And so we watch and so we learn/With eyes wide for our dreams to yearn

Posts tagged ‘emotion’

Lost & Found

Reaching out to the stars, I am eternally minute
My spirit filling all, the empty ache fully grown
Embracing the universe
Reaching out to my loved ones
Emotional connection without words
Parts of me across the spinning earth, bound by memories, lingering in emotion
Tales told of them and then and what has been – strands of the universe
Spun together, I am the spindle
Tightly wound, insubstantial and strong
Made of all I hold dear, the impressions of scattered stars marked where only I see
Constellations made by my own journey across the universe, invisible to the world
The lives of everything dance in silent symphony
Of stories many will never know

The glimmering of the past flickers across my eyes
Blurring the now with all that was and will be
Destabilizing my presence, I am pulled, a leaf in the storm
Swept up by the winds of time
Screw the orchestra, let me only conduct
To view and witness and carry with fullness
The lives of others, so much greater to feel
Greater to know, such vividness that is to be
Very human, oh so human
Wicked, benign, careless – deep, impromptu, flawed
Take my life, let me only watch!
To grasp the movement outside all keys
Feel the universe in every fibre of my being
Drifting along the strands of time
Finding any and all which glow

The lively life of the living
Has never been so



It’s easy to forget, sometimes. My world, that is. The rooms around me feel so arbitrary, a safe house, a still point in time – a place of dormancy between journeys, where nothing truly remarkable happens. It is merely a space that can be relied on, for its simple existence. Home, the shell which holds us, a location of healing and preparing, of resting…and waiting.

Still ’round the corner there may wait/ A new road or secret gate;
And though I oft have passed them by/ 
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run/ 
West of the Moon, East of the Sun

It’s easy to lose your sense of presence here, because how could you focus on the stillness when you know what is happening?
Babies are being born and old grandmothers are speaking fierce words to their loved ones – people are risking their lives to save those who cannot save themselves, young ones are learning, expanding their minds, dreamers are dreaming, adventurers are adventuring, people are dancing, writing music, poems, inventing and discovering, crossing uncharted rainforests, taking specimens from the floor of a volcano, looking for life on the bottom of the ocean – a million languages are being spoken, a thousand cultures are breathing…

I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again – cross the sky and seek out the Great Perhaps. One day I’m going to as free as a migratory african swallow, and I will see it all. One day I will cross the oceans, arrive at places I have only been able to dream of. One day I will shoulder everything I need to live, chase the setting sun and find new worlds. One day I will stand on top of a mountain, dance on foreign shores, look upon the face of the raw wilderness in the animal kingdom, sing exultantly under blue skies that stretch to every horizon. One day I will turn around, take a breath and say “Hello Danielle”. One day I will look on the emotive faces of those I have never known truly before. One day the future will be the present, and everything will fall into place. One day I will chase away the scattered cobwebs that stretch over my mind in the idleness of everyday life, and I shall know every inch of this beautiful, marvelous, impossible world.

But until then…I am 16 and bound to the life of school and suburbia. Until then, I study and I help my mother with chores. Until these days come, 16 months – 508 days must pass, in the sanctuary that holds me here, binds me to this small small pocket of the universe. It will be, it must be, one day I know what I will be. But for now…I am here.

If I Could

If I could only tell you
Of all that has been done
If only you could understand
Who and what I have become

If I could only tell you 
Of the worlds I’ve seen
Hills and trees of other place
Bright citadels that gleam

If I could only tell you
Of life I had to lead
Stripped of understanding voice
Learn to talk, to hear, to read

If I could only tell you
Of the strings and the ties
That I’ve bound myself up in
For safety if not wise

If I could only tell you
Of the people I have faced
Of the sea of strangers 
Independency embraced

If I could only tell you
Of the loneliness I’ve bared
Isolated, far away
Count the all tears I’ve shed

If I could only tell you
Of the friendships I now know
Lives shared, changed together
In shadows that we grow

If I could only tell you
Of the things I have done
The mistakes and the saves
The shame and marvelous fun

If I could only tell you
Of the monsters fought alone
Fears forced to face and overcome
In hardship I have grown

If I could only tell you
Of the things I hid from sight
To keep safe and whole, pretenses
Buried deep within the night

If I could only show you
Of all the wonders I have seen
Postcard pics, actually real
Like something from a dream

If I could only tell you
Of adventures I have had
Laughing and ridiculous 
The wondrous and the mad

If I could only show you
How much I am now
Who I’m truly becoming
…If only I knew how

At Skyfall

Have you ever had those moments when you’re absolutely at loss at what to do, or what’s going to happen to you? I’m not talking about some petty exam or boyfriend problem, which are, while still major enough alone, nothing compared to the necessities so basic you can almost forget about them; a source of food, a source of water, a roof over your head and a bed to sleep in at night. Well, could almost forget until having them becomes questionable.

