Pākehā new yeah

This is a Pākehā new year apparently -we have to go by the new dates that some random megalomaniac in Italy devised for y’all a few thousand years ago. It’s a fad that won’t last cos it’s out of synch with the reality people are finally starting to wake up to.

There’s no such thing as time.

In writing that, I’m glad that one phase is coming to a natural conclusion. I’ve been focussing on finishing my thesis…I mean, for the past four years I have been saying that I am focussing on finishing my thesis, but now I’m nearly finished…26 more days and then I am sending it off to my supervisors for final feedback – print and then submit.

These past few months have been intense so I am enjoying wiping some slates clean and moving on with life, it’s time to let go and be free for a welcome change.

I have started doing some very low key performance artwork in Rotorua, where I live. An old man physically abused me even though I was only writing a story about our polluted lake with chalk on cobblestones…he even tried to push me in the lake before I turned into an angry Māori betch. Really, this series of performance works are the winding up of my PhD creative works. I’ve realised that my PhD project has been a process of stripping my artwork back the essentials, where my voice is no longer trapped and enslaved by the expected layers of thinking demanded by academentia in contemporary art. Screw ‘contemporary art’ and ‘art theory’. Fuck art, I’m into the creation of taonga. I enjoyed making taonga about taonga yesterday…it made me free again.

Anyway, back to the thesis at hand xxx

smashed

I watch hummingbirds as they dart, the start is here and I drift into the war as it ceases to hide… guiding flights. Nights and days intertwine and weave themselves into warmth.

Somehow, I am in California again. The air is a lot colder than when last I was here, but after the rain that greeted me I can feel the breath of warmth that is coming from the south, where I have arrived from. Strange to think that I breathed this warmth a few days ago, and now I am here beginning to be enveloped in my own aroha.

I think about freedom amongst the doom of drudgery that exists here, despair drugged out from the codine and coffee cacophany. The smells in this part of the world make me think about illness. It is like there is a sickness that has sunk into the land, and has washed over the people as they eat the gasoline that grows in the Earth. My spirit sinks to the height of heady abandon, mandatory falling.

I fix my sights on the winding embers of yesterday, and whisper with the wind. We tell stories and in the gusts and flurries we giggle as they grow. Why do I sometimes imagine I lived my life in a cage? This age is no longer the same… that much is clear. There is no longer any fear, I have forgotten it and its impeding impact upon my life, on my love, on my heart I start a song that soothes the anxieties of a lifetime.

My mixtured dreams don’t disappear at the neon light of the dawn. Instead the fathoms of oceans evaporate and rain my life into licorice… it sticks to my teeth and tongue and I speak the language of leisure.

Pleasure?

Assuredly I coax my feet into the soft blowing breeze, bedridden for only a fleeting moment of rhyme I arise and yawn the apocalypse of business days back to their briefcases. It’s all too sentimental, this dreaded soapy foundation of nine to five fictions.

This is the liberation of nuclear fission, a conjoined company of me, myself and my makings, a king or a queen, whatever the jest, my best is yet to come.

Blow caution to the find me here and now. My today is all I have, and I own it like my breath.
It is strange, I feel almost befuddled, not with jet-lag, but with surprise. I was only here in Woodland and Davis a few short months ago, but the world in that time has shifted and now instead of being left behind as I had been, I have phased back into the space where I perhaps leaped off from, as if I did not jump at all.

In the months between today and last year, I have been home to Aotearoa New Zealand. I travelled all through the lands of my ancestors, with gifts in my hands as offerings; prayers to placate the years of yearning. As I wandered, I wondered, I watched, I warned, I waned, I warmed, I went to wherever I felt I was supposed to be. It was a journey of being placeless at home, and for those many months I felt complete disconnect. Reconnect me to the source, of course that is what I want, and weirdly in that homeless happening my heart began to beat again just as I felt I was falling… dying from daydreams.

And then all of a sudden I was in a new space, but with family; my big sister, her three babies, my niece who I hadn’t seen in twenty years and a cousin who kept me safe as a black fuzzy tar-baby. Australia is not the country I remembered from my traumatised youth of addictions and self-abuse, used up once but no longer. I feel like I found the person I left there a decade ago, dead from decadence and inconsolable; yet on my return, incandescent and decent. A descent into the depths of hell helped me heal from the pain I didn’t even know I felt.

I love these ways, as they wend and take me forever into the fray… I am no longer flayed by devils of daily grinds. My mind is free to manifest fast fusions, illusions and depth.

And now I feel my forays into a new future, glittered with gorgeousness and genius graspings. I can see a pathway, I look ahead and I see the lifetime I have walked in darkness and dismay. My past, even though troubled, is what it is. Now that I can see it clearly on my return to the place where I forgot to live, it doesn’t scare me anymore because in all its torment, it was my beautiful journey and as alien as I am, I experienced its emotions fully.

Behind me the pathway extends forever, and the future that lies there backlights my life like a shining silhouette; that’s my aura, all colours that glow together like a rainbow of rapture.

I feel pretty, I feel good.