Trailing Words

As I grew up I watched my father slowly disappear into grief and silence, the type of work he did – mostly shift work – upset his nervous system and added to what would now be described as post traumatic disorder incurred through internment by the Japanese in China during the War. I resolved not to get caught working in jobs that were dulling and monotonous, not to be trapped into work routines that took over life.

I spent many years being busy ‘doing’ being rather than allowing myself to be.

This blog I want to meander like a trail, not a straight line or a straight road, as moments between moments, in-dwellings. Maybe it won’t be that. I hope it’s fun and fun to read and that it honours the heart and honours the Earth.

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About bydda88

I love poetry, writing, especially writing as healing, as touching the sacred, being touched. And place, places dreaming us, us them. Coasts, rivers, canyons; the ordinary things too, the small things, gestures that reach out.
This entry was posted in paperbark trees, poetry, trails, writing. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Trailing Words

  1. Niamh says:

    Hi Keith! Your blog looks great!! Look forward to reading more

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