Dream a little Dream: Paradise Hunter

 

Love is...Selfish

To The World and Back

Strange Little Girl

The music is "Strange Little Girls" by Tori Amos. I hope she doesn't mind that I use her awesome song!

Bulletproof

Something to be said

About that casing

That enveloping cushion of ease

The knowledge you're protected.


Watch that ever approaching projectile of heat

An arrow reaching straight for the pumping

Throbbing orb

Not deep enough for anyone's comfort.


And observe wide-eyed how the missile reaches it's target

A slam dunk exploding in the chest

Breath disappears in pseudo-shock

As you realize what has happened.


And to look down

And to see that no blood appears

And to feel surprise

And to notice that it has not penetrated

And to open the jacket of your cocoon

And to smile with relief

As flesh is marred but not broken

And to lay back, eyes focused on an unprepossessing ceiling

As the adrenaline dissipates.




Safe.




Isn't that what it's all about?





How I wish I were...

In a Name

I was named at least 3 1/2 years before my birth. Awaited with bated breath. And then my brother popped out and he went nameless for two weeks.

Funny story, this compulsion to name a human being with the most perfect of names, heedful of the potential implications of such a decision.

I was relatively luckier than other people. My nickname was refered to at the end of a conversation and they couldn't really turn it bad. I've heard this joke for at least 25 years and new people never cease to enjoy the sound it makes, like a compulsion to rhyme for rhyming's sake.

"See you later, Leita!" And I would look upon them and laugh, and say "I've never heard that before, very good", all the while completely bored by something they found so utterly refreshing. And also cognizant of the fact that they pronounced my name wrong...again. But such are the little joys in life. People need to find some joy and if my name can bring them that, well, I'm happy to help!

I was told I was named after a South-African singer, Leita Mbulu, that my parents had once seen in concert. I never questioned their story, though I did have issue with the name. Most people couldn't get it right and I just felt like I didn't belong. I wanted a normal, everyday name like Christine or Caroline.

I gradually learned to like my name, even love it, appreciating its uniqueness. I also learned not to care when people massacred it. It wasn't always worth correcting them.

When I was in university, a girl I met in class asked me about the background of my name. I told her the story I had told a hundred times before and this time I received a different answer:

"I know that singer. Her name is not Leita, it's Letta."

Below, a song from Letta Mbulu. About 2 weeks ago,I finally decided to look her up and it was a revelation to meet my namesake.

I stood there in disbelief. Could my parents not even get that right? They named me by accident? So I called up my mom and laid it down on her. I could hear the shrug in her voice. Oh well, we got it wrong, no big deal.

Funny how important a name is, to the extent that you hold on to it until you have a girl and then when you're told you misunderstood the name, there is abject disinterest. I guess when they appropriated the name, it was more for the sound of it. Letta Mbulu's name triggered something in them and the name they chose was then an extrapolation on that. Like taking something and improving upon it.

So from then on I had decided to attach my own meaning to my name. Like making my own definition in a baby book. What does your name mean?...it took me a while to find something that I thought would fit.

Eventually I settled for: She Who Travels ...as good as any other definition. It is who I am, what I'm driven by, who I accept to be. She Who Travels.

About 4 months ago, while working in a 4-star hotel with many Samoan women, I found another meaning to my name. As I told them my name, many would look at me with questioning eyes and ask whether I was Samoan. Eventually I was to learn that Le - Ita means Not Angry.

It was an exciting discovery. Finally, I had found meaning to my name in the least obvious of places and with the most obscure of cultures.

A few months later, surfing the internet and looking through Baby Names' databases I found my name again: Leita, Spanish for Strong Woman. It was perfect timing. A culmination of images and thoughts and feelings of 30 years on this earth.

So today I celebrate Leita, with two dots on the "i".

I am a strong woman who travels with no anger. This is me. This is who I embrace. And there is no other.

Pipe Dreams

There is something to be said about dreams. They are potent. Alive. All encompassing.

They make you believe it can be and is real...a little cloud of "Hope" you sit upon as you build it up, closer and closer to the goal.

And then suddenly you look down upon your once soft cushion and realize the cloud has evaporated under the heat of the sun and you are falling, falling back down to earth.

Awake.

Squeeze

Squeeze I once held a heart in my hand, I let it slip through my fingers. Like sand. I once held a great friendship on my fingers, I let it slip through my hand. I now hold my own heart in my hand, On my fingers. And I squeeze. For if I let myself feel Tears will want to bless the cheeks That you have kissed, That you have touched With your hands, Your eyes. But I cannot embark on this road of intensity, So I retain my hold on my heart And let my blood drip, drip, drip.

Unravel - Bjork

This is Now

It was a month, on Sunday. A month since I've seen your face, touched your skin, felt your breath, heard your voice. A month since my life has turned upside down.

The pain is just as real today.

I ache for what we had,

where we could have gone,

what we could have been... together.

It seems you have moved on and I guess I must do the same. But it's hard...to let go of something so beautiful, someone so pure. I miss your child-like laughs when faced with new experiences. I miss your gaze, your mind, your art. I miss your heart.

And I'm not ready to continue this life without you. The future looms in storm clouds, darkening as it approaches. Once upon a time I would have shut myself off and cursed you. Once upon a time I would have seen only black and white. But now, it's just gray. Everything is gray.

I have been torturing myself with hopes of communication. Checking my email, my phone, the mailbox, the door, listening for footsteps in the hallway...Everytime the bell rings my heart skips a beat. Is it you? Have you come to mend our rift? No, it is only the women from the church, seeking new recruits. I can't bring myself to open the door and politely turn them away in my broken Korean. So I turn away and curse myself for my silly hopes. I have laid down my heart and it lays, still, on the ground, gathering dust.

What could have brought you back? I wonder. What could I have done to fix this? I've looked at it from all sides, every angle and as the tears well up in my eyes I can't think. I walk around in this world and try to find grace in the buds opening on spring trees. I inhale the warmth that has arrived, but I am cold inside. I shake like the leaves in Fall. I can't seem to still the motion.

Couldn't we just accept our shortcomings and compromise? Is it really only black and white? Have we been reduced to that?

Four years of rock bottom...
Heart empty
Energy depleted
Hopes on hold

And then a dream
A beautiful world where
I could be real and soft

Giving up pride
Accepting weakness
Adopting hope from another place
Holding it to myself

You did this
Gave me three months of
Possibilities
Courage
Strength and
Best of all Hope.

Now that I am awake
I see..
It was a dream.

Those storm clouds
Held at bay
Return

I am caught: a fishing boat in a roiling ocean
Waiting for capsize

Oh, but what a dream
What a beautiful dream

Thank you for those
Short months.

I wish...
I could have dreamt forever.

Pagan Poetry- Bjork