As my light becomes dark

I intertwine my words and vision into woven light

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

The Blue Tile

The blue tile, solitary
In the red room
The difficulty of being kind
The gap full of empty air
A place
A time
A break
Sensuality twisted amongst hate
Holds the heart firm in place
A sly snake in mind
Coiling, clutching, caressing
The forged thoughts
Gravity to enjoy
The enchanted moment
Like the blue tile
For I am amongst the clutter






The petals yellowed
The stone dusty
The image faded
The heart broken
The space empty
The light changed
The wind drops
The tears freed
The mind lingers

The hands hold
The voice remains
The body aches
The night falls
The longing grows
The parting hurts
The memories remain

Sunday, August 29, 2010


When I was beginning this blog, I made it quite clear in my head that my lack of vision, RP, blindness, was not going to be the force that makes me write, but I guess it’s time to start addressing the reasons that have brought me here. There are a few. There are a lot of blogs out there and some really fantastic people writing them, inspiring me to write what I know!!! Secondly, I guess it’s the beginning of forging some sort of history of my writing and track its development, and possibly hope that someone reads it and it moves them, inspires or tugs at a chord. Thirdly I share this remarkable relationship especially through writing with a beautiful person, who teaches me so much and she has encouraged me to stop fearing my words. And I guess the ultimate reason that makes me write and brings me here is the failing eyesight, the pending darkness and me FINALLY through my words and others words deal with it and ACCEPT it. I guess you would expect that after almost 15 years there would be a level of acceptance, but if I be totally honest there hasn’t been. I have been fumbling my way through, having two conversations with myself:

“Good morning, remember be safe, say sorry, take your time, look twice, remember to say sorry, look at as much as you can, shit its dark, pre plan every move, make eye contact, look down, don’t hurry, be grateful, don’t panic, can’t go there, can’t drive, say sorry, smile.”

Or this one:

“if you don’t think about it, it will go away”

Those two conversations have varied and intertwined for the last fifteen years. In that time my hearing has become more acute, my steps slower, my patience with myself has at times worn really thin, I have fallen, hurt myself, become extremely angry and frustrated but mostly I go to sleep every night hoping that it will all just disappear.

Until recently.

It ‘s funny people always ask me when they find out about me having RP are always interested in where the vision stops and the blackness starts because of the loss of peripheral vision. You know there is no point where blackness begins and no place where vision ends, I see what I see, I don’t see the blackness. I just don’t see that step, the small child, the pole to my left, the chair, the man crossing the Elizabeth St at dusk. I just don’t see what I don’t see.

BUT I am beginning to realise that things are changing, that things I used to see I am not anymore. Different forms of light are harder to see in now, wet ground, the city, the time between dusk and dark, very early mornings, crowds, people all in black, noisy environments, all things that this time last year weren’t a problem, now are. I also sense that those closest to me are seeing more of what I don’t see. Comments I haven’t heard in the past, I am now hearing “like you walk like a blind person”. How does a blind person walk?? Its frustrating and angers me to no end. I am at a point where I am in between sight and no sight, and to most I am a normal sighted person who is “clumsy” and “stupid”....hahahah when in fact I am far from either of those things....I am blind......

How do blind people write??

There is a part of me that believes writing is part of what gets me through life. It speaks on behalf of me; it is my companion, and desire and belief. BUT I do fear that without my eye sight how can that be??? How can I put pen to paper, when I can’t see the tools. Do the visions that forge the words fade and there is no inspiration? Do you forget when you can’t see?

I hate not being able to have the freedom to just get in a car and take off,

I hate pre planning,

I hate that every place I go causes anxiety because “will I be able to see”

I hate how my independence is slowly turning to dependence.

I hate running into people because they get pissed off because I have an invisible condition,

I hate how I think about it all the time,

I hate that it upsets me,

I hate that is immobilising and controlling

BUT I love that it has made me more aware,

I love how I try to take everything in visually

I love that it has made my heart warmer

I guess its time to start giving in a little bit, because the “its going to go away” conversation is only holding me back I think. I haven’t got a lifetime of vision ahead of me to just muck around, and it would be nice to get to a place of acceptance when the life of blackness is.


