A loved one is leaving…


A beloved leaves this world and I must repost this poem in honour of his journey (give the ear parcel a chance, open it in another tab watch the first few moments then read the poem, I am unapolgetically scandinavian even if my beloved friend is a lion; David my Lion this poem is for you)…

Leave the familiar for a while.

Let your senses and bodies stretch out
Like a welcomed season

Onto the meadow and shores and hills.
Open up to the Roof.

Make a new watermark on your excitement

And love.
Like a blooming night flower,

Bestow your vital fragrance of happiness

And giving

Upon our intimate assembly.
Change rooms in your mind for a day.
All the hemispheres in existence

Lie beside an equator

In your heart.
Greet Yourself

In your thousand other forms

As you mount the hidden tide and travel

Back home.
All the hemispheres in heaven

Are sitting around a fire

While stitching themselves together

Into the Great Circle inside of


Hafez (1325–1390)

Khwāja Shamsu d-Dīn Muhammad Hāfez-e Shīrāzī

(*such dignity!* – errant)

image courtesy of Kijani_Lion

Ear parcel



I dreamed last night that one that has passed was still with us and that one that is passing was angry. I cannot assist either, except to love them both. To accept them both and offer to hold their souls.

Words, errant

Image courtesy of bliXX_a

Ear parcel: Nine Inch Nails, Something I can never have

Mi corazón está triste

El Pulpo

I lost a friend yesterday: Maestro, hermano, amigo, I will miss you but never forget your beautiful smile and presence that even when ravaged with illness burned brighter than many I know with full health. I will see you on the dance floor again Maestro, one day when my time here is done.

Perdí a un amigo ayer: Maestro, hermano, amigo, le echaré de menos, pero nunca olvidaré su sonrisa hermosa y presencia que aun cuando devastado con la enfermedad se quemó más brillante que muchos sé con la salud llena. Voy a hasta la vista en la pista de baile otra vez el Maestro, un día cuando mi tiempo aquí es hecho.

Norberto ‘El Pulpo’ Esbrez

22 Nov 1966 – 16 July 2014

Rest in peace brother

Image of El Pulpo from his facebook page




An autumn leaf

Turns from cooling sun

Embracing essence

Hopeful of survival

Against seasonal odds

Brace against the embraceable

Contain the essence of self

Protect against harsh influence

Survive beyond thirst

Beyond potential comfort

Cling to breath

And blessing




Words errant satiety, image courtesy of schnitzelyne on deviant ART, music by Keaton Henderson ‘You’.



Crack in Time

I carry them within me, beneath my skin. Sensory experience stirs them and they awaken, pulsating thoughts rich with reminder. Eyes closing, breath stirred I tenderly hold the moment awoken beneath fluttering eyelids. Submerged inside, closed from the external I can feel them and clasp them quietly without witness. Can you see their palimpsest upon my skin? Does my history converse upon my body? Momentarily suspended the emphatic now is muted in contrast to then. Unfurling in stillness once again I am whole. They are forever lost to the present yet always carried within.

Words and image by errant satiety



Today I ran into an old friend. My heart soared when I saw her we embraced and caught up. It was so delightful to see her and see how happy she is. Then she grabbed my hand and told me of another very special mutual friend. One who has been both amazing friend and surrogate mother to me. One I had been giving space to as her daughter was unwell and I know this daughter was more than a little confused by my friendship with her mother and how I was referred to as ‘another daughter’. My friend told me that this daughter had passed away. I went numb. I drove home attempting to contain myself. I wanted to drive straight to her house and take her in my arms. Instead I sought conversation with my man first and emailed her to arrange a time. What do you say to the inconsolable? How do you fathom the loss of a child? This is not the first time this has happened to me. Each situation has been unique and I responded to each in the way I felt most appropriate at the time. I feel I have failed her by not being there enough, by not even knowing when her daughter died. When her daughter first became sick she called me to tell me of the diagnosis and we talked for hours, we kept talking she would message me to call or just call. She was so optimistic about the treatment and that many people lived for 25-40 years after treatment but not in this case, it was only six months.

