What happens when you touch the edges of the universe once again?

 

What happens when you meet the start of creation once more?

 

What happens when your love affair with a majestic teacher is rekindled and all the old hurts re-surface?

 

No edges. No beginning. Love ever eternal.

 

Ah yes, Water. Hello.

 

10 days. 10 days with 12 strangers. 12 strangers who came together around an old dining table trying to make one helluva comprehensive shopping list for the week ahead, between a morning’s float and an afternoon’s return to wet cossies. Stressed. Finding our feet. Communing in ways not quite yet known how they would unfold.

 

10 days. 12 strangers. One old house of old stories. One pool.

 

A pool of many tales.

 

A request for builders tea. Another for peppermint. More requests, a pinch of earth and a night full of laughter, glorious and sublime, bursting. Film footage of all the misdemeanours and merriment, capturing the child, the wise one and the fool within us all.

 

Sleep? It didn’t really happen.

 

But!

 

Conversations. Many. Rich meaty discussions on the intangible nature of being. Where is it? What is it? Like hungry wolves, chewing, spitting. Munching on blood. If only we could. Trying to make goddam sense of that which flies away the very instant we ask it to swing by.

 

I loved them all.

 

I loved the feasts, night after night. Mightier and mightier, in taste, love and care they grew. Each from the heart. Beating it’s way into mouth watering delights.

 

Day 2, whilst trying to rest, I felt the surge of other’s movements through my body.

 

Day 3, 8am over breakfast, tears starting to roll down my cheeks, as two wonderful women told of the loss of too, too young souls.

 

It had begun.

 

Connecting. Feeling. Tapping into each other beneath the skin.

 

My tears didn’t stop. Describing ourselves through found garden treasures, in delicacy of words, my heart trembled with each whisper shared.

 

We watched wild fire and pain and fragility of our humanness float to the surface and not once did we run. Brave, courageous Water Warriors.

 

In the shades of our rainbow, in our shades deep within, we rose to meet each of those tumbling. Unfailingly we stood.

 

In landscapes of luminosity, I faltered and fell into the depths of my roaring.

 

And I fell. Boy did I fall.

 

How can it be to touch into the expansiveness of spirit and land without attachment? This I do not know. But I am learning.

 

I started to thread together pieces on this rambling path. And in doing, days into our communing, I hurt those around. This I did not mean to do. I am sorry. This has been a long journey coming.

 

I talked to God and the Underworld. And found my reflection; she who bears unconditional acceptance.

 

And I talked and I talked and I talked.

 

This, a very long-time waiting.

 

And the words, This is perfect. Everything is perfect, from another, as old shock ran through systems, as more tears began to fall whilst tender hearts collided, are the words I will take home.

 

Thank you. For within the mud, shit and rawness, truly everything just is.

 

I have landed back, here, still swimming. My sleep is long and deep. I am still amongst the stars and floating. But communication with another has caused a shadow. Again I’m sorry if you felt betrayed.

 

12 strangers. 10 days.

 

Poems of every expression. And of mine you may think I am mad.

 

But I thank you again for this sharing.

 

A privilege it was to have gone diving with each of you side by side in the waterscapes of this becoming.

 

Image: The End of Land