Under the shadow of winters breathe
She waits her turn
As water rises
Pictures of love surround her
The ease of anger
The tranquillity of pain
That has remained with her
For years passed
No longer her companion
She holds the edges of the small boat
As it is thrown around
Under the light of the full moon just past
The beacon of light
Glowing over the reams of darkness
That lashes at the fog
Coolness of the winters liquid
That is keeping her a float
She can’t let go
As sound and feeling buffer her
Against the deep rising flood
Flowing from the core of existence
Did she tell you she needed you?
She hopes her heart speak
Can be heard over the screeching
Coming from the lingering sound
Of the windmill turning
For she still loves you


The longing filled the room with light
The desire covered the body
The hatred drunk on images
The unease ate at the bed covers
The emptiness that was discovered
The sadness engulfed by the dust that settled
The happiness faded in the shadows
The love sat beside the broken winged bird
The hope fell upon the reflection
The silence fell between the cracks in the floor
The memories discovered in hidden pages
The tears fill empty spaces
The despise festering in shadows
The imagination in opened boxes
The dreams caught dangling in the air

The soul

Wednesday, August 25, 2010


wrote this list a few months to cross some things off, love to cross them all off eventually.  We all need lists like this

1. Go to Warnambool

2. Write a song

3. Watch the sun rise

4. Go to the ballet

5. Go to the opera

6. Move out of home

7. Take lots of photos

8. Read

9. Learn a language

10. See the twelve apostles

11. Join a choir

12. Be a better friend

13. Learn to be a better listener

14. Try new foods

15. See more movies

16. Drink tea in a tea house

17. Attempt something creative

18. Travel places on a train

19. Go to the zoo

20. Catch a ferry to Williamstown

21. Stand on a cliff edge and scream

22. Be grateful

23. Write something and put it in a bottle and throw it into the ocean

24. Laugh heaps more

25. Sleep soundly

26. Save some money

27. Tell my friends i appreciate them

28. Write, write, write, write, write, write

29. Be a fantastic aunty

30. Have more movie days with Molly and Jack

31. Drive in a paddock

32. Volunteer some time and some of myself

33. Spend quality time with my close people

34. Read, read, read, read, read

35. Learn to hug

36. Bury a time capsule

37. Plant a tree and watch it grow

38. Fly a kite

39. Sleep outdoors watching the stars

40. Grow something and cook it

41. Learn to throw a boomerang

42. Hire a houseboat

43. Get involved in a protest rally

44. Go to the footy

45. Help at a soup kitchen

46. Tell my mum that I love her more

47. Do a first aid course

48. Take a vow of silence

49. Go to the Tamworth Music Festival

50. Love me more


The lingering spirits behind rising sun
Two souls dreaming, are woken
Grasping at woven rays they become
The lingering spirits behind rising sun
No longer separate they join as one
One being, as time is now broken
The lingering spirits behind rising sun
Two souls dreaming are woken

Tuesday, August 24, 2010


The falling leaf

Fell from your heart cupped in my hand
The falling leaf
Floats towards love draped in belief
Drenched from desires one can’t stand
Fumbling through passion one demands
The falling leaf


Last night was the final poetry class. Spending time with Melanie has been the best this year.  Learnt so much from her teachings, and from my own teachings, some interesting and beautiful discussions.  Thank you my friend.  We ended our "car" discussion with SIMPLE THOUGHTS FOR SIMPLE PEOPLE. Discussion lead to thought and thought lead to a sleepless night and words.  It got me thinking that I really admire those who live integral lives with simple ways of thinking.
A simple person has a more comfortable presence and personality, the more simple the more ideal.

I realise I guess there are two ways of how people can work at life either as a problem or simply as a a SITUATION

I read a parable last night by Osho where there as a king (always about Kings!!!) who wanted to appoint a prime minister so he gathered together four great thinkers and he put them in a room.  He said he would lock them in and their challenge was to solve the puzzle of unlocking the door.  The first one to solve the puzzle become prime minister.

