When poetry takes over

I'm not a poet. Never will be. But there are times when poetry, sometimes obscure in shape and form, seems the most logical and successful organiser of thoughts, a flask of emotion. I have been known to scribble my own personal set of stanzas, but to lay them bare in the world requires a strength that I am not quite in possession of. Perhaps that's okay. For me, writing is a cathartic excercise, a healing undertaken with words. Sylvia would understand this. And Martin is there for the happy times. And Stevie, well, one of Stevie's sticks in my mind always:

Not waving But Drowning
- Stevie Smith

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.

--

Oh don't worry. It's just thinking, not drowning.

A soleful fire

More feet on fire
Originally uploaded by Jen_Smit.

People are precious

For all the ease that modern communication affords us, I have verifiable proof that no text message, no missed call, no voicemail left or email received is in any measure equal to the satisfaction of a smile shared, a hand touched or an eye met.

It may well be possible to live one's life from the safety of one room - shop online, date online and play online - but when I spend an evening like this evening, in the company of good friends, smothered in an array of textures and moods to tickle the senses, I am reminded all too clearly how important people are. Real people. People with hang ups and hardships, quirks and confusions, twinkles and passions. To be sure, I am and have always been a social person, but in quiet moments of contemplation, nights like tonight serve to revitalise the senses and remind me how much I do indeed love my friends. This is perhaps especially true in a foreign environment where one's friends naturally conjugate into 'framily'. The fact that we have all known eachother a relatively short time is neither here nor there (just as 1999 is neither now, nor never, never - no?). The fact is, we share an energy, an Iggy Pop lust for life and a retro keeness for community.

This is why we live.

Birth right

Well will ya look at that! H&M, budget saviour of teenage girls and throwaway fashionistas, knows where Windhoek is! AND Walvis Bay! It is, you must admit, quite astounding what young lady Pitt-Jolie (or is that Jolie-Pitt) has accomplished in her short life. For I can only explain this latest H&M window display, a sandy homage to Namibia, to baby Shiloh Novel Jolie Pitt (or Pitt Jolie) - the most anticipated baby in celeb land in about 20 years! Just like it has been said that war is God's way of teaching American's geography, this little excercise may well be his way of highighting the case of Africa amongst celebs and fashionistas.


Of course, did you hear just how irate it made the Hollywood set? Humpf, they moaned, "what's wrong with our hospitals?" Now, now, no need to get jealous, but I suspect that this latest celeb birth may give rise to several copycat arrivals. After all, they're not the most original of people, celebs, are they. Just think about baby names. Gwynnie got great coverage with Apple, Jamie cemented his foodie status with Honey Poppy and now, desperate for some exposure, any exposure, one of the ex-spice girl Mels has Bluebell Madonna (bestill my beating heart...). But baby names are so last gestation. Time to move on and start at the very beginning, so to speak, with the birth. Mark my words. Scan the pages to see which celeb is the next to pop and my guess is some obscure little spot of land will find itself printing out a new passport for its newest citizen.

But I wonder: will any of them choose Iraq?

Waving the flag of humanity

I've just tried some of that pearl enriched dedorant - supposed to transform your armpits into things of beauty beyond compare. Call me a skeptic, but I'm not convinced that it works. Certainly I haven't noticed a hunk from the other side of the room mesmerised by the gorgeousness of my pits. Disappointing. But I guess pearls belong in oysters - and you don't hear people saying 'the world is your armpit', now do you.

I received said deodorant as part of the goodie bag that we 10 000 London ladies were given this morning after completing the 5km Race for Life in aid of Cancer Research UK. As you may know, though i have been known to run a few kilometres here and there, the thought of a race generally fills me with dread. Yet alighting from the tube at Farringdon this morning to find myself bouyed along a sea of pink, the little flutterbies of delicious energy were awakened and I remembered, as I always do, just how much I enjoy taking part in events like this. Part of the attraction I think is the sense of community that one experiences. Most of us live such fast-paced and fairly selfish lives and the concept of community has become so diluted. But when you're out there, just you and the 10 000, all from different walks of life but drawn together for a common cause, you can't help but feel good. And of course it was sunny! Yes, sunny on a Sunday in London! St Pauls seemed to gleam against the blue sky and churches across the city were ding-donging their bells in celebration.

What made this particular race so moving though - if you'll excuse the pun - was the focus on people. Real people who have suffered through cancer. It was hard not to get emotional when reading the dedications so lovingly pinned to the backs of each runner. "For my nan"; "For my beautiful mum, proud on her cloud"; "For my daughter, my husband and my best friend". That's a lot to take in in so few simply put words. And seeing a mother and daughter walking hand in hand in memory of their mother and grandmother, well, it was as tender a scene as I have ever seen in a crowd.

Watching it all from a little introspective part of myself I marvelled at the fact that even those who had no one person in mind to run for, had turned up to lend their support to the fight against cancer. It struck me because over the past year I have felt overwhelmed by my growing sense of social awareness. I have never thought of myself as a campaigner, never felt driven enough by any one cause to get out there and show it, and yet I find myself in a space and time where given the opportunity to 'give it all up' and fight for a cause, stick up for the world and its people, I would probably do it. The fact that over 1 million women around the country went out today to run for Cancer Research UK makes me thinnk that this is an increasing phenomenon.

Which brings me back around to community.

Could it be that community, being no longer so much a geographic or even cultural concept, is re-emerging as a social animal? Is the social cause the new community? The world is a small place, after all and traditional social groups are now spread across the planet - I only have to look at my own family and friends, scattered across Africa, the antipodes and the UK to know that this is true. We're people, we need to belong to things. Most people will now recognise the African word Ubuntu, but take the full Zulu maxim "umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu" and you'll learn that "a person is a person because of other people".

The world is a tragically wonderful place but to survive it and smile I guess we need other people. And a flag to wave.