<![CDATA[Incredible Violet

<![CDATA[Incredible Violet - Blog]]>Sat, 15 Aug 2026 01:55:59 -0700Weebly<![CDATA[New]]>Thu, 13 Aug 2026 17:50:09 GMThttp://www.incredibleviolet.com/blog/newI am new:

I go under
to reinvent,
to transform,
to change ...

The ocean draws me in,
buries me,
washes me down,
turns me outside-in & back out
deeply
&
I am tossing & rolling in the pull ...

I open my mouth
to breathe?
to speak?
to call?
to cry out?

and swallow that part-ocean of water ...

but it doesn't choke me,
I don't drown ...

The water feeds me,
Turns me right-side-up
and I rise fast ...

The depths push me from below,
Rush me to the surface
up
out
into the air ...

Being spat out by that swirling, empowering mass
with choking, hilarious laughter,
I shoot into the openness,
arms & mouth wide,
my head arching back
to see the endless blue and white skyspace ...

I am air-born.
I am free ...

to drop softly back to the liquid surface.
It receives me without memory &
I sink in but not completely ...

There is nowhere to rest on the open water unless
you lie down
and let it carry you:
the sun warming and drying from above,
the sea soaking into your skin and hair from below.

The depth supports me,
I am held,
resting,
still breathing ...

Safe.

I have come from under the waves
to under the sky
&
back to the surface,
and I smile.

Its all good.
I am quiet.
My soul is well.

I am new ...

]]><![CDATA[Kindness]]>Tue, 21 Jul 2026 19:03:04 GMThttp://www.incredibleviolet.com/blog/kindnessI hope I was kind to you.

I hardly remember my own face,
how I looked at you or
how I spoke.

I remember you
shaking your head
involuntarily,
like twitching,
not knowing it.

I remember that ice cream
slowly
melting all down your hand,
and arm and jeans and shoe and ending
on the ground and then
in the bin.

I remember the chocolate
all around your mouth,
you talking and not knowing it
and the chocolate there
until I told you.

Twice.

I remember you
looking like you might cry but
not knowing it
or not knowing how
or what that feeling was.

Your eyes not fixing,
Your hands not touching,
no connection.

I do remember smiling at you at the beginning when I saw you
as you turned, casting around and
not seeing me
not recognizing me &
looking lost
until I waved.

I remember you.

I will never forget that ice cream.

Thank you.

]]><![CDATA[Holding my Heart]]>Sat, 04 Jul 2026 18:39:18 GMThttp://www.incredibleviolet.com/blog/holding-my-heartMy heart is so fast.

It breaks (open) so quickly
and rejoices
and loves
and breaks
(open)

Fragile.

But is it fragility?
Or is it ferocity?
Or fear?

Pretending love
or brokenness
or pain
or passion
or spentness ...

just to not stay hidden.

Because that is what the breaking does:

It opens me.

& then I am afraid because
open hurts more than closed but
closed is harder for
ever,

open is only harder for
now.

It will pass (that difficulty) &

My heart knows it.

Already it passes ...

The blood and water flow off and
there is only the rawness of open

& I am exposed.

My heart beats in the open

Loud and
Strong and
Unstoppable.

So much power.

And I can't stand it.

I watch, helpless
Feeling it all helplessly &

Holding that heart without knowledge of its next
beat,
where it will go?
what it will do?

It doesn't care
about my helpless-ness.

It is so strong.

It is the strongest thing I know.

And sometimes I am afraid of it
when I can see it
and sometimes I am grateful for it
when I can feel it
and sometimes I am stronger with it
when I can hold it

Open.

& in the end only the strength is left
with me
holding my heart.

Book: My Heart, under 'Strong'

]]><![CDATA[I remember you]]>Tue, 30 Jun 2026 17:25:39 GMThttp://www.incredibleviolet.com/blog/i-remember-youI remember
you
as though we've met
before

I remember you from your being
in my yesterdays & todays
& from my imaginings of
tomorrows

As though I've know you across
times,
as though you've been there
always.

You are in me.

It is not about finding
you,
You are not lost for
me.

It's about finding me

When I find my heart
in me
You will be
there.

You are there

I go to myself
&
You are there
&
I remember you.

From 'Soft' in My Heart

]]><![CDATA[(Re)Birth ...]]>Tue, 09 Jun 2026 17:57:49 GMThttp://www.incredibleviolet.com/blog/rebirthThere's something bigger about the planet after it rains.

Like it makes space.
Cleans.
More ease,
more air,
less pressure,
lighter.

Empty,

But not desolate.

