November

Spring gives way to Summer (in my world) tomorrow. each November seems to become more of a chaotic blur as the years roll on. I feel apprehensive about December at the best of times. anniversaries, a birthday I wish meant nothing at all, the year giving way to another I’ll face with even more confusion than the last. I should try harder to prepare for how this time makes me feel, though I know this would take caring more about myself and the long-term.

there’s a dissatisfaction in feeling as though I understand myself and this world less as time passes. it can all feel quite hopeless, and my awareness of my persistent melancholy despite just how lucky I’ve been only serves to fuel my own frustration with myself. I feel very far from the people I love. an impossible distance lies between me and the person I want to be. the clouds keep moving and so do we. <<

the fish and the knife

so quickly removed from my life up there. I slip back into the way I live on the island so easily. sometimes it feels as though Sydney - that whole world in which I spend most of my days - is a movie or some kind of ongoing dream I revisit between Tasmanian interludes. it’s strange.

we spent the weekend at Orford on the coast, in a beach shack we used to frequent each summer with dear family friends. not much has changed, and the rooms are still clouded thick with fond memories of life before I took myself so seriously.

my parents took me to Maria for the first time. a beautiful island that time has almost forgotten, populated by far more wombats than people. we read a sign that alluded to a past world in which over ten thousand lived on the small island. the remaining colonial buildings sit to tell stories of what would otherwise be forgotten and house tourists. the kangaroos were large and solemn. I wondered if the place was haunted.

it rained the whole day, and the sun only started to creep through on our way home, most of which I slept through - dreaming of nothing.

so much here I’d love to share with Jan. I know Eliu would really like it here too. Pia was so happy to see wombats in the wild, and it’s been very precious to see her get along so well with my family. I am so lucky to have her here with me.

I took Pia to MONA with Mum. hadn’t been since visiting with Blake and Joely this summer. Mum was delighted with the new exhibit on Christian icons. the images were striking and, as is always the case, I left the gallery wishing I was listening to my heart and transferring what I hear into art of some kind. it’s a privilege to be inspired and challenged to do more, and I should not take this for granted.

I spend a lot of time here avoiding doing the thinking I know needs to be done. there are decisions I need to make but facing their importance scares me into reaching for further distractions. I let my mind wander and tie my heart in knots as I miss and yearn and wish that things were different, all the while cursing myself for being a part of the ignorant monster that is humanity. I think of Gaza and Yemen and see how small I really am. how can anything to do with me mean anything at all when such tragedy goes on? it’s all very dark.

the fish and the knife. I take comfort in moments of understanding, and challenge myself to exercise gratitude. always aware of how lucky I am. taking breaths and trying to move forward. <<

hiding

sometimes when I come home it feels a little like excusing myself from life - even if just for a short while. I’m leaning into this feeling as I show this place I’ve known forever to a friend from far away.

two days and Pia seems to have relaxed into things. she loves the cat and is happy to have a whole room to herself after months of camping along the east coast of the country. I’m treasuring her company and openness to seeing my world.

we visited Carol today. seeing her home through new eyes leaves me feeling nostalgic. I’ve been happy here, and very lucky to spend time growing up with my brothers and cousins in such a magical place. Carol updated us on her adventures in and out of hospital, still full of energy. I don’t quite understand it.

Eliza took us out for burritos. we laughed a lot this afternoon - showing Pia the beach and making smoothies. Eliza heads to Melbourne early next year to start her new life studying science. I’m so proud of her, and count myself lucky to still know her generosity and friendship.

I took Pia to the edge of the world - sunset atop Kunanyi. we were above the clouds as the colours deepened. 

we followed a loose path from one rock to another as the sun was swallowed by the horizon. the sight was really something else. I stopped thinking for a moment, and I was still.

ties to head and heart pull no matter how far I find myself from the lives I leave on pause. I try my best to be present here and forget, for now, what I cannot conquer. trying to be here now, while I can. <<

somewhere to go

every day brings new breath and new thoughts between what’s been before.

time is racing. it’s always this way come the end of the year. December just days away. 25 in under a month. so silly I could laugh.

walked through a cemetery overlooking the open ocean of the east coast. lucky ghosts resting with such a stunning view. 

it goes on forever and we are so small. I look out and wonder if anyone might be looking back in my direction from some other coast someplace else.

always walking through moments and places I wish I could share with those I’ve loved. I remind myself they’re always around in one way or another. memories and dreams mean something more than nothing.

Matilda surprised me with a trip to the theatre as an early gift. she knows I don’t like birthdays, so decided to spoil me early, blindfolding me as we made our way through the city. a remarkable Belvoir production - ‘the master and Margarita’; an existential odyssey about legacy, storytelling, love, loss, and the wide messy spectrum of the human condition. my head is still spinning.

as Jenae touches down in Europe, and Joely adventures her way around Japan, I set an early alarm. heading home for a little while. decisions to be made as December looms. how lucky am I to have somewhere to go. <<

sleeping enough

I’m sobering to the realisation that I dread my own company. every day I do my best to fill each moment with noise - distractions and people to keep my mind busy and far from itself. when I stop and am left to sit in the silence the wheels start to fall off. this is something I need to work on, but the task seems a little much to face all at once. I need to srop running if I’m to grow and keep going.

I sleep in the afternoons now. this isn’t something I take pride in, but I remind myself it’s important to listen to my body and what it needs. I’m not sleeping enough, and these naps - however unwanted - do their bit in keeping me balanced. I slip in and out of dreams, some of which grace me with the company of people I love. I wake and miss them more than I would’ve otherwise.

Bip and I woke early and ran together yesterday. we went to coffee after and updated each other on where we’re at. I feel listened to and loved by her. time between seeing each other does little to these friendships. the precious ones. counting these blessings as I navigate every tomorrow and prolong decisions that pave the path to wherever it is this is going.

Orpheus lingers. no thoughts, all feelings. <<

less

I sat on the rocks at the beach with Amelia and Nic today. the clouds rolled over and as I watched I envied them: the freedom to pass over everything without attaching themselves to anything at all. I swam in the water for the first time in months, opening my eyes to the salt as I enveloped myself in the cold. in the sea I’m connected to every shore I’ve ever known. the same water I swam in as a child laps at the Sussex coastline, the cliffs of the Seven Sisters I climbed with some other family in another life. we breathe the same air and look to the same stars for some shred of assurance that this does in fact mean something. we still share so much, no matter the distance between us. remember this. <<

safe and happy

November now. bonfire night. the storefronts in Lewes high street would be all boarded up and ready for the festivities tonight. this time last year I was in the crowd with some of my dear friends. we revisited the world we used to call our own and burnt our fears on paper cranes. like my fears, thoughts of that life and the things I miss still linger. I will always be missing something or someone, no matter who or where I am.

we wrappped up another play. this one was a hard slog - the text was confusing and a bit rough around the edges. two week season. Isaiah came to watch, as did Mils. we pulled through and I was lucky enough to make some new friends.

I see people I miss in dreams and wake to the reality of their absence, sobered in sadness. my best friends are out of reach. I listen to my heart and try to sit with how I’m feeling. some nights I feel like a child and just want to go home. it can feel like everything’s spiralled out of control - ‘this is just a nightmare, soon I’m going to wake up…’ I listen to music and call my parents to hear their voices. sometimes I look at old photos and count what I’ve had as treasures that might not have lasted, but can’t be truly lost. I remind myself I am lucky.

I wonder if they’re doing okay out there. selfishly, I wonder if they ever think of me. I hope they’re safe and happy. <<