Moon Worship

Dear Wolf

I, like many others, seem to obsess over the moon of late. For a while I noticed the effects of a full moon. When ever I go a little stir crazy I look at what the moon is doing and there it is in all its glory, the full moon.

“It is the very error of the moon.
She comes more near the earth
than she was wont. And makes
men mad.”

—William Shakespeare, Othello

I’ve done my own little bit of worshiping including the moon phases tattooed on my fingers and my little ‘alter’ for moon spells. You can head over to my Moon Magic board on Pinterest or do a little reading into spells in Diane Ahlquist’s book.

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I wanted to know a little more so I  dug in a little deeper googling words like ‘full moon’ and ‘lunacy’. So it’s not a new thing by far. In fact it’s probably gone on as long as there have been people and the moon.

“ACROSS THE CENTURIES, many a person has uttered the phrase “There must be a full moon out there” in an attempt to explain weird happenings at night. Indeed, the Roman goddess of the moon bore a name that remains familiar to us today: Luna, prefix of the word “lunatic.” Greek philosopher Aristotle and Roman historian Pliny the Elder suggested that the brain was the “moistest” organ in the body and thereby most susceptible to the pernicious influences of the moon, which triggers the tides. Belief in the “lunar lunacy effect,” or “Transylvania effect,” as it is sometimes called, persisted in Europe through the Middle Ages, when humans were widely reputed to transmogrify into werewolves or vampires during a full moon.”

The moon controls tides with its gravitational pull and considering the body is 80% water it may be affected too? This is disputed as its only supposed to work on open water. Apparently there was a search for evidence in 1985 by Florida International University psychologist James Rotton, Colorado State University astronomer Roger Culver and University of Saskatchewan psychologist Ivan W. Kelly. They compared 37 scientific studies to create “Much Ado about the Full Moon” a publication which claimed there was no evidence for the moon having an affect on us. But the moon theories refuse to go away.

So all this may or may not be true but I know it has an effect on me. Here are some of my musings about the moon:

  • HUMAN BEHAVIOUR – The www.scientificamerican.com report that in 2007 several police departments in the U.K. even added officers on full-moon nights in an effort to cope with presumed higher crime rates.

Senior police officers in Brighton, UK announced in June 2007 that they were planning to deploy more officers over the summer to counter trouble they believe is linked to the lunar cycle.[28] This followed research by the Sussex Police force that concluded there was a rise in violent crime when the Moon was full. A spokeswoman for the police force said “research carried out by us has shown a correlation between violent incidents and full moons”. A police officer responsible for the research told the BBC that “From my experience of 19 years of being a police officer, undoubtedly on full moons we do seem to get people with sort of strange behaviour – more fractious, argumentative.”[29]

  • If you fancy keeping track of the moon, its phases, position and affects you can download a moon app. I use this moon app because I love reading the descriptions and the way they have been so obviously translated in a way that makes me smile. I also love the notes on gardening an.d the little moon compass.

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  • FERTILITY – Again there is no factual evidence but many females swear that their menstrual cycle is affected by the moon’s cycle. I have always slightly believed this.  If like me you want to sync with the moon check out Mind Body Green’s article. I’m going to give it a go. And if it works maybe invest in the aptly named Moon CupScreen Shot 2017-04-01 at 17.05.39
  • PLANTS – Another unsubstantiated but thoroughly worthy and rewarding past time is ‘moon gardening’:

“In a nutshell, people who garden by the phases of the moon believe that its gravitational pull on the earth’s water (i.e. tides), has a bearing on plant growth. They never plant anything when the moon is waning in the last quarter because it’s believed that the earth’s water table is receding.”

I tried it recently and drew up my own plan for gardening.

IMG_5173If you want to create your own there’s a heap of info over at www.gardeningbythemoon.com.

Well there’s my 2 pennies worth. I’m not always sold by science and remain a little planted in magic. I’ve been recommended a new book on the subject by Yasmin Boland . Its on my amazon wish list so you know if you ever fancy getting me a little something… I’ll go ask the moon.

Mother’s Day Fallout

Dear Wolf

Its been a while since we had a chat about things. Mental health has taken prevalence over physical but I think both belong to you. You are the wolf that bites and the black dog that lurks. Mental health and physical health are linked.