A kind of expectant pause,
in all the density of living full ...
A space made clean to fill up
new, from clarity.

The air around expands
& there is space for more
and it comes easily.

The impossible feels possible,
there is space for every plausible & implausible thing
& more,
but no rushing.
Just the space.

The air is big
I grow
I fill it up
It fills up me
I am everywhere

& quiet

& there is power there in the quiet space of me

I breathe in the space and am
grateful.

From (Re)birth in Homeland

]]><![CDATA[Blank space]]>Sun, 29 Mar 2026 18:46:23 GMThttp://www.incredibleviolet.com/blog/blank-spaceI haven't been here for a while.

Feels natural now when I have nothing to say
to come here to say it.

It's a strangely complete feeling:

Just a white space on the page
between the words.

I don't know which words:
Just the one before and the one after but
being neither,
being just the space.

If you're old enough, you might remember
the end of the tape playing
through the speakers of the tape recorder:

White noise,
with the heads rotating,
just empty.

Sshhhssshhhsshhhsshhss
with maybe a click or a snap or a crackle,
or something
just meaningless,

Movement without content.
Just movement.

I get up to clear the table.]]><![CDATA[Gratitude]]>Wed, 14 Aug 2024 18:32:10 GMThttp://www.incredibleviolet.com/blog/gratitude"It's not about getting there,
It's about the journey."

They say that.

Everyone says it, over and over,
like they believe it & know what it means
and then they laugh.

But what do they mean?

Do they mean that it is about this moment
right now? This poem
happening right
here

&

not the one that came out of me yesterday complete
and contained within itself and perfect

Until it was lost like a Seifenblase
bursting in the air just next to your face
leaving nothing but the memory of its
shiny
floating
rediculousness

And a couple of drops of water on your ear and
fingers.

It was a perfect poem.

I saw it and knew it and it disappeared.

Strange that the perfection remains still intact.

That one moment of knowing it to be perfect.

I am grateful.]]><![CDATA[I miss you ...]]>Tue, 10 Jan 2023 17:44:30 GMThttp://www.incredibleviolet.com/blog/i-miss-youStrange how long I have been thinking this thought,
though I feel now that there is change in it.

Changes: movement.

The thought is a new one: less a thought than an overpowering,
overwhelming,
over-flowing
longing,
deep as darkness:

as full and open and endless as forever must feel
in every direction:
forwards, backwards, diagonally across, swirling, up & down:

Everywhere space, full, so full of emptiness and longing and love.

I feel you there.

But it is dark & I cannot see you.

But I feel you: breathing,
moving, laughing, speaking: your voice vibrates all that silence and space and
I feel you like waves:

The vibrations of your existence.

Thank you for being there.
Here.

I love you.

]]><![CDATA[Things]]>Fri, 24 Jul 2020 21:14:57 GMThttp://www.incredibleviolet.com/blog/things9678502Do we hide our souls in things
to keep them safe till after our hearts leave us?

Do we always know that
that will happen?

Is mine hidden in the dry, powder-white-brown blades of grass
I remember stabbing my feet on in summer?
Or in those cracked hot pavements?
Or the bleached-baking tar roads
gravelling in the light & dark?

Maybe in the hot sand, sinking away as I
pushed up that same dune for the hundredth time,
or in the broken barnacles
stabbing and cutting while I breathed
the salt and water deeply, into
the lung hollows under my heart?

Can we loose our souls through our feet by accident?

Did I hide a part of my soul in that sagging, rusted fence that
I never forgot seeing those huge bugs with the unrealistically long legs
crawling through?

What a strange place to hide a soul.

& what about in those white flowers? The ones with the egg-yellow centres that hung heavily at my sister's front door & I never learned the names of after all those years because you don't have to call things that are close?

(It's funny how I remember most things best
with the souls of my feet
and some things only with the backs of my
eyelids)

Maybe I just left my soul in the air.
Hanging like the prayers of a thousand years hang in the Notre Dame;
like a cloud of pollen dust being blown from the field
into the forest, slowly, still visible with the other lost souls bumping up against
each other there.

&

Maybe that's where all souls go.

At the end.

...

I look for my soul more now;
now that my heart has grown stronger & harder.

The softness of it is rarer & more beautiful to me.

From 'Things' in Homeland

]]><![CDATA[A reason]]>Mon, 06 Jan 2020 11:28:22 GMThttp://www.incredibleviolet.com/blog/greyMy whole body is grey.

& my face.

Darker.

...

What do you have
when you have
no more
hope?

...

I you are lucky, you have a reason.

From 'Grey' in Colour grey.html

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