Photo of urban sunset Art

kaffe in katmandu : urban sunset

urban sunset is the first of my posts at kaffe in katmandu.

I had forgotten about this piece. It is interesting finding it eight years on, not only because I am now researching how engagement with nature via facilitated therapeutic interventions affect long-term wellbeing, but because here is that same initial passion about connection to nature, which sparked again when I applied to the PhD. That is one of the hurts of the invisible grief, the loss of passion. It is no surprise that passion goes when grieving, but what has been difficult for me, is to reconnect to my passions. Slowly I am reconnecting, but it is a stop-start process. A process haunted by a grief, that is not only the loss of a present, but of possible futures and assumed hope and dreams. Hope and dreams that are meant to just happen. Whilst I had family friends who where uncles and aunts to my brother and I, it was never talked about, why they didn’t have their own children. As if it is too personal and we, on the whole, are too private to enquire, to provide the necessary space for hearing these invisible stories. What could we do with all that pain? As well as, in my case, feeling an intense shame, a shame of failure. A shame I wear in public behind masks. Masks, which take so much from me in their wearing, as I try and protect my private mourning. A mourning that occurs in public, a mourning triggered every day, often on many occasions. That is why it is an invisible grief. That is why it is a continuous process. That is why the masks, though they have become maladaptive and unhealthy. That is why these words.

Posted: 1 April 2019