On this final full moon of 2025, as we are approaching the longest night of the year in the Northern Hemisphere, we were offered a Story From the Field by Margriet Dorrestijn. Margriet is among the most creative and courageous humans I know, she carries a deep intelligence and a profound dedication to understanding the human condition within and all around her. She is an amazing singer, songwriter, cook, crochet enthusiast, planter of flower bulbs, adventurer, handy-woman, social butterfly, and auto-didact who will teach herself any skill she needs in the pursuit of her boundless creative vision.
In the past years she’s embarked on a deep-dive into her past, her patterns, her pain, and, with fierce determination, continues to liberate herself from personal and cultural (intergenerational) traumas and conditioning. This spoken word piece is about breaking free from interpersonal trauma bonds, reckoning with toxic relationships, and finding her own path from within.
Supernova
I fit like a Tetris cube into the corner
of my couch
Today, that's where I'll be
You can stack your weight on top of me
One cube of disappointment
One cube of fear
In the distance I hear an ambulance
For some reason they sound clearer
as the days become short
You feel that it’s your duty to think about where it’s going,
and if it’s going to be on time
I can feel you in the eyes of hundreds
Making tiny punctures into my skin
Jabbing right through my callus
Exposing my nerves,
making even the softest touch hurt
And yet, I have the need to step into the spotlight
Where I long to shine like a star in your dark sky
Gathering lightyears of carbon dioxide
But my expression is possessed by your fantasy
And my voice confessed through your melody
Emotion suppressed by your jealousy
Where mine's always fiction, and yours -
reality
What do you want from me?
Why do I still need to repeat:
Your standard is so high
I cannot compete
Please stop looking at me
A deafening scream has festered like an infection in my lungs,
and at times it makes me physically numb
Will you hold me accountable on the day when it finally comes?
It might break the windows of my room
It might shatter the trees in front of my windows
It might blow apart the cover of clouds with brutal force
It may explode the planes, the satellites, the planets...
Followed by an implosion
which pulls all the mess straight back to me
Like shards of guilt and shame
that I absorb straight into my skin
Why? Honestly, why?
Just so I can rebuild myself with sin?
So I can collect corrupted matter and explode again?
Was it my fault?
Yes, I guess it was.
But what the fuck do you want from me?!
I try and I probe,
I wait and I stroke,
I shrink and I grow,
I explode and implode, I explode
and implode
Am I your supernova, or a black hole?
~~~
This is not a fair fight,
At least not one that I am going to win
I step out of it and form ozone layer
on top of my bare skin,
obliterating all the shards of space junk
turning them into a spectacle of fire in the dark sky
Now there is no need for me to be the light
I can watch it from a safe distance
You can look at me now
Metaphysical Mulch 