a wedding brings my partner and me to Australia. here, i am allowing myself the opportunity of slowness and to disconnect, and thus to connect.
announcing the release of my book has been quite a surreal experience and to have this opportunity to integrate where i often don’t have cell service has been needed. tuning in instead to the crashing waves. the wind through the gum trees. the unfamiliar bird song. i have sat in silence. i have gazed into the mirror. does my face look different? the lines are more apparent.
i trace the curves of the path that led me to this moment. i allow the depth and complexity of feelings to be felt. i allow myself the simple luxury of putting my body in the ocean. simple yet profound. remembering my relationship with water and how i have needed to let go in order to be held.
ever since my injuries of the past year and the recent onset of some new health concerns, i have been walking more. i embrace the slowness of my current movement. my currents, once white water crashing onto sand, now are soft and rippling. i allow the aching bones to bob and sway with gentle waves. a reprieve from the aches and i welcome this peace.
my skin welcomes the deepening of color. my bones finding healing as salted water rocks me. she holds me. and i let myself be held. i put my head under water. my hair, sticky and wet with salt. with each passing current over my body, i feel myself slowly healing. running my hands through the blue. i let my eyes follow the infinite expanse of water merging with sky. i let my imagination count the creatures that call the ocean home. warm sand under feet. warm sand stuck to skin. i am imprinted with it. these tiny rocks. as water churns and carves to make new.
to celebrate the announcement of my book, i buy myself Rumi’s poetry collection from a little bookstore. i read it while i sip fresh tepache and knit golden yarn as the golden hour glow finds me through the open windows. i take a photo. i read The Song of Achilles - a tale of the brooding ache of love in a time of war. my chest heaves and caves and i remind myself to take deep breaths. i remind myself to walk slow steps.
the air in Melbourne is more fresh than it was in Sydney - where the summer brought uncommon humidity. and now, i welcome the jasmine and eucalyptus scented wind. the breeze cleanses me. at night we walk under the Moreton Bay Fig trees in the Carlton gardens. when we were in Melbourne last year i was mesmerized by how many fruit bats there were here. i am reminded of magic as i watch them hang upside down and nibble the fruits. flying close overhead from tree to tree. chirping in glee. watching their patterns set against the dusk sky.
the creating of my book found me in the underground of self - needing to dive deep into the words of moments that were written in attempts of clarity, of healing, of seeking answers and asking questions that i had kept hidden amongst pages. in this process i have learned of the importance of abandoning the tendency of hoarding your treasures for connections to be made. sharing fruit from a tree that you have tended to. i remind myself how to savor it. this moment. these moments. this connection. i seem to carry myself in a different way. i carry my breath in a different way. i trace the blood in my veins to the source. to the start. and i welcome the warmth and fluidity. i buy a croissant and another cappuccino. i buy a juice with orange, carrot, and ginger. i eat fruit. i put tallow on my skin. and i care for this body from the outside in. i take heed to the call to savor the taste of what it means to be in this body. of what it means to see through these eyes. to feel the ground beneath these feet. to interact from the barrier of my skin. and i feel the gentle curve and sway of feelings rising up. that salty current crawling up my spine and out through my eyes.
and slowly, i find healing. an intermission from the withdrawal that i had been feeling. the underground held me so tenderly and now i bask under sunlight. i let the summer’s heat lull me into daytime sleep.
to find love amidst a war. to create art amidst destruction. it is the inhale and the exhale that tie our lungs to the trees around us. our own internal wind. i pause as i listen to the current within. i listen to its ebb and flow. i ask where the time goes. each day passes and the lines run deeper. my hair changes color. what to do with these lives that we are given? with these lives that we have chosen?
and i peer out from behind the confines of this vessel. the warmth of the soul filtering out to merge with the eros that surrounds. it lies amongst all and i weep with its glory. the tears, a reflection of Ocean herself - sometimes raging and bounding, other times gentle and rolling - slipping and sliding and falling to collide with the ground beneath me. nothing is ever created and nothing is ever destroyed. only rearranged. changes begin prior to conscious awareness of them. perhaps just an inkling of a low rumbling. perhaps a soft buzzing. like the vibration of sound emanating from the soft fuzz of a fruit bat. the electricity of movement pulsing the air.
the air sometimes thick, it hangs still. and sometimes the sweetness of it brings a lightness into lungs. floating into the lungs.
the feeling weeps - a never ending love of this reciprocity. i give thanks in many ways. in many ways i am in service. in many ways, i serve. with open palms, i give. with open palms, i receive. and the blessings of eros are delivered with a sun-touched kiss on the cheek. with the splash of a wave. even the bite of a bug seeking sweetness from your skin. who am i to deny that pleasure? for i, too, have sunk my teeth into the flesh of this life. seeking the sweetness of it all. letting the juice of it all drip down my chin in an attempt to grasp the ripeness of life ready to be plucked from the tree. i cave and submerge and dive and climb through it all. not wanting to miss it at all. and i bring myself close to the edge of it all. putting my flesh up against the sweet lines of life. feeling the heat of what it means to be alive.
and meaning is exchanged in the form of presence. love exchanged as an offering. of the deepest gratitude. of holding her close by letting her go. and the heart finds a lightness in my chest. almost giddy. as my ribs shift away and then come together. and the movement of my limbs stretch through the tautness - i expand.
feet shift, i sway.
and every morning i wake, and every morning i am greeted with the soft flesh of life pushing up against my face.
i inhale as the sweetness moves. and it is this sweetness that i consume.
when saturn returned
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the pre-order sale is live for my book when saturn returned [go here to see my previous post to find more details about the book]
the pre-order sale goes until the end of January, so make sure you get your orders in before then! and thank you thank you to everyone who has pre-ordered already ~ my heart is so full.
what’s inside:
59 entries of poetry/prose
59 high-quality scans of film photographs
an astrological natal chart for each piece with the transiting sun, moon, and Saturn that correspond to when that particular piece was written
my heart <3
to pre-order when saturn returned:
pre-order at the pre-order discount price: $18 plus shipping (no shipping cost if you are in the Santa Cruz area and would prefer local pick-up)
each pre-order will include a special film photograph postcard
email or message me to add your name to the pre-order list and/OR venmo $18 to my account @katie_shakira with your address if you need the book shipped, or put “local” for local pick-up. pre-order discount ends on January 31st.
song: “My Love Mine All Mine” by Mitski. this beautiful song has been on repeat in my head for days and rightfully so. play this song loud while rain falls outside, dancing within the tenderness.
mutual aid organization: The Sanabel Team - a community led project providing aid to the families in Gaza. find out more and how to support here
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with warm honeyed blessings,
katie shakira
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[photos were taken on my phone, the film photos from this trip will be developed when i return home]