest, like mirrors of clarity and collision they coalesce turmoil into tacit tactics of trance-like maneuvers; they begin the battle beat, beat, beat, my heart heats up and I know I moving again.

I have been fearful with uncertainty, but now I embrace the embargoed emotions and turn the tides of trauma into theory, practice and patience.

No more pretending.