Author: Cadence Poetica

Cadence Poeticahttps://cadencepoetica.wordpress.comI am a lot of different things in one package. I am a geek, a poet, a thinker, a seeker. I am passionate, curious, resourceful, stubborn, independent. I'm an "extroverted introvert". I am a spiritual person. I believe in destiny, I believe in fate. I want to be a better person. I want to help make the world a better place. I see life as a journey, an opportunity for constant growth and learning. I like sushi and sea turtles, a good cup of coffee, fluffy cats, the shuffle function on my ipod, a walk on a beach on a grey day, a thunderstorm, a nap in the shade on a warm afternoon… Simple things make me happy, small moments of grace make me smile. :)

poem: an ocean in my back yard

Today there is an ocean in my back yard.
I sit on the wooden dock of my back porch
And listen to the sound of the waves crashing through the leaves with a deafening whisper.
George the cat sits calmly at my side,
Ear flicked back whenever
A stray leaf escapes and swirls kamikaze towards us on its suicide run towards entropy.
The wind whips my hair around my face
But stirs not a ginger hair on George’s furry back.
If I close my eyes I can almost feel the sand crunchy between my toes,
Instead of these stray weeds growing up wild through the gaps in my steps.
Even the birds caw plaintively over their ruffled feathers,
mimicking their sea-sworn cousins.
The only thing gratefully missing is the salt air stinging my face.
If you hold a conch shell to your ear you will hear the same sounds;
The sound of Mother nature on a journey,
The sound of unbound joy.

Black Stump 2014 Schedule

Stump Update! Here is a sample of the menu offering for this years’ creative program at stump. Don’t miss out – get your tickets today! www.blackstump.org.au

~Entree:

Friday night (tba) – Poets’ Showcase: Dark Shadows and Bright Lights. The poets of Stump explore positives and negatives of our individual faith journeys.

~First Course:

Saturday 1pm – Poets’ Think Tank. Workshop your own poems and get tips from us on things like metaphor, rhyme and form, and how to get published.
Saturday 10.05pm – “Dear Dr. Freud: The Insomnia Monologues“. A short poetry and storytelling experience, everything from Freud to Feminism and back again!

~Second Course:

Sunday 1pm – Black Stump Writers’ Symposium. For writers, bloggers, poets, comedians, and anyone who’s ever picked up a pen. Come along and explore your writing craft with fellow wordsmiths.
Sunday 4.30pm – Poetry Slam. Got a poem that’s gonna rock our socks off? Bring it along and have a go!

~Dessert:

Sunday 8pm – WordPlay – an interactive and creative workshop blending poetry and visual art in exciting and conceptual ways.

blog: faith of our fathers…

For a bit of context, I was raised in a Baptist tradition, then attended a Pentecostal church and was in ministry there for a while. After falling out with that church I ended up going my own way for a few years, exploring other religions and faith practices. I’ve been a member of a “cafe church” community, and most recently, a member of a Weslyan church community.

Having been exposed to so many denominations and practices, and the teachings of other religions and practices such as Buddhism and Neo-paganism, I have learned three important things:

1) No one person or group holds the monopoly on the whole and complete “truth”,

2) It’s important to take everything in and figure out what you believe for yourself, and

3) “Religion” and “spirituality” are all vastly different things.

That last one is important. Many people claim to be atheists just because they couldn’t agree with or believe in the religion or church they were raised in, when churches and religions are just one form of expressing spiritual beliefs. Just because one didn’t fit, or you were hurt by a man-made religion, doesn’t mean there’s not a God or a spiritual path that’s right for you.

I have always held that ‘religion’ is WHAT you believe and ‘spirituality’ is HOW you express those beliefs. In a lot of ways, I am still trying to work out my dogma. I make mistakes, I’m not perfect and I can’t really lay claim to being any particular denomination at this stage, and may never be able to. However, the Seven Principles and Purposes of the Unitarian Universalist Association seem to fit best:

“We, the member congregations of the Unitarian Universalist Association, covenant to affirm and promote:

1. The inherent worth and dignity of every person;

2. Justice, equity and compassion in human relations;

3. Acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations;

4. A free and responsible search for truth and meaning;

5. The right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within our congregations and in society at large;

6. The goal of world community with peace, liberty and justice for all;

7. Respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.”

I firmly believe that if we all followed those principles, the world would be a better, more peaceful place for all it’s inhabitants.

