Just for now. Just about in time. 'Just' is a favourite word I try to use less. Rearrange sentences, describe a moment differently and see what occurs. Yet (another favourite word), I still love just. Just in this moment it happened. It just arrived and activated my mind. Just true, through and through with thousands of dictionary and thesaurus combinations floating around with my library of thoughts. Although, all I wanted to say is, 'I'm just three days late today.' With the blog that is. Not that I am in the slightest bit worried. I happen to be very joyful.
What is the reason this time? Oh, just a bit of life changing neurosurgery. Insurmountable amounts of changes that I cannot fully describe. It happened nine days ago and my life has transformed. The connectivity I have with myself and the world has increased and I am eternally grateful. Always grateful. I have had my senses revived. I feel true and gentle. I feel real.
If I was to try and define the experience to you I would be delivering a HUGE dissertation which does not work with a blog. Perhaps I might share more in the future. Perhaps I may not. What I will do now is share pieces of poetry I have written since surgery and send with thanks over and over to the amazing staff at Derriford Hospital who ensured this happened. The support, care and respect I had of the individual I am throughout the five days I was there has indeed speeded my healing. I feel both humbled and honoured.
I gave the neurosurgeon a hand-made book of my poetry along with a feather as a thank you. He kindly shared the book with the team just before we went into the operating theatre so they could all have a look. As I was waiting for the anaesthetic to begin its work it came into discussion so I was able to directly speak and share the one poem I know off by heart. It was the basis of an interactive art installation project I ran a few years ago across Cornwall and took to Dunkirk Refugee Camp for a month; #healthemindhealtheworld. With the aid of generous people it was translated into over twenty languages and created a new communication for many. Of course the poems ending is apt to the title of the blog...
Please let me be lost in the world of infinity
Where the life of life is in close proximity
Where the words of others
Are lost inside feathers
Feathers of the flocks of birds in flight
Vanishing into the distant night
Taking with them my fears
Leaving me here
To be alive
To be free
Since surgery and the truly sensuous healing I'm going through my hands have not stopped scribbling away ideas and words. I feel re-energised. I feel alive!
Here are new pieces created in the past few days.
A line of clouds
The trapeza mix of life
Layers of shimmering mist
Changing with each step
As balance calls
For your gentle attention
To all that flows around you
In these moments and twists
Of colour falls
These pastel pinks
Across the line of life
Thunder of rain settled
Roars of the rooks wings coup
Wailing with the hills travellers
Four split shadows
Riding the slopes
Steep as the palm opening life
Lines illuminescent with memories
Lifting the pressures strife
Currents traced the new paths edge
Fresh print shallows poured
As she cawed and she cawed
You can see these pieces on Instagram with the delights of images also and a video.
After the amazing, truly talented, connective work that took place in theatre I was visited by the neurosurgeon. He kindly asked how I was doing and gave me a sample of what they removed and described them as Mother of Pearls. Here is a piece created. Can you see the link?
Maneuvering gently the
Maybe thank you are my new favourite words.
Thank you stunning people of this world. Always x
Time. Time to stop. Stop the thinking of the mind. The racing pace of the heart. The tight and swollen belly. Time to breathe and settle. Time away. Time to separate from the world. Time to have space. Simple fresh, untouched space.
Do you ever desire such?
I was due to get a blog online last week. Pressure only I had put upon myself. No one else. Only me. Yet, I still felt the pressure. There in my mind. Telling me, asking what I will share. Which poem? Will I write a new one? How will I connect with it in this time and moment? What will people think if I do not stick to my word?
All of this thinking had me decide to stop and step away. Not helped by the worries of life and health. Not aided by the tired mind and body. Not quite strong enough to separate from the world and write. Perhaps this is good. Perhaps this is me actually listening to myself. Not forcing, not worrying. Yet, I so miss my creativity, playing with colour and ideas, having my hands spill the words and visions of my mind onto paper. I think of them, I do. I have made space, I have made a table, I have a board and thought about what is where and the materials I have. Yet, I cannot step beyond this point and create. Spill and develop. My life is on hold. As much as I strive to keep this sense of living up; I am tired. My mind and body are tired. This brain I have ruled by the tumour that fills the space within it is strained and tired. Trust me. I am determined to not let it be my ruler. I know of all the other pain and worries in the world and I know so many are in places so much darker and harder than mine and oh how I would adore aiding them if I could. Yet, I cannot do as much as I desire. I am tired, so tired. Friends, family, people of the hospital are impressed with how well I have withstood it but now I want to be me again. My energy and soul enlivened with the big heart and playful mind I have. That of a woman in her thirties. Not long though until an op. It has been nine months since the first date I was given. Not long I say. Not long say the hospital. Not long please. Quite possibly tomorrow. Let us see.
Then of course this blog should come with a poem. Back to the question of what do I share. Today it will be this gentle piece of life.
I found a feather upon my shirt
In a land without birds
Yet here it somehow is
Its softness sits
Gentle and smooth
As if a brooch
One of love
One of pride
Opening my soul
Love to all today, tonight and tomorrow as life opens.
Bethan loves the tales of life. From a moment of truth to the journeys we create with our wanders and imagination.