67 laments
I have never held my father's head in my hands until he was ill last summer. After he recovered I asked him if he would like me to try a pressure technique a friend had done on me. She held my head with both hands and applied pressure for a minute or so and then gently released the hands, slowly running them through the hair to the top of my head. The gesture felt like a pressure coming together in my body and letting go at the same time. I placed both hands above his ears and wrapped them around his head and applied pressure, he closed his eyes and his body moved slightly backwards and forwards like he was losing balance. The vulnerability of that moment has stayed with me, how small his head felt in my hands and how unstable his body was. In that brief moment there was an exchange of roles, of responsibility, of care, of masculinity and a deep connection through prolonged touch.
* * *
I walk into an open area and there’s a swimming pool with some rocks, stones and branches at the base of the pool. When I look into the water I see a white horse swimming but it’s got a long nose that ends in a pig's snout. I put my hand above the water letting it know that I want to stroke its head and very slowly it moves to the surface. Its nature is gentle and I feel calmed by this and shape the palm of my hand into the curve of the animal's head. As I move backwards it climbs out of the water and onto the gravel running alongside the pool. It lies down more like a dog now than a horse and leans the weight of its head into my palm. We sit for a while with a reassuring pressure between hand and head. I don’t know at what point things changed but now the pressure is more forceful and I’m holding the animal's head tightly. The animal looks distressed like I’m abusing it in some way but I feel like I’m just protecting myself. As soon as I let go the animal falls back into the water. I’m left with a heavy feeling like I did something wrong, with my hands paused in the shape of the animal's head.
* * *
I came across two poems by W.S. Merwin after reading about his lifetime efforts to grow and preserve a rare Hawaiian palm forest. In The Rain At Night there is this sense of trying to get your head around expansive and slow time, such as the growth of trees, an environment eroding, landscape and human consumption. In Waking To The Rain there is an awareness of close time such as the ageing or collapse of a father's body. Ageing happens slowly and then it feels sudden, I am suddenly aware that my father's body has aged but I cannot get my head around expansive and slow time until it hits me suddenly. I’m floating in all moments between these states of time. Close rain, the temperature of that rain on my shoulders, the sensation of looking at it from the window in my bedroom, and the marks it leaves on the glass.