MANIFESTO (I CAN)

I AM ANGRY.

Please life, free me from this pain. 

What wants to speak? Who wants to speak? 

The new me wants to say a few things and she wants to say:

FUCK THE WORLD

LISTEN TO ME

HEAR ME NOW

HEAR ME FUCKING ROAR

I WILL NOT BE SILENCED

I WILL NOT BE STEPPED ON OR BELITTLED

I AM MIGHTY AND POWERFUL AND

NO ONE CAN HURT ME NOW

I AM IMPERVIOUS

I CAN DO WHAT I WANT

I CAN DO WHAT I LOVE

I CAN LIVE A FULL AND RICH LIFE

I CAN LET GO OF MY FAMILY

I CAN FOLLOW MY HEART

I CAN LISTEN TO MY WORDS

I CAN LISTEN TO MY GUIDANCE

SCREW WHAT OTHER PEOPLE SAY

ALL I HAVE IS THIS MOMENT, THIS BREATH,

THIS BODY, THIS TIME.

I CAN LEAVE IT ALL BEHIND.

I CAN LET IT ALL GO

I CAN SWIM ACROSS THE RIVER

I CAN RIDE HORSES

I CAN MAKE FRIENDS

I CAN BE MEAN

I CAN BE NASTY

I CAN PROTECT MYSELF

I CAN EXPRESS MYSELF FULLY

I CAN LIVE A BEAUTIFUL LIFE

I CAN STAY UP ALL NIGHT

I CAN COVER MYSELF IN TATTOOS

I CAN DYE MY HAIR WHATEVER COLOUR I WANT

I CAN

I CAN

I CAN

I CAN EAT WHAT I WANT

I CAN SWEAR AND CUSS

I CAN TEACH OTHERS

I CAN LEAD OTHERS

I CAN START A REVOLUTION

I CAN BE ANGRY

I CAN BE INDIGNANT

I CAN BE RIGHTEOUS

I CAN BE MAD AT MY SISTER

I CAN BE ANGRY WITH MY MOTHER

I CAN CHANGE MY NAME

I CAN CHANGE MY PERSONA

I CAN CHANGE MY LIFE

I CAN CHOOSE WHAT I DO

I CAN CHOOSE WHAT I LOVE

I CAN CHOOSE HOW I LIVE

I CAN HELP SAVE THE EARTH

I CAN QUIT MY JOB WHENEVER I WANT

I CAN HAVE ALL OF MY DESIRES MET

I CAN FUCK EVERYTHING

I CAN EMPOWER MYSELF

I CAN BE THE BEST

I CAN BE THE GREATEST ME I’VE EVER KNOWN

I CAN BE THE BEST ME IMAGINABLE

I CAN HAVE MORE FUN THAN I THOUGHT POSSIBLE

I CAN MANAGE MY LIFE POWERFULLY

I I CAN GROW VEGETABLES

I CAN MAKE MONEY

I CAN HAVE HEALTHY KIDS

I CAN GET PREGNANT

I CAN BE THE BEST MOTHER I CAN BE

I CAN BE

I CAN BE ME

I CAN BE ME

I CAN BE

I CAN LIVE LIFE TO THE MAX

I CAN LIVE LIFE FULLY

I CAN LOVE AGAIN

I CAN FORGIVE OTHERS OF THEIR SHORTCOMINGS

AND MY OWN

I CAN TRAVEL THE WORLD

I CAN HOST SALONS

I CAN CREATE A GREAT BUSINESS

I CAN COMPLETE MY WORK

I CAN HAVE A GREAT BODY OF WORK

I CAN DO GREAT WORK

I CAN WORK WITH GREAT PEOPLE

I AM GREAT. I AM GREATNESS

I AM BOLD. I AM JOYFUL

I AM BIGGER THAN YOU’VE EVER KNOWN ME TO BE.

I AM HUGELY FUN

I AM HUGELY INTIMIDATING

I AM POWERFUL

I AM LOVING

I AM UNFORGIVING

I AM FORGIVENESS

I AM WHOLE

I AM PERFECTION

I AM THE SOUND

I AM SILENCE

I AM PEACE

I AM LOVE

I AM GRATITUDE

I AM CAPABLE

I AM HEALING

I AM HEALED

I AM RIGHTEOUS

I AM INDIGNANT

I AM MAD

I AM BIGGER THAN YOU

I AM GETING COMFORTABLE

I AM GETTING TO KNOW YOU

I AM YOU. I AM YOU.

