Marianne White reflects on her Talking Birds Residency

Scroll down for text only version of Marianne’s blog.

KNOTS

They start in the depths of my belly
Unbeknown to me while watching the telly
Sprouting one by one, what is this feeling i am not ready
The knots are making themselves known they are coming fast but steady 

The knots twist, push and pull, like an unwanted crowd.
A different knot manifesting with an eery sound
Getting bigger and bigger, they writhe around slither after slither

Multiplying, they start to swell, I feel unnerved, unwell
A distinctive smell, of fear, as the knots creep
they start weaving, winding, pulling tightly on my chest they are going in deep A sticky residue left behind from their previous quest.
where they have once been, from a place unseen, now dirty and unclean. 

They move on up and arrive in my head. once I have decided to go to bed scrambling for their next meal Looking more for what they can steal. 

The knots have infested, my brain unable to digest it
I am overwhelmed, on the brink, eyes wide open, I cannot blink. lights out its dark, “is this a dream”? If so, I do not like the theme” I cannot sleep, I try in vain, but the knots have a claim
To not be evicted, a signed contract 

that states they need to stay in contact
I didn’t read the small print; not even a hint
I wouldn’t have agreed to this deal, it’s totally unreal
I try to think who, what and where, to many reasons to lay bare I now see I have given them an appointment to be there 

how did I get into this mess
Life bogs you down and there is too much stress The more I worry the more they are invited I guess My insecurity calls for security, but nothing comes Just the sound of beating drums
Knots on a march with all the knowledge to tell
I do not want to listen, I do not want to hear it
I have no energy I am not fit I just sit
I am full of knots for breakfast, lunch, and dinner The knots have got me they are the winner 

From one extreme to another
I can see it now, within my mother The family trait showing of its proof Not to deal with truth
With the cards dealt
We lose our spark and welt 

I turn to the bottle, full throttle 

Thinking it will drown the knots But it just magnifies the worse spots Fight or flight you are not in control Sinking into your unwanted soul 

i am not equipped with the ammunition To go and fight the knots mission
I grin and bear it and say I am fine But I know I have crossed a line 

I hide under the covers and play dead
Like a child Hiding from the monsters lurking under the bed Hoping not to be found, trying not to make a sound 

To win this battle I need to herd the knots like cattle But I think it will open up a can of worms
I need to go back on the terms.. set
To play the game, make a bet
Realising the deal is not real
To seek help with this ordeal 

I have understood the value
Of talking things through
To work my way in an orderly queue To put the knots out of business
To overcome the sickness
One by one a knot at a time
In order to claim back what’s mine Say hi, goodbye, thank you very much Go away now, please don’t stay in touch 

I don’t need you now, I have figured out how To sort out this issue, to stop feeling blue To look after myself, to be true to me
Be free. 

By Marianne White

TEXT VERSION:

“In the Nest” 

by Marianne White

Marianne White’s stay in “The Nest” was like a one-way ticket to a world of pure imagination and boundless creativity. With nothing but her trusty rope, she conjured spells of hope and healing, diving into the mysterious depths of the human psyche. Even as doubts and uncertainty crept in, the soothing embrace of Mother Nature always provided a calming haven. Here, she could work her magic without the distractions of the outside world, honing her craft and growing into a true sorceress, guided by a wise mentor. And with the help of new friends, she thrived, drawing on the resources of the enchanted refuge to fuel her flourishing. “The Nest” will always hold a special place in Marianne’s heart, a magical realm that nurtured her spirit and let her soar.

Blurb by Magic Write (canva) using the words from my poem

Day One 

At the beginning is where I stand,

The door wide open with a helping hand,

A gateway opens called HelloLand.

I have the key, I wonder what wonders I will see,

It’s an endless possibility.

I am excited on a mission,

I am loaded full of ambition.

Stepping on new turf, hoping to show my worth,

To unlock an idea about mental health using rope,

to be creative in a way to help others with knowledge and hope,

find an understanding, enables a sense of grounding

To make it whole, to fulfil a brief goal

A feeling of freedom in an empty space

the quiet giving my creativity a playful place

Time for home to speak about my stay,

to tell my family about my first day!

Day Two 

With a spring in my step and full of grace,

Back I venture into this joyous place,

To my room with a cuppa in tow,

To continue to see where my thoughts will go,

I start squirreling away on my idea,

Where creative thoughts joyfully appear,

To be in this land you require a different way of thinking.

To filter out and do some tinkering.

With past ideals of what I should be,

to embrace the Artist that’s me!

All self-made with no qualifications in the field,

but experience and life skills are what I yield!

Day Three

 I feel frustrated, totally underrated.

My Happy Land room is not making me bloom.

What is this? I am overwhelmed and tired.

My brain is sick of knots and feeling wired.

Time to go for a walk and grab some air,

Soak up the nature it’s called selfcare.

Give my brain a break, give the imposter a shake

maybe nourish it with a treat of cake!

Day Four

 I realise I have missed the reason of the Nest,

I have actually been given a gift of time and rest.

To cultivate my idea, to not live in artistic fear,

No pressure to have an end result.

It’s a hard to unwind from that workish cult.

To be given full freedom to just focus and create.

It’s a strange notion to navigate.

A chance to see through the mess,

To respect the given process,

A helping hand to pull you to stand,

on your feet,

With the people that you meet,

within the nest,

The loving connection you now hold close to your chest.

Day Five

Having so many fulfilling conversations,

Lots of answers from interesting questions.

The ideas start to flow,

I have a new perspective to grow.

I have finally found hope in the rope,

I see things in a different fray.

I start to find confidence to mess around realising,

the use of my time without delay.

What a productive day.

Day Six

 A day of time to myself .

To enable me to put my responsibilities on the shelf.

What an opportunity to spend,

Out of the room to meet a friend.

To talk about the mind body and soul

with some research of what makes humans whole.

Day Seven 

After a summer of fun and play,

I come back to the nest to start my day.

A new room oh how I swoon.

Spacy odyssey,

I am full of Curiosity.

Meeting with Steph to talk about my writing,

This is so exciting.

To have a mentor to help me explore,

This newfound opened door.

I start to work buzzing away like a bee in a flower,

Soaking up every creative hour.

Day Eight 

As I walk,

Welcomed in with warmth and genuine talk,

The birds within the nest,

Have sent me on this cathartic quest.

A mother bird feeding her young,

Singing about songs once sung.

Enabling you to spread your wings.

With love, connection, knowledge, friendship amongst other things.

To gift you the tools to fly into your next chapter,

of happiness, creativity and laughter,

So as you move forward for that reason,

Of the given creative season,

Newfound friends for life.

To have in your heart.

With lifelong cherished memories of taking part.

Thank you to the Nest,

For the room,

the space,

and the much-needed rest.