contradictions

Often i've got a voice deep within that tells me "no, don't, it's not the right thing/person/location..." and I dismiss it... I don't want to hear it, it's a hinderance more than anything else - or so ego2 thinks.
Interestingly I don't have any memories of a voice deep within saying "yeah, go for it" when ego2 dismisses it because it doesn't want to go for it because of x, y or z....


It must have heppened though and I'm curious to start noticing those moments...

quote

What else is love but understanding and rejoicing in the fact that another person lives, acts, and experiences otherwise than we do…?

Nietzsche

going alone

as I find myself very much alone... (dare I say lonely?) i note that the world is conspiring for me to go back within... I believe this is no coincidence about the timing of what happened in the last 2 or 3 weeks. As if the world had made sure I was prepared for what was coming to hit me...

It "all" started when I got a strong call to go back to my grand-parents house in Brittany. I knew I needed to go alone even though I had no idea what the purpose was. I didn't have any other intention than to remain open to what would come to me. I stayed for 2.5 days and the messages I got were clear - let go of your own story and history (different from forgetting or denying or giving it up!); the strong feeling of being home in this place in the physical world, take with you and make yourself your home so that it is with you at all times;

as I came back to London with a few more days off, my psychoanalyst had gone on holiday for a few weeks, something that hadn't happened for a really long time; my dear friend I. had gone to SA for a few weeks, too, for his own journey; my dear friend R. has been working in York for a while now and it's not always straight forward to meet at weekends; Yet I was excited also because it'd been a couple of weeks since I last met T. and thought we'd meet soon... I was wrong and the timing of him calling a day on something that had never really started but in which I had invested a lot could not be more difficult (or appropriate, depending on whic way you look at it...). From being and needing to be alone, I felt (and needed to feel?) lonely...

Of course I could have chosen to email my analyst, to call my friends, to cry and ask for support... but deep down I knew i needed to go alone, to let myself fall into the darkest tunnel full of ghosts of past and present times... After a first terrifying 24h filled with excrutiating physical pain and a sense of complete desperation, it is as if I got used to the darkness and as I accepted it, made friend with it, the fall slowed down, even stopped for short periods of times... before picking up speed again! I believe that the sweetness and gentleness of this man increased not only the speed of my fall but also the pain that I experienced: there was no blanket of anger or resentment to be hiding behind this time making the whole experience full blast!! "Funny" enough, I believe this is the best gidt I could give myself!

I have often thought in the past that the men I liked were not available... I know now that most of the time, I was not available, however strong and loud I claimed the opposite!!! This time, i do not know and I will live the question, as well as leave it open...

right here and right now

I feel my heart, strong in my chest, I am at peace

In 2 seconds my mind will wonder off to a sweet memory or something that will not be and my whole body will cry

Ten minutes after that I might be well at peace again

This pain i have never experienced, or should i say my mind has no memory of anything similar... Anyone read Harry Potter or the Northern Lights trilogy? The terror I experience resembles that described in the sucking by the dementors or that by the spectres... dragging me to a place beyond any word where I feel dead - I talk, I work, I go through the motion, I can even laugh and sound merry but there's noone home because the home, my home, I've let it been sucked away... There's only darkness, emptiness, invisibility, cold and loneliness left.

In this deepest fear that can only happen at a cellular level, there's no anger, no resentment, no blame, no guilt and no shame. There's a prayer mixed in with the tears crashing on my chest, "don't leave me it hurts too much" and a desperate call "i'll do better, I'll change, I'll learn how to please, please give me another chance"... but is it him that I'm begging to stay or is it my home sweet home that i'd given him? In other words, am I in love with him or with the relationship which made me feel whole?