I think I started distancing myself from death when my friends three year old daughter drowned. I was with them daily supporting them and as they were practicing Hindus I even sat with her tiny body for hours on end. My son was 16 months at the time and was with his father when this happened. I had experienced a strange premonition beforehand and at the time of her death I was raving at my friends that we had to go to the beach where she was dying. They thought I had lost my mind and were trying to calm me and would not allow me to leave the house. Then someone came to tell us the news. None of them stopped me when I went straight to be with them. I supported them right the way through including looking after their younger daughter throughout the initial grief time. I was honored when I was sought out during the funeral to take the littlest member of the family into my care. After about six months I moved in with them for nearly a year. At one point I had hallucinations every time I was near water, I would seeing her floating. It was a pretty intense time.

The next time was when my male friend, a big strong playful man, lost his nineteen year old son. It was a very odd situation. His son was found in his car on the side of the road with massive head injuries but no damage to the car. Eventually the investigators deduced that he had hit deep water on the road and smashed his head on the steering wheel killing him but the vehicle just drifted to the side of the road. This man, this beautiful man buried his child, his only son. He dug the hole himself and I helped him. This was a practical man, this was his final act of love for his son, to see he was buried well. We filled the hole back in on top of the coffin and stomped the wet clay down over him and collapsed embracing in the rain covered in the clay that now encased his son. Everyone else stayed back except the boys beautiful girlfriend who sang Coldplay’s ‘Green eyes’ at the top of her lungs.

Death the poignant reminder of life and living well. Do we know how lucky we are? Are we grateful for the love, pain, joy, fear, the inconsequential, the sublime…

Are we really living?

Am I really living? I would like to think so.

Today we celebrate the dead.

Milonga Triste’ Mercedes Simone 

‘Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien’

If you are unfamiliar with the song I have borrowed for the title of this post, the paraphrased story is: no regrets, not one, not for the joys or the pain, I have swept away my love stories, lit the fire with my past, because my life, my joys today they begin with you… It’s a lovely sentiment but its just not true though, is it? We like to think with a new relationship or a change within a relationship that this would be the case but we always have some things, negative or pleasurable, in the back of our mind that like an old photo album or playlist (or mix tape for those of us who remember) we pull out, dust off and reminiscence over. Be they good or bad, but to light the fire with them and banish them forever? Partially perhaps but not entirely.

This song holds special meaning for me. When I first committed to my man (fast becoming my Sir) I had many regrets. Prior to this I had to choose between two very different men. Both passionate, gorgeous men that challenged and excited me. One I would have the opportunity to make a family with, be challenged sexually and lead an exciting life full of creative pursuits but in another town. With the other no more children but a family with his children and their children (he a young Dad and his daughter a young mum) in the same town and to dance and grow in Tango together. I chose to have neither. I really sunk both ships. Total annihilation. Depths of fucking despair. Because I could not decide. And the needs of my son had to come first. And my son (who was recovering from severe depression) wanted, needed the familiar routine and town he knew, he begged me to remain close to our family he simply couldn’t handle anymore change. Eventually proximity meant that my tango partial friend became my tango dance partner and although we tried to remain just friends that just wasn’t going to happen. Back to Edith Piaf, we were at a local bar and I was meeting a very good friend of his for the first time. She was a was a wonderful, gregarious French woman who put me through the hard yards, please imagine a heavy smoker French accent: ‘you look very young, you know he can’t have any more children. He can’t take another loss either, you know he nearly died when you said just friends? I was with him through all that, he is happy now but if you go…’ She would kill me, I could see it. Then as the night progressed she realised my worth and accepted me whole hearted which meant time to play and sing as loudly as possible to what she referred to as her national song: Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien. What a beautiful lady, I had the pleasure of calling her friend for another 6 months before she dropped to the floor one day and never regained consciousness. Stroke. But I know she clearly believed in and lived a life with no regrets.

