The cocoon – tomb or womb.
A vessel – digesting ourselves.
Nothing wasted.
What would it be to really digest ourselves? To become a gooey mess of all of the parts of ourselves that were before – the chubby caterpillar parts – the teenie-tiny leggy parts – the chomping-on-the-leafy parts. The bright green segmenty parts – the black stripes and the few white dots circled in black personas.
To ooo and goo – our lives our bodies – our souls – contained – cocooned – wrapped in steamed banana leaf like sticky rice on the patio of your favourite dim sum restaurant.
What would be released when we open the leaf? Steam? What scent, what temperature? To be disturbed in cocoon – What would happen then? Mid-metamorphosis – half sticky, half asleep, half not – one eye blinks open – oh fuck!
To be in “pause” is a strange place to be.
To be aware of being in pause, I’d have to say, is even stranger.
I believe this is the first time in my 36 (almost 37) years that I’ve been tragically/painstakingly and stubbornly aware that I am in pause.
Where Trust – capital “T” beams its bright light – but tempered by “How?” – well – all the things to do… but “HOW?” (all caps) – with the time, with the house, post-flood recovery, the budget, trade-in a vehicle, live in a camper, look around there? lead a team in camping clothes?
Trust. Trust. Trust.
We’ve done so much work, we’ve done some healing even. We’ve glared at each other, joked, smirked, rolled eyes, hugged, kissed, and walked away.
We’ve done a date night on a Tuesday when the tacos and tequila is two bucks and the tickets to the theatre are cheap.
We’ve cleaned. We’ve cleared out. We’ve come together. We’ve power struggled. We’ve convinced each other and opened each others’ eyes.
We’ve celebrated. We’ve expressed – we’ve found our ways to communicate with family.
We’ve released and let go. Bit by bit. Day by day.
We’ve laughed at the TV and at each other. We’ve gone to therapy and heard words never said before.
We’ve taken the dog out. Cleaned the car. Scraped the coffee grounds into the garden.
We’ve sat and watched nature day-by-day. We’ve soaked in our surroundings. We dusted that one time and even used Qtips to clean the baseboards and the sliding door base.
We’ve fed hummingbirds and yelled at neighbours. We’ve farted with the windows open, then giggled thinking the neighbours probably heard that.
where rivers are born 