Mingling with the Moon
I recently met my little brother for the first time, he's 7 years old. We spent a lifetime (for him) apart, but there is something so so comforting in the fact that we just got along like old friends. He's the best. Seriously, to know that at once, someone who was just information and news to me, could one day become not only my cool little creative brother but really like a friend. I am comforted by young children who are still so interested in creation and imagination, who embrace poems and doodles on google. We talked about simple things and nigger things, like why we didn't know one another for 7 years, but also how we liked the weather and our drawings. There was just something so comforting in sharing the good things, and having his lightness and enthusiasm really be a driving force for that. T know that all the pressure 'adults' have on things because of experience and memories; that some relationships can actually be a clean slate. So, he told me some of his comforts and I shared some of mine with him. Together, we made morning drawings this precious time for us. Here is his take on monkeys, with two magic tails, inspired by this poem below:
i do not know
I do not know yet all the things that I am. But what I know for sure is this: I am the earth. I know this because on a shady afternoon, my legs have become the playground for ants. I don’t know yet all the things that I am, but I know that mine is the light in which the moths choose to dance. I know that the strands of my hair are like the leaves in autumn which shed every day and without warning. I am comforted to know that the same magnesium the makes up the moon is the same thing that makes up my bones and that her familial darkness is a mystery we all want to know. I am assured that the same crazy that I discovered months ago, was found by a Jung man, many many dreams ago. I am comforted by tarot cards and old mythology I take as truth. I am comforted in the texts that remind me, 'no one has it all figured out, always.'
when the sun showers, the monkeys must be marrying
(A tale about why the sun and rain still meet, and the reason why the term 'monkey's wedding' still comforts me when someone recognises it overseas. A tale to add to tales, because imagination is a myth and everything you imagine is real)
The comfort of unanswered calls:
You know when you haven’t picked up the phone in a while to answer that video call? And you also haven’t showered in a day and a half, so your hair is definitely unkempt. But then in the morning, you wake up and suddenly, you have energy to call back. You muster up the courage for conversation and pick up the phone. You even set it to video call and then, you see ‘Calling’ on the Whatsapp screen. The relief of not seeing the ‘Ringing’. And so you know they won’t answer, but you still keep looking and then you notice your eyebrows and they’re kind of raggedy and you can almost see the little girl in yourself? The girl that had that same messy but smooth hairline, those soft and unbrushed eyebrows, and you can almost swear your eyes are brighter, like they were when you were 6 years old. I love it when the video call isn’t answered and I get to look back at myself in this way. And then I get to sit with that little girl for a while, and I get to have the conversations I was really avoiding. The calls with my younger self.
the weather works for you
A simple comfort for me, though I don't always feel it immediately, has been an awareness of how the weather can sometimes speak for me when I am lacking words and I have come to a point of decision-making. When I'm having a 'when it rains, it pours moment', but I've just mustered up the energy to do my washing and go have that conversation, or make that move, or even just do that simple thing and put a thought into action after way too much analysis paralysis. So, I wrote a poem about how I feel when that happens.