home again
Studying something I am passionate about at University - writing and media - has ironically been running me dry of inspiration. Having to write on a particular topic, or in a particular way has my soul stepping out and my mind taking over - which is really not the way I prefer to write. But my days nannying bring me back to what is real - and children that make each and every moment so wonderfully creative, spontaneous, and full of the purest of love. [Shortly adding a nanny diary section to my blog, can’t wait to share! Stay tuned.]
Cold Melbourne winter mornings have had me wanting to lay under the covers - skin on skin with my love, Sadie our pup sprawled out relaxed over our heads - for just that little, eensy-weensy bit longer. And a minute can so easily turn into an hour, time warping and blurred from the unexplainable feeling deep within my chest held for the two that now share my world - in our roughly-messy, New-York style home.
And we both jump out as close to the time we both have to be out-the-door as possible, and I frantically wrap myself up in layers of quirky mismatched clothing and love it, running out the door with half of Matt’s uneaten toast between my teeth, running for my much-loved soy flat white. And just as I have power walked up my street, I will most likely realise I have forgotten my fricken keep-cup [again] and I just have to run back, legs going everywhere, - baby giraffe style - because I watched the War On Waste documentary on ABC iView and found out coffee cups can't be recycled and I find that quite fucked up. But back to running back home. I am always secretly bouncing with joy at being able to say hello and goodbye one more time to my love and our beautiful Sadie baby before I run away again to the day. And I always seem to catch myself and have a giggle at just how much crazy is contained within the skin of this small-footed, curly-haired, thin frame. Oh and these eyebrows, they are next level crazy.
Lately I have been getting too caught up in the fear of not knowing. What tomorrow holds, where I am going, what I am doing. I am sure if you are reading this, you will understand. The time spent sinking deeper under the covers with Matt each morning lately has seemingly completely replaced my habit of a morning yoga ritual. A ritual that reminds me that it’s okay if I surrender the innate, ingrained and shitty need to have full control over everything in my life and it’s okay to let my inner-pull [that never seems to make much sense [and usually has me appearing like I need some serious help] lead the way. But I am 99.99 percent sure I won’t die regretting those extra mornings spent intertwined up with the one I am the most fond of. He is only home in the darkness of winter mornings and evenings lately, except lazy Sundays. So maybe I need to create another dimension where my spirit can run off in that time and do her fucking yoga.
Our relationship continues to take on new wonderful forms each and everyday, as we show each other our equal capacity to love all the nooks and cranny of each other - even if some of them are a little crazy, scary or ugly. I haven’t been so bouncy and child-like in years because he just loves me in such a whole way. Before him I had gone a little stone-cold without really seeing it at the time, and he has helped me to see that it’s okay to be multi-faceted. It’s boring if you’re not.
The external rhythms are ever-changing & with his new demanding work schedule and endless nights arriving home feeling a little extra more depleted from the adjustment. I find myself cooking more [expanding in new ways] and doing more soul-grounding things around home to make it extra special for him when he walks through that door. Deep down I know we are only just breaching the surface still and there is so much to learn about each other, so much uncharted territory, so much room to move & grow together. & this overjoys me to the core, that the love continues to deepen, with all the dark and light shades that come with it. I love waking anew each day, starting fresh with a blank canvas & re-getting to know him all over again. That way I get to discover new beautiful intricacies about him every single day. This is a pure blessing to me.
Recently it was his birthday. I blew up balloons, and draped streamers across our entire bedroom. I printed a book of poetry for him that he had inspired in me and lit at least 50 candles, sure that it still wasn’t enough to show how much of my world he had lit up. I got fish and chips ready to go, cheesecake so I could sing him happy birthday. I wrote in a card, and put in the card tickets to the Asgeir concert that I had told him had sold out [I knew he wouldn’t check because he would be too busy with work.] He arrived home and Sadie and I were waiting for him eagerly, both covered with streamers and party hats and he just went sooooooo coy and beautifully silent. He had truly received my heart gifts. One after the other, he continued to feel deeper and deeper the gratitude for our love. It was such a beautiful night and we felt like a couple of giggling kids at a birthday party.
And the Saturday following I surprised him with a night in the Dandenong ranges in a done-up caravan named Bessie [check her out on airbnb guys, she’s amazing.] We were both so tired - me from my last week at uni and him from his second week in Real Estate. We spent most of it curled up with each other, [and Sadie too of course, had to book a doggie friendly caravan] eating copious amounts of comfort ‘birthday food,’ giggling and just walking - hand in hand, heart in heart.
I fell sick shortly after that weekend. With the energy drop, I began to feel super down and - as I do so well - I withdrew into my shell. I had been [what felt like] churned and spat out of the external world by making the mistake again of putting it at my centre [rather than grounding down into my own centre] week in and week out, trying to keep up with deadlines, city noise & traffic. I hadn't had one of my let-go cries for a long while. It felt like my spirit - that bounce in my step - had disappeared for good.
He arrived home - all suited up and breathtakingly handsome - Saturday afternoon before having to leave again shortly after. He gently suggests a shower together. There, in pure nakedness, I would bear my soul and tell him aloud - almost as if to hear myself admit the words - dragging the monster out of hiding amidst the shadows - that I wasn't really okay. That missing him was a feeling I felt a lot lately.
And he simply holds me, in thoughtful, nurturing silence under the hot running water. Skin on skin, heart to heart, forehead to forehead. He finally whispers in my ear. All I really needed, he would utter, was to get silent enough to re-see the things I already held within me.
& in the blink of an eye, he was gone again. I am now fucking convinced he is an angel.
Life is so impermanent. No moment is ever the same as the last. And the next will bring it’s own uniqueness. Lately I have been drifting in and out of a web of thoughts on being present, doing things that make me equally scared and alive, and death. Not in a depressing way, but in the way of living a life that sends my blood jolting through my bones with passion, my breath rushing into my lungs, my heart continuously choosing to love and laugh and give and do what i want to do, my soul soaring free from treading my own path. A life that is lived. A life where I try the things that I am aching to try. Not a life where I am trying to be liked, just waiting to die. Love is so mysterious. A force that cannot be controlled by the human mind, it comes on it’s own accord and sometimes it can dissolve back into that same nothingness that it arrived from. I come and I go, so do you. So I always let it remind me to savour but not cling, love but not conditionally and promisingly. Just moment to moment.
