There’s mud flowing through my veins, calling me to slow down and visit ancient times, to hunt the riddle that has been in my family for eons, to solve that part of the cosmic puzzle that we unknowingly have always been the keeper of.
But what if my piece doesn’t fit? What if time has changed the edges of the jigsaw beyond recognition? What if I’m carrying a copy and the original has been lost, back in the days? What if everything is ready but I’m not?
What if I’m not up to the task? What if I get lost, or bored – or distracted? What if I freeze? What if I don’t want to? What if the puzzle is not a puzzle after all?
I’ve just inherited mud.
Todays #ThursdayDoor is dedicated to Manja, because it’s one of the old Ljubljana holiday pictures I promised her to dig up. It’s better when it’s properly scanned, but I had to work with my selfie camera. I think these doors were in the city center, but it’s been a loooooong time ago that I made the picture so I’m not sure.
The poem could be called a prose poem. Except for that those don’t have line breaks. So it’s not.
More doors can be found at the blog of our door keeper, Norm.
Gentle and steady
I bow my head
Last week’s #ThursdayDoor was taken from a hotel room in Spain. I also took a picture of these doors, because I wanted to share them with you.
I went to Spain for the second year of my education, even though I have a broken foot and I’ve had hardly any income for months because of it. The work we do there is too good to miss out on.
I think I underestimated how tough it would be, and in a way I’m glad I did. I probably wouldn’t have gone if I’d know I would be crying on day 2, because I was physically unable to go from the hotel restaurant back to the conference room. I was too tired. Too scared of the wet foot path. So I cried, and I asked for help. I wanted to be in the room where we learn, not alone and exhausted in my hotel room.
And help I received. In many different ways. People stayed with me, and helped me get back to the conference room. Someone checked if I’s be able to rent a wheel chair, and then arranged it for me together with another lovely person. The group chipped in to help me finance the wheelchair. I got help getting my food at meal time, taking me and the chair up the (many) stairs in the hotel. I got swirled around and danced with in the bar, patted gently on my cast..
It’s hard to explain what this has meant to me. I normally try to do things on my own, be independent, self-catering to my needs… So this was Different. Very Different. But it made my week. I’ve felt supported, loved, cared for, seen, and a number of synonyms I can’t even come up with. Maybe I can best explain it by what happened afterwards.
Last night I had a nightmare. It was about NOT asking for support, and how everything went wrong because of that. In my dream I felt that I needed support, and also why I didn’t ask for it or accept it. Me old-style… I was so happy when I woke up and
realised it was a nightmare. In reality, all those things didn’t go wrong. And I now know how to ask for support, allow for it, be grateful for it, and even enjoy it sometimes.
To the horizon
Time to relax now
rooted in reality,
but not what I seem
talk about things
but don’t say what I mean
to explain difficult things
the easy way
but I’m here to stay
I promised Manja to look through my old holiday pictures, because I suspected I photographed some doors when I was in Ljubljana somewhere in the nineties. I had to take a picture of the picture with my selfie camera, because the other camera on my phone is broken.
If you want a better quality picture where you can zoom in and admire the sculptures, I recommend this page. Wikipedia will tell you more about the building and its doors, and the history that goes with them.
If you want to see doors from all over the world, check out #ThursdayDoors and Norms page, who invites us weekly to share the beauty and joy of doors.
This is my 31st poem for #OctPoWriMo. I’m off prompt today and the poem is not linked to the doors, but never mind, I’ve made it to the end! Even with the hassle of my broken foot, and the strugge to finance my education this year (GoFundMe still available!).
Thanks http://www.octpowrimo.com/ for providing a month of inspiring prompts, and for all the participants who’ve contributed by writing and reading. I normally disappear at the end of a poetry writing month, to recover. This time I hope to keep up with ThursdayDoors, and to not disappear off WordPress completely 🙂
The bottom of the sea
is always there
beneath the water
even when you can’t see it
Affected by waves
but only a little bit
compared to its vastness
Trust on it
to be there
to carry the sea
The prompt today at octpowrimo.com was ‘lightness of being’.
If words have power and create, then let these be healing words. Healing for the pain of people, physical and mental. Healing for the sorrow. Healing for the void. Healing for the loss. Healing for fear. Healing for hatred and anger. Healing for separation. Healing for not knowing. Healing for well-knowing. Healing for the choices that were made, and healing for the choices that were not made.
Healing. Healing. Healing. Healing.
Let’s go to the pain and keep it company.
Let’s go to the sadness and see it.
Let’s go to the void and experience it.
Let’s go to the loss and acknowledge it.
Let’s go to the fear and understand it.
Let’s go to the hatred and be with it.
Let’s go to the anger and give it space.
Let’s go to separation and embrace it.
Let’s live through the unknowing.
Let’s shed some light on knowing.
Let’s leave the choices that were made.
Let’s leave the choices that were not made.
The prompt today at octpowrimo.com was inspired by the Indian Diwali, festival of lights. One of the questions in the blog post was “How do we heal ourselves?”.