I believe I know the answer.

an eye opener...

torn to pieces
excrutiating pain
of not being met
of not being loved
for no other reason than being me

ego2 goes to war
inviting anger
letting in resentment
for no other reason than avoiding the pain

imprinted into each and all cells
my body remembers
screaming with despair
willing to accept anything
for a promise that the pain will go never to return

the well's wide mouth's
showing its cold darkness
i know its slippery sides
no where to hold onto

falllllllllllllllllllllllllllling
back in time
the separation is ancient
the pain is real and present
no escape but to feel

ego1 comes to the rescue
loving presence
allowing the sobbing
welcoming the tantrum
of little claire re-living her most painful wound

separation re-enacted
with love, respect and gentleness
making it more painful
for the lack of ennemy

two stories
gotten mixed up
letting go the Ancient
opening new eyes to the most recent

two stories
tied to one another
for now
untangled tomorrow

A little reminder...

If and when I genuinely forgive myself, i can take a few breaths into my belly, relax my jaw, my knees and my hips and send a loving feeling inward...

my heart feels alive

falling in love

i fall in love more and more often
twice over the last 10 days

the first time it felt like my heart was being ripped out of my rib-cage
then i'd forgotten between the first and second time
and just now it feels like I'm being alive

both times I have fallen in love with my wounded inner child
and it's felt very good to be present with her
providing her with space, time, love, presence, gentleness...
she's felt that she exists at last and that her wound is real
that she's being taken seriously

she's felt alive
and when she feels that way, so do I...

be present, here and now...

easier said than done.

yet
I've committed to it
signed a contract with myself... which I need to put under my face again and again and again
with gentleness

Quote

Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves

Confucius

grandir, c'est mourir un peu...

Comme à chaque fois que je « dois » prendre une décision importante, j’y pense pendant longtemps, je tergiverse, je tourne et retourne la situation dans tous les sens, « est-ce vraiment ce que je veux, ce dont j’ai besoin…. » Et puis un beau jour, tout est limpide, simple et les étapes de préparation s’enchaînent sans heurt. Alors quand j’ai pensé pour la première fois à venir à Port-Blanc, et que je “savais” que je devais faire seule ce retour aux sources, ça a rendu la situation un peu plus compliquée, mais finalement sans grande conséquence…

Si au moment de la mort de Bonne-mam’ j’ai eu de nombreux « c’est la dernière fois… », cette fois ça a été beaucoup de « j’ai démarré ma route, j’y suis presque… ». Les larmes ont coulé alors que le train partait de London Waterloo, que le Ferry quittait le quai à Portsmouth, que je démarrait la voiture de loc’ à St Malo, que je passais le passage à niveau à la sortie de Guingamp, le panneau de Penvénan sur la route de Tréguier, puis dès la première inspiration à l’entrée dans la cuisine… Cette odeur, cette odeur… c’est la mer, l’humidité, les petits-déjeuners si tardifs que les grands préparent déjà le repas de « midi », le feu de bois, la terre, le vélo rouillé, le renfermé, le pain grillé du matin, le soleil qui souhaite la bienvenue à une nouvelle journée, la marée, le Chouen au fond du jardin, la vase, les crevettes, la pêche aux lançons à la pleine lune et grande marée, le poisson, les bonbons du fond de l’armoire et ceux qui remplissent la soupière, les bottes qui s’alignent sous la fenêtre, les bonjours à la cantonade… cette odeur, c’est tout ça à la fois, et plus encore !

A Dieu Vat, c’est le nom de la maison, c’est « chez moi ». C’est un retour aux sources familiales bien sûr mais surtout, surtout, un retour à l’intérieur de moi-même. Comme si chaque petite (ou grande) action faite dans ce lieu et ses alentours – être assise sur un banc passé le sillon de l’île aux femmes pour profiter du coucher de soleil, me cuisiner un maquereau, une promenade sur les rochers de Trestel à marée descendante, un retour au Gouffre même à marée descendante et par vent d’ouest (je savais que ça ne « sauterait » pas), un aller/retour tout au bout du sillon de Talbert, une excursion à Ploumanac’h – est une nouvelle porte ouverte dans mon chez moi intérieur, une autorisation à être, à sentir, à écouter, à entendre, à découvrir, à connaître, à aimer, à vivre… Paradoxalement, quand une porte est ouverte, il n’a plus moyen de faire marche arrière et mon corps le sent et le sait. Une petite part d’innocence s’envole et rapidement n’est plus. Et les larmes coulent. Et chaque larme versée est une petite mortde ce qui fut mais n’est plus, car j’accepte de grandir, de prendre la place qui est la mienne dans cette vie qui se dessine tous les jours avec un peu plus de clarté. Oh c’est sûr, il y a toujours une voix qui fait tout pour m’empêcher de grandir et elle a bien failli réussir, « n’y vas pas seule, les soirées vont être longues et un peu lugubre dans cette grande maison que tu as toujours connue pleine, en été… ». J’ai fini par succomber à cette voix et soumis l’invitation à deux amis, l’un après l’autre, mais elle n’a pas eu gain de cause, mes amis ne pouvaient venir !