I AM YOU. I AM YOU.

I AM HERE. I AM HERE.

I AM  I AM I AM

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THE WELL

It’s almost summer and I can feel it in the flowers, from the river. I have been tired, overworked and unsure of my next big steps. There are too many to choose from, I can only take small ones. So, as often happens at times of radical growth and change, my Big Long Open Gash is recalibrating.

I do miss the simpler times, times when I was younger, freer and with less responsibility. I feel a great pull to take things away, off my plate, to calm myself and my environment. Though we live in such a lush place right on the river, the city of New York sits right over the hill, beckoning, pulsing, shining.

Meanwhile, it’s Sunday, and I just want to stop everything in my life and melt into these endless hours. I don’t want to work on anything, and yet I have commitments I’ve made, meetings to take, many emails to send and multiple projects to move forward.

All I want is to live here in my home, writing my books, bringing people together, creating beauty and community and family and life. Beautiful life. It aches, at this time. My heart aches thinking of all that I’ve been through and from whence I have just come. I haven’t told you this explicitly. I was pregnant over Christmas. I went to Australia and lost a little beating heart there. Part of me wishes I never saw that little flicker on a dark monitor in Mount Gambier. Part of me wishes I never left the green hills of Pennsylvania for my first home.

But my family were there, and I had to go. It had been two years since I’d been back. It’s getting easier now to see my childhood home. I used to be sad that the color of the walls kept changing, that the furniture kept shifting, that my bedroom wasn’t mine anymore, that I slept in the room where I once learnt piano. I broke down in tears once in the kitchen late after a long haul flight because the clock wasn’t on the wall where it used to be, and my eyes couldn’t find it. Small things. Big things.

I try to find time to write, but so many other things fill my time now. I sneak hours in the morning and at night, and my eyes well with water when I admit that I don’t write as much as I want, that I feel disconnected from my truth, from my honesty, from who I am. I haven’t told you that I was pregnant, because to be honest I could hardly believe that I had lost something so precious. I have dreamt of being a mother for many years, perhaps for as long as I can remember. It’s in our bones, we women, little or tall.

I don’t know what else to tell you, except that this experience has been one of the most challenging times in my entire life, condensed into a series of months. I’ve never known grief like that. I’ve never known loss like that. I’ve never known the blunt hand of death, and life, like that. I learnt a lot about letting go, about letting things be, about recalibrating, realigning, recreating. “It wasn’t the right time.” “I’m glad we have these extra months.” “Nature knows best,” people tell me.

All I could tell myself was Go through the forest. Do not turn back. Do not stop. Keep moving. You are safe. You are loved. You are protected. The grieving process was sly and surprising. The first week I went up and down, repelled by anything to do with babies, the next moment talking about sweet names again. The weeks following I could speak about the experience as if I had perspective, as if it was done and I was through. Little did I know that the mass of dark trees would suddenly appear one Monday night in the early hours across the horizon of my consciousness.

Oh, I have arrived.

I went through that forest and out the other side, having felt all of the pain, all of the hurt, all of the sense of injustice, and all of the shame. Life is perfect, how could this have happened? I had to come to terms with a voice inside me that said yes, you too are mortal and subject to the forces of life and death. I started reading the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying amongst countless books on pregnancy, birth, motherhood and parenting. In dealing with the great death of a tiny being, I filled myself with knowledge of life. I never knew the valleys of human existence could dip so deep.

What now? I am stronger. I am still healing, and hurting. Every month when I bleed it seems a new facet of sadness expresses itself. The well goes deep. I cry as I write this. I can’t stop the water, nor do I want to. My love is out at the store, wearing his hat with the feathers in it, finding food for dinner. Our ‘best being’ Joseph Peter is here for a day or so. We sit at the kitchen table sharing the small loaf of bread I baked this morning, dipping it in oil and salt, slathering it with coconut oil and raw honey, and drinking the beetroot juice that Isaac has made.

He cooks for me whenever he is here, and it’s such nourishment he gives to me. I can’t explain the love we share, it’s not even ‘his’ love, nor ‘my’ love, just an all encompassing love that floats us on an ocean of grace, gratitude, peace and security. I want to tell you more about him, and us, as time passes. It’s true that across the five year span that has passed since I moved to this country, since I began this blog, since I co-created Paper Castle Press, much has happened: so much that my life and myself have changed dramatically, and I have to check in with myself, and you, every so often, to make sure I’m still telling the truth. My truth.