Blessings to you, Shalom, Namaste, have a beautiful day. :)

Phenomenal Woman (A Tribute)

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

RIP Maya Angelou (1928-2014)

swf 2014 recap

The Sydney Writers Festival was amazing! We had gorgeous weather both days, which made it impossible to find a seat along the waterfront! But with plenty to see and do, I didn’t want to be sitting down for long.

Volunteering was fun. I was in the Writers’ Green Room area of one of the venues, so I basically signed authors and their people and members of the media in as they arrived and escorted them backstage.

Perks of the job! SWF swag bag for volunteers.

While volunteering, I got to sit in on the panel discussion with Christos Tsiolkas, Kathryn Heyman and Alexis Wright on how authors engage in politics in their writing. And I was so lucky because though it was sold out, I was able to sneak into the back of the Alice Walker documentary – Alice Walker: Beauty in Truth, which tells about her life from her birth in a poor community in Georgia, through the racism she experienced and finally her recognition as the first black woman to win the Pulitzer Prize for fiction for The Colour Purple. Alice spoke briefly after the session and she is such a beautiful, beautiful soul.

The Festival hosts events all over Sydney, so I went to the Riverside Theatre in Parramatta on the Friday night to see Alexis Wright and Alice Walker again, who as you can tell from above, is one of my personal literary heroes! It was amazing to see the two of them speak about their writing and their activism and their connection to place.

Saturday I went to the Festival as an attendee, and attended a great lecture on trauma narratives by Adam Johnson, Pulitzer Prize winner and author of The Orphan Master’s Son. One interesting quote on the paradox of trauma… “Trauma destroys language, and yet needs the convention of language in order to be retold.”

Wandered around for a bit in the bookshop – signed Alice Walker book of poetry? Yes please!! Then I attended a panel discussion with Cornelia Funke, Kate Forsyth, Vikram Chandra, and Tony Birch on the magic of fairy tales. To finish off the afternoon, I went to hear Amy Tan, author of “The Joy Luck Club” talk about her relationship with China.

Finally, I caught a really interesting panel discussion with Tara Moss, Irvine Welsh (“Trainspotting”), and Damon Young about “bodies”, which was kind of a strange one, but sort of about the visceral details of writing graphic and physical content.

Afterwards I caught the ferry back to Parramatta, even though it was dark, because the Vivid festival is also on in Sydney and it was great to see all the lights and effects on the Harbour. So all in all, a really great weekend!

What is real? (Excerpt from the Velveteen Rabbit)

“The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.

“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

“I suppose you are real?” said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled.

“The Boy’s Uncle made me Real,” he said. “That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can’t become unreal again. It lasts for always.”

― Margery Williams Bianco, The Velveteen Rabbit

News: Sydney Writers Festival

Guess who’s gonna be helping out in the Writer’s Green Room for the Sydney Writer’s Festival on 22-23 May?

That’s right – me! This is gonna be fun. Get along to the festival if you can, I’m sure you’ll have a great time. :)

Sydney Writers Festival homepage

blog: new year, new home, new start <3

In our minds, we had plenty of time to pick out the perfect house, plenty of money to buy new furniture, scores of movers to help us – in reality, we applied for almost the first house we saw, had to prioritise our spending because some fool (which would be me) decided the Christmas holidays was the perfect time to move house, and although we had a couple of friends help with our heavy furniture, most of the moving was done by us in our beat-up station wagon.

So it wasn’t exactly the fastest move in the west. Iit’s been exhausting and in future I will definitely hire movers to do the lot in one day… and Jim’s Mowing to do the yards. Doing the yards at the old place was such a chore – although I did get to use a hedge trimmer, and destroy things on purpose. :)

Our new place is on a hill in the very middle of a small cul-de-sac. We’ve met one set of neighbours, nodded a ‘hello’ over the fence to the other side, and spied on the rest through the curtains (spying being something I tend to excel at). The back yard is pretty, and I can’t wait to have parties out there! :)

Our little fur family are settling in well. Our ‘firstborn’, Sherlock, is a 4 yr old medium hair tabby; highly intelligent and independent, and the least affectionate of our brood, but he likes being in the same room as us and gets upset when anything in his environment changes… like getting a new kitten, haha.