Three of the four thinkers jumped straight into working out the problem.  They observed numbers on the lock and wrote them down as they began working out the PROBLEM.

The fourth thinker simply sat himself in a corner.  Of course the other thinkers thought he was mad.  After a few minutes he stood up, went to the door and opened it and left.

The other three were all still scratching their heads trying to sole the PROBLEM, that they didn't even notice the fourth thinker had left.

Eventually the King came with the fourth man, telling the others to stop, that he had found his Prime Minister.  "This is the man".  They could not believe their eyes.

How could this happen??  Even I question, where was he deserving.

The fourth thinker however realised there was no PROBLEM.  The basic thing was to work out of the door was locked or not.  He meditated silently, gathered his consciousness and pondered.  The first simple ask


If there is, solve it.  If not there is nothing to be solved.  That's what the fourth thinker did.  He checked if the door was locked, and it wasn't.

Its about being aware I guess.

So I have thought all day how can I live a SIMPLE LIFE?????  And I have come up with a few key things I think

1) Understand yourself.  Recognise your calling and live toward that that as much as possible.  SIMPLE do what you love and love what you do.

2) Spend less money than you earn.  SIMPLE abundance is in the heart really.

3) Connect with people, the earth and the universe.  SIMPLE you are not alone.

4) Don't judge, no event person or circumstance.  SIMPLE everything is at its best for that moment.

5) Live with intention, embrace what shows up.  SIMPLE each person, circumstance that comes your way is a gift, be gracious.

6) Love fully without conditions, especially yourself.  SIMPLE with love you will feel the most amount of joy.

7) Know there is enough for all.  SIMPLE be generous.

8) Live in the moment, learn from the past and anticipate the future.  SIMPLE, now is all that is important.

9) Know the joy you seek is already with you.  SIMPLE look within.

10) Breathe.  SIMPLE it calms the soul

mmmmmm just some ideas....always ideas....

Sunday, August 22, 2010


Running scared from my own shadow that stands behind the internal wall of despair. Standing alone, overcrowded, crowding over because of the darkness in the mind.

The little ball sliding along the ground, gracefully, rippling over the grooves in the footpath, bouncing over little pebbles, specks of fallen dust, autumn leaves, brown and floating in the winter air. Protecting the man. The stick held tight in his hand. Shuffling footprints, the screaming and buried movement that’s surrounded by a possessive wall that is cemented in thin air.

The small ticking sound of the ball as it scuttles back and forth, tick-tick-ticking as hits against the tall dark walls lining the street. This at times stops him behind his own wall of despair. How does this man exist behind the barriers? I follow the man questioning my place and my right. Who am I to judge whether or not he is coping. I sense his unease as he stops feeling his hand against the deep green paint of a doorway. His long slender fingers run up and down the smooth corner, feeling for conformation he is in the right place. I walk past him, watching, silent, my heart racing, but also clutching at the wall.

Despair beckons the disguised heart.



I came to Northland today, to change scenery and amongst the hustle of people shopping (yes I know why????) hoped for some inspiration.  I was sitting in Collins Bookstore enjoying a coffee when I heard that an author was coming to sign her book, and it was Foz Meadows.  Admitidly I had not heard about her.  But quickly googled her and found her on Twitter and am now following her (still am not too sure about Twitter, who would want to follow me????)  So while Googling I found this great article on her Interview with Foz Meadows....its great.....(little did I know she was sitting right next to me at the time!!! She too enjoying a coffee!!!!) anyway she has written a book called Solace and Grief and was in the store to do signings. 

I quickly messaged Melanie, who I know would know about her and would definatley be interested.  No I took upon myself to purchase the book for Melanie (we know I am not into vampires!!!!  hahahah) and introduce myself.  Instantly I was inspired, but also felt stupid, like I was just latching onto her becasue she was here, when my intent was about me today, to sit and write.  Never had I heard of her, dont read vampire stories and here I was getting her to sign her book!!  hahah......I hope some real fans came and took advantage of this persons talent.....

