panterdjuret

I have two new female rats, a brown one called Nigredo and a brown/white (hooded) one called Rubedo.

I am cleaning up in my lair, writing poetry, and wasting time on things that make me happy.

Life is returning. The rhubarb I thought was dead is in fact not dead. The birds outside are singing in the dawn. I just saw a deer walking over the parking lot.

Even here, even amongst all the houses, all the people, all the cars and cement and gravel and fences… there is still life. Real life. And I am not alone.

Soon there is a full moon.

And in about a week, there is a new year for the Pao.

***

Not much worth putting on this blog is happening at the moment. I fill my life with tea, books and languages. Other than that, I am waking up. Looking at the returning life with a happy heart.
Singing for the returning spring.

Welcoming it with open arms.

***

Today I took a hot bath with lighted tea candles, opium incense, listening to relaxing and calm piano music (Frozen Silence, highly recommended) and drank a little Caol Ila. It made Pao a very calm, relaxed, happy and slightly intoxicated Pao.

***

Time to sleep.
Bwael isto, lueth ssinjin deis.

/Pao – 23 apr 2010 – 03.00 am

18 march 2010
19.42 (swedish time)

In the aeroplane humans built in their attempts to reach the skies.

We took off in the beginning of dusk, and we flew up into the soft, grey clouds and into the waiting night.

The darkness waited for us, but a moment we hung in milky, foggy grey nothing.

Now over the north sea, soon passing over Denmark.
Soon leaving the waters of the sea that guards my dear kadan.

The sea and stones protecting my dear friend of firm, grey stone and stormy sea.

And on we go.

And on life goes.

And so, we flew into night.
And I smile at the dark, knowing that tomorrow there will be a new day.

And work to do.

Because, I am a Pao, and if I cannot be Pao, who can?
Who can then give the world what I can give it?

I don’t know if there is some meaning or purpose in my life that I don’t know about yet, but I know this;

I am a Pao, the only Pao,
a beautiful creature
– of words and poetry
– about forest and life
a voice powerful and clear
– which can whisper silent songs
– and encouragement
a creature with sharp claws
– and fangs made to tear
– to pieces and to gently
– groom the manes of my
– friends
with paws that can destroy
– and create, kill and help

A heart full of compassion and feelings
a mind full of sense and nonsense, dancing

Battle scars, fierce pride;
yet gentle and affectionate.

*

And that is enough.

*

Leaving Denmark now.
Over Kattegat.

*

The stones never change, even when time and weather reduce them to dust.
We sculpt them, use them, and they remain long after we are gone.

My heart and mind, body and soul, bear the mark of time, battle and hardship.
But they are still the same.
Marked by time and lessons violently learnt or gently shown to me.

And yet the same.

I must remember this, and don’t let humans and the city get to me, bring me down.

I can live amongst them and follow their rules as long as they make sense.
And my heart and my thoughts shall remain free and wild, even when I move amongst them, and I won’t let them make me forget.

It would be easier to let myself forget, but I will not.

I shall remain true to myself and look at my reflection with pride and awe.

For such a beautiful creature am I, and my fur is thick and I survived the winter; my claws are sharp and strong, and my eyes are clear.

And my heart has love and compassion,
and it is the heart of a wild animal who hunts without shame or hesitation, who won’t crawl for anyone…
A fiercely proud and loyal wild animal who would protect her pack and her loved ones and fledgelings with rage and narrowed eyes, bared teeth…
and curl up to guard, purr, gently comfort, encourage those depending on her to venture off alone, knowing that she will be there.

*

And so I left my dear friend of stone and sea, calm and secure, knowing that I can return.
He will be there, a temple of grey stone in my green wild forest.
Safe and waiting.
Where I can return when I need the silence, quiet.
The rest and shelter.
To be still and rest my paws, put my fur and feathers in good order.

He is a man of stone and sea and I am a creature of the wild, wild woods.

And we have our different songs to sing and stories to write.

But our silence can be shared.

A warm embrace
– and a loving, gentle paw.

And I return now to my male, female, other friends.
My pets, my lair.

The returning spring.

I have things to throw out
things to keep
things to mend

Plants to water
plats to sow
and life to see grow.

And a spring to greet.

-

We are approaching ground.

Time to pack up and get ready.

– Life has returned.

/Pao
(marrah awashile)

And so, I went off on an adventure. I packed my bags, and then I flew away. And, it wasn’t bad. The flying was scary at first, and then… and then it was wonderful.
Kadanina met me at the airport and helped me get to his home. I was confused, happy and still in a state of shock. (In some ways, I suspect I still might be. And still… I feel safe here. I feel.. at home. In a way I have never felt at home, even at home. At least not in a very, very long time. I have felt it at Aiw’s place as well, now and then. But not like this. It feels nice, and safe, and natural.)
Sometimes, I go and sit at the top of the stairs, and look down to the door. And feel safe. Perhaps because it’s a safe place in itself; an almost-cliff where I would have the upper hand on any attacker. Where I would see danger approach. But also, it’s not that simple, even if V really appreciates it.

