i am not my own

I spent the blur between xmas and new year, plus a few extra days on the east cape of New Zealand, a place not unlike the deep south of the US in flavor. I saw some Maori kids slaughtering a horse on a dirt track, they were cutting it's neck and head off. Not exactly what I expected of Maori culture, but I suppose I should assume to be under impressed by my own species no matter what dance skills they may have.

I saw sheets of rain wave in the air for an entire day which made the river muddy and fast. I spent some time among giant gum trees, peeling their strips of papery bark in long rolled up sheets. Magical trees, they make an area they grow in utterly peaceful and fairylike.

I saw a couple dead possums, nothing like north american possums, they are adorable furry animals something like a cat crossed with a raccoon. They are also called "coons" The possums were dead because I was staying with a gun happy bunch of men who shot anything they could as often as possible. In hunting, they blurred the edge between necessity and pleasure like I do with food. So I can relate, in a way.

The food was another matter. My sensibilities surrounding cleanliness and quality had to be put on hold, I turned a blind eye to rat droppings and dish washing/drying methods and ingredient lists so as not to appear like a princess.

I am often able to thrive in conditions which many women would find beyond tolerable, but I found this experience required extra effort on my part.

I was told this dwelling is typical in the east cape and around the country as well in rural areas.

If this is the case, this country is stretching it's 1st world status. I spent as much time outdoors as possible, including sleeping as I felt cleaner out there.

On to the spectacular.

The herd of "wild" horses had this spring birthed a new crop of foals, gorgeous and galloping next to their mothers in the open green rolling hills. I spent part of a few of my runs sprinting after them for the sheer joy of running with them and seeing them run.

On the day after the big storm, the Scot drove the big flat bed truck while I and several others climbed on the back to ride up logging tracks in the misty weather to see what we could see. We were jostled along, hanging on for dear life and laughing while we bounced over water, past clear cuts, and up the side of a mountainy green bump to watch the sun break through the mist and bring on a brilliant rainbow like I've never seen. It arched over the mares with their foals and ended in the soft green pasture. I couldn't get over seeing a rainbow's end. Chris and I had never seen a thing like it before.

That evening, we all were out in the pasture watching one of the most spectacular sunsets I've ever seen. The entire sky was breathtaking, from every direction. The west, east, north, south. The colors, the patterns of clouds were awesome. Everyone kept pointing and saying "there" but it was everywhere, and it kept changing. In the east, there was a rainbow...a rainbow in the midst of an orange sunset!

The evenings consisted of candles, as there wasn't electricity, (not regrettable as it made me feel less dirty being inside) room temperature beer and some great jokes involving the sexual uses of sheep, and hunting.

Chris and I slept next to the river, heard it rushing all night long, and met a large hedgehog our first night out.

We spent our last night there, packing up bees with loud, stinky machinery and driving them all night long through the mountains back to the Bay of Plenty.

We have done this twice now in half a week, and I was quite cranky this last trip. Princesses are not subjected to this kind of work.

This morning, however, as we unloaded bees in a spectacular setting as the sun rose through more misty rain, there was a double rainbow to greet the day.

It made the experience worth it, sort of.

The beekeeping is sloppy, the work feels worthless and I alternate between wanting to really make a difference in this bee operation and washing my hands of the whole thing.

No matter, as we will very soon be buying a vehicle and heading out to travel and have our own adventure.

I am deeply in love. I can palpate it in moments when I am not obsessing about some thing.

To completely sink into that sense of euphoria is a goal.

I am acutely aware of the complications of being who I am at the age I am coupled with my impulsive decision making style. And I am hoping that swimming in love will help my perspective. It does make me float when I let it.

Music. Wine. Love.

If I could take your face in my hands now and kiss you full and slow on the lips we could float together in bliss. If we had known ahead of time how spread out those kisses would be and how much work there would be in between kisses, we'd never have agreed to continue living.

But let's agree to forget those ugly facts and continue on for one another, that there may be an other to kiss when the moment comes.

wet and slippery

temporal and infinite

I am not my own, it's not my choice...