for the one who needs to climb to understand.

Screen Shot 2016-01-16 at 1.30.51 PM

“when we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: be still! be still! look at me! life is not easy, life is not difficult. those are childish thoughts… home is neither here nor there. home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.” -hesse

trees are extremely close to my psychic sense of self.. in fact, on a morning in which i had given away some keys to an old life- i climbed the tree in that photo at the edge of astoria park and found- another key, tied to a red string. life is all about the symbology we apply to it, the meaning we ourselves ascribe.. or else there is nothing. i will never forget how- in my heartache and restlessness i sat, read, communed, and wrote stories up in my favorite tree in fort greene part in brooklyn (which i later discovered was named by a little girl i ran into as ‘the grandmother tree’.. perhaps my nana sent me another grandmother on earth..?). i have beautiful memories of climbing trees with my brother and sister in rainey park in long island city- teaching my sister how to trust her wildness, my own self being spurred on by her presence to climb higher, abandon my fear. this piece came out of an interaction this morning- and i was just thinking of how i haven’t posted something non-event related in awhile.. here you are. thanks for the inspiration. and thanks to my brothers & sisters. the trees.

**

i am doing what i know. i cannot do what i cannot know. and so i do this. do not tell me not to climb the trees. to touch them, to trust them with my body, to be held by them as they hold me in psychic spirit, to rest, to receive. do you remember your girl-self, the explorer, who could only touch to understand- to press against, to peer, to look, to feel? eyes are hands sometimes. bodies are all points of an eight-sided starburst, each point a perceptor, antennae- in my vision the bears and birds gave me their feathers and furs- i am just beginning to remember the reason why. do not tell me not to climb the trees- how you anchor my movements in ego, the cement that sticks to my wild bones, hardening, separating- my soul from sinew, my song from self, the trees i give, they give, we give to each other. i feel their LIVING HEART, not as mere idea, but BREATHING- we complete the sacred circle, i hear their energy in my head. have you forgotten the will of palpability? of feelings beyond discernment from afar, ribbons of judgment cast down from lofty windows, tangled in branches of trees- why yes, i am sitting in. i feel as creature, i must do as creature, this is what makes me think without discord, perceive without pretense, REMEMBER that i can talk to souls that communicate without limiting sound-words through limited language i can no longer hear when my chest is pressed up against the bark so tight we can feel each other’s intention. love so purely encircling it is like the infinite warrior guardian i want to know how to be.. can be. if the trees teach me this, teach you this- why halt the force of echo, remembrance? i can only do what i know, just as you can. and this is what i know: i will climb the trees until my body can no longer. wild and grateful, still, to be healed by the medicine of my memory. do not pretend to know more than i know about the earth and what it wants, the trees and what they feel, my heart and what their hearts need to feel. i can hear them and so can you. we all know the same, we all know nothing, we are all prostrate before the altar of learning, listening- what you hear is different from what i hear, and that is okay. let the trees be. i am, i say, i am. i am feeling, holding, releasing, dreaming, reading, gazing, blessing, infinitely talking, feeling, seeing. to them, with them, as them. i hear them too loud to let them be. they hear me too loud to let me be. we are. being. .. are you?

XO

a.

reeducation of the wild girl

BILLY: Nice and cool out here. Stars look like the milk of heaven. Peaceful. A man could—
ROSA: Change?
–anaya

20150513_204421

there once was a girl
who thought she was too wild to be loved.

her mind had been fragmented
by too much useless information
and too much worry.
too many expectations
and too much distraction.

she cut her ties to the world and laid down in the grass,
looking up at the sky and the undersides of leaves.

she was going to find herself again.
feet in a field of dandelions, mind in the clouds.
she was going to steer her heart made of the sea.

this is the reeducation of the wild girl.

20150512_195358

ladies & gents,

reporting to you from the other side of the rainbow.

i’m no longer using social media, for the summer or – ever? ;)

please feel free to follow these posts for pages ripped from the journey, or email me!