Partly this is because mental health is physical. Maybe its nervous system damage or a chemical imbalance. Currently my diagnosis dances between ‘born with it’ and ‘bad experiences’. The old nature or nurture argument. It drives me mad that mental health is treated separately, but more on this another time.

What I really want to have is a little chat about that phrase ‘Its not surprising you’re feeling down with all that s going on’. Nope it really isn’t. Being limited and constrained feels unfair and chronic pain is simply torture.

Last Sunday was Mother’s Day, some say another hallmark day, I like just letting my mum know I’m grateful for her being my mum. But when you celebrate a group of people there’s always a whole group of people excluded. In this case women who are not mothers. My sister captured the feeling in her Instagram stories on the day…

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That shouldn’t be a problem, I hear you grumble, and generally it isn’t. It’s just sometimes it makes us feel sad to be left out. Sad to not have a choice in the first place. I don’t want to go into extensive detail. But diseases like Lupus are common in causing miscarriages, make for a high risk pregnancy and the meds we take are too strong. We are told fiercely by our doctors not to get pregnant. You can read a little more about it here.

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That’s the physical side and mentally it affects you too. I have an innate fear that I couldn’t care for a baby or child when I’m so exhausted all the time. I can’t even look after myself, let alone someone else. Also there’s a part of me which says ‘what if I pass it on’.

IMG_5143For me the most significant part of not being in the club are the questions from others. So I guess this post is a little get out clause for me. HAVING CHILDREN IS NOT A SIMPLE OPTION. And before you suggest giving up meds/ just doing it anyway/ not being so pessimistic/ tick tock time is running out/  when you’re better/ please believe me that these are things we’ve tried ver and over or run through in our heads.

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It just isn’t that simple and on top of the usual worries people have about money/ career/ relationships we just don’t have the choice. That is it really, as with all chronic illness it is being robbed of choice or options.

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So I’ll send my card and appreciate mums everywhere. I’ll ignore the targeted adverts about fertility or baby clothes. Pick my self up and keep on being me (with a little ache inside).

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I will tell you about selfish people…

Rupi Kaur

“I will tell you about selfish people. Even when they know they will hurt you they walk into your life to taste you because you are the type of being they don’t want to miss out on. You are too much shine to not be felt. So when they have gotten a good look at everything you have to offer. When they have taken your skin your hair and your secrets with them. When they realize how real this is. How much of a storm you are and it hits them.

That is when the cowardice sets in. That is when the person you thought they were is replaced by the sad reality of what they are. That is when they lose every fighting bone in their body and leave after saying you will find better than me.

You will stand there naked with half of them still hidden somewhere inside you and sob. Asking them why they did it. Why they forced you to love them when they had no intention of loving you back and they’ll say something along the lines of I just had to try. I had to give it a chance. It was you after all.

But that isn’t romantic. It isn’t sweet. The idea that they were so engulfed by your existence they had to risk breaking it for the sake of knowing they weren’t the one missing out. Your existence meant that little next to their curiosity of you.”

Rupi Kaur, Milk and Honey

Gosh this speaks so loud to my soul

Who am I?

So…

I don’t know where to start this one. But yesterday I was asked who I am. I was floored.

I am Vic.

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But who do I present myself as? For years I’ve been me but maybe not me? Its such a confusing question. Can knowing who I am be the answer? I can’t answer it, partly because its a fluid thing and partly because I just don’t know.

I am Vic. I’m creative, passionate and imaginative.

 

For years I’ve played at being an artist and I did ok at it. I’m creatively inspired by stories true and fictional. I’m passionate about the power of the Arts and working with others. My imagination has taken me on some crazy adventures and projects, all of which I’m proud.

Over the past few years my ability to work effectively has been swallowed up by my physical and mental health. At first I said yes to everything in my excitement to be working in the Arts. I was good at what I did so work came to me and despite the struggle in terms of funding and consistency I was happy. The work grew and my company Wide Eyed Theatre was born. I worked in multiple roles for the company, as a youth worker, sessional lecturing and freelance. All aspects I have loved, and despite being poorly paid, I know along the way I have made a real difference in young people’s lives.

