Category: New Zealand

Warmth in a Morning

  I wake up the long way this morning: my fire reflects last night’s hearth the ashes cold the glass remembers. Cold cuts grow like cast iron Sundays & I find it so easy to blink slow.

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The Feeling of a Next Step

It happens, sometimes, when I am planning what’s next. I’ll be running from that feeling of restless boredom with the present, chasing a desire to be free and unlimited again. I’ll head to the library. Start pulling any “Best Tramps of New Zealand”, “Hidden Places of the Pacific Islands”, “1000 Things to See in the North Island” sort of books I can find. I’ll … Read More The Feeling of a Next Step

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South by Southwest

I looked at the map. Pointed at Cornwallis Beach. For the sake of direction, not destination. The day was Monday and free as butterfly, and I chucked Dune, my notebook, a Tupperware container of rice, an extra sweater, and my colored pencils in my backpack and cycled to the train station. My launching port would be the Glen Eden train station. Thus equipped, I … Read More South by Southwest

I am an Alphabet

  I contemplate the alphabet— and return to kindergarten days of green felt marker streaks on my peanut butter paws. The alphabet. Raw goods carried my way on a train puffing along, make way to unload make way to manufacture, make way to export!

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Theatre of Nostalgia

Yesterday I had it in mind for an evening of theatre. I imagined rocking up in my fancy shoes (of the three pairs of shoes I have, one pair is fancy), my hair freshly washed and voluminous–to keep all my secrets and spare change—and politely inquire after one ticket please, adult–obviously. I imagined swirling a glass of red wine at intermission, sipping gently, letting … Read More Theatre of Nostalgia

Creature

  I am a creature of freedom— a creature of freedom. Freedom is tricky. Some days like— mind beats, judgement calls, unsound spectacles unsheathing my soul in sub rosa places only I can see (but boy do I feel). Some days, more like— crawling away hand over hand grubby knees scoot across dust. All the esoteric giggles become covert, stealthy, tainted by criminality.

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Spirals in the Sand

I am becoming less and less attached to the young female finds herself genre; the rows and rows of book covers featuring strong tanned white females gazing into the sunsets with sloppy grins, mangy hair, and fluorescent teeth. The promise of “life-changing”, “truly inspirational”, “will make you want to pack a bag and go save the orphans”. But when I picked up Ffyona Campbell’s … Read More Spirals in the Sand

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Cheer Setting

Tim Ferriss attributes much of his success to the practice of “fear setting“: he takes a sheet of paper, divides it into three columns and labels them “Define”, “Prevent,” and “Repair.” Under the first column, write 10-20 things that could go wrong if you answer your question in the affirmative. Under the second column, answer: “what could I do to prevent each of these … Read More Cheer Setting

Sunlight Spotlight

  Seagulls sound like happy goats and naked babies tickle toes in the water; the first day of spring in the bones is a good day indeed for a picnic with my bare knees. The duck, with feathers slicked from quick dips looks smooth and skilled like a snake, in the water. I perch on my rock ledge wearing my wild hair listening to … Read More Sunlight Spotlight

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Routine vs. Ritual

I abhor routine. Routine makes me feel like I’m adding more and more iron reinforcement to my own cage. That I stick myself in these patterns and they hold me accountable. They take over; I must do this and then this and then this exactly this way, it’s expected of me. It’s what I’ve got to do. I find that this routine-loathing is quite … Read More Routine vs. Ritual

Evanescent Holiness

  I’m riding light etched far above my shadows casting brilliant stark on a smooth grass plain the sun is strong the sun is holy holiness is all around me. I taste it— touch it, brush it, holiness snuggles against me tucks my hair behind one ear.

For Now

  It’s a bottle of wine and a glass of stars— and my heart beat beats like you wouldn’t believe. The wind, she rustles my tresses but solicits no favors; she gathers me up and dip dives down in the valleys of tree tops and tumbled down ran-shacks the very kind I can empathize with.