It’s almost funny how badly things can fall to pieces. Like Sara Crewe, going from her beautifully glorious birthday party to find out that her father was dead, the diamond mines never existed and she was a pauper alone in the world, it gives you a sense of churning oncoming panic as the shock wears off. I’m just at the end of an absolutely lovely road trip through southern Argentina, and I got pulled aside today to be told the family I had been living with so happily before didn’t want me, and gave such short notice that an alternate location hadn’t been able to be found yet.

The head spinning of this was just, jbffinkbddub. In a very bad way. I have  no phone credit, all my luggage (suitcase, guitar, backpack, overcoat, two plastic bags) not enough money on me to pay for even half a bus ticket and no place to go. Panic threatens to overwhelm me every time I think about it. The only three people I would consider going to for help are all unable, and everyone else, well, they’re all overseas. So what do you do? Who do you go to, when you want to panic and cry and curl up in a ball, but legitimately can’t. To be frank it was less the knowledge that I  had to take responsibility and more the fact that I  really didn’t want to break down in front the people whom I’m around. So I repressed the shock, hurt, fear, worry, panic, anxiety and uncertainty, pushed it all back down, did all I could in the current situation to deal with it and then kept myself busy and distracted. Is that healthy? Possibly not. But them again, maybe taking control is a good thing – it probably is 😛 The question for me is, when does it go from reining back your emotions and keeping calm, to repressing? Because our minds have vivid imaginations, and they can run us into the most awful emotional states, so wouldn’t repressing be a good thing, holding down before they go out of control and break you down? But then again, letting all your emotions out and getting it out of your system can feel really good too. I guess it’s less on which is ‘better’ or ‘maturer” and more on which is more acceptable in public. It varies on place to place and country to country, but in general it’s Not Done to express extreme emotions among polite society. I’ve probably leaned more oftener on the hold-back than the open-up side when it comes to responses, except on the few rare times when not breaking down and hiding weren’t options.

And pride comes into play as well. I never used to notice how much people possess. It’s not only coupled with arrogance – pride is what stops you asking, accepting or admitting you need help, in any form.  That’s when it couples with shame, which seems plain stupid on paper but is really quite common in reality – I’ve found quite a lot in it myself. You don’t notice these things until it becomes hard for you to ask for money needed badly, or accepting a 5 bucks from a friend’s generosity. The type of pride we normally come into contact with is usually coupled with arrogance, but there’s the poor-pride, the ‘I don’t accept charity’ feeling-shame-when-you-do pride.

Hubris really is one of mans’ greatest faults, isn’t it? Like all of them, quite good in reasonable measures, and impossible to live in regular society without encountering even a little. Pride makes us stand up straight and look people in the eye, and it coupled with greed/need are the main incentives that fuel our work. Taking pride in yourself and what you do is barely a hop skip and a jump away from confidence, but oh how it hurts when it takes a hard blow. I mean, it was more than just pride that takes a blow in this situation, it was quite a bit of esteem as well. I’m not exactly the most stable and secure person at the moment, being away from all that normally there, like family and years of life making friends and connections and whatnot. So dumping me out on the street, figuratively at least, wasnt particularly. I did get a place to stay, luckily, but it was just…gah. Abandoned and lost and unwanted, how very pleasant.

Another frightening fact; how easily people can not notice emotions, even when their mask is held on by the barest thread. I, for example, was blinking back tears furiously for the majority of several classes, and it was only when I had to get out and curl up somewhere alone, unable to hold back anymore, that people looked around with concern and worry. It’s rather disheartening, but then again, you are only one person among 7 billion, so yes unique and special and all that, but so’s everyone else really.