It’s easy to pretend that everything’s okay, that one can keep spinning plates without smashing one, even though your arms are getting heavy and you’re not sure you’re meant for that job. I am not a CEO, nor am I anything much else but she who writes, loves, lives lovingly and shares her view from this particular crux of life. I don’t want a lot. In fact, I want to rewind and retune, go back to the simpler things, slow down and savor more of this nowness called life.

This is what I’ll continue to be, and strive to keep doing. Baking bread, being the woman that I am, and sharing myself freely. You know me well enough now that I can’t keep things bottled in. I’ll die somewhere if I do. Here’s to honesty, freedom, simplicity and beauty. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you my secret sooner. It feels so good to open up in that place of the heart.

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GRASPING UPON GASPING

Oh, there are times, there are times. Times when all seems quiet and yet with so many words. Times when there is such silence and such noise. I am speaking of the slowness and the quickness. I am speaking of the sense that life rushes, and yet is as methodically slow as it has always been. I know you feel this too. I think it’s stronger when you have dreams buried deep in your chest, your abdomen, the soles of your feet, in your eyes. I have dreams there. They call to me, and I can’t come to them quickly enough. They visit me in the night. Don’t leave me! I am always going and approaching. Do we ever arrive? I think the only true arrivals are birth and death. Everything else is a cleaving together of matter upon matter. Waiting upon waiting. Holding upon holding. Grasping upon gasping.

I feel at home here with the creatures who keep me company. From the first weeks we moved here, I’ve kept a mental diary of all the animals we have seen. I feel I know their spirits intimately. I am so grateful for their sweet souls, their fierce protections, their wild calls in the dusk as they fly over my head by the fires I build. The deer and the geese are always here. No matter what the season. My breath catches in this feeling of homeliness, the feeling that I am wrapped in the fabric of my own soul. I love the way the ground comes alive in this spring time, the way the grass suddenly turns technicolour, the way The Wizard of Oz comes alive. I love the way the white blossoms smell, the musky dusk of the trickling water and the hay on the banks, the resounding symphony of frogs whose imperfectly perfect music is better than any thing I can hear elsewhere.

I love that life loves me here, and that I love this life with the very force of my own existence. I know how lucky we are to be here on this planet. In 120 years none of us will be here anymore. The entire planet renews itself. Life is tenuous and yet ever straining, ever bubbling in the mud, quietly waiting, for its time to come.

Deer

Geese

Crane

Beaver

Turtle

Frog

Hummingbird

Carpenter Bee

Groundhog

Fox

Bat

 Firefly

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ASKING

“The last of ones freedoms is to choose one’s attitude.”  – Victor Franke 

Why am I writing a book for women? Because I want to heal women’s relationship with food and their relationship towards themselves.

Why am I writing a book about a fictional Prince? Because I want to empower young people today to walk their own path, free of limitations and constraints. I want them to believe, to know that anything is possible and that they don’t have to follow the suggestions of their society.

Why do I want to have children? Because my heart bursts thinking about the wonder and joy that children bring, the things they say, the way they see the world – which is how I see the world, essentially. Because I want to teach them what I know about the world and how it is fundamentally a good place when you see it to be so.

Why am I publishing my blog in book form? Because I want the writing I put into the digital archives of a web log to be made solid and true. Because I want to see what I have written in the real world and to share the explorations of my life, and what I have found, with others.

Why am I afraid? Because I am human, because the world can be a treacherous and unpredictable place, because I don’t know what’s coming next, although I try to make things predictable and stable. Because I am fundamentally wary of change as a human, for it may  destabilize what has already grown strong and stable. I am afraid of what I might become and what I might not become.

Why am I courageous? Because I have been alive for 27 years, and I have found the best love I could ever imagine – and with it within me, I can go anywhere, and do anything I choose. Because I know there is a power within me that can survive anything, and when tapped, can carry me through anything. Because I know myself to be so.

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EARLY THOUGHTS

By Sophie, circa 1986

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WILDER CHAPTERS

My boat has tipped over. I’m in the water, wet, annoyed, frustrated and upset. I don’t like this at all. When I was younger I had my feet in the water, safe on the shore. Soon I ventured out to see if I could stomach the waves. They splashed over my body and I was fine. Then, I was given a surf board. I learnt to ride the waves, to work with their power, and to understand that I could never really get hurt this way, it was just water falling over me.

