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

Posts tagged ‘reflections’

Love’s Labours

Falling in love is like a bicycle
Always so easy to feel the thrill, exhilarated
Rushing down those hills when you start off again
It’s a dream and an idea, a warm jacket that feels like a hug
So easy to put on, wrap around, lose yourself in

It’s never the same, each time,
But there are patterns – the familiar swoop of your internal organs
As they leap to catch your heart
Beating so fast in preparation for takeoff
But they’re always too late – you’ve gone and fallen again…
Whoops

I’ve been falling in love since I was in kindergarten
All I remember then, was of that boy with such a special smile
Now, it’s something so natural I’ve taught myself contingency procedures
Not just in theory, but the patterns and behaviours needed
Just to get off this rollercoaster…relatively unscathed

It’s never easy, though
The universe is still ruled by physics;
Once momentum is achieved, to halt is to…hurt
That’s the beauty of polyamory, demiromance, bisexuality
You can love, healthily love, so many
Balance yourself, tightrope underfoot
Between the spidersilk threads holding you in stead
Crisscrossing your heartstrings, support in case one snaps

That worked, most of the time
Not with you though
You were the warm blanket I always wanted to wrap myself up in
The texture just right, between soft and strong
I was never afraid I’d lose you
It never crossed my mind that we wouldn’t have…something

Funny, how our dancing act goes
Combined, we perform as easy as breathing
Natural and powerful, our pH is perfect
But we’re not the only variables, not really
Although we did a damn good job of pretending, didn’t we?
It got to be that I could rarely sleep without burying myself in the security of your affection

Oh, the illusions we build, art thou marvelous
We danced so perfectly we forgot where we were
Or at least, I did, for some time
Dreams are so easy to fall into
Once I trusted you fully, I didn’t want to stop falling
But, as gravity dictates, we must
It wasn’t flying – there was that thud of reality
That hit, eventually; forcing you to pick yourself up
Jarred, scarred, but not regretful
Never regretful, for having lived, having loved you
Known you, shown you, as you showed me
The stars
Constellations that linked my joy with your smiles, and our kisses…

I guess I can’t wear it as my lullaby each night, now
But your heavy coat of hugs and hope still lies in my closet, you know
Just in case destiny decides, and fate provides
Us with the chance, to try it on again
And maybe this time… it’ll fit just right

A Story

“Tell me a story” she whispered
“Tell me a story and send me away
Sweep me off my feet by the light of day
Take me to a dream in shades of grey
To a world where magic is more than they say
Show me people more real, brighter than day
Darker than night, with new games to play
Show me a world and make me part of its own”
And so she was taken and so she was shown

They danced and they shone, brilliant as fire
Young as she was, saw only desire
“Dance with us, you can challenge our games?”
Daring and eager, she stepped into the flames

She laughed, twirling, swept up with the gale
Exhilarating freedom yet powerless and frail
To do and to be whomever they cared
They ran with abandon, a wildness shared

“But a friend?” She asked
“Bring me a friend in whom I can confide
Someone to trust, have nothing to hide
Compassionate, clever, mysterious inside
Same evils we’ll hate, same morals abide
Sisters we’ll be, ‘spite continental divide
To live and to love, to treasure with pride
Oh, what would I give for even one!”
She discovered with joy, new journey begun

With glee and with smiles, flying onwards steadfast
Exploring the world, the future, the past
Like Icarus as one, glorious on high
But with pain wings do melt, for all things must die

She fought and she fled, seeking solace in flight
Searching out sparks in overpowering night
But the tangled lines bound her body and soul
With it’s magic around her, keeping her whole

“So show me a way,” she begged
“Show me a way to be safe, to be free
For this world that I love has enraptured me
It’s molded and shaped half my destiny
Without now I fear that I cannot be
It’s pain and it’s pleasure, trepidation and glee.
But this balance in night is insanity!”
Heart not be parted, the seed had been sown
The fire awoken, this world now her home.

Travel: It Changes You

You know when people ask you how something has changed your life? And expect a nice, 100 word answer? Hehe, sometimes it isn’t so simple 😛
Because the thing that people don’t realize is,  is the fact that travelling has been one of the defining elements of my entire life. Literally, I had crossed 2 continents before I’d reached my second birthday. The first few years of a child’s life massively influences them in every way, studies have proven it. Babies imprint on people, things and places, whether they remember or not. My feelings towards a Russian refugee who helped my parents with me during the first 6 months of my life are inexplicably deep, tenderness to that only a handful of my blood family share. In the way some kids grew up in a city or rural town with their close family, I grew up with misadventures across Hong Kong and China, St Petersburg and Amsterdam, Turkey and Portugal.

Winter in Edinburg Scottish Highlands Loch Ness Edinburgh Castle

Kids start primary school with a few friends from the neighborhood, I began feeling foreign and strange, missing my best friend from Edinburgh. In the way the old folks have kick-knacks on shelves that “No, don’t touch that, it’s fragile” we have Zambian wooden carvings, Russian dolls, Indian drums and Moroccan cushions. It was much as part of our family as religion is to others’. Just as my family settled down, and Time in Oz > Time Overseas, and our world shrank to ours and the neighboring state and travelling became a distant dream, we took off for 2 months in Indonesia. My sister and I, who barely remembered more than lingering fragmented memories of Before, truly discovered budget travelling with a backpack. It completely opened our eyes, our conscious minds, to how wonderfully easy it all was, to catch a plane or a boat or a bus to wherever your finger landed on a map. Especially if you took the cheapest option and paid attention when the locals started haggling. Not only was this incredible adventure more economical, it was more real. We learnt the language and met people and went to the least-visited tourist sights. I think it had the most effect on my littlest sister, who was 3 the first time, 6 the second. We made sure to show her, when we flew over the coast of Darwin, to explain how we weren’t in Australia anymore, and she took to it all like a duck to water. Watching your country fade by, with the scuttle of clouds under sky more impossibly blue than you’ve ever seen before…it gives you a profound message of exactly how small the world really is, how easy it is to find your place in a brand new city with fragmented communication – smelling and hearing and seeing things more vividly than you thought possible. Your senses go into overdrive when you travel, you learn to drop ingrained expectations and habits, to adapt to new (or less) road rules, to manners and reactions in everyday interactions, to savor everything that is new, different or even slightly the same.