SO. To end this on a nice note, and to give it a moral; (those things are generally a good idea) If there’s anything I’ve learnt from all this, is to be perceptive of other people. Look around and take notice of everyone else, not just your friends and who you care about, but everyone, just a little. There was that bit in the last Eragon book, about the mighty dragon paying such close attention to the life of a beetle, that he felt that life was just as important as the grand movement of the Cosmos. That sounds silly but would you consider the lives of you and your loved ones worth entire galaxies of unknown stars? Everyone feels that way, everyone is important, remember that.
Everyone is important. So treat them that way, through anything that happens.

A/N: Gosh I got off track with that XD Oh well.

Flying Home

WARNING: Emotional rant 😛 If you don’t know me/care about me, I don’t recommend you read the following, unless you want some messily arranged psychological my-head insights.

I’m going home soon. That’s quite possibly the scariest truth I’m facing now. In 16 days I will be going home. Home; Melbourne, Australia. Home, mine, since I was 5, hosting my mother and father and beloved little sisters and grandparents, and all my cousins an hour or 12 away. Home, where I grew up, had my childhood, swam ran learned sang and laughed, made friends and lost them, the sprawling city I’ve loved, where I’ve planned for years to one day raise my own family. Home, a world I haven’t seen for nearing 10 months, 12 if you don’t count the ten days between Indonesia and Argentina.


I’m coming home
I’m coming home
Tell the world I’m coming home
Let the rain wash away
All the pain of yesterday
Know my kingdom awaits
They’ve forgiven my mistakes
I’m coming home
I’m coming home
Tell the world in coming…


If only it was that simple. On one hand, I will be returning, to the security of my own family, to the ease of 99.9% English, to the well known lives and paths of the people who have been around me for years. I won’t be Taasha from Australia who Came Here in February and Speaks Good Castellano now, or Taasha from Australia who Sits In Class Quietly (writing or reading, music or talking occasionally), or even Taasha from Australia who lives in Argentina, who has Travelled the World and Plays Guitar Music that Nobody Knows but Everyone Likes a Little. That’s surface-me here. That’s probably who and what they see, who I appear to be on first glance, and I’ve gotten used to ‘being’ that, even though that’s not who I was. Back home I was Taasha the Smart Talented Student, the Eldest Sister and Happy Caring Friend. I fit in, had family and friends and confidence and the security of years. They were the things I missed the most when I first arrived here, the things I ached and longed to have.

But I don’t anymore. It’s been bloody 10 months, I’ve gotten used to being alone, not understanding a lot of the time, being the strange one who has a hard time communicating, the one without a real family, the loner. The one who has seen more of this country than most of the people around me, (in less than a tenth of the time they’ve spent in it) seen more of the world than most of the people I’ve met, the one who’s learnt to cry silently in the night because she daren’t go to anyone in person. I’ve learnt to be that, and I’ve adapted, and it’s pretty good most of the time, especially the last 4 months. I’m the one who strolls confidently throughout the city, who has fantastic conversations with the street artists and revels in the vivacity of life, the one who never has homework, the one with the expensive iPhone, but lives out of a suitcase and a fantastic array of earrings. I’m happy here, happy being the odd lonely artistic Australian, and I know, knew this existence wasn’t sustainable or quite possibly healthy, but I also knew I couldn’t live craving what I’d left behind. So I didn’t.

And now I’m going home. Back to school in the morning, and classes that are actually taken seriously for a change 😛 and proper uniforms and no nailpolish or hoops, back to my wonderful family who sheltered and loved me enough to encourage me to fly away, friends who were all so close, before the year split us apart. Back to English and taking my bike instead of hailing a cab, busking for my money instead of going to an ATM, back to homework and exams and assignments and little sisters who are wonderful and pesky and talkative and loving and invasive and charming within 1/2 an hour. Back to the city being a dangerous place to hang out, going to the beach on the weekend, singing and hugging when I feel like it, not being alone anymore. But as always, the price of security is freedom.

Far away, long ago
Glowing dim as an ember,
Things my heart used to know,
Things it yearns to remember

Someone holds me safe and warm
Horses prance through a silver storm
Figures dancing gracefully
Across my memory…

Melody, long ago
Sing this song and remember,
Soon you’ll be, home with me
Once upon a December

~Once Upon a December, from the Disney Anastasia

It fits so well. Because it really has become more of a memory to me, the world I used to know. I’ve changed, I’ve learned to live alone, Argentina is my world now. I never quite belonged, but I was happy here, and now that it’s time to leave…I don’t want to. Change is frightening, especially when one is unsure of what change it’ll be. When I left on that plane, on an early Saturday morning, I only looked forward, to the exciting unknown new adventure I was facing, not back at the world I knew, loved and would someday return to. Now when I step onto the airplane, I’ll be leaving behind so many friends, so many places, memories, a world and way of life I will never be able to truly experience the same way again.