“when did you get so serious?
when did you let ‘em take it all away?
can you remember who you were before the world told you who you should be?

where is the simple joy of just sitting? staring out into space, imagining. storming the castle! kickin’ rocks. climbin’ trees. gettin’ scraped up.. it’s all still there,

inside you. waiting.

once upon a time – there were other things!
once upon a time there was.. 
falling asleep on the floor
and daydreaming on car rides
and talking to the moon.

remember those parties when you weren’t tucked away in some room, all alone? you were making plays.. ballroom dancing.. throwing disco parties with flashlights! .. you don’t have to grow up.

we think we know everything.

in the “real world” there’s no place for imagining..

there are four walls now.

but i want you to try to remember.. there don’t have to be any walls

at all.” –excerpt from THE WILD PAPERS

* THE WILD PAPERS debut last saturday as an interactive theatre performance was BEAUTIFUL – a hit at the latimer house and for the historic house trust’s #museumanarchy initiative!

lattweet_smiles

ready for a gajillion photos?!

more info on THE WILD PAPERS project is here, and i’ll post about future performances and workshops.

**edit: speaking of.. the wild papers special ENCORE is JUNE 20, 6pm @ latimer house! :)

see also:

“In a single sentence there are whole universes. Audrey Dimola and her newest installment, Traversals, reminds us of that.”

“There is beauty in her transformation into a woman who cannot be ignored. The flame burns as her words (“moments—isn’t it always/ what I come back to?/ And—is it just as often/ implicit/ that we must/ leave them all/ behind?”) sting. One can imagine the pauses in her delivery, the answer in so simple a question.

If you look closely, you may find a mantra or two to soothe a weary day or cause a hidden anniversary to be less regretful. Audrey’s prose is akin to a late night red wine binge with a good friend. No judgment, and no excess sugar either. Traversals is sweet enough as it is, and can be read straight through or in 3 stop spurts. It is the mirror of a changing city and a changing soul, ambient and pure – a phoenix breaking free, and encouraging us all to do the same.”

“To be a poet is to be brave enough to tread trough the darkest forest of the subconscious. […] Occasionally a poet comes along with a rhythm in their soul that echoes that of an entire city, a blaring staccato that slices through cement like torrents, hugging and cracking the earth. Audrey’s words cut. Talk about a poet in the wild.”

* the gorgeous diana benigno wrote an equally gorgeous review of my latest book of poetry & prose, “TRAVERSALS,” and you can read it HERE. (thankyouthankyouthankyou)

if you want to snag some of the last copies of the first run, you can order it on paypal or see other options HERE.

and finally:

here’s what i’ve been doing. writing stories & sitting in trees..

20150512_091108

there was once a girl who lived in a tree. she knew there were many things going on around her but much preferred staying up in a tree. one day a robin landed on a branch as she was reclining among the leaves as she always did. ‘why do you not explore?’ the robin asked. ‘your conscious is your own set of wings.’ the wind blew in confirmation. ‘but it is not real wings,’ the girl replied. ‘i just want to stay up here and look around.’ ‘what about the gift of perspective?’ the wolf asked, slinking up, in the dirt around the strong dark trunk. ‘what i see down here is different from what you see up there. and same for the robin who can see everything from heights way, way up in the sky.’ ‘i still much like this perspective. it’s safer,’ the girl said, throwing her arms around a wide branch. ‘everything i need is here. the sound of the wind. the shine of the leaves. animals like you all around me. and a place to stay.’ ‘but remember..’ the robin said, tilting its head to the side, ‘you are unique. and you will never know how unique until you fully experience this world.’ ‘the tree is your home,’ the wolf added, ‘but why can’t everything else be too?’ the girl thought for a moment and tightened her grip on the tree. the robin sensed her apprehension and landed closer to her. ‘sometimes only in leaving something and returning to it can you fully understand how special it is,’ the robin said gently. the wolf smiled its fangy grin. ‘be like the forest. the wind. the leaves. the bark. the dirt. the sunshine,’ he said, looking up at her. ‘you might be surprised to find it’s all a part of you already, and everywhere you go..’ the robin chimed in: ‘it will be there.’ the girl thought for awhile about laying splayed among the branches and never wanting to leave. but she also wanted to be strong enough to know what else there was out there. she gave the tree a super tight squeeze and climbed down, smiling at the wolf and the robin. ‘thank you for being here,’ she said. ‘i’m ready to discover that the world is in me just as i am in the world..’ she took a pause, looking up at her beautiful tree. ‘and that you are never, ever far from the things you hold in your heart.’ ‘be brave,’ the tree seemed to say as her feet touched the grass. and she would.

it’s never too late to start again,

XO

a.