Mount Moments 06…

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18.04.18

Now, do you realise the power of ‘yes’?

New friendships on short road trips, explorer walks and real-world enchantment. Up in the skies with rebel waterfalls, droplets strung like fireflies in buttery setting suns, captured by a pause in time between forests and streams. The sort of moment that flaunts fantasy and encourages you to second guess all you thought you knew.

21.04.18

Loneliness is sweet with time,

and in her spaces, I think you up in a myriad of disguises,

from Prince Avenue to Grey Street…

23.04.18

You say you despise cigarettes

but you’ll never miss a break

a brew in one hand

and the patience of a saint

lulled by the jagged tuning

and the whispers off that delicate tongue

twisting words to rhythms

like language has never been sung.

25.04.18

Waking up easy, lazy light through gauzy curtains, slow sips of coffee in a warm bed, early Dylan tracks humming, gently encouraging my mind to wander, my thoughts to spill, my pen to write.

Light and love, N x

 

antiscians…

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He holds space with meaning

She whispers space in crowds

with gentle hands he treats

tangible sorrow nimble around a cause.

She hashes out her days, fury riddled

Steel minds, tricked to meld

orbiting their echoing heart.

 

Antiscians,

opposing poles rythmed to the inevitable.

 

Shipped into subdued today’s

regimented to phase one tomorrows

nostalgia harbours melancholy truths

swallowed by the cruel tide of time

damned to spirit voids, heart blanks,

In fragmented lives, aware of their lacking.

 

N x

 

 

 

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A Promise to 24…

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You’ve exhausted yourself poor girl. Unable to create yourself like everyone else, unable to stop craving otherwise. You take your circumstance for granted that’s true but it isn’t you, it’s her and still you fail to make peace between the two of you. Of course you only want the best for yourself, a rich tapestry of life. Late nights with the ones you love, to get lost in grand cities, to feel so utterly insignificant that there is nothing to you but complete freedom. You want the world to ravish you and you’ve succeeded mightily at times but this is the year we try to make it stick. – Journal entry

Twenty Four is my wild year, the year I push and push until the paralysis crumbles under the pressure of my ferocity. Every day I’m taking minute steps toward it. I’m hungry for liberation, I never suited this timid creation, not with all of this abundant aspiration, this urgency for living, this need to seek out the characters in the crowd and befriend them.

“I never really understood New Year. To me, my birthday was always my chance to start over or keep on with the good.” – My work boss.

Wellington reminded me of all the things I love about living. Scattered routine, talking late into the night with exceptional humans, dancing around completely oblivious to reality, shitty places painted pretty in shades of memory. I missed my friends, I missed the adventure I came here for. The past few months haven’t defeated me, I’ve defeated me. But I’ve had some crazy reboot, less to do with a birthday and more to do with getting away for a couple days. I never knew a place could be so claustrophobic.

Light and love, N x

Pieces of: Lake Tekapo…

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Lake Tekapo was always just a stopover place when I was planning the South Island, a moment to gather myself between the lively scene of Queenstown and the end of the route in Christchurch. In fact, it ended up being, like many of the smaller stops on the way, one of the most memorable. I suppose it has to do with limiting your expectations. As a daydreamer and a romanticist I tend to put too much hype in the way of future plans. Lake Tekapo didn’t strike me as spectacular so all it could really do was surpass that and surpass it indeed it did.

I make friends with another solo female traveller on the bus between Queenstown and Tekapo. An intimidating look sets on her face and I’m apprehensive to start up conversation on the drive. She speaks first though and she’s bloody hilarious, a girl from Finland roaming around a couple countries before she devotes herself to the army back home. We clamber up Mount John, a small forty five minute hike, and chat like we’ve known each other for years. We even scout out vegan food in the village together and are reluctant in our farewells in Christchurch, just the next day.

The scene of it all is something magical all on its own and you’d think that by this stage I’d be over the remarkable natural treasures of the South but nope, each stop has something that sets it apart from the others. Here it’s the sprays of Russell Lupine’s, a wildflower that has quick become my favourite and one I’ve only spotted here in New Zealand, blooming around the still glassy surface of the Lake. Up on Mount John’s peak we take in the full view of Tekapo, tones of purple, pink and turquoise, accented in that lush evergreen that trademarks these lands for me. There’s an observatory up top which we both skipped out on. As with most activities here, it’s pretty pricey and we fancy a free, mellow, star show by the lake later anyways.

