“A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.”
~ Robert Frost
It was raining in the city. Raining and I couldn’t sleep, my head so full of thoughts and my body so tight with pain.
Now I’m home, home at my farm, it’s sometime before dawn even thinks of pushing her first rays over the horizon, and the dark bowl of sky above me is raining cold bright drops fresh as tears. I’m still not sleeping, but I’m peaceful. The pain hums in my belly and my veins but I can drift away on my thoughts to someplace else, and I’m such a seasoned traveller on this night-train now that it’s no imposition. In its own way it’s liberating. I choose to see it like that, anyway.
The beauty of this sacred morning space is achingly, breathtakingly silence-making. No words can capture the majesty, nor fill the space inside me.
Can a poem be composed entirely of stillness?
Inside our little farmhouse Ben and the dogs are sleeping. My mala beads are laced through my fingers still, prayers lingering upon them. The fire crackles and hisses in the quiet as the tiny twigs and branches I have placed on the ashy embers smoke and dance their way to life.
All night in my not-sleeping space I’ve been thinking about my memoir. I have carried it with me all of this year, and it’s been more an agony than a labour of love.
In the long quiet rain-filled hours that went before this one I finally understood where it has all gone wrong. There are too many words and not enough space. I made it all too busy so I could hide in the pages like some dark shadow-bird. So that you wouldn’t see me. So that you wouldn’t judge me.
It’s in the quiet moments and the emptiness that all the magic happened. In those places I am stripped bare but I was ashamed for you to see me naked. In these past few hours I came to understand it all differently. If you can truly see me, it’s only because you recognise that same place in you. Why was I so afraid to take you there with me?
I’m okay, and I’ll be okay.
And so, my friend, will you.
Sending all my love your way, bejewelled with tiny raindrops bright as tears and the scent of woodsmoke and damp good earth.
Nicole xoxo
“Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky, We fell them down and turn them into paper,
That we may record our emptiness.”
~ Kahlil Gibran
“Words are so weak when love has been so strong; let silence speak.” E.C.Dowson <3
I know you don’t want us to recommend anything but for some reason I cannot resist. I found this and it feels right for so many reasons. Maybe I want you to read it and tell me if this guy is off the wall. It’s Medical Medium by Anthony William. Seems to make sense to me in my search for a way to get well too. These chronic illnesses like my daughter’s Fibromyalgia and my Bells Palsy residual effects have left me also leaving no stone unturned. I’m always sad to hear you are suffering again with pain. I have my daughter reading your posts as well. I love the Kahlil quote.
Raw and oh so beautiful.💚
I hope and pray you get back to a etter degree of health soon and your pain under control. Take care of yourself. Love. Mx
Yes… please… take me there with you!
Much love, dearest Nicole xox
Your words reach so many without felling trees. Praying for you Nicole.
Great news on your breakthrough for the memoir. I also like the idea of Satishas re an audio book. Imagine listening to you on a long drive – how good would that be!
Whatever the findings of the scans and tests, I hope you soon have a plan of what to do. Having had a couple of surgeries in the abdominal area, I went through a series of feelings, shock, denial, anger, grief…. and fear … I prefer a natural option, but ultimately I needed to have had them. Its a big decision – this was just a long way of saying I have a sense of how you are feeling. Go well, we all send you love, healing and support. Xxx
Nicole, your words this morning have really hit me right were I needed. I have been hiding for my whole life because of the same reasons.
You have given me a lot to think about today. Thankyou ❤
It is the same with music – it is not all about the noise, but where you leave the spaces.
I love your blog because you show us who you are.
I will be honoured by what you wish to share with us in your book.
your expressionative (I’m such a word master…haha) words are becoming more and more free flowly and I can hear your voice…hope you do an audio too as just hearing your voice is like the hugs of a thousand Bubba’s & Mumma’s…LOVE & Cherish you my dear dear precious friend…XOXO
“If you can truly see me, it’s only because you recognise that same place in you”
Wow, Nicole, that is so powerful. What a wonderful, inspiring post, thank you xxx
I’m concerned. You don’t have to share this but I am worried about this new doctor (who I’m sorry did not impress me when you wrote about him). I know you are proactive about your health, self-educated and taking steps so just a concern from a long time reader (hugs)
Awhhhh! Your soul (and your writing) is so very very beautiful. I am always touched and inspired with your reverence for life, art, beauty, pain and healing. Thank you dear Nicole! <3