Kid by the Boats Lush Greenery at 70 km/h Classic Architecture in Bali
And this is doubly the case when one travels by oneself to the other side of the world. To be completely alone, and completely free, in a completely alien environment…it is one of the most incredible and indescribable life changing experiences. When everything, down to the weeds in the cracked pavement, the direction of traffic, the language on the tv’s, the clothes, the music, the buildings and the weather are utterly brand new, the metaphor of soaking things in on a wonderful family holiday is akin to playing in the rock pools and then being swept out to the ocean in a storm. You see so much, you don’t have time to absorb a fraction of what you’re hearing, everything that was your bedrock of support – lost at sea. It’s a psychological onslaught combined with an ecstatic sensory input. The textiles and aromas from crafts that are a blend of Incan and European worlds, ocean, sierra, rainforest and desert climates – waterfalls and glaciers that went thousands of meters in every direction.

Living with teenagers who only knew a tiny square of the universe, so small and yet so rich with heritage and history, showing clearly in their eyes and their blood. And then there were others, explorers like myself, who understood the joy of flight and the thrill of travel – and bonding with them, sharing our adventures with like-minded spirits, together from so many places in a moment of coincidence. It was 12 months of magic, 2012; a Balinese Christmas and a germanic Argentine Easter, India on the phone and Bolivia across the river, where I never stayed in the same place for more than 8 weeks solid, travelling from almost the Antarctic circle to within the tropic of Capricorn…and when I went home, my world shrank to a 50 km radius. Ire turned back to my secure family, friends who had never left the city and going to the beach 15 minutes away a special occasion.
Skyline of my beloved Cordoba The Igazu Falls. Sheer awe-inspiring magnificence. 300 year old remnants of spanish missionaries Buenos Aires at night Bariloche, in the foothills of the Andes Los Caballeros celebrating in the Intersection La Boca, Buenos Aires The Puerto Marino Glacier, in all it's icy glory Northern Markets in the Hills of Salta Guitarists that we were, in a cross-cultural group session

When you travel, you are bombarded by the majesty of the chaotic life on earth, until you learn to adjust your sails and navigate the winds of the universe. Your mind expands more, than you ever thought possible, to span oceans and languages and cultures – you see how much more there is to the world. How much more there is to living.

Dreaming

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.

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.

Growing Up

Do you know what’s interesting? How people grow up. How people think. Just, imagining back when you were 7 or so. (For some that’ll be merely a handful of years, for others the dinosaurs were still evolving :P) But, remember how grown-up you felt? Like you were big and could handle anything. And then when you were 12. Leaving primary school/being in middle school and starting to look at boys and going out and doing things by yourself. Most definitely grown up. And looking at the 7 year old babies, how so much less mature they were. And then there’s you now, at whatever age you happen to be in. To quote Andrew Blake who probably quoted it off someone else, “You’ve never been as old as you are today.” or something like that. And it’s true. Things happen in your life, over the years, change your mind and how you perceive the world.

We, as individuals, are constantly changing, the same way a teenage boy is constantly growing – and although its difficult to measure in small doses, and easier to see after large intervals of time. I think maybe that’s part of the reason teenagers get so cocky; because they’re thinking new thoughts with bigger, opener minds, and they can see that they are, and how much more similar they are, and independent, from the ‘Adults’. So, they start thinking that they’ve matured Enough, and that they should be treated the same as The Grown Ups. I don’t blame them, everybody wants to be important, independent and treated like a grown up – even 7 year olds. But that’s the thing I’ve been coming to realize. It’s not that simple. There isn’t ever any stopping point, a marker that says Done. There’s always something more, wisdom experience or understanding, that matures you that much more. Think about the Adults in the world around you – sometimes, they too have nofuckingidea what to do, what to say, or what the solution is to the curveball life’s thrown at them. 😛

It’s like those head-spinning physics theories, about 7th and 8th + dimensions. They could quite plausibly exist, but it’s incredible hard to imagine the idea of existing with extra dimensions, simply because we have no idea what it could possibly be like. Our minds cannot fathom an idea it has never encountered, it can’t imagine something so alien to anything it knows. There’s been examples made, of 2 dimensional and three dimensional worlds, but for more modem world examples; try and ask a lifelong nun to describe the sensation of French kissing. Or a man to describe the pain of giving birth. Or even a child who has lived on a farm inland all her life to describe the ocean in all 5 senses. It’s impossible. Not their fault at all, and I’m sure there are things a celibate nun has experienced that a boy-happy teen party girl hasn’t. But that’s the great conundrum of life really, getting more, be it experience or wisdom or understanding. Or maybe I’m just an a-typical Ravenclaw 😛

Back to the point though – we can’t imagine anything beyond what we’ve already experienced. So how can we imagine or be any wiser or more mature than we already are? Simply put, time. Just keep living, living life to the full, living and experiencing as much to the full as you can. And accept that there’s still more, that there’s always things you don’t yet understand. Yet.