Tonight’s wanderings and ponderings (B.E.D.I.J day 21)

A journal entry | 21/01/2018 | 9:55pm.

I’ve always liked the idea of night walks but I don’t like to venture into the darkness alone. I just feel far too alert to be comfortable. But just another presence, even in silence, brings out the calm in the night and tucks most of the unsettled feelings under one arm. It’s especially nice to walk with a thinker. Or someone who thinks kind of like me. We talk about things I wouldn’t usually talk about with most people and conversation brings things up that I hadn’t really thought about. It’s nights like this that re light my spark to write when maybe I’m feeling a bit dull.

There is just something about the night that is simultaneously calming and unsettling. Calming in a way that dim light has a simple essence of comfort laced within the glow of street lamps. Calming in a way that everything feels slower. It makes me think more about what I’m saying before I just blurt something out. I feel no pressure to hurry so I take more time to ponder. I’m more selective with my words, but at the same time I’m not because I feel no pressure or expectation to be anything in particular. When the world is asleep, or settled in for the evening, the world feels like my own and I can be anything. I can walk in the middle of the road and feel at ease. Until of course the bright car headlights arise, beaming in my face.

Maybe that’s why people open up more at night. Because somehow darkness lifts expectations. And darkness feels more open itself, but at the same time more intimate. I guess because you have to be closer to things before you can really see them. Everything looks so different when only lit up by the golden glow of street lights. Our shadows are almost ghostly.

It looks like a parallel universe. Everything the same, but slightly different. Yet, my usually discomfort that comes with different is gone. I’m not afraid of getting lost because I feel like somehow, the world will just guide me home. I feel I could wander aimlessly for hours and still end up back at my front doorstep. Everything feels different too. Slightly off balance. Slightly tilted. As if I am walking through the streets on my toes.

I woke this morning from a very deep sleep feeling lost and disoriented as if in a world that was new or a body that was not my own. The tilt of the night was similar to this. However this morning I was stopped in my tracks questioning a possible glitch in the world as I realised I was washing the dishes with the hand opposite to usual, when it would normally feel incredibly wrong. Maybe in my deep sleep I’d been taken away and cloned, but that tiny detail was copied wrong. Maybe in my deep sleep I travelled to a parallel universe, but it’s physically impossible for me to be removed from this universe without creating a tear in the very fabric of time and space and leaving a hole where my matter should be. So I had to have been replaced. And only a clone would make such a big deal about being a clone so I guess that answers that. The question now is.. am I who I once was and always have been or am I someone new entirely? Am I living or am I just existing?

We were being chased by lightning tonight. Or at least, it felt like lighting. It was the type of flash where the whole sky lit up for less than a second, but when it’s happened you’re not sure whether it really did or not. Coming from everywhere and nowhere. I never caught a glimpse of the lightning strikes, only the light, nor was there any thunder. So, perhaps it was the flashes of a UFO. Maybe they were clone hunters. Our talk of my possible being a clone must have triggered their radars.


Anyway, back to reality. I’m not actually a clone. I don’t think that would be possible given the circumstances. But it was just something a bit fun to think about and a fun story to carry along throughout the evening. This night walk was wonderful in a very subtle, heart warming but fulfilling kind of way. It’s just not something I do every day. I would like this to create a nice memory of it.

So those were tonight’s ponderings from our wandering. I’ve found the night brings many contradictions.


What happens when you chase the sunset

Journal entry
05/01/2018 | 9:45pm

I suppose it’s safe to say it’s easy to get carried away when swimming towards the sunset. Both physically and mentally, with the waves sweeping your body out further and further, but your mind doesn’t mind because it wants a challenge. Deeper and deeper, further and further, so far you can’t touch the sand any more without sinking under water. So far that all the people just look like specks and you feel like you’re surrounded by nothing but silky blue laced with ribbons of orange as the sun sets. You feel almost magical, like you’re floating in space, as you lay on your back and the sound becomes muffled. Everything feels like your own. It’s easy to float when the sea’s speckled with salt, until your arms begin to tire and you decide to return to the shore to what you know and what is true. Because let’s face it, you can’t stay out here forever in a world you don’t belong. But no matter how hard you kick and swim everything seems to stay in the same place and you feel like you’re not moving anywhere. The salt washes into your eyes and you breathe it into your lungs and you just blindly flail trying to find somewhere to stand, hoping and praying that you haven’t turned around and are swimming even deeper. You feel like you’ll never reach home, but you push through the sting and eventually, eventually, you find your feet brushing the sand you never knew was so soft and you are able to wade to shore. The water is soon at your ankles instead of your chin and you can finally use your body the way humans are meant to use it – for walking on land. Maybe you won’t be so … ambitious … next time.



