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Jane Sep 2021
Soul-full living is only ever just around the corner
Jane Sep 2021
Lightning anger crackles across my scalp
Frustration caged in a meat sack and
Viciousness sours my stomach
If I wrench my jaw open, ichor-born swarms of bats will flee my throat
Grotesque, unhoused by my own flesh
This is not the transformation I was promised
Moon blood red, omen ominous
Beckoning blackness from witch core
Cauldron bubbled over
Wolfish bane fizzes in my arteries, fingers flex tense
This month's tomb excavation brings little relief
Lacking a corpse (except mine) but body cursed all the same
Jane Sep 2021
My parents have several families of bees living in the garden
burrowed in flowerbeds and settled in the stone wall.
Watching their trips between the plants, I recalled the slowness I promised myself
the kindness I am not yet handling myself with
New habits take time
Minding myself with intentionality can only result in a necessary balance
recognising abundance
A lesson from the earth
grounding and growing.
What a gift, what a day, what a pause.

Equally rejuvenated and bone-tired
hopeful for snoozy weeks of fleecy gratitude ahead
as September beckons
an autumnal colour palette forth
and a chilled air steals the heat
from the hazy, distanced sun.
Jane Sep 2021
A bumblebee landed on my hand
Whisper light and feet kissing the pad of my finger
Down digit limb
And onto the cosmos white head yellow belly
To fill up on pollen, love drunk on Nature's sweet centre
And I yearned for paper and pen to catalogue this moment
Grounding me in my surroundings
Gentle water slipping over rock
Soft breeze and wings
Hopping from flower heads
Stocking up
Filling my lungs
Revelling in the abundance
Jane Sep 2021
Oh my darling my darling my darling
In feeling you are living
The pain doesn't end you just
Live
Though, through, despite, because
It's a life
Life
Not easy or simple or without fighting
Not without crying and trying
Not without wondering
But if you read this
Despite wondering
If Dying
Might be the solution
I promise life offers more than
The alternative
And how can you know
Except
To live
Jane Aug 2021
Honestly I just look around and I'm stunned that any of us is expected to work as normal given everything. Like. Seriously. What do we call unending grief of this magnitude, this scale? How to we wrap words around the unfolding horror and trauma? To categorise it minimises it.

To not name it leaves it unmarked, but certainly we are marked. All of us. In ways we will be healing from for generations to come. This is catastrophic. And we buy our bread, drink our coffee, tweet our daily observations.

We're not looking at things. We are glancing adjacent, refusing to let our retinas be scorched by the gore. And that is our greatest failure.
Jane Aug 2021
today i wish i had grass to settle my bare feet in, a printer to take my reading away from the screen, and friends to unravel some ideas that I have percolating but barely have words to put to yet. i want post-it note messes and tangential rants over fruit smoothies in the sun.

today i wish i could thread together fringe ideas and substanceless maybes by myself. or more accurately, i wish the doctoral research project was not so lonely. that it championed collaboration of ideas and became a project of care, of community, of compassion not focused on colonial concepts of breaking ground first but instead of ruminating, pausing, treading water, observing and reflecting. on inthemoment not firstpastthepost or beforetherest. rest as pause as care as vital as lifesource of thinking. dreaming first. dreaming always. dreaming and idealising and creating. mess becomes beauty. becoming. the doctoral project is a waiting place, an expectant limbo or rather a succession of waiting places, elevator lifts to new floors but never a transition straight to answers. never up up up. elevators that move in all directions. escalators maybe. certainly shopping centre escalators. forever stalling, breaking, too fast, too slow, unsteady as we step off.

what a mess. and yet what beauty. and still a project that requires so many moving parts, so many individual pieces to function, to culminate in the final result - movement. forward or standing still, long way round or unmechanical steps. organic. always.

grounding, like toes in the daisies and heel-crumpled buttercups. natural, nature, not a fix but a part of the process. stopping, breathing, back to roots. basics are care and care is anything but basic in frenetic lives. but removing bureaucracy, deadlines and paperwork as limitations, ignoring processes and breaking protocols is a glitch in the capitalist machine. a glint in the grin of an accomplice who revels in the breaks, the breaking, the pauses and fresh starts in new branches. divergence is crucial.

deep breaths, cool breeze through cracked windows and a reminder that hot laptops on crossed legs will be there tomorrow. now to rest and to think. always thinking, always distilling. but today the sunshine is more important. the levity of the outside more pressing than years-away deadlines, Bureaucratic Other forces.

today is paperless, weightless, endless. new life grows through cracks, persistent nature and persevering natural. in my own time. how else will the project evolve?
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