I feel like I have settled in. Which terrifies me slightly. I am here. And I feel safe here. I have been here for three nights and two days. Soon it will be my third day. But, it feels like I have been here longer. I might be very adaptable, but not like this. I’m usually really twitchy on other people territories. But not here.
I settled right in, in the corner provided. And then I got happy.

Perhaps it is because he’s not a predator, not a threat to me. At least not in such a way. I can feel safe here, because I don’t think he will fight me for food, kill me for my meat, drive me off.. I can feel safe here because we are different, not competing over food or space.
And also, I feel welcome. I feel like I’m wanted. Not just allowed to stay because driving me out would be a bother. But allowed to stay because I’m actually wanted here.

But still, still it is rather strange. Because even when Kadanina is gone, and I’m alone here, I feel safe. I usually don’t feel safe when alone. But I feel surprisingly safe here.
It creeps me out, in a way. Because I usually understand myself very, very well. And I can’t figure this out. I will wonder about it until I do though. Because I find it interesting. And it teaches me a lot about myself.

So far, all is going well. In general, there is no snow, which cheered me up a lot.
It is cold here though. I’m getting used to it.

*

Things are going well.
Still feeling pretty unreal and strange though.
But I am used to that. I don’t mind.

/pao – 6 mar 2010 – 03.38 am (English time, I believe)

(I should go to bed now.)

marrana, marrana, narhile (narhil) nahndaiao.. prandhe, asha narooiao, naii morrhao.. hawsha mitao, mitah ooraiao..
(little cat, little cat, sing the song that belongs to your heart.. listen, the death that belongs to your life, the light that belongs to the dark.. the ash that belongs to the strong, powerful wind, the ash that belongs to the grounds…)

the spring is returning, but it will yet take a while.. but for once, it feels like it can wait…
because now I have hope again.. for a future, with meaning and purpose…

the patterns are clear, once again.. once again marrana’s eyes are clear, and her purpose is known.. once again marrana knows her place.. once again she feels safe in her position, in her capability and knowledge, in her mind.. the patterns make sense again, and they are stronger this time…

marrana, your song is wanted.. marrana, sing!
sing a song for the returning spring, a song of joy for finally seeing it return.. it is in the light, the light has changed.. you can already see it, marrana.. you know what the change of light means.. just another month, and the sun will take over.. every day it grows stronger.. soon, the fire will return…
soon there will be the celebration of fire, a new year, a new start, and life will wake up…

do you see the buds on the trees?
life is not dead, life is but sleeping, dreaming in the cold..
waiting, like you, little cat.

but you, you woke up.. too early.. but what you found was worth it, wasn’t it, marrana?
(it was, it was, it was)

spring is returning.. soon, you can relax, soon there will be food, soon there will be life.. for the sleeping world, and for you.. for all those who sleep, survive, make it through the winter.. for all us who is waiting, restlessly watching the returning light.

sing a song, marrana; a song of fire, of courage, of grief and joy.. you know at least two beings who didn’t make it through this winter; sing for them.. you know pieces of your heart that had to be sacrificed to make it through the winter; sing for them.. you know what you had to leave behind, you know the pain of starvation, how it feels when breathing turns your body to ice.. you know this, so sing it, marrana…

sing a song, marrana; a song of pain and suffering, strength and hope.. the light is returning, little cat.. you can feel it, see it, sense it, but not yet taste it, not yet catch its scent… the winter still freezes your tongue, the air still hurts your lungs when you try to catch breath and sing… but soon…

do not let your guard down yet, marrana..
the cold is still out there, with a soft, white coat and icicle teeth, sharp as knives..
do not fall asleep again during the starvation.. you have woken up too soon, but you have to stay up now..
there is no turning back.. if you wander out there again without a proper shelter, you will die…
but you don’t have to.. you can stay here; stay in their warmth, in their home, in the safe, until spring returns.. you have battled the winter, you have danced in the snow, you have slept and dreamt…
but now you have to return to them, let them warm you until the sun thaw your bones.
it is alright, little cat.

being strong is knowing when you are weak, and accepting it.. accepting your limitations and doing what you can to solve them.. sometimes, that means a bit of help…

marrana, out lady Bastet cannot kill.. our lady Sekhmet cannot create…
both are needed, both the creator and the destroyer..
and Anubis, who sings the dead to rest…

do you remember when you used to sing the dead to rest, little cat?
(who will sing me to rest?)

