Wild Temple of Yam

My latest art installation project over New Year was a temple installation for an outdoor festival called Wild Yam. The “Wild Temple of Yam” was inspired by the temples of Burning Man, and built as a tribute to my father, who passed away last year. The temple concept was to recreate the original temple – Stonehenge – in a quirky form as Doorhenge.

The temple space works on the principle of radical inclusion. It is designed to be a non-denominational, open and inclusive place to honour, remember, reflect, grieve, meditate, pray and be peaceful. The temple guardians, each of which represent a different persona or social archetype, are non-racial interspecies. During the festival, the temple was used as a space for remembrance, meditation, reflection and spirituality. People were invited to write or paint on the doors, leave an offering or prayer or whatever felt right to them, or simply sit in the space.

Continue reading Wild Temple of Yam

The canal

“Why don’t you put on a pretty dress? I’ll plait your hair and put some ribbons in it for you.” Mum was always trying to dress me as a girl. She wanted me to be a pretty princess, like some kind of toy doll. But I wasn’t having any of that. “No!” I shouted. “I hate stupid dresses! I don’t want to be all girly. I’m a tomboy! And tomboys don’t wear dresses!”

Continue reading The canal

Gone

About this story: Many of my short stories explore themes including mental illness, loss, trauma, abuse, death – sudden death, uncertain death, slow death, suicide – and the nature of our relationship with these events when they occur in our lives. This story is one of them.

It was 10am before Peggy got out of the house. Late today. Ha! That was nothing unusual. Her mother had always said she’d be late for her own funeral.

Continue reading Gone

Night night

About this story: Many of my short stories explore themes including mental illness, loss, trauma, abuse, death – sudden death, uncertain death, slow death, suicide – and the nature of our relationship with these events when they occur in our lives. This story is one of them.

It’s 3am and I’m awake. Stiff with tension, breathing heavily, hands shaking, I’m thinking about it again, running through it over and over in my mind. It’s a nightly occurrence, this need to torture myself with the guilt, the what ifs, the if onlys. Still. It’s nothing less than I deserve.

Continue reading Night night

Lost

_ was

For a while, I wondered who I was. I didn’t know. It didn’t seem to matter. There was a strange sense of peace, of satisfaction in not being.

I wandered. Drifted through the streets. Down a dark alley, I leaned against a wall and tried to taste the fog. Nameless, faceless people moved past, the fog flowing silently around them, through them, within them.

Continue reading Lost