Two random points to expound upon 1. Contextualise the song, it was written in 1956 and made famous when Edith Piaf recorded it in 1960, she dedicated it to the French Legion who were in conflict at the time in Algeria. What a damn fine song to take to heart and into battle. I don’t know if Edith sang it with irony or not she sang it with intensity and passion (just wait till I start on tango songs oh my, God!) 2. The man not in close proximity, three years later he has just welcomed the birth of a beautiful daughter with an equally beautiful woman, regrets? Yes I have many. He is a part of me that can never be removed. It is a strange time in my life, my father starts radiation therapy tomorrow, my sister is suffering severe anxiety and is fearful that she will harm her children, my niece is trying to die, my brother (the niece’s father nowonder) had a heart attack and me I am celebrating liberation through honesty about my true nature, loving my son and all he is becoming, loving my man for all he is becoming. I yet I look at ‘his’ Facebook updates and can’t help but wish that was our baby and that he was still mine. When I saw him last I didn’t know if I could handle seeing him. I missed him so much I had no idea if I could stop myself from kissing and kissing and kissing him. And if he ever wanted me again, could I say no? I do not believe I could. I love him and I love my man who became so by default yet still was chosen. Lucky am I to have had such love in my life yet I regret (Yoda moment for those nerds among us). I could have been a mother again. But I chose not to, I chose to give that up to honor the child I already had. Since I am on the topic of songs; two songs come to mind (actually so many on this playlist of woe, ‘Indifference’ Pearl Jam, ‘Wonderwall’ Ryan Adams version, ‘Hallelujah’ by Gin and along the more mainstream ‘Stay’ Rihanna) for me Lorde (a New Zealand girl and damn talented at just sweet 16) ‘Biting Down’ and for my distant love Adele’s stunning version of The Cure’s ‘Lovesong’. He already knows he is home to me. Stupid girl. Not so stupid girl. Just a girl. The ones I want to ask for advice, they are gone already. Damn death that sneaky fuck who stalks those most cherished and takes them away. You just leave my Dad and niece the fuck alone.

This was not a ‘popular’ post first time round… But it’s honest and nothing has changed between now and then…





Mind over matter

Have you ever had a near death experience, or something similarly intense, where you have had only the power of your mind to survive? I have been near death far too many times in my life (I think I have more than one angel, or devil, ensuring I stick around) but by far the most poignant occurred some years ago.

My son was nearly 2 years old at the time and we lived in a very remote area. My vehicle was at the mechanics getting some serious repairs so we were alone, in the wilderness (so to speak) without transport. I have always been allergic to bees but didn’t realise that this kind of allergy is accumulative. My son and I had just had bath time and were about to settle in for some stories, my son was playing in his room while I went to Dress. A bee was in my clothing. I had no medication in the house and had never reacted the way I did this time. My glands swelled very fast and my throat started to close. Before I lost the ability to speak I phoned (thank goodness I decided I needed a landline in this wilderness – I had no internet or mobile phone coverage) the local doctor, his wife informed me that he was attending a heart attack and would get to me when he could. There was no point calling an ambulance it would have taken over an hour to get to me and the Doctor was sure he or his wife could reach me within 20 minutes.

I lay on the floor and focussed on the simple task of breathing and keeping enough airway open to allow me to survive. I imagined my organs not needing so much oxygen to function and simply slowed everything down. I refused to allow the poison in my system, or my immune systems reaction to the poison, to kill me. Of course I don’t know how I will die but I decided a bee sting was not the end I was going to have. My son continued to happily play in his room, which was amazing as he normally would have been tired and cranky at this time of the day. Eventually the doctor arrived and was able medicate me. I now carry an adrenaline shot everywhere and have had to use it twice since then but I have never forgotten those twilight minutes hovering on deaths door and refusing to enter.