And the worst part is; the world, the home I’m returning to? It’s not the same anymore either. And neither am I.




Pretty, huh? This is Puerto Madryn, located on the southeast coast of Argentina and yes these are photos off google (because I haven’t had a chance to get my camera card to a pc yet) so you’ll have to take my word for it that I’ve been there and seen it. Recently, too. If I wanted to be flamboyant I would have given you the leaping whales and perfect beach front photos 😛 But no, these two are much more real, much more what I saw and loved and lived when I was there.

For those who haven’t been; it was gorgeous. Incredible. Amazing. The Southern Right Whales go there because the gulf is relatively warmer than the Antarctic and thus a better environment to raise their calves. In winter the bay is full of them, sightings of those awesome (in the old literal sense) and magnificent mammals becomes commonplace. It’s also a great location to mine aluminum, despite water needing to be aqua-ducted from the river a while away. So today it’s a beautiful growing prosperous little city.

I’ve got a piece I’m not quite done writing, about our environments and how they affect us, but I’ll save that for later. But they do affect us, short and long term, superficially and deeply. 90% of the worlds population lives on the coast, and there’s really no surprise why. It’s beautiful, the ocean, beautiful in every weather except a hurricane 😛 Water and sun and sky and rocks and sand and clouds and space and salty breezes… Many countries, like Argentina and Paraguay and Bolivia, Austria and Hungary, Kazakstan and Nepal and Mongolia, and a large percentage of people in India or the United States, live inland, rarely seeing beyond their hills and horizon of land.

For many people, to be by the sea isn’t natural for them, they crave the lands they grew up in. I’ve been living in such an inland place, city life in a valley between hills, for 9 months, and I’d spent the two months prior to that living on the paradise-on-earth that are the tropical islands of Indonesia. There’s quite a difference, and you feel it strongly after time wears on. Many of my fellow beachers-living-inland had strong emotional reactions to seeing the ocean again, and to be frank it was lucky I had already been to the beach a few weeks prior because after 9 months away from such a huge part of my soul, I literally cried, tears of such profound homecoming emotion. Because for many of us, the ocean is part of our lives. I can’t help wandering, what is it about these coasts that draws us? Is it the way the water reaches as far as the eye can see, twinkling in the sunlight with its constant motion, peaceful restlessness and impossible blue that crashes hissing white foam onto the edge of our territorial land? Is it how the sky arches endlessly over it, celestial azure, space and light and freedom? Is it the wind, the smell of salt on the breeze and the crunch of sand beneath your feet that nothing may grow in but many grow above, as the sand that starts on the edge of mother earth and slips under the bottomless blue where worlds live and grow?

All I know is that I love it, with every single fibre of my being.


He sat in front of the screen
Another day passing,
Another day in his world of grey
He sat and posted, linked and shared
She watched him living and despaired
Does he know how much I care?
How much I need him, but how I don’t dare
To reach out, to heal him, hear him smile
How my heart breaks if he’s gone for a while
He was the one who was there from the start
He always will have that place in my heart
But something has changed, twisted, gone
A veil is up, something is wrong
The worst is I know, understand why
What he really needs and wants is not I
So I’ll dry my tears and let it go
Giving up after this time, coz I know
There’s nothing anymore that I can do
Although what I wish, I cannot dare
Only watching, hoping, this pain can I bear?
But I must, only wishes I now send to you
There’s nothing anymore that I can do

….Yea. I wrote this, again, a while back, for/about (obviously) a mate of mine. Who’s name doesn’t need to be disclosed. You can imagine the emotions running behind this, and while it’s now basically moot and merely history, it’s still a decent poem. This’s the thing about me; give me a strong emotion, something bubbling and bursting and pushing inside of me, be it pain, joy, love, fear or any of the more complex, and it usually ends up taking the form of poetry, after I’m done letting out some of the steam by playing my guitar/listening to music. So I’ve got quite an array of poetry stored up from the past few years – I’d much rather be able to write music, but. Enjoy and cultivate the talents you were gifted with. Expect more poems from the past popping up!

N/B: Because the title got it stuck in my head, go listen to Changes by David Bowie and Butterfly Boucher xD