just a few more things that are good (part vi)

(Because this series has not had a new instalment in far too long.)

i. Moments of "this will never leave the room" - secrets of the most delightful sort, all fizzy & dizzy & bright.

ii. Black & white films. As part of my year of inhale, I've been watching a great many cinematic classics to keep me company during monsoon days & sticky-blurring nights. I think I must say that the black & white ones are my favourites - I find so much magic in the lines on characters' faces, the pause before a particularly stunning line of dialogue, the movement of hands & eyebrows, minds changing, music flashing, souls bared in shades of spun-wool grey. There is endless colour in these monochromatic creations, if you know the right places to look.

iii. Taking off your makeup after a very long day, washing away every trace of the wonder & horror of the past eight hours, warm water like deliverance, like healing.

iv. Forgiveness, in every shade in which it comes. I am learning to forgive myself even when there is nothing to forgive, & even more so when there is so much it overwhelms me. & I am learning to forgive the ones who hurt me, forgive them wholly & fully & completely, forgive them even when that forgiveness looks a little more like anger or like apathy or like forgetting. If I can't forgive then I become my own collateral damage, & I am worth so much more than that.

v. This quote from Melissa Atkinson Mercer's Knock, forthcoming from Half Mystic Press"Before fire was ever fire, she says, there was just this house, fit together like a cello. Storms grew on the black lake, cracking it like marble. We plucked out the cotton sky. We took the sugar-reeds by their throats. Made flutes of them. The hill in snow ripened to a thick fruit. Mountain lions carried their cubs deep, deep into the cedar. The world was a small, dark shape & we entered it." Do you know that feeling in your chest when you realise you've played a part in creating something both soft & savage, both utterly beautiful & incredibly necessary, something full of all shades of shadow & light? That's this book, singing & true.

vi. The quick-dreaming lift in your stomach when the plane starts to land. I have been doing quite a bit of travelling to mark the beginning of 2018 - to Hong Kong most notably, but also to New Zealand & others upcoming very soon. This part of the plane ride is always my favourite - the way everything is gentle & loud all at once, descending from the heavens, ears popping, becoming again to the sound of wheels hitting the tarmac. If there is any way that light tastes, it must be this: the feeling in your mouth upon realising you're someplace, someone, entirely new.

p.s. love these small reminders of the good in the world? support their creation on patreon (& receive small weekly notes & poetry from yours truly as a thank you gift).