Gentle. Soft. Delicate.

Today it is raining.

Today I wish I was cuddled up on the couch under a big blanket with a cup of tea… watching the raindrops drip down as they hit my window.

Today I wish I could be still.

And silent.

Watch the sky, watch the clouds. Hear the clouds rumble as they make more raindrops to hit my window, hear the sound as they hit my roof. Be still.

I wish I didn’t have to create today… I wish I could just be.

I wish I didn’t live in time today.

I wish this day could go on as long as I wanted… or needed.

I wish I could walk outside today. Breathe the air… feel the raindrops on my skin. Let them soak me through.

I wish I was with you.

Realer than the reality that put me here in the first place

Today I am so aware of my humanity.

I am so aware of my failures, that in me that causes others pain. That in me that feels pain from them too. That in me that is real… raw… feeling. That in me that ignores reality and carries on regardless.

Funny, that part of me that is so very real, the part of me that pretends reality is not so, that hides and hopes and wishes that reality would go away…

…that part of me is so very real today.

Hope does a lot of promising for not having the strongest track record

Everything hope lives in is so vulnerable. So shakeable, so changeable, so delicate. I suppose it has to be. I suppose that’s the very nature of hope.

But it makes it harder. And yet (hopefully), no less possible.

Hope is in that which is never sure… never absolute, never completely understood, not quite realised. It holds your head, your heart, your life and your hands – and yet promises you absolutely nothing.

Promising nothing, but for the mere possibility that it could - in fact - hold it all.

If there’s nothing different in me, let it be

I am.
not interested.
in being one.
of many.

If so.
I would prefer.
to stand up.
alone.

Me when I’ve been elsewhere

The first holiday I can remember was to a tiny beach town called Robe in South Australia. I think I must have been around eight years old – Mum and Dad had booked this holiday house for a week or so and piled my sister and I into the car jammed between folded bedsheets and pillows and grocery bags filled with kitchen supplies.

Once we arrived, I remember feeling so odd being in what was essentially a complete stranger’s home – touching the rickety old furniture with trepidation and slight repulsion (oh my goodness just think of what could have gone in here before today) and staring at the faded artworks on the wall in utter disbelief – a ritual that has long continued into adulthood (apparently all holiday homes must have ugly faded paintings – it’s a rite of passage). From that trip, only three things really stayed in my memory:

1. Falling out the top bunk bed, dead to the world in the middle of the night and absolutely FREAKING OUT that that could actually happen. You can. Fall out. Of a bunk bed. I made really good friends with the wall after that night.
2. Reconsidering a spelling change to my name I had insisted on earlier in the year because the personalised pen being sold for $2.99 at the chemist only came in the boring version of the name that was (and granted, still is) on my birth certificate. That sucker was worth it – it was pink and yellow AND HAD MY NAME ON IT, yo!
3. Hopping on board a boat with neighbours my parent’s had made friends with to go crayfishing. Here I witnessed two things I had NOT signed up for – the slicing of a (live) stingray’s fins off to use as bait (arrrghhh), and then the ripping of an octopus’ head off to use as bait (aaarrgghhhh). Two things learned – one, fishermen have little-to-no mercy for creatures of the sea (and small children witnessing deaths of said creatures) and two, octopi have surprisingly cartoon-like insides.

The first international holiday I ever went on was with my sister to visit my father in New York a few years back. It was also our first long-haul flight and it was a painful 23 hours until we reached our destination. Despite staying up the night before we flew out, I did not sleep a wink the entire time. It must have been about 8 hours in when I was literally on my hands and knees begging my sister for a sleeping pill. She, having cleverly taken one as soon as we boarded, obliged, but as soon as it started to take effect and I began to drift off, the lights in the cabin came on, assaulting me with their astounding fluorescence and accompanying cabin crew spruiking snack bags filled with American cookies and lollies. Sleep seemed so far away at that point, so I gave up and spent the rest of the flight dopily staring at the map and airplane on the screen in front of me, listening to music and swearing I would punch my sister out if she took one more inch of my arm rest. It is amazing to note just how reasonable physical aggression appears to any extremely sleep-deprived young person half way across the Pacific Ocean with nothing to comfort them but a bag of Mentos and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

Here’s some of what I learned on that holiday:

1. Australia is never as cold as New York City in December. Ear muffs are suddenly hella cool when the alternative is your face LITERALLY FALLING OFF as soon as you walk outside.
2. People fall over a lot in snow.
3. When the seatbelt light goes out on an international flight that is not completely full – DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT SITTING STILL. Run like the wind to find an empty aisle to claim and use in its entirety as a makeshift bed. NB: Everybody else apparently already knows this – you will have competition.
4. Falling snow is really, really pretty. New York City doormen are incredibly sweet. Central Park squirrels are lightning-speed fast, and American cheese is ridiculously orange.
5. Americans eat a lot of pies at Thanksgiving – at least in Connecticut. Pumpkin pies, apple pies, lemon meringue pies, chocolate mousse pies… Thanksgiving in Connecticut never ends. Unless you fall asleep from jet lag.
6. No one will know what you mean when you say you’re cold so you’re going to put on a jumper. Or they will know what you are saying and will think ‘jumper’ is the funniest word in the entire world.
7. You should not keep bananas in your carry-on luggage. Nor let your sister keep bananas in hers. Nor let her leave you with her banana bag as you go through customs.
8. Seagulls in Florida are grey, not white, and it is a lie when people say you can never forget how to ride a bike. Tell that to the five-or-so people I almost mowed down in a South Beach car park.
9. When you’re not used to the currency and don’t want to admit it, your wallet gets weighed down with A LOT of teeny tiny coins you don’t know the value of. Nickel what? Have five bucks.
10. Lots of things are ‘super’ in America. Which means lots of people are adorable in America because ‘super’ is just the cutest word ever.