Il devait être écrit quelque part dans l’univers que je devais faire ce pèlerinage seule… L’heure de laisser une partie de mon histoire derrière moi avait sans doute sonné !

Initiation to womanhood

Returning Home
Like the prodigal son
Finding new strength
Deep inside the womb’s safety

Seeing much loved old places
For the first time
Filling the breeze of old air
In new lungs

Feeling the roughness of old rocks
With the softness of new baby’s fingers
Tasting the freshness of old food
With new lips and tongue
Hearing the old music of the waves
Through new eardrums

Riding an elastic rubber band
Venturing to the “dangerous out there”
By following my instincts
Deep inside my core
Before
Rushing back to the “safety”
Of my thoughts
Locked inside my brain cortex
Out
A little further
Back
To recharge…

Steps of Initiation
Buckets of tears running down
Pain of letting go of the old
Fear and excitement of letting in the unknown

Steps of Initiation
Into a new age – letting go of my story

Elle et moi

Ecrit il y a 18 ans, alors inconsciente des mots posés sur le papier, ce poème prend toute sa valeur dans ma vie d'aujourd'hui... quelqu'un l'a entendu --- c'est moi

Pourquoi j'ai le cafard?
Je n'ai pas de nouvelles.
Pourquoi je broie du noir?
Je m'éloigne d'elle.

Elle c'est moi
et moi c'est elle.
Elle ne me connait pas
Je ne sais rien d'elle.

Elle est une étrangère
Je ne me reconnais plus.
Comme un bibelot sur une étagère
Qu'on a assez vu.

Que doit-on faire d'elle?
Je me sens mal.
Comment me rapprocher d'elle
Sans me faire encore plus de mal?

Rien ni personne ne m'arrête.
J'ai perdu toute ma confiance
En ce qui va apparaître
Et en ceux qui me font des avances.

Je tends les mains
A qui veut les prendre.
Elle espère que demain
Quelqu'un va l'entendre.

clairem --- 16 fév 1990

learning, forgetting, learning again, forgetting again...

reading back some posts from the early days of my blog... wow, strong stuff I wrote there sometimes. beautiful, too...

what I read, though, is how much life I learn, get a "Ah-ha!", live in it for a while, and then drift out and forget. Yet it often was the most important thing of all, the sweetest discovery, the feeling of being home at long last... and I forget. Only to re-learn the "same" thing again a few weeks, months or a couple of years later! And the funny thing is that it feels like a groundbreaking discovery again. I have only a vague memory, something like "yes, i sort of remember then, i felt it was quite important", followed by "but right now it's kind of a different league of feelings all together".... well it's not.

I remember how my gran' used to say "to remember something for ever, you have to learn it 7 times, and forget it 6 times in between"... I don't know about 7 times... a life time process, that's for sure! :)

implosion

I said "I can't be asked"
something snapped!
I disconnected
my mind went blank

my heart burns
each drop of blood has turned to stone
even tears refuse to overflow

yet I feel a massive struggle inside
the volcano is rumbling hard
will it be lava running free on its slope
will it be an explosion

i've got no idea what's causing this
i'm in it, so much so that i'm blinded
i feel that my words won't come to my rescue this time
they're only taking me away
the talking will take place another way