Category: Writing

Blindness and Disability, Music, Science, Writing

I Am Not Your Touch Tank Sea Star

Chrys Buckley

IMG_0335So, for whatever reason, I’ve been feeling like putting some of my writing up, so here is a poem I wrote a few years ago, followed by the story of how it came to be.

I Am Not Your Touch Tank Sea Star

When I’m a sea star
I hold the sea’s mystery in my purple
Yet I live at the tips of my spines
Erected like walls to protect
My soft center from being hurt or feeling
The hurt I’ve already been.
As I scavenge along the bottom
For bull kelp and sea lettuce
I cling to any steady surface
With tube feel like a miser who knows
I don’t deserve the water
And I don’t let anyone touch me

Sometimes I’m a sea cucumber
Spikes only ward my demons off for show
I let them go tender
And as I lay exposed
My past creeps up behind me
Slithering inside my open sores
Carrying their torches of truth
I feel them settle in my gut
So I twist it around them, bunch it up
With a hurl I eviscerate my organs
And scramble to grow new insides

Once I was an octopus
Used eight arms to lift the top of the holding tank
Squeezed out, dropped to the floor and crawled
Through the crack under the door
Famished on the sand, inching forward
Telling myself I will not let them
Make me let myself die
If I can give me a little slack and a lot of love
I might make it
Back to the deeper seas I knew before captivity
Where they can’t coax me back
To put me in the big tank, captive
For their audience
I am free

On a blue moon I’m a blue dolphin
On waves with deeper frequency
Intelligence unfocused on rational thought
Feel no shame for stranding myself
To help a member of my pod in need
Sensed out with echolocation
Weathered harsh, howling storms
By surrendering to their windblown frenzy
I know the patterns of Earth’s turning
I have been to blue depths

Today I just want to be
Myself
Deep down
I am
The sea.

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Writing

"All in the Cold Midwinter and at the Midnight Hour"

Chrys Buckley

IMGP7064eFIRST_CABIN_ORKILA_OOr, what I did over my winter vacation.

I’ve actually been dying to blog about this but wanted to get some other things out of the way first. Like revamping it and updating it, for instance.

A few years ago, I wrote this post about my favorite winter memory, the second winter I spent living in the dispensary, a perfect cabin at Camp Orkila and how blissful that winter was, reveling in my connectedness to the natural world. I sometimes feel there aren’t words for how satisfying in a soul way living there was to me. And it wasn’t just the proximity to the ocean, the way I heard the owls and the creaking of cedar trees at night, or the thick woods I could walk through or even the months I lived there while having very little work, or all the great books I read, or the great company I had in my friend Tracy, or the walks by the coast.

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Writing

"Nothing Changes, On New Year’s Day"

Chrys Buckley

2009Okay actually, though I like that U2 lyric and think it’s true, I also believe it’s not. Some things change, some stay the same.

And as for 2009, here goes: (Side note to Samsara/Leo: just because I’m late with my survey doesn’t mean you’re getting out of it. Start answering.)

1. What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before?
Since I spent three months in India, it seems the list to answer this question is endless:

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Blindness and Disability, Science, Writing

Yes, this is my Final Answer…

Chrys Buckley

166696_10151441891358872_563138313_n…for the million dollar question in the game of What the Fuck Am I Doing with My Life?

Anyone who’s been following my blog this summer knows that I’ve had some back and forth thoughts about whether to start school in the fall or to attend a training center for the visually-impaired in Denver. But what you don’t know unless you’re one of the unfortunate people to have spent a lot of time with me in recent months is how intense and unending this indecision has been. I thought for sure I would go to school no matter what. Then I was unsure. Then I was certain about the center. Then indecision. Then school. Then the center. Then back and forth again and again, ad nauseam. And each time, I was SURE that I had come to a final decision.