On the drive in, our tour guide gets us all stoked for clear skies filled with constellations. For most of the night we aren’t at all fortunate and everything is instead blotted out by thick clouds. Luckily after a restless couple hours trying to sleep on a squeaky bunk, I get up and go for a walk in the early morning hours, I’ve never been so grateful for a sleepless night. Of course I didn’t have my camera with me and it’s not like it would have captured the site all to well anyways. But the sky was filled with stars. I grew up in a city and other than a couple camping trips where the light pollution was left behind, I’ve not had such an opportunity to really see them. It frustrates me some, that such a simple sight, should be so rare but simultaneously renders me speechless that such a small moment could leave such an imprint on me.

Light and love, N x

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Noceur…

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“Go where you feel most alive” You advise? Well, that’s a bar with broken souls housed in sodden bodies. Sticky floors and dense air. Watered down liquor, keen hands on bared skin. Cigarette smoke and clustered curses in packed out courtyards. Young, old, ageless for a night. Heady on the promise of losing our minds. Distorted beats and stuttered memories of a careless night. And it sounds like tales of useless debauchery, immature and reckless. But these are the nights when the voices cease and there is room for being. When our tongues loosen and twine with others. Quick quips, thoughts run, common in the need for companionship, just for tonight we revel in the lunacy.

N x

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Mount Moments 05…

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22.03.18

Three days off. One day too long. A brazen walk into a tattoo shop. It’s raining, I’m bored, and I’m careless, reckless, desperate for any sort of feeling. So now I welcome a new addition to my arm, a quote that reminds me of dismal days I conquered, that stretch of time when I was both most and least myself. It’s a kind of courage for the days that spiral down that same road, a memento of a project I committed to, resonated with and completed but mostly a little thank you to a musician who taught me a lot about the transitions of being human and making it in this world.

‘It’s Life and Life Only.’ – Bob Dylan.

31.03.18

The moon looks her most threatening tonight, ruthless confidence, beaming magnanimity. But I still find her allure in all of her phases. Great goddess of femininity, the truest most courageous representative of me and all of my sisters.

06.04.18

Independant. Stubborn. Restless. Impossible. What a collection of negative descriptives.

All of those terms have been used to describe me more than once. And I have to admit, regrettably, that they’re true. I used to take pride in my independence but…I’m lonely. And I guess I always have been a little bit, growing up too introverted and unseen. Somewhere I lost the ability to feel the bad in it and just embraced loneliness as my norm. Being alone never really solidified a relationship with myself but rather started this blooming of self disgust. After years of sharing my space, both at work and home it hit hard to be so isolated these past four months. But I think I might of made a break through with her, the me that defied self love for so long. That’s something, right? But in that I’ve found a new hunger for companionship that never really reared it’s head before.

 

Light and Love, N x

 

Moods, Rhythms, Prose…

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If you had of told her at eight, all chubby cheeked and wide eyed, that she would trace the lines of that bubblegum pink globe, she was fascinated so much by, in a self renovated van, I wonder what she’d of said? Actually, I wager she’d have been a little more forthcoming than her weary sixteen year old self, listening to playlists that tore at the angst in her heart and left her fragile, curled up on a single bed in a purposefully darkened room. That teenager would have laughed with all of the menace of an aged sinner and turned back to the lyrics where such impossibilities were painted with pretty plausibility. And then again at nineteen when just stepping out of her dorm room terrified her, I bet she would have cried at the impossibility of such bravery.

Yet, there she goes, turning up another dirt track, in a country wherein she can’t speak the native tongue but communicates with smiles and waves, with a grateful nod of recognition toward the locals in the streets. At the end is another broad leap into another vast unknown. The rigid levels of a raging waterfall, the steady opening of a vivid lagoon, the stirring depths of the vast sea. She’ll do it though, take the leap I mean, the threat of it will curdle her stomach for a second but she’ll do what she does so well now and silence the doubt. See, she conquered the demon, that was herself all along, back when that demon was her only companion. They grew to know each other and she learned to love that careful loathing, she accepted the demon’s chiding, it’s haughtiness toward the safety of innocence and instead let it push her to embrace a life void of that expected purpose.

Now, she charters her own explorations, talks to people with shaky confidence but makes friends for life, she tries new things with a perspective that is uniquely her own and laughs at all those who never thought she’d board that first flight. Her soul ebbs and flows, her ambition the most wayward tide and it’s catching. Her smiling tales wrapped in golden imagery, snaps of coves and foreign faces, words etched in a tattered notebook, all memories to conquer her own doubts when they rear their head once more. She lives for herself and the loud mystery of our world and that is the fiercest action of all.

If there was one daydream I could make a reality right this minute it would be this one. Do you have any idea how much van renovations cost though? It’s mental! One day, when I can actually drive (because that might help things just a wee bit, ay?) and have the funds. 

Light, love and wild courage, N x