Feature image: Vimeo/Neels Castillon
Luckily, I am broken. I have been broken for most of my adult life.
They say your life runs in 3 and 7 year cycles, well I had a 7 year cycle from 15 – 22yrs which broke me three times. Breaks that each irrevocably shattered a chamber of my heart. I have written about a bit of that process HERE (there are three parts the links at the bottom of each post)
I have perhaps been overly protective of the forth chamber ever since. And having glimpsed people who have had the four chamber broken, I am not sure I am brave enough to walk that path.
Instead, much like the art of Kintsugi I have held the cracks and fissures together with gold. Valuing and allowing the beauty of those marks to shine as part of me.
When I run my hand over the past, over the raised scars, it still hurts. Yet that pain has brought with it some of the deepest wisdom and compassion to my character and life. It has given me a personal well to draw on, one that informs my life. And even more so my creativity. Ironically we don’t often write from the lighter happier experiences, more often we write from aches. We reach out into the collective unconscious and find the collective experience of that ache and work with it.
I don’t think I would write what I do without those breaks. I don’t think I would live with so much optimism while still seeing the darkness. The interesting thing is as veterans of these kind of wounds, you empathise with the wounds of others that are different. You can somehow step more readily into their shoes and feel with them their break.
Poets and artists have long known the windfall of damaged souls. This damage propels you into a landscape of shared humanity, of a shared vulnerability. As strange as it sounds, you start to worry the pain will leave and you will be left in a state of numb pleasantness that is the death to creativity.
‘Kintsugi is a Japanese craft that both repairs and beautifies broken objects using gold leaf. By accentuating the break rather than hiding it, kintsugi honors the history of the object.’ more HERE
The official Video of Son Lux song “Easy”
Sharing a wonderful video via Nicolette Hugo.. puts me in mind of Jamie…the bookbinder in The Bound Heart.
“Some beautiful suspension bondage…poetry in motion” Nicolette Hugo
Under the leaves that have freshly fallen,
under the browned, softer ones
and under the mulch and humus debris beneath them,
lies my soul.
Chest to chest with the earth.
It’s the press of a lover.
Of anguish and a heart’s desperation.
A place where pride has long gone.
Are you there?
Can you feel me?
Across the improbable,
your steps echo through the ground
a distant staccato as they walk unaware through their daily tasks.
I lay here in the undergrowth straining for every sound,
every whisper that speaks to me of you.
It is an elixir, a blade, an addiction,
it is never enough
and it is all I have left.
Image Dascha Friedlová
It’s an alchemy.
It happens without intent.
And quite frankly,
It can’t leave through intent either.
What is it in us that reaches out and wraps around the soul of another?
I’m not sure.
But what I do know is that it is as strong and fundamental a part of us as those I’m sure of.
Maybe even more so…
And ….. there is you.
It’s been a long time,
Yet I still feel like I’m swimming hard for the shore and at the same time the tide is pulling me out.
That drive forward and that pull back.
It’s not that I want to get away from you
I never did.
Perhaps that’s the problem…
I sometimes think my only choice now is to sink.
Get under the currents
Go down under the surface
Let all that water fill my lungs.
When I sink so deep and my feet touch the sandy bottom
I will be able to walk away.
© E Holland
I’ve reblogged this from Nicolette Hugo: Nicolette Hugo’s site
Whenever we make love, you say
it’s like fucking a crash –
I bring the bus with me into the bedroom.
There’s a lull, like before the fire brigade
arrives, flames licking the soles
of our feet. Neither of us knows
when the petrol tank will explode.
You say I’ve decorated my house
to recreate the accident –
my skeleton wired with fireworks,
my menagerie flinging air about.
You look at me in my gold underwear –
a crone of sixteen, who lost
her virginity to a lightning bolt.
I didn’t expect love to feel like this –
you holding me down with your knee,
wrenching the steel rod from my charred body
quickly, kindly, setting me free.
I’ve found that most people hang on tight to their third serious relationship.
The first can be wrong for so many understandable reasons.
Too young, thought you should, everyone else was.
The second fails and you start to wonder if something is wrong with you.
The third you have to make work or you know for sure it is you that’s the problem.
Breaking your heart and what that does to you is similar.
