On Bullet Holes and Uninhabited Spaces

Looking back, over a twenty five year time span, it can feel like there are more empty parts of me than there are that are occupied.

It has felt like my body was caught in a war zone and that what is left is holes and empty spaces that still remain unoccupied!

Some of the empty spaces seem apartment sized.

Multiple loss is the hole/apartment sized space generator!

Life can shrink as you spend your time looking at the holes!

You can find yourself hole obsessed and focusing on the negative space.

At 60 it felt daunting that so many things that had been an essential part of me, were emptied, leaving holes and big spaces.

It is tough to rebuild.

The good news is that rebuilding can be done.

However, the bullet holes remain a permanent feature, a reminder!

Facing another, admittedly smaller, bullet hole I ponder on my resolve to expand my life beyond the holes.

Note to self: It is possible!

Containing Memory

The sleepy basket girl
walks through the pink Lemurian mist
each early morning,
singing out, in a sweet alto voice,
“Dreams for sale!
Look in my basket,
full of pretty dreams!
Pick any one you like!
Only cost you a quick kindness,
don’t cost nothin’ to look!
Old dreams, new dreams,
anything you can dream of!
Anything can happen today
in the City of Ladies!
Come on, now, my dears,
you beautiful Lemurian dreamers,
Try one of my fresh dreams right now –
today could be amazing!
And where she walks she leaves a magic trail
of pink and purple glittering pixie dust,
a few sand dollars, some pretty shells,
the heavy, sweet scent of longing
for what could have been,
and just a hint of what may yet be
by Kerry Vincent (c) 2008

Ball

The thing about the story of the hero, as Ursula Le Guin points out in The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction, is that it is ‘his’ story and not ours. More worryingly, we have primarily heard about “the sticks and spear sand swords, the things to bash and poke and hit with, the long, hard things and in the process stories about the minutiae of daily life have been lost.

One of the special things about the work that was done within Lemuria was that it grew to become a place filled with stories about people rather than stories about great battles. In this environment you could write, quite simply, as Kerry Vincent did, about glittering pixie dust, pretty shells, sand dollars and the scent of longing.

If it is human to fill baskets, and every other imaginable container, with things that you want, or want to remember, and then, leave them and pull these things out when you need them then, like Le Guin, I am human.

As my ball grows, it will become like an intricately woven net that captures moments in time.When unwoven, at some time, it might be found to contain little more than a note, a photo, a pebble. To many these things may appear worthless, and the ball may be discarded as a bundle of rags.

No matter!

What matters is that I know what memories, potential stories to be told, lie within it.

Law of Accretion

accretion
əˈkriːʃ(ə)n/
noun
noun: accretion
1.
growth or increase by the gradual accumulation of additional layers or matter.
“the accretion of sediments in coastal mangroves”
synonyms: accumulation, collecting, gathering, amassing, cumulation, accrual, growth, formation, enlargement, increase, gain, augmentation, rise, mushrooming, snowballing;

AccretionIt began with a simple line of cloth rope.

Then, quite unexpectedly, the rope took on a life of its own and began whispering to me.

It began to grow.

First there was the introduction of varying shades and color.

Then, as the fingers worked, talking, as they have a habit of doing, directly to the brain, memories rose.

Voices called for me to bear witness to what lay, deep within.

Words on paper that need no explanation! The words sewn on the ball. Words that will disappear into the growing mass.

The process of accretion has been activated!

I am reminded of making Descansos!

there is a time in our lives, usually in midlife, when a woman has to make a decision – possibly the most the important psychic decision of her future life – about whether to be bitter or not”

Without a hint of bitterness I am acknowledging the role of accretion in my life. Some of those layers of matter that fill the crevices within may be represented here..

And so the ball forms a mass, hiding within it the things that lie hidden within me, yet yearn to be acknowledged.