Seeds of hope – A story, I guess?

I’d been walking down a dark tunnel with only a seed of hope blooming inside my chest to guide me. I’d been watering this seed of hope, in hope that it wouldn’t die in the darkness, in hope that there was something worth waiting for. I was hoping this hope would keep a spark alive, or maybe ignite a flame. The seed of hope kept my feet moving. Step by step. I’d learned not to strain my eyes peering into the darkness because I never knew when something would leap out at me and even when I thought I might know what it was, I never did. The shadow shapes would always be something different, and often more than what I expected. Like a hand handing me something beautiful and placing it in my heart. Perhaps a friend for my seed of hope.

With every shadow creature that greeted me, turning into beings of bright colour once stepping into the radius of the dim light provided by my seed of hope, new seeds were planted and soon I could feel a garden growing inside of my rib cage, flowers climbing up my bones. I felt like Spring, like no amount of rain could ever drown these flowers. I was a rainbow when colours leaked from my smile and these colours created light.

The glow around me was no longer dim and I was beginning to see more of this tunnel I was in. I could see the shadows of the shadow creatures further away now as they hustled and bustled within the leaves. This tunnel wasn’t dripping with damp remnants of storms or buzzing with wings that only want to rub it in my face that they can fly and I can’t. This tunnel was like a rain forest, with vines and flowers climbing the walls. It started with just a few, but as my steps led on, the foliage became more and more dense. I thought perhaps it was leading to something. This something I’d been waiting for. The end of the tunnel. The new world I’d been hoping for that always seems just a fingertip away, but never is, because I always have to keep walking.

It’s my little garden of hope that kept me going. If I reached the end, all the flowers would detangle themselves from my insides and join the field of fantasy flowers that I (can only) hope awaits at the end of the darkness. I didn’t mind this darkness. This darkness isn’t dark in the way you might think. This isn’t sad darkness. This is simply unknown darkness. I don’t know what’s coming darkness. Because I didn’t know. I didn’t know what was in the darkness, nor did I know what was beyond it. That’s why the hope kept me going. In hope that I’d one day know.

Today I found out.

But at the same time I didn’t. I didn’t learn what’s at the end. But I learned that I’ll never know. It clarified for me what I had been afraid of… that I’d been walking and wearing away my shoes for nothing.

But I saw the end of the tunnel.

My colours had never been brighter and my garden had never smelled sweeter. I saw the end of tunnel. I saw it. But only for a split second. All in the same moment, my heart opened up, my eyes filled with light, the garden inside me leaped free with petals outstretched like tiny fingers, in unison with my own hands. The end was in reach. The moment I’d been waiting for no longer just felt like a finger tip away. It was a fingertip away. But it remained a finger tip away. I saw the golden light. A glimpse of what I’d been yearning for. But it remained a glimpse.

In the same moment everything opened up, everything closed again. My garden couldn’t get any closer to the light than I could, and all the flowers withered and died within a second of not being close to my heart. My flowers needed my heart for the hope and I needed the flowers for it too. But everything was snatched away. In the blink of an eye. It was so quick that I’m not sure it even happened. It almost feels like it was just a dream. But I know it did happen. Because every time I think about the moment the end opened up, I feel the same wrenching feeling inside my chest of my seeds of hope being yanked out by the roots. I have no hope anymore. Because I know I will not reach the world that I wanted to reach. I guess I was just never destined to reach it.

The tunnel slowly dissipated as all of a sudden nothing was an unknown anymore. I knew what was going to happen. Nothing. Nothing was going to happen. After the initial shock of the tearing away, it took a little while for the sinking to happen. The realisation of the reality. Everything was colourful again and nothing was dark. There were no shadow creatures bearing gifts. But nothing was colourful like the hope. Hope is dangerous. Once you know how it feels, you can never go back. Nothing will ever look the same once you know what it feels like to have a fully blooming garden of hope. But today a hopeful possibility and an idea turned into an almost. I almost reached it.

At least now I know, though. At least now I can move on and I no longer have to wander endlessly through a tunnel of unknown and confusion. I no longer have to try and search for comfort in the confusion, while my seeds of hope try and conflict those thoughts. Now I can just be happy where I am without a part of me wanting more. Because with a possibility of more, I’m always going to want to try and chase it. A small something died inside me today. A seed of hope that grew a garden is now compost somewhere. But now I can grow something new and worth growing.

And now I don’t have to waste my water.