Sherlock doing his best ‘reflective gaze’.

Then there’s Benny, a 1.5 yr old short hair tabby with a really sweet nature, who we got as a rescue when he was about 7 months old. He has what RZ and I call an “antenna tail”; he walks around with his tail straight up and when he finds something to investigate, his tail flicks forward quickly like he’s typing out a Morse code message!

George is the latest addition. We rescued him from a shelter last August; he is a short hair white and orange kitty about 4-5 years old, nearly toothless and built short and stocky like a bulldog, and very affectionate (but not very bright!). I do think he thinks he’s a dog, he follows us around and sits down at our feet and even when he goes outside he just sits on the porch watching the street until we let him back in.

Benny and George make a furry Yin Yang

George quickly decided everything was fine as long as his humans were there and he was getting fed twice a day, and he was pretty calm from the beginning. Benny hid under the bed for the first day or two, but like George, quickly decided that as long as he’s getting fed and patted and can still sleep on the bed beside me, life was pretty much the same. He is still a bit skittish, but that’s probably just as much to do with the kitten side of him as it is the unfamiliar landscape.

Sherlock spent longer hiding under the bed than Benny, and slinked around the house with his tail down for a few days, but has started to put his tail up more (which means he’s happier) and sit in the windows looking out. He was the Alpha cat in the old place, since he was there first, but now all three have been moved into the new place at the same time it will be interesting to see who ends up “top dog”. :)

blog: a charlie brown christmas

I’ve never had a big family. My previous relationship provided me with plenty of family to call my own, and for almost 5 years Christmas was about breakfasts and brunches and big family gatherings where there was plenty of food and trips up the coast with brother & sister-in-law to see the kids’ mum for boxing day… but it was all borrowed; it wasn’t really mine. And when the relationship ended, so too did the familial ties. With my own family living overseas, and my current partner’s family not celebrating Christmas, it’s just the two of us and probably always will be.

The problem is, I love Christmas. I’m one of those people who can’t wait to put up the tree and plug in the fairy lights. I have Christmas stockings for the cats. I send Christmas cards every year. I love carols services and going into the CBD shopping centres to look at the massive, decorated trees and window displays; I love the maple and cinnamon flavoured coffees in the cafes this time of year. I whip up my mother’s chicken & dressing recipe and her marshmallow salad every year and I sometimes even bake.

But this year, I’m not feeling it. This is probably the worst Christmas I’ve ever had, because I’ve been dwelling on all the things I DON’T have, instead of counting my blessings and accepting that this year is just not going to measure up to what I think Christmas is “supposed” to be in my mind. So I’ve been putting a lot of thought into what Christmas really means, what it can mean, for me. I was at a church service today and during the sermon the pastor said, “People don’t need THINGS, they need hope. They don’t need presents, they need PEACE.” That had such an authenticity to it, that I feel at peace with the season now for the first time since all the Christmas hoo-haa began.

My partner and I talked about about getting each other gifts this year, but we don’t really need anything. Oh, I’m sure he’d like to have some new gaming paraphernalia, and I wouldn’t mind a new wallet or a nice spice rack, but we’re not in desperate need. I told him what I’d really like for Christmas is to get bond together for a new place to live – something with a decent hot water system, no ants, and air-con for our suffering pets. A roof over our heads where we can heal and recharge and be a family under one roof again. No Xbox or handbag or pair of shoes or iTunes gift card can replace the feeling of feeling safe and happy and secure. So that’s what we’re giving each other this year – the gift of HOME.

It makes me wonder at the phrase, “Celebrate Christmas”. Christianity tells us Christmas is the observation of the birth of Christ which heralded the salvation of mankind. Secularists believe the real meaning of Christmas is spending time with and spreading love and joy among family and friends. But in either case, we choose to “celebrate” this beautiful, peaceful and joyous occasion… how? With gifts, money, material things.