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Writing

My Love/Hate Relationship with Orcas Island

Chrys Buckley

1532051_399300353545516_7454625721567562924_n(Originally written on September 6th, but I forgot to finish and post)

So, I’m back on the rock. Some might call it Orcatraz and these days, I might be among them.

What I’ve been wondering a lot lately is if there is a danger in staying somewhere that is too small and safe too long? I feel like I’m living out some negative consequences of having done just that. It’s like staying in the womb too long and then not knowing how to breathe in wide open spaces or something.

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Writing

Can You Ever Go Home Again?

Chrys Buckley

Orcas IslandI don’t know.

I woke up twice in the middle of the night completely disoriented, not knowing where I was and both times it took a few minutes to figure out where I was. It was weird, b/c I had something a little similar about halfway through the trip, when we had been moving around so much and slept in so many different places that as I drifted off to sleep, in that semi-lucid in between state I’d find myself momentarily thinking I was still in Calcutta or something. It happened for a few days in a row, but what happened last night was a lot stronger and felt so much more disorienting, like it really took awhile for it to register where I was and get my mind around it. Guess that could be expected for the first night sleeping at home in over three months.

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Writing

Home Sweet Home?

Chrys Buckley

Ladakh, Jammu & Kashmir, IndiaI miss India.

I’ve been home for less than twelve hours, and let me tell you, it feels fuckin’ weird. Let me back up first though, because there was a lot in the last few days of the trip that I’d love to recount.

So, Ladakh was the shit, totally one of the most gorgeous places I’ve ever been, in so many ways. And it was kind of cool being in a smaller group (though I definitely missed the others) b/c we got to meet up and travel with other people traveling from other countries, like Erez from Israel who was hilarious and loud and talked a bit like Borat and wore these lime green pants all the time and was always making dirty jokes. The pronunciation lesson I couldn’t share on the group blog (see link in previous post) was the difference between “fact” and “fucked.” It was awesome.

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Writing

Stressed Out in McLeod Ganj

Chrys Buckley

Dharamsala, IndiaHey everyone, how’s it going out there???

Well, after Deer Park we took a taxi to McLeod Ganj, right by Dharamsala. A lot of people in my group are loving it and loving the homestays, I am definitely not. It’s just stress central on soooo many levels. I decided not to stay on longer – for a lot of reasons, and so I’ll be going home on the regularly scheduled group flight, which should be fun. It’s kind of a bummer not to be staying but I am also so ready to be home, to not be around zillions of people all the time (that’s one of the things that bugs me most about the homestays, barely a moment of privacy or time to myself at all, ever, it’s making me crazy), and to chill out.

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Writing

Amritsar and the Border

Chrys Buckley
Amritsar, Punjab, India
Golden Temple at Night

Another quickie blog here from Amritsar, not far from the Golden Temple.

Gotta talk about the border first b/c that was one wild adventure. Our group went to the India-Pakistan border yesterday to watch the closing ceremony they have every day (there is also an opening ceremony every morning). I forget what the exact place is called but it is the only place where people can actually cross the border from one country to another (we couldn’t do that, you need Visas and all that, we were just there for the show). It was wild. First off, we saw tons of marijuana growing along the road on the way there, just humungous pot plants. I tried to get pictures but failed. The other thing we saw lots of were trucks full of sacks of potatoes.

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Music, Writing

Further Itinerary

Chrys Buckley

DarjeelingThis was originally a reply I wrote to Story Teller on the last post, but it got kind of lengthy and seemed more like a post, so here it is:

Hey story teller, where in India are you located exactly???

It seems the droughts have been a pretty big problem in Sikkim.

So, not on my way home yet. In Darjeeling now, and tomorrow flying to Delhi so we can take a train to Amritsar (and I think we’ll also visit Lahore, right on the Pakistani border while in Amritsar, I’m certainly hoping to). From there we go to Bir and McLeod Ganj, and after that, our group has two weeks of free travel, and we’re pretty sure that what we’ll do with our free travel time is go to Ladakh, it was a pretty clear consensus.

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