Maintaining this was a struggle and at some point amongst all the anxiety fear, pain and fatigue I stumbled. Something went wrong inside and no matter what I did I just couldn’t keep up or manage everything. Work was so important that the first thing to go was my social life and me time.

I began to reduce my life and cut out the extras that tipped me over the edge. I was stuck in a cycle of working or sick. I gradually got more and more fatigued, I’ve often described it as every day feeling fluey. I’d work then collapse and repeat. I had to take long breaks and nap or I just felt like I’d vomit. Everyday off and every nap carries guilt and I felt lazy and like I’d failed. So I’d go back into it full pelt, desperately not wanting to let people down. It wasn’t working. I began to feel drained creatively too. Partly from not feeding myself imaginatively by slowing down and allowing moments of peace and beauty. And partly because I was giving so much to everyone else and not myself as I was so scared.

So I fought for a diagnosis to understand why I felt the way I do. Why everyday is a struggle and why I let people down. I got used to wearing the label of chronic illness and found it easy to hide behind. In a bad place physically and mentally I also got into a bad place in a relationship and financially.

In 2013 I was diagnosed with Lupus. Since then its bounced around and things have been added and subtracted. I wrote more about the labels here. My current diagnosis stands at

  • ‘Lupus’ like auto immune disease1397203fa8512bc777ae182f1060e702
  • Suspected Behcets Syndrome
  • Joint Hyper-mobility Syndrome
  • Fibromyalgia
  • Chronic Migraine
  • Bipolar
  • Borderline Features
  • Depression and Anxiety

I fought to be recognised as ill and not fobbed off and I feel like a diagnosis means I’m taken seriously and its not in my head. The trouble is that I’ve fought so hard that its consumed me. Lupus and medical took over even back here I was discontent with the Vicki that said ‘Hi I’m Vic I have Lupus’ before anything else.

So when I was asked who I am it jarred and crushed the part of me that has become swallowed by the wolf that is chronic illness. Its my defence mechanism but has made my life so unbearable that I am the wolf.

In 2016 it all imploded and I’ve been left stripped of everything. My mental and physical health is fragile. I’m currently at risk of being made homeless and bankrupt. I’m stepping back from work due to feeling so breakable. I have nothing, yet there is glory in being stripped bare.

Then in this conversation a different suggestion was made. One that may yet have viability. I am still Vic, I have a chronic illness and this is how I manage it. This is how I choose to live with and tame the wolf.

I am Vic. I’m creative, passionate and imaginative. I am fierce and tame wolves.

Stumble trip…

Everyday has been getting slightly better, or so it seems. Everyone says how much better I look and how far I’ve come. But do you know what? I’m right back just where I started.

My heart hurts today, it doesn’t yearn for the same things anymore. It feels released from its cage and free from its bonds. Yet it sits there unfluttering and old, it feels unable to love and feel passion.

My life feels like a complete fuck up and I have nothing to show for all the kindness and fight I put out there. I watch and bask in the golden moments of other people’s lives. Or I cower in the shadows whilst the world moves without me.

I’m out of fight again with every barrier put in my way. I’m feeding something that’s useless anyway. I feel more alone than in my desperate moments. Days on end with these 4 walls.

I’m an irritant, a burden and too much. No contact from others despite trying the hardest I possibly can. I feel a terrible, terrible guilt inside for always asking.

I’ve reached the dark forest again and I can only stumble and trip through it. Tripping on the dark thoughts and grazing my knees.

Inside I’m not ok at all. I’m a mess that pours down my cheeks in rivers. I can’t keep up this better face that hides deep numbness and disappointment.

I know It’s Over

The Smith’s remind me of a time I was working for the Youth Service. I was a fiercely passionate about the young people I worked with as they were for The Smiths twenty years too late. This song for me has so much resonance with my life but more because of that memory.

Oh mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
And as I climb into an empty bed
Oh well, enough said
I know it’s over, still I cling
I don’t know where else I can go, oh

Oh mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
See, the sea wants to take me
The knife wants to slit me
Do you think you can help me?

