Unravelling Long Thoughts

Take a deep breath in……. Hold it for a moment……. Breath out…………..

Sit tall, move your shoulders, turn your head one way… and then the other, breathe in big, breathe out long, 

close your eyes for a space…………… 

Open your eyes & begin……

Who the Fuck am I and Why would I write about it?…..

I am no Body - Who Are You? 

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!

How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To tell one’s name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog!

Poem By Emily Dickenson. 

I love this poem. I stumbled across it as I was delving deeply into the rationale behind writing about myself, my thoughts and my experiences. It struck a chord in my heart song. It spoke to my present being through my past selves. It helped me achieve a critical level of self deprecating confidence to sing my name. It has become the stone I sit upon in my admiring bog, the point from which I can launch my efforts, because before I can do this I need to know why. I mean, really who am I to write a memoir? And who are you reading it? Are you my admiring bog?

I have always thought of myself as nobody, even when I was on the path to being somebody. When I think this I don’t mean that I am nobody in a limiting sense, but in a freeing way. I have always walked the very edge of the path, made my own mistakes, held myself back from stepping fully onto the road to success, not because I am special or ambitious or even think well of myself, but for a plethora of misguided but perhaps ultimately good reasons. It wasn’t until I really embraced my nobody-ness recently that I finally heard the shouting voice of the someone who is me, telling me to let go of the path's edge and zig zag freely and even wander off into the bush, because I did find it dreary, the effort to be somebody on that particular road. To make like a frog and tell my name to the powers that decide on the agreed level of success somebody can claim. So this is the story of a nobody who took a long time to arrive. Who still delights in shouting at the admiring bog, occasionally with glee, with anger, with love and with hurt, but is also much more practised at creating from the centre of herself and flowing with the stream of opportunity and love. Being nobody doesn't mean I have nothing to say or that I don’t wish to share. It is not a value judgement. It just means that I let go of the broadly agreed shape of things and allow them to manifest as they come. It releases you (as an audience) from the responsibility of acknowledgment, and me (as a creator) from the pressure to create for that acknowledgement. Success is not measured by this exchange but in the joy of manifesting creativity and sharing. Time to manifest myself in my glorious nobody-ness to you. Thankyou Emily Dickenson for shouting across time with your words.