Re-emergence. a balcony in the south of France

Welcome brilliant being. Hope you’re holding tight, or loose, or somewhere in-between with ease. Wanted to offer you a space to land which i hope might be useful at this time.

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I’m sitting on a balcony for the first time since…i can’t remember. I’ve just showered and applied sun cream. Nothing novel about that i suppose. But to be outside, able to sit down, breathe and have access to space, wind, air and sky? This is new. This feels very new. 

I suppose i’ve not lived in many homes that have access to outside space in my adult life. I’ve moved over 60 times (i stopped counting at 60, it seemed…vulgar!) and many of the places, wherever in the world, were as cheap as chips ideally, budgets stretching to accommodate. Hopefully.

As you might well know, having a bit of outside space is considered a luxury, and it adds coins to your rent, and if you’re watching your purse strings (what does that even mean? is that even a thing?) something has to be sacrificed. And space is premium. We all deserve to go and touch grass, yet when is that possible?

So to sit here, in an apartment where i can be Actually Outside, after an absolute indoor-time in my pokey but grateful-for-a-roof-overhead-apartment, with no outside, for a solid two-years-and-two-months today, as of 13 May 2022, feels…astonishing. I’m not really sure how to behave! 

I keep walking the space from the studio, through sliding doors to the balcony patio, in and out, approaching, moving through, then returning, experiencing outside space without having to leave the front door. And it’s… wild. 

I brought a James Baldwin book with me (Giovanni’s Room), because i knew i would see St Paul de Vence from this balcony, a place where he lived and wrote and thrived. I wanted to feel closer to him, as i do when i’m in this part of the world in particular. I lived in the south of France many years and moons ago now, other lifetimes away, and it’s never-not-strange descending into Nice airport and spotting all the places i lived, explored, worked, experienced life, heartache, wonder. (There’s a podcast about one of my adventures living in Monaco on a superyacht here if you’re interested…)

So this pilgrimage and my ritual nod to James feels right, anchoring me to the days before, whilst strung out on the unknowing of whatever this Now is, or will become. 

“For nothing is fixed, forever and forever and forever, it is not fixed; the earth is always shifting, the light is always changing, the sea does not cease to grind down rock.”

— one of my fave quotes from James Baldwin, which has brought me immense comfort over the years.

I’m aware, as i lean back into this patio chair, the taut bounce of canvas beneath and behind me, that this is a luxury, and it’s difficult to handle. Difficult because i think if you’ve ever been poor, wrestling with privilege is never too far away. I can’t help but immediately think of people who don’t have access. Or who are in living in situations dealing with landlords who don’t take hazardous conditions seriously. Or who face the violence of this classist society we inhabit day in, day out. If you know, you know.

Therefore it’s uncomfortable to allow this pleasure of outside space, this wonder, this delight. It’s also awkward cause it’s still relatively new. I’ve been to this place before, this place being a heavily subsidised apartment for an artists’ union which enabled me to live-work in various places in cost effective ways. 

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…It’s taking all bones and connective tissue to allow myself to write and share this. Knowing how it feels to be without space is so familiar. So close. So i wouldn't want to sit here like an arsehole and gloat. Sorry, can i say arsehole? Like the uk edition? 

That to say, i don’t share to show off, or perhaps i do want to show and tell, cause perspectives from working class writers revelling in astonishment at the awkward and strange novelty moments that are deemed “normal” to many, or at least the ‘mainstream’ voice, aren’t often afforded.

So i’ll continue to share, because class infiltrates every part of life, and despite many decades of experiences of being shamed for who i am, in the words of the title of the 1996 garage track BANGER from Somore featuring Damon Trueitt (Industry Standard club mix), “I Refuse”! Shoutout to my 90s garage crew!

I came here to talk about re-emergence, but ended up on a class waffle. But they are interconnected of course.

So how about this:

There’s lots (like, seriously, so much) i’d like to share and have conversations with you about, when it comes to re-emergence whilst living in a global pandemic, whilst still trying to social distance and grapple with resolving the grief of mourning aspects of life in the Beforetimes, as well as readjust and rebirth - whilst living - a current life, a life ‘in the now’, present whilst spinning wheels of time which make no sense.

What even is time anymore?

I’ve spoken a little on re-emergence through the lens of boundaries and nervous system regulation, which you can find in podcast form here: Re-emergence, negotiating boundaries and body wisdom - an embodiment chew 🥭 (i Feel For You podcast episode number 75) and there’s a little creative practice for you in there too.

Some of you know, i haven’t left Brighton uk (bar a trip to get a vaccination) since March 2020, and after a life living between countries and my work very much being hashtag ‘tour life’, sharing events and experiences of all kinds, my ‘world’ since the pandemic has been regulated to my apartment, supermarkets and local parks, occasional trips to doctors surgeries. I’m sure many of you relate. I’ve seen two friends on two occasions. And i’m ‘social distancing’ still, for various reasons, so this has been my first time not only leaving this small space, but re-emerging into various territories…

i know i’m not alone. but i also know there are many who have had completely different experiences of this pandemic. and i think, in fact i know, we can learn from each other. i’m curious to try, and open the conversation so we might be able to create a compassionate space in this very weird time.

I have a few ideas and pieces i’ve been chewing the cud over, related to re-emergence. How we grapple with it, how we can be with change, in the same way Octavia might encourage us…

“All that you touch You Change. All that you Change Changes you. The only lasting truth Is Change.”
― Octavia E. Butler, Parable of the Sower

dionne_______

A post shared by dionne (@dionne_______)

So this piece is part one of a series (not sure how long yet) and i’d love to connect with you through a little practice exploration!

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🌎 An offering for us to explore together 🌏

Ready? Feel free to grab a pen and paper, or maybe voicenote your response. My question i’d love for you to ponder and share your thoughts and chews on, is:

What’s something new you’re adjusting to with awe, however small or fleeting, since 2020?

• This could be an object. A place or space. A pleasurable, comfortable or delightful feeling. An experience. A sensation. 

• I’d love to hear from you via the comments below.

• Please feel welcome and free to express this in the ways that resonate, which might include text (of any form, comment, poem, belching adjectives to page) / link to an image / song reference / emoji / something else)

Excited to read your exploration!

For now, i’m sending love from here, and i hope you find something that brings you wonder and delight today. 

à bientôt!

dionne 💜

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