Sad veiled bride, please be happy
Handsome groom, give her room
Loud, loutish lover, treat her kindly
Though she needs you
More than she loves you

And I know it’s over, still I cling
I don’t know where else I can go
Over and over and over and over
Over and over

I know it’s over
And it never really began
But in my heart it was so real
And you even spoke to me, and said

“If you’re so funny then why are you on your own tonight?
And if you’re so clever then why are you on your own tonight?
If you’re so very entertaining then why are you on your own tonight?
If you’re so very good-looking, why do you sleep alone tonight?”

“I know ’cause tonight is just like any other night
That’s why you’re on your own tonight
With your triumphs and your charms
While they’re in each other’s arms”

It’s so easy to laugh, it’s so easy to hate
It takes strength to be gentle and kind
Over, over, over, over, over
It’s so easy to laugh, it’s so easy to hate
It takes guts to be gentle and kind
Over, over

Love is natural and real
But not for you, my love
Not tonight, my love
Love is natural and real
But not for such as you and I, my love

Oh mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head

Oh mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh mother, I can even feel the soil falling over my head
Oh mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head

 

Audition (The Fools Who Dream)

Well this was just beyond beautiful, and this comes from someone who often dislikes musicals. La La Land appealed to the old fashioned wild one in me. the one who gets up and tries again, takes the knock down, and finds beauty. I sobbed my heart out.

My aunt used to live in Paris
I remember, she used to come home and tell us
stories about being abroad and
I remember that she told us she jumped in the river once
Barefoot

She smiled
Leapt, without looking
And She tumbled into the Seine!
The water was freezing
she spent a month sneezing
but said she would do it, again

Here’s to the ones
who dream
Foolish, as they may seem
Here’s to the hearts
that ache
Here’s to the mess
we make

She captured a feeling
Sky with no ceiling
Sunset inside a frame
She lived in her liquor
and died with a flicker
I’ll always remember the flame

Here’s to the ones
who dream

Foolish, as they may seem
Here’s to the hearts
that ache
Here’s to the mess
we make

She told me:
A bit of madness is key
to give us new colors to see
Who knows where it will lead us?
And that’s why they need us

So bring on the rebels
The ripples from pebbles
The painters, and poets, and plays

And here’s to the fools
who dream
Crazy, as they may seem
Here’s to the hearts that break
Here’s to the mess we make

I trace it all back
to then
Her, and the snow, and the Seine
Smiling through it
She said
She’d do it, again

 

Blink and you’ll miss it.

The sun barely shines in the bright cold sky. The cold creeps in every gap and forgotten tuck-in.

The bonfire burns old whilst the smoke writes the memories across the sky. Warming the sun bleached snow as it melts into clear furrows.

The land sighs as it sleeps, turns over, seeing the Sun isn’t shining she goes back to her dreams. The excitement and magic melts away, the only day you wish the sun took leave.

In a day the stream flows. Playing it’s cool melody on the slowly warming rocks. The pond might be frozen but it’s path is too risky to find out.

With fingers wrapped in gloves that make them too cumbersome. Take off the gloves, use your hands briefly before they freeze and become just as clumsy.

The crow carries the sound of winter on its breath, Its black heart never dies.Only chased away by birds of song, shrill and tinkling, dancing in the fragile sun.

All that’s left of the snow is the snagged fleece in brambles; fake snow that sparkles with dew. My fingers bleed on it’s purity as I snatch it from the branches.

Pines that defy the cold breathe their sent into the warming air. Something is afoot, but blink and you’ll miss it.

 

Nostalgia

This one is for the man who helped me beyond what he will ever know. For the moments of conversation and kind words. For paying interest even if fleeting. For showing me there is something more to me and new posibilites. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart for your kindness and cheekiness.

Tram wires cross Melbourne skies
Cut my red heart in two
My knuckles bleed down Johnston street
On a door that shouldn’t be in front of me

Twelve thousand miles away from your smile
I’m twelve thousand miles away from me
Standing on the corner of Brunswick
Got the rain coming down and mascara on my cheek

Oh whisper me words in the shape of a bay
Shelter my love from the wind and the rain

Crow fly be my alibi
And return this fable on your wing
Take it far away to where gypsies play
Beneath metal stars by the bridge

Oh write me a beacon so I know the way
Guide my love through night and through day

Only the sunset knows my blind desire for the fleeting
Only the moon understands the beauty of love
When held by a hand like the aura of nostalgia