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Love Stands Still

I sit and wait
Watching as the sun comes calling
I sit and wait
Lost amongst the feelings of hate
New love cushions the heart when falling
The soul, patient for its calling
I sit and wait


The heart covered in cloth

The heart beats with rested ease

The cloth is love

Her hand comforts the place

She searches amongst the rubble and clutter, where she finds the key. It shines a brilliant deep blue. This is the key designed to unlock your cupboard. Inside that cupboard is your soul

The cupboard has been waiting for this day where unfolding trust is ready

Her hand reaches toward the well polished cupboard that sits amongst your bones and skin. Her hand shakes as she moves the glistening key toward the key hole

Your heart beats faster, for now you realise this a moment of true beauty

As she turns the key you both hear the click sound as the cupboard door unlocks. The tiny door feels free

She opens the door slowly and with care as fear begins to fill you

Fear for what might escape

Fear for what might be seen behind the door

Silence falls completely between you both

She peers in and it is your heart she sees. She pulls it closer

“Where is your flame?” she asks

“My flame?” You respond

“Yes, the warmth that makes you, you.” She says

“I don’t know.” You reply

“Well we need to ignite it, because you can’t live without it.” Again amongst the mess surrounding you she finds a match, which she strikes and leans into your cupboard and in the corner of your heart she ignites a small fire

She stands back, where she can see the tiny flickering of light illuminating the space with an orange and golden radiance

“I see your spirit.” She tells you

“It is beautiful and perfect.”

She moves closer reaching in and shifting your heart slightly

“Don’t be scared.” You peer into her deep brown eyes where you can see the reflection of the quivering flame

“For this is you.” She says.

You being to feel your insides fill with warmth as the flames grows bigger

The blanket of darkness that covered you both begins to lighten

Looking above, the sky begins to turn in colour from black to green

The horizon tinged with a yellow lining

She too stands and watches the beauty of darkness fade into light

“Its time.” She says taking your hand

“For what?” You reply

“For you to see your own light.” She smiles warmly

“I can’t see it.” You respond trying to look down and in to yourself

“You must, it’s all there. Can’t you feel it?”

Doubt emerges. You cannot see what she sees

“It’s beautiful my friend. It’s unique. You need not fear anymore”

She stands back looking at you. She closes the cupboard door

“I can’t do this for you. I can’t show you.” She smiles

“You must do this for yourself. Because until then the flame within you will never burn brightly.”

You feel the warmth begin to subside and you know the flame is losing its lustre

“But I am scared.” You say

“I don’t think I am strong enough to keep my fire burning.”

“But that is where you are wrong.” She takes your hand in hers and a warmth moves between you

“You just need to believe it is there. Because is in all of us we have a spirit that is ignited by self belief. I believe in you and I see your inner beauty radiate. You just need to feel it.”

“What is that I feel within me, that thumping feeling, the warmth?” you rest your hand on your chest

“That is your heart, your shining spirit that is your radiating soul, and it that is what is your flame. And that is what you must never let burn out.”

You take her hand and place it below yours

The yellow glow above you both begins to turn to orange and green to light shades of blue. You both look toward the sky

This is the realisation.


Is darkness the ugliest thing to see?
And how come it’s draped in loneliness?
Does it make you face black truths?
Is it the feeling of being held hostage?
When can darkness be still??
Where can you find a map of darkness?
When can darkness make you feel secure?
Instead of creating scary images in your mind?
Does darkness mean you won’t be able to trust the future?
And only see the deepest shade of black?
Is it a silence that can’t be broken?
Why is it that you are always searching in the dark?
And how come you can’t feel darkness?
But it feels like it covers your entire world?
Is darkness being trapped in a locked room?
And sleeping with your eyes open?
Does darkness move slowly?
And does it fill your heart with broken dreams?
And is darkness ignorant and selfish?
Can the dark make you go insane?
And hear things in muffled tones?
How can darkness be in control?

And why is darkness dark?

Friday, August 20, 2010

The beginning

Its time to give in and let the journey begin.
May I firstly be inspired beyond my minds belief and the inspiration guide my spirit to