the fire, the warmth, the food, the patting and the laughter..
do not forget what you have, even when you wander out to do battle with the winter, the storm, yourself, little cat.. remember? you wanted to be free, to be allowed to come and go as you wanted, do you remember, little cat? that they would be there, let you sleep in their arms, let you share their fire, that they would understand when you had to leave, and trust you to return?
to what use is that wish if you walk out the door and forget that they exist?
you have danced with the snow, done battle with the winter, you have starved and you have slept out in the cold.

it is time to return, little cat.
the dream has ended; now it is time to remember.. grieve that which died, which froze, which ended.. the pain, the starvation, the cold…
the dream has ended; now it is time to remember that which you still have…

remember, and return now…

*

now I have to walk off to bed.

the tears are gone for now, and the fire has made me stronger.. the winter made me cold, starved me.. but now I has worn the snow in my hair, adorned myself with jewelery of ice.. now I have dusted my face with ash, and my eyes have life once more…
my clear glass cut my frozen skin, and my blood was still red, still flowing, still warm…
my tears reminded me of the sea…
the pain reminded me of Life.

I am still alive.
I am alive, again.

A part of me died in the fire, and now another part can grow.
We have to know what has to die, and what can be saved.
What is broken beyond repair, what can be mended.

The scars are there.
Time to remember.

*

marrana, marrana, narhile (narhil) nahndaio.. prandhe, asha narooiao, morrh naiiao, naii morrhao..

*

I have songs to sing.
Songs of fire, grief and joy.

/pao – 23 feb 2010 – 06.37 am
(narooio marrana)

I tried to write a ghazal. At the time of trying, I was speaking to friends about how – when I was a younger Pao without friends, when I sat alone in a corner of my room, surrounded by books – I used to feel like I was a dusty, forgotten doll in an old, abandoned library.
I had this mental picture of a small library out in the forest. The roof was made of glass, and had been broken and shattered in places. Thick ivy and vines were taking over, overgrowing the building. The books were wrinkly with age, just like people get. The dust was settling over the place, and the eternal golden autumn sunlight would sift in through the broken glass and growing vines.
And I was a ragdoll, left sitting in a armchair in a corner. Watching the place slowly decay and fall to pieces. The air smelled of old books, autumn, lavender and clove oil.

I miss that place.
I wish I could draw picture of places like that.
.

In an armchair in the golden dusty light
sits a ragdoll forgotten by everyone

The dust settles, gathers on the memories
in the still woods forgotten by everyone

**

After having been quite sick, having a crisis and a lot of crying, being terribly broken and being otherwise in a terrible condition, things are finally looking better again. Tickets to go to England is booked, and I am leaving the third of march. I am still not sure I believe in the existence of aeroplanes, and I keep on forgetting the whole thing. That I am going to fly. Say wooosh. It is rather scary.

Things are getting better, but it is still a rather unstable and fragile thing.

I want to be writing more, here and at the other blog, but I have really not felt well enough.

**

Today, Mothersister is coming over with her kittens. I will have them here, while she and her male renovate and repaint their lair. White paint and black fur does not constitute a winning combination…

**

I find myself missing Second Life. I also want to create First Life clothes for myself. Or buy new ones. And a bag or three. Good, practical, nice bags.

**

I am torn between feeling happy and hopeful, and clawing despair. Content with my life, and hating myself and everything about me.

Tomorrow, I will become twenty-four years old.
What am I doing with my life? If I were to die now, what would my regrets be?
I usually don’t do regret. Regret is not my strong side. I try to not do regrets at all, at least not get new ones. But… I have a few ones now.

Have I done what I could? Have I tried my best? Could I have done things any different?
No. Yes. No. Nothing could have been done differently. A few things might have been able to have been done slightly better. But, I shouldn’t have any regrets. I did the best I could. Didn’t I?
Is that true? Isn’t that true?

I have a nagging suspicion that I really didn’t.

So many things has happened and changed the last year, the last few months, the last few days.
It felt as if I died, and as if I have to find a new life again.

I should do things that I like and enjoy doing.

But it is still so cold. It is still winter. The world is still sleeping, dreaming. But my dreams have all ended, and I woke up to find myself starving again, the world still frozen, no food to find.
No food for my body. No food for my soul. Hambre del alma.
Grammar for my mind, words and patterns for my mind, to distract me. But no dreams. No drawings.
A poem written in patterns, by rules. No feelings.

It’s so cold.

paint the walls with your blood, little cat.. cry your song to the heavens…

***

It is so cold.

