OMFG. I survived the year 2014. It’s over. I’m about to pack it all in a box. All those cancer hats – in the box. A big blue folder called Resilience, from Ovarian Cancer Australia – in the box. You’ve been very helpful but I don’t want to catch sight of you at the moment. Cardboard box with bananas stamped on the side, full of wigs – it’s going back round the corner to Steph Luke.
The year 2014 can go the f@#k to sleep.
It’s time to get the box I labelled “Hair” out of the cupboard. It contains things like shampoo, conditioner, combs, depilatory cream. Things one uses when one has hair, wanted or unwanted. These things can now be restored to their spots in the bathroom.
Unfortunately I can’t pack up Buckminster and all his accoutrements. Buckminster is the name I’ve given to my stoma and colostomy bag. Last night I was discussing it with my friend Karen Golland, and I called it “this guy”. As in, “This guy has a lot to say, tonight.” She said, “Oh, is it male?” I stopped and thought about this. Yes. He is a male. Full of shit. Not that I think males in general are full of shit by any means. Some of my all-time favourite people were or are male. But for some reason I’ve been thinking of it as a “guy” or a “dude”. So, yes, male. And being full of shit is in no way a criticism: it’s just its function. So, Fullashit. Which suggests a first name: Buckminster.
In 1927, Buckminster Fuller, the architect and futurist, had an epiphany. He was contemplating suicide when he suddenly found himself floating a couple of feet off the pavement in a sphere of bright light. According to Wikipedia, a voice came to him and said:
From now on you need never await temporal attestation to your thought. You think the truth. You do not have the right to eliminate yourself. You do not belong to you. You belong to Universe. Your significance will remain forever obscure to you, but you may assume that you are fulfilling your role if you apply yourself to converting your experiences to the highest advantage of others.
I can’t pack Buckminster away; he’s a constant reminder of the truth, which is that everything you’ve got is slipping away from you, including your own body parts, but with a little help you can temporarily stave off the dragons of dissolution. (I reassure myself that temporary can be a very long time.)
Yes. I’d like to put 2014 in a box and put it away but Buckminster keeps reminding me of it. As he should.
And even though there’s no such thing as Forever here on earth, it might exist somewhere else. Last night, at Fiona Green’s beautiful New Year’s Eve party, Karen told us about the Forever Now project which will send messages into the universe. They might be found one day … by others or perhaps by some version of ourselves, the ones living in another space-time dimension. You can see the video clip here. It is so beautiful. Karen worked on collages (a different project) with one of the artists, Deborah Kelly, at Bundanon just before Christmas. You can vote for this animation to board the forever rocketship by leaving a comment below the animation.
Anyway, here on Earth, it’s a new morning!
I should have done this in my last post for 2014, but I’ll do it now: Thank you, all my readers, for riding with me all year. I managed to post most Thursdays for most of the year; I’m aiming to do the same again this year.
Happy New Year!