Now you don’t break your heart with every relationship
And relationships aren’t the only things that break your heart.
But each break erodes your surety of how things are.
It strips away a part of yourself and who you think you are.
What we imagined the world to be and what it really is unfolds in these breaks.
And that’s not a bad thing….
I like to think of these breaks as moving between different chambers of the heart.
Each chamber is moved through with each break.
Those of us that get to the fourth chamber, the last chamber,
Oh boy are we in a different realm.
There is nothing and everything to lose
The bar lifts and drops all at the same time.
You’ve been placed in a realm where you come to understand
a few fundamental things about yourself.
Firstly, you recognize you could love a lot of people
I mean have full blown lifelong happy as you could ever be relationships with them.
It is no longer an only with this special person deal.
You also know for sure it is in fact you that is the problem
and if you can’t make it with this person you’ll never make it with anyone.
Not because there is anything wrong with you
But because you don’t want it enough.
And finally, the only siren’s call that is tempting you away
Is not another person,
but the choice to be
Yeah, that’s the fourth chamber of the heart.
Part 2 of a 3 part piece of Prose
The 1st is here: http://elsaholland.com/2014/09/28/the-four-chambers-of-the-heart-part-1/
The 3rd is here: http://elsaholland.com/2014/09/18/the-four-chambers-of-the-heart-part-3/
Circular images Dacha Friedlova
“Kiss her. Slowly, take your time, there’s no place you’d rather be.
Kiss her but not like you’re waiting for something else, like your hands beneath her shirt or her skirt or tangled up in her bra straps.
Nothing like that.
Kiss her like you’ve forgotten any other mouth that your mouth has ever touched.
Kiss her with a curious childish delight. Laugh into her mouth, inhale her sighs.
Kiss her until she moans.
Kiss her with her face in your hands. Or your hands in her hair. Or pulling her closer at the waist.
Kiss her like you want to take her dancing. Like you want to spin her into an open arena and watch her look at you like you’re the brightest thing she’s ever seen.
Kiss her like she’s the brightest thing you’ve ever seen. Take your time.
Kiss her like the first and only piece of chocolate you’re ever going to taste.
Kiss her until she forgets how to count.
Kiss her stupid.
Kiss her silent. Come away, ask her what 2+2 is and listen to her say your name in answer.”
— Azra Tabassum, This Is How You Keep Her
Thanks for finding this quote to Fb page: A Mad Girl’s Love Song
Feature image : Man Ray~Hand on Lips 1929
So come on love draw your sword and shoot me to the ground
You are mine and I am yours let’s not fuck around.
Because you are
the only one.
Angus and Julia Stone – Draw Your Swords – another great mood song. I’ve been known to put this on repeat when I write.
One of the things about many ballad lyrics and prose too, is that you don’t usually tackle them analytically to get meaning. They roll into you and you feel the meaning. Music adds to that conveyance in a big way.
I added Freda in here too. There’s something about the intensity of her and the brutal yet beautiful abandonment in the lyrics that go together. Like she’s daring you to slay her she loves you that much.
I think I’ve been very brutal to the ones I’ve loved the most in my life. Myself included. I’ve wondered about that intensity and ruthlessness, where it comes from and why we are driven to it. Probably explains some of the artists I like!
I was introduced to this by Nicolette Hugo, a wonderful erotic writer with a passion for poetry.
If you believe in love, if you have lost a love and were willing to do what you needed to in order to keep it and lost it anyway, this will touch you.
It’s the too long silences which give me away.
Inside the beasts jostle shoulder to shoulder to gaze through my eyes.
Inadvertently they scratch and claw at my ribs,
hold onto the arched bone as they lean forward.
I raise my glass, smile across the table,
They shake at my ribs
Howl as I tilt my head to focus on the exchanges around me.
Ignored they explode through my body in frustration.
I count. One, two, three and breath.
The tension in my chest eases and they disperse.
The truth is
I covert their secret presence,
Relish that few recognizance them in me.
The grass looks greener when they are there.
The wind feels softer on my face,
The water tastes sweeter.
But most of all I like it when I feel their kindred in others,
The woman opposite me in the subway
The man leaning against the counter at the bar
The smile on the strangers face as we walk towards each other
Invisible hands reaching out as we pass.
Connected by our secret passengers.