Tomorrow, I will be one year older. And in a bit more than two months, the new year will begin. I haven’t needed it this much for several years. But I have a lot of regrets to burn…

/pao – 18 feb 2010 – 21.09

My female is not here. After having finally fallen asleep yesterday (after a lot of talking to my dear Kadanina about Swedish and other languages), I woke up this morning, far too early. First by a terrible nightmare, and then later with a creature sitting on my laptop, staring at me about two inches from my face.

Well, I didn’t do much today, mostly spoke to Kadanina, and dreda, and a male of a friend of my male, and waited for Mothersister to end her shift and come over.

Ate pancakes today, and later fishsticks and egg.

Mothersister came over, I wnet to the door to meet her, bringing New Rat Kadana with me on a lead. Later Mothersister anf I talked a bit. Hugging, discussing small humanlings, being awed and me being awed and impressed by the complexity of placentas…

Then, Kadanina introduced me to another person I am not allowed to hunt. It was alright, I was the best Pao I could. Trembling and nervous and filled with suspicion.

The creatures started saying bad things about her and Kadanina, but I am already too drugged to mind them much..

I have to go to bed now though. Mothrsister is already there, sleeping.

Nightycat
high as a kite
/pao – 10 feb 2010 – 06.05 am

today I got a new rat.. a big, twitchy male rat, who doesn’t like to be held or picked up.. I named him Kadana.. there’s also another rat here at the moment, a female rat with a wound, that I will take care of while her human is in another country over the weekend…

today I actually worked a little with languages.. mostly Latin.. it was very nice…

I worry a lot over my male, but I have no idea how to help him.. I really hope he would come to me and/or tell me if there was something I could do…
I miss him a lot, but I have almost no energy to eat, I don’t get enough liquid.. I can’t visit him… it makes me sad and worried.. but I hope he remembers that he is very loved and very important for a Pao…

*

other than that, I still try to plan for my trip to England.. I don’t count on getting out of this alive.. I don’t trust in aeroplanes.. not even sure if I believe in their existance…

*

besides all that, I really need food..

*

also, I wish my friends could be magically happy and have good lives all of a sudden…

*

Here, since I have nothing interesting to say, have the two last parts of a recent poem I wrote for a friend instead;

And she wears her scars proudly
saying “It’s only pain, it will pass”
and “They remind me of lessons and
things that should never be forgotten”

The scars tell their stories
and whisper in her ears
and she knows deep inside
that most of them could have been avoided
if she would have sometimes accepted
the love and the help of her friends
but she would rather take the fall
all alone and keep the scars
than to call out and reach
for a hand that wasn’t
there for her…

*

Nightycat.

/pao – 05 feb 2010 – 03.57
morrh narhile, marrah imaile

“Without seriousness the body dies, but without playing the soul dies.”
Once upon a time I wrote that, and I believed in it.

And I still do.
Only sometimes, I forget.

***

Vingnut (grey mouse) seems to be singing her last song. Will sleep on the sofa tonight, watching movies, keeping her company.

***

It is very strange.
Life is strange.

/pao – 8 jan 2010 – 04.37

Not only have I been terribly busy, but also physically unable to log in here and update the blog due to chronically misspelling my password. Obviously, that last problem is no more.

Christmas was celebrated with my dear Marrawa’s family/families, and New Year’s Eve with Marrawa and Narraiao.

I got many nice gifts. I felt very loved. I have bought whisky. I have a laptop again. I am terribly tired.
I have made a very unplanned and fun trip to my abban in the North.

***

bring him to me without bruise nor scar / white as snow / clean and whole / with fear not dulled off by drugs / and I shall mark his body with claw and knife / cut my name deep into his flesh / and make him cry / and make him tremble / all for me / all for me…

***

The old cockroaches are dying off, but they are old. So it’s not unexpected of them. Still it is a bit sad, and makes me a bit melancholic.

They just slow down and stop. Like wind-up mechanical toys. Slow down and stop, with legs gently folded to their sides as if they were just sleeping.
Just stopping.

***

I am going to England. Hopefully I will know when soon. But it scares me. Can I do it? Can I do this? Can this go well? I think it can go well. And that also scares me.

What to do? What will it become of Pao?

***

I have read a lot of Latin. I am very happy. The patterns are clearer now, and the edges less fuzzy. And yet, I have no one to test out my theories on. I have one, but I can’t bring myself to. Not yet.

Soon, perhaps, but not right now.

***

Now, rest.

The winter is beautiful and deathly cold outside the windows,
and the tea in the mug in my paws is warm.
.

/pao – 02 dec 2010 – 17.05

I remembered today that I am a child of the winter. I had forgotten how beautiful snow was, and how little the cold chills me.

This day (last day) was wonderful.

/pao – 16 dec 09 – 07.33