When I grew older I was invited into my very own boat. I accepted the invitation. I went out to sea and all was very well. I enjoyed the sensation of sailing, of rowing, of moving about in any direction I liked. There was the sun, the glistening sea, the beautiful waves, and I marveled at all of it whenever I chose – the night sky, the deep ocean dark, the horizons I had left and that which I was heading towards, imagining, as a mirage, what I might find there. I never contemplated reaching land again. For me, life was the sea. To reach land again was the end of the horizons, of course it was death. I didn’t expect any horizons for some time, and yet I knew that there would be at least one at some point. That sand would be a homecoming, and yet the experience would be different from that of my youth, when I’d first dipped my toes in the sea, at the beginning of this inexplicable journey.

So you can imagine how much of a shock it was when my sturdy and trustworthy boat – that which I had used so gratefully to survey the scenery around me and within me, that which had supported and carried me – suddenly ceased to do so, and was capsized by a particularly large wave. It cannot be fathomed exactly what caused the large wave, nor can it be said to have been any more disruptive to an alternate animal. It was disruptive to me, however, and my boat. Here I was, with everything that I had known to be trustworthy now upside down and drifting through a fathomless sea. I am attempting to find the oars for the first time. I am more tired than I have ever been.

I must add that my sole purpose for being in this boat and on this sea in the first place, is that I have had a particular map with me for a very long time. This map is very old and very worn, and yet it feels as if  it has been written into the palm of my hand. I cannot lose it and it cannot lose me. The map is my path, it shows me True North. It also points out the terrain with all its previously experienced pitfalls and chasms, the previously surveyed scenery, as it stood before. Time honored and trust-worthy, the map is my compass. However, the map cannot predict sudden phenomena along the path. It can only show you your location on said path.

How can I pay close attention to the map when I am using my hands to stay afloat in a suddenly frightful sea? How can I use the map now when I’m treading such deep water? I feel (sadly) the map is useless now – I need to focus on getting my boat back in the upright position, and starting again toward the goal. The goal seems far from my mind at this time. There are more pressing matters to attend to. Thankfully from previous sailing lessons, I know exactly how to turn a boat that has capsized. I take a tethered rope and throw it across the upturned hull. Each action takes enormous effort and energy. At some point soon I will grab the rope with both my hands, plant my feet at the edge of the vessel, and pull continuously. This will right the boat.

But, I must gather some strength first. My fears are that I will tire and stop fighting the urge to relax into the deep. I fear both relaxing into the deep, and the potentially dangerous creatures which science says I’d be likely to find down there. So, there is desire to relax and a desire to fight. I chose to take moments of both, preventing descent but also tempering the speed at which I move forward. I don’t want to wear myself out. I keep breathing. It is the one thing continual at this time.

Eventually, I will get back in the boat. I soon notice that there are benevolent creatures who are assisting me, even as I think I’m doing it “by myself.” There’s a very kind sea turtle who allows me to rest on her shell every so often, and a dolphin who reminds me of the joy that is always available to experience. There are great whales who sing to me from very far away, comforting and rebalancing me, and numerous fish, porpoises and birds, too, calling from what feels to be a very far distance.

image by Matthew Cordell

As I’m paddling in the water, gaining new confidence, I suddenly remember that I have a map that’s always been with me. It has been hard to dismiss it, through all of this effort and wetness. It has been hard to admit to myself that yes, this happened, and your pretty boat with its sturdy confidence and your optimistic outlook, was capsized. We cannot tell you why. You are doing a great job getting back in again. Isn’t it interesting also from this perspective? I feel annoyed with the map and those who wrote it, and slightly disgruntled that I’m stuck with the same map, whose destination I’m not sure I’ll ever reach. I realize that the going is what’s most important, that the following of the map is honorable, and that the diligence in keeping my boat seaworthy and my outlook bright are both conducive to a more enjoyable adventure.

Writing is my map, and the boat is this body, my vessel. The ocean is life itself and the destination is not knowable. It’s an ongoing process, this journey with writing. Who am I and why am I here? I am a sailor and I’m on an adventure. 

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THE LOVE DIMENSION

Since today is Valentines day, the one day we allow to celebrate Love, my favourite emotion of all time, I wanted to share something particularly appropriate. What follows are a series of poems which were part of our wedding reception last year. We shared these words with each guest along with a gift of a red notebook and pen. Love rules the best dimensions, I’ve learnt. If I can offer you anything, it is to keep loving, even if there is only yourself to love. Start there, it is the best place to begin. Perhaps, in fact, the only place to begin. From there it’s true that anything is possible. Many blessings today my friends.

Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” Jalaluddin Rumi (1207 – 1273)  

~

Give up erotic games, Kabir,

let longing flood your heart,

Only through tears of longing

can you glimpse the face of the beloved.

Kabir (1398 – 1448) 

~

The Most Ancient Names of Fire,

by Roberto Sosa, born 1930

Blessed are the lovers

for theirs is the grain of sand

that sustains the center of the seas

Dazed by the play of fountains

they hear nothing

but the music sprinkled by their names.

Trembling

they cling to one another

like small frightened animals who tremble,

knowing they will die.

Nothing is alien to them.

Their only strength against the wind and tide

are the beautifying words of all existence: I love you.

We shall grow old together to the end.

 

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DREAMING

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THREE LEVELS OF NON-ATTACHMENT

Well, well, well! Hello! I’ve returned to New York after being away for six weeks. The gratitude towards being back here, home, healthy and happy, is overwhelming. Which way could I run?! I could run yonder and hither! There is so much beyond the door! Notwithstanding the bliss of our lovely country home. I have missed you Big Long Open Gash and Gash readers! I’m dancing to Robyn and Rihanna and saturated by images of laughing babies. This is exactly how I feel about life. 

Australia was a ride. I learnt (and apparently asked for) three levels of non-attachment. I won’t go into details, but let’s say I lost my most treasured possession in a non-descript bathroom at JFK. I then lost something belonging to Isaac that I’d loved, in the airport carpark at Perth. Lastly, I lost something full of life which I had worked light and lovingly to create. It was one of those experiences that women everywhere experience, sometimes more than others.  I emerged stronger, wiser, braver and humbler. All I can say is I am very excited about the future.

The Sunday Times in Australia are excited about the cookbook I’ve just started co-creating with my mama. I’m excited about the local & intimate ‘gathering’ design company I’m building as a sister to Paper Castle Press. I’m thrilled to be editing and preparing these very blog posts into two fat books, while discussing spots for them on Mott Street at Australian store, B-Rad Space. These developments are an evolution of me, of my life, of my dreams.

Difficult as it is to remember, it is our work which creates the market, not the market that creates our work. Art is an act of faith, and we practice practicing it.” – Julia Cameron

The only thing that matters today is creating the life of your dreams. This will be very different from anyone else’s dream. I realize when I read other writers, when I watch the television shows of my generation, when I see what is being created, I realize that I am unique – that as Brenda Uleland once said perfectly, “since you are unlike any being ever created since the beginning of time, you are incomparable.” I’m inspired by things I’ve never been inspired by, interested in things I haven’t been before and uninterested in that which I used to be besotted by. This is testament, I believe, to the evolution of the natural human.

“YOU ARE A FORCE OF NATURE,” said my brother Henry. Yes, yes indeed I am.

AREN’T YOU TOO?

(LIVE YOUR LIFE ~ WE’RE BEAUTIFUL LIKE DIAMONDS IN THE SKY)

“An important lesson about creativity: It’s not something you will find in a place.”

(Quote from Robert F. Coleman’s article ‘In Berlin, You Never Have to Stop’ featured in The New York Times Magazine, Nov 25, 2012)

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EVERYTHING EVER

‎”Everything that needs to be said has already been said. But, since no one was listening, everything must be said again.” André Gide

ABOUT LOVE:

“You don’t fall in love like you fall in a hole. You fall like falling through space. It’s like you jump off your own private planet to visit someone else’s planet. And when you get there it all looks different: the flowers, the animals, the colours people wear. It is a big surprise falling in love because you thought you had everything just right on your own planet, and that was true, in a way, but then somebody signalled to you across space and the only way you could visit was to take a giant jump.’

“Away you go, falling into someone else’s orbit and after a while you might decide to pull your two planets together and call it home. And you can bring your dog. Or your cat. Your goldfish, hamster, collection of stones, all your odd socks. (The ones you lost, including the holes, are on the new planet you found.)’

“And you can bring your friends to visit. And read your favourite stories to each other. And the falling was really the big jump that you had to make to be with someone you don’t want to be without. That’s it.’

PS. You have to be brave.”

(Excerpt from Big Questions from Little People: and Simple Answers from Great Minds (Ecco, 2012) by Jeannette Winterson on the subject of love. Drawing by cucommde CommDe Chulalongkorn, Healing Heart quilt image by Tillymint aka Sue Walsh, 2012) 


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