I invite you to try on the concept of having a Christmas lunch with your loved ones, without the tree, without the lights, without exchanging a single gift. Could you do it? Could you still maintain the feelings of peace, love, joy and glad tidings? Or have we fallen into the trap of needing these window dressings to set our holiday stage for us and put us in the mood?

The over-commercialisation of Christmas has been the major theme of sermons, movies and books for at least a hundred years. “A Charlie Brown Christmas” which debuted in 1965 is an animated film starring Charles M Schultz’ Peanuts gang, where Charlie Brown learns about the “true meaning of Christmas”. And it’s a conversation still relevant, if not more so, these days. It’s a question everyone has to answer for themselves – what makes Christmas for you? And if what makes Christmas is the material things, what happens when you are in a position where you don’t have those things?

I’m not judging, I hope everyone out there has a lovely Christmas full of family gatherings, brightly wrapped presents, and all the good food they can stuff into their mouths (and then some!). But for those who don’t, I wish there was a way to let them know that that’s alright too.

Because you don’t need ribbons and bows and fairy lights and Christmas puddings to celebrate Christmas. You just need to have a clear understanding of what Christmas is for you, and find your own way to honour that in your lives. And if you’re stuck at home all alone on Christmas day, rest assured that dancing around in your underwear eating candy canes is a perfectly acceptable way to celebrate. :)

poem: running right back

– Spoken word piece performed at Re:Image in Nov 2013

We hit the ground running in
Another time another place
And it kills that I can’t trust in us
After all we’ve faced
I’m not saying what we’ve been through
Was inconsequential
But I’m haunted by the ghost of our
wasted potential

And now it’s like we’re on indefinite standby,
Sitting back watching my life flash
Before my eyes
And I know the lies you sold me
Before you got to know me
Are gonna leave me old & lonely
but I keep hanging on –

I’m tenacious
Cos I gotta be strong and believe
This ain’t just a going nowhere thing
That we can make it back to the
place where we
Had each other’s backs
where we were the best that we could be.

So I push through
Both of us trapped in this compromise
Living lives we never wanted
Feeding off each other’s pride
a tug of war for the heart and
Neither of us satisfied

And every day we lose a little more ground
And every day there’s less & less faith to be found
And I pray every day it will all work itself out
That I’ll find a way to clear away all the doubt

And just be,
The way it was at the start –
Just you and me
Ready to take on the world
Ready to see
What we were capable of
With just a spit and a polish
And a profession of love
Before we reached checkmate
Before we got tongue-tied
Before the third guest at our table arrived
Before we had to fight just to keep love alive
Before ambition was a dirty word.

And every day we lose a little more ground
And every day there’s less & less faith to be found
And I pray every day it will all work itself out
That I’ll find a way to clear away all the doub

So take me back to that place
Or I’m gonna lose you
Take me back to that place
And let’s see this through
Together, hand/in/hand, just you and me
Let’s strip it back
And see what’s left to see
Let’s strip it back to the you and me.
Let’s strip it back to the you and me.

poem: objects in the rear view mirror

– TW: domestic violence

Every step I take leads me further away from you
Without a word you call to me
I look back, surprised to see that once so tall,
You are now so small within my view

Someone must have greased your palm
Because I’m stumbling
Tumbling, tripping, struggling
Slowly slipping from your grasp
Unable to hold me
Unable to control me
You have no choice but to let me pass

There was a time when I hated you
There was a time when I hated myself
There was a time when every man wore your face
And echoes of your presence could be felt in every place
And I hated everyone around me
Even though they were only trying to help

So much anger inside me, so much rage
I threw my own pity party, and –
Though I sent out invitations by the dozens –
No one came.

I took a look around the place where I was at
And found nothing… nothing
But a few dusty party hats
And a half eaten ice cream cake
Melting… melting
I stood with my feet planted firmly on the path
There was no right or left; no up or down
Just Forward and Back…
And I knew I could not stay
So I picked up my feet,
And placed one in front of the other

Now I’m headed for a better day
Because every step I take
Leads me further away from you
And although you were once so tall,
You are now so very small
Disappearing from my view