On a side note, when the ink in that pink and yellow personalised pen ran out, the birth certificate spelling of my name never once again saw the light of day. Yewww! Until other people forgot I changed it. Like MY OWN FAMILY on every single birthday card they have ever given me.

Not nearly good enough at saying thank you

I realised something walking home today.

Walking along my street, the sun orange in the clouds, the air crisp and cold, no one around, I realised that if you took everything else away, there would still be God and me. God… and me.

Today I realised that when Jesus was up on that cross – that was for me. Today, right now, on my little street, in my little city, in my little body, for my little soul.

That used to sound selfish – surely it was more proper to say God sent Jesus to die for us. Because surely, He did.

But today it seemed more helpful to consider it for just me. I used to hear “God would still have sent Jesus to die on the cross if you were the only person on earth” and smile and nod and shrug it off as a pleasant cliché. Today it hit me like a lightning bolt of responsibility, and suddenly the stakes got a lot higher. The air got a lot fresher, the colours in the sky got a lot brighter, and heaven and earth got a lot more real.

If Jesus died on the cross just for me, I wouldn’t be able to hide behind the billions of other people on earth who also sent Him there. Right now, I hide. Sometimes unintentionally, sometimes ashamedly not.

If Jesus died on the cross just for me, I would be the only one God would be looking at to see how much I appreciated His gift. There would be no one else to hide behind.

I think if God were looking only at me, I would try harder. And even though He’s not… I want to.

Liberty.

Let your mind go and (maybe) your body will follow.

Lose yourself in your head, in your heart. (in your dreams).

Stop thinking enough to let new thoughts come.

And maybe, when you pick up a pen, your hand will know what to write, your legs will know where to walk, and your arms will know who to hold.

Music is what feelings sound like

William Fitzsimmons: “Everything Has Changed”

Damien Rice: “Cannonball”

Imogen Heap: “Let Go”

Kings of Leon: “Sex on Fire”

One day left of winter

Goodbye:
- rad black stockings
- raindrops when I’m sleeping
- baby-doll coat
- Palmer’s Cocoa Butter
- puddles on the pavement
- long, long scarves
- noisy (p)leather jacket that screeches when I move
- cold hands when I’m typing
- orange light of the heater turned up to three
- don’t-know-where-I-found-you-duck-handle umbrella
- constant threat of flu
- electric blanket and the weird dreams it brings
- wipers on my windscreen
- grey sky mornings with cups of earl grey tea
- bare branches on trees and brown leaves on the ground
- storms with zig-zag lightning and thunder that crashes
- snowflake beanie I only discovered yesterday
- all-day longings for fireplaces and red wine with friends (actually… those will stay.)

Sentences uttered while I was in the room

Someone once told me they saw longing in my eyes.

They told me they saw a little pain in my eyes, too. They thought it was related to my father. I wondered if they were just guessing.

My father once told me I had an old soul. He said he had a young one. Or maybe he just said it was younger. I can’t remember. I was young at the time.

Someone once told me I needed to be careful about the way I said things. They said I had a deep authority in my speech, but that I hadn’t yet learned to harness it. They said what God needed to work on in me would become my greatest victory. I cried when they said that, because I didn’t like the scrutiny. But then I opened my Bible to Proverbs 17: 27-28, and then I cried some more. Because God had used them to teach me. And I desperately needed to learn.

Someone once told me they thought I was prophetic. I winced when they said that, because I wished it was true.

Someone once told me I made them feel like a kid again. They smiled when they said that… and I smiled too. They looked happy, but I really didn’t know if that was good or bad.

Someone once told me what kind of personality they thought I had. They said words like sanguine and melancholy and choleric and phlegmatic, but I don’t remember which. Someone once told me I should take a personality test to find out for sure. I told them I wasn’t going to do that. I didn’t see the point in the boxes. For them, or for me. I didn’t want to limit reality with expectation. They said the test was biblically based. I guess ‘based’ just wasn’t enough for me.

My mother once told me how to make a cake from scratch. I think I took notes, but I don’t know where I put them. I will just follow a recipe.

Someone once told me if ‘x’ was 7 and ‘y’ was 164, ‘z’ would be… I can’t remember. I don’t think I was really listening.

Someone once told me they were going to pay. I once told someone I was going to instead. Someone once told me they weren’t going to let me. I think we split the bill. Or maybe I bought dessert.

Someone once told me they told someone they didn’t think it was the right time for me. I wished someone had asked me instead.

Someone once told me they missed my face. I thought that was sweet, considering they hadn’t seen it yet. And really… I missed theirs, too.

Someone once told me they loved me. Someone else had told me that before too, but they had said it too easily, and it held no meaning. This someone said it right, amongst noise and chaos and busyness and laughs. They were still when they said it, just above a whisper. Perfectly, they said it, quietly to me.

Someone once told me I had the most amazing spirit. They told me it in a text message on Saturday night. And even though it was a text message, I thought it was one of the nicest things anyone could ever say.