\n\n<\/p>
Poem by Paul Fuller<\/span><\/i><\/b><\/p>\n\n God\u2019s Dreaming<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n\n <\/span><\/p>\n\n Before\nbeginnings<\/span><\/p>\n\n God\u2019s<\/span><\/p>\n\n Dreaming<\/span><\/p>\n\n Towards\nflesh<\/span><\/p>\n\n <\/span><\/p>\n\n It\nis good.<\/span><\/p>\n\n <\/span><\/p>\n\n Light<\/span><\/p>\n\n From\ndark.<\/span><\/p>\n\n <\/span><\/p>\n\n It\nis good.<\/span><\/p>\n\n <\/span><\/p>\n\n Sky\nfilled<\/span><\/p>\n\n Stars<\/span><\/p>\n\n Sun<\/span><\/p>\n\n Moon<\/span><\/p>\n\n <\/span><\/p>\n\n It\nis good.<\/span><\/p>\n\n <\/span><\/p>\n\n The\nsea held life<\/span><\/p>\n\n The\nland bore life<\/span><\/p>\n\n <\/span><\/p>\n\n It\nis good.<\/span><\/p>\n\n <\/span><\/p>\n\n God\u2019s\nbreath<\/span><\/p>\n\n In\nus<\/span><\/p>\n\n <\/span><\/p>\n\n Dream\ncustodians<\/span><\/p>\n\n <\/span><\/p>\n\n The\ndream is good.<\/span><\/p>\n\n Always.<\/span><\/p>\n\n <\/span><\/p>\n\n God\nwas pleased.<\/span><\/p>\n\n \n\n<\/p> POEM\nby Nic Conolly<\/span><\/i><\/b><\/p>\n\n <\/span><\/p>\n\n My brain is multiple levels and\ndegrees of functionality entwined, weaved and interlaced into a messy, frayed\nand tangled organisation of nerve endings, thoughts and instructions. <\/span><\/p>\n\n Currently, my favourite quote is\nfrom The Queen\u2019s Gambit, no it is not because I am particularly able when it\ncomes to manoeuvring chess pieces but because for once in my life, I have a way\nof describing the inner workings of my brain to myself and to others. I feel\nlike even though she is a fictional character, I relate to her so much.<\/span><\/p>\n\n \u201cChess\nisn\u2019t always competitive. Chess can also be\u2026 beautiful. It was the board I\nnoticed first. It\u2019s an entire world of just 64 squares. I feel safe in it. I\ncan control it. I can dominate it. And it\u2019s predictable, so if I get hurt, I\nonly have myself to blame\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\n -Beth Harmon <\/span><\/p>\n\n Words can be very powerful and when\nI lack in ability to verbalise when a topic isn\u2019t one which I have\nencyclopaedic knowledge of, I write. Writing was initially introduced to me as\na way to explain emotions and to self- regulate but it has become much more\nthan that in recent years. <\/span><\/p>\n\n When I write, there are constant\nshort video clips dancing through my mind. For example, my brain has an ability\nto capture small, minuscule images that can be viewed later, I can pause them,\nrewind, fast forward however I have lost the stop button so if you find it, please\nreturn.<\/span><\/p>\n\n I take medication that slows my\nbrain down to a level that allows me to compute what is going on long enough to\nthink through before I react. <\/span><\/p>\n\n I constantly see patterns, for me it\nis words and numbers. When I travel on the bus, I play games such as using a\ncars numberplate letters to form the longest word I can think of but the\nletters in the word must be in the same order as on the number plate. <\/span><\/p>\n\n When my mind is clear, I can feel my\nbrain acting as a calculator with numbers. The numbers move as though one is\ncompleting the sum on a blackboard or piece of paper.<\/span><\/p>\n\n It is how I recognise that my\nbody is fatiguing the numbers slow and slowly the dancing becomes slow until it\nstops. I adore excel spreadsheets as I can formulate patterns and re- calculate\nwhen a variable changes. <\/span><\/p>\n\n I can still recite my times tables\nup to 12×12 in under 4 minutes and when I see a theatrical production i can\ndissect it. The first time I did it, it was 7 pages long and the last one I did\nwas 13. It took until someone told me that it was amazing to realise not\neveryone\u2019s brain worked that way but at the same time I didn’t know anyone else\nwhose brain did so.<\/span><\/p>\n\n I like to use the analogy of when I\nwas wiping a coffee mug one day, this white, one handled coffee mug was in my\nleft hand as the pink and blue pale striped towel wiped it and all of a sudden\nthat coffee mug, it shattered in my hands and fell to the floor. <\/span><\/p>\n\n I began to cry and ran from the room\nslamming my bedroom door. To others, it was a broken coffee cup but to me, the\npattern and predictability had smashed into many different shards and lie alone\non the timber floor.<\/span><\/p>\n\n This is what happens when I step\noutside my scripted and practised world full of predictability into a world\nwhere I need to allow someone else to control even a little inch of the\nformula. <\/span><\/p>\n\n My brain becomes frightened, I make\nmistakes and leave my King wide open or I miscalculate a sum that I should of\neasily performed. I need to then retreat into the reclusiveness of familiar\nspace and resuscitate by brain. <\/span><\/p>\n\n I apologise for allowing danger and\nhurt. My whole body shuts down, it crashes like the coffee cup, the king as you\nlay it on the chessboard and a computer with no battery.<\/span><\/p>\n\n I crash until patterns once again\nfill my brain, numbers and words dance as they have never danced. Once again,\nthoughts are entwined, weaved and interlaced and I am safe.<\/span><\/p>\n\n <\/span><\/p>\n\n Nic<\/span> Conolly<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n
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