Stones Aberdaron Beach

Willowherb III

First week of September

Fireweed seed

Godspeed

Wobbly

I click 'new post' because I'm sure there's something I want to say. What can I say about the effects of trauma? What can I say without sharing details I don't want to put up here? About how things play over and over in your mind. About how the present trauma evokes the 26 year old one of my father's death. I can tell you about going into Manchester - a fairly simple trip, about forty minutes on a train, about fifteen on a tram - and feeling just wobbly; wobbled by inadvertently buying the wrong ticket, wobbled by the train being late, wobbled by all the people, and their faces and their voices, their number, their energy. Wobbled by my supervisor not opening the door until the third ring. All ready to cry at any moment, and jelly-legged once again. And sometimes waking up in the night and not being able to find my place in my own mind. Can I explain that? Not knowing what to think about, what I am thinking about, what I was last thinking about. How to be in this mind. Using all the relaxation techniques I know to stop thinking and just let be, and eventually soothing myself enough to sleep again. And the lure of alcohol when it is so hard to manage the fearfulness, the sense of danger even when you know there is no present danger. I who know so well the dead end of alcohol but keep heading off down it, longing for some kind of peace. Peace sometimes available at the allotment, sometimes on walks amongst the beautifully blooming heather, sometimes not.

Willowherb II

Third week of August

Over

G's son has pleaded guilty to manslaughter, and is subject to a hospital order, his actions said to have been 'driven by mental illness'. There is relief at knowing, and it being over at last. Great sadness, and renewed shock at some of the details that have emerged. Eight months since she died. Nothing can bring her back, but maybe her partner and family can have some peace now.

Soft Animal

The open door admits air that is palpably cooling as the light visibly dims. We shall have more rain and soon. A little boy in a yellow tee shirt hopes that his friend will come out to play with him and his bow and arrow, pride and joy.

I consider the meanings of words. Sabbatical. Devastation. Surrender. Animal.

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Mary Oliver

Upside Down

Travelled all the way to Leeds with a pear upside down cake in a tin.
Travelled all the way back with half a pear upside down cake in a tin.
There is talk of surrender. Also of rage.
I cannot find the co-ordinates for where I am.