- Published on
One has only to set the date, buy the ticket, and let the earth, sun, and moon make their passages through the sky, until inexorable time carries us with it to the moment of parting. Jill Ker Conway
A book on the shelf
The name, Jill Ker Conway,
Stirs a memory
A historian and writer
Born in Australia
Now living in America
The Road from Coorain
An autobiography
A story of growing up in rural NSW
Barely surviving the drought
Living in Sydney
Post the second world war
The familiar names of
Mosman, Waitara, and Pennant Hills
The relief of reading stories
Of someone
Who never felt at home in Australia
In Sydney
Despite the beaches and bush
The smell of eucalyptus and earth
What it feels to board the plane
To leave
Knowing that Australia will always
Be a part of who you are
But knowing that your life
Exists somewhere over the ocean
Relief and tears
Connection with a woman
Whom, despite an age gap
Of half a century,
Loves history and reading and learning
And discovery
And finds a place
Beyond the continent
Of her birth.
The end.
The name, Jill Ker Conway,
Stirs a memory
A historian and writer
Born in Australia
Now living in America
The Road from Coorain
An autobiography
A story of growing up in rural NSW
Barely surviving the drought
Living in Sydney
Post the second world war
The familiar names of
Mosman, Waitara, and Pennant Hills
The relief of reading stories
Of someone
Who never felt at home in Australia
In Sydney
Despite the beaches and bush
The smell of eucalyptus and earth
What it feels to board the plane
To leave
Knowing that Australia will always
Be a part of who you are
But knowing that your life
Exists somewhere over the ocean
Relief and tears
Connection with a woman
Whom, despite an age gap
Of half a century,
Loves history and reading and learning
And discovery
And finds a place
Beyond the continent
Of her birth.
The end.
- Published on
There is an episode of Friends
The one with the football
Phoebe has no idea
Rachel just can’t play -
“Go long, sweetie”
And Monica is overly competitive
(And neurotic
And crazy
And the macho one next to her brother
Who is an academic and therefore kind of wussy
So they balance each other out)
Tomorrow, in real life,
Is The Big Game.
The most watched
Sporting event
In America,
The Super Bowl.
The focus of the game,
Apart from the advertising,
Will be the men.
In the world of American football
Women
Are the cheerleaders, metaphorical or real
Playing the feminine, on-looking,
Supportive roles
In 2011
The American NFL did open up the game
To women players
In March 2013
The first woman, Lauren Silberman, went to regional try outs.
As of Super Bowl 2014, no woman has been selected for an NFL team.
But there are women football players
Who play
Full contact American football
(And don’t wear bikinis to play)
The Women’s Football Alliance
The Independent Women’s Football League
And Spring Football League
Represent over forty teams
Across America
When the New York Sharks
Professional Women’s Football Team
Appeared on Good Day New York
The male host, in his introduction, quipped
“A women’s football team? Well, I’m skeptical!”
At the first Modern Olympic Games in 1896
Women were not permitted to compete
As it was felt their presence would be
Impractical
Uninteresting
Unaesthetic and
Incorrect
(Though a few women did compete, in
Tennis, golf, croquet, and sailing)
It was not until the 2012 Olympics
In London
That every participating country
Had a female athlete present
Today, in 2014
The Tour de France
Olympic Ski jumping
The Mavericks International Surfing Competition
And 5 set tennis matches at top tournament level
Are closed to women competitors
While major sporting events
Super Bowl, FIFA World Cup, State of Origin, The Ashes
Have women’s teams at amateur, or even professional levels
In their respective sports
The BIG GAME
The highlight of the sporting calendar
Is always the men’s competition.
The press barely reports
Matches, games, and results
Of women’s sporting events
In the USA
In 2009
A twenty year study
Found that 96% of
Sports media coverage
Was devoted to men’s sports
Similar statistics can be found
In Australia
Where in 2010
9% of sports coverage in the news
Was about women’s sport
Or in the UK
Where in 2013
The Guardian newspaper featured just
2.5% of articles about women in sport
So tomorrow is the Big Game
And my (now) home state is playing
But I won’t be watching
I’ll be channeling my
Inner Rachel
Going long
And seeking out the women’s games.
I want to live in a world
Where women matter
Take centre stage
As competitors
Athletes and
Sporting heroes
And are recognised
For their efforts and prowess
And are represented as more than
Unknowing, incompetent, and neurotic.
Women play sport.
Let's support them
As much as we
Cheer on the men.
The end.
The one with the football
Phoebe has no idea
Rachel just can’t play -
“Go long, sweetie”
And Monica is overly competitive
(And neurotic
And crazy
And the macho one next to her brother
Who is an academic and therefore kind of wussy
So they balance each other out)
Tomorrow, in real life,
Is The Big Game.
The most watched
Sporting event
In America,
The Super Bowl.
The focus of the game,
Apart from the advertising,
Will be the men.
In the world of American football
Women
Are the cheerleaders, metaphorical or real
Playing the feminine, on-looking,
Supportive roles
In 2011
The American NFL did open up the game
To women players
In March 2013
The first woman, Lauren Silberman, went to regional try outs.
As of Super Bowl 2014, no woman has been selected for an NFL team.
But there are women football players
Who play
Full contact American football
(And don’t wear bikinis to play)
The Women’s Football Alliance
The Independent Women’s Football League
And Spring Football League
Represent over forty teams
Across America
When the New York Sharks
Professional Women’s Football Team
Appeared on Good Day New York
The male host, in his introduction, quipped
“A women’s football team? Well, I’m skeptical!”
At the first Modern Olympic Games in 1896
Women were not permitted to compete
As it was felt their presence would be
Impractical
Uninteresting
Unaesthetic and
Incorrect
(Though a few women did compete, in
Tennis, golf, croquet, and sailing)
It was not until the 2012 Olympics
In London
That every participating country
Had a female athlete present
Today, in 2014
The Tour de France
Olympic Ski jumping
The Mavericks International Surfing Competition
And 5 set tennis matches at top tournament level
Are closed to women competitors
While major sporting events
Super Bowl, FIFA World Cup, State of Origin, The Ashes
Have women’s teams at amateur, or even professional levels
In their respective sports
The BIG GAME
The highlight of the sporting calendar
Is always the men’s competition.
The press barely reports
Matches, games, and results
Of women’s sporting events
In the USA
In 2009
A twenty year study
Found that 96% of
Sports media coverage
Was devoted to men’s sports
Similar statistics can be found
In Australia
Where in 2010
9% of sports coverage in the news
Was about women’s sport
Or in the UK
Where in 2013
The Guardian newspaper featured just
2.5% of articles about women in sport
So tomorrow is the Big Game
And my (now) home state is playing
But I won’t be watching
I’ll be channeling my
Inner Rachel
Going long
And seeking out the women’s games.
I want to live in a world
Where women matter
Take centre stage
As competitors
Athletes and
Sporting heroes
And are recognised
For their efforts and prowess
And are represented as more than
Unknowing, incompetent, and neurotic.
Women play sport.
Let's support them
As much as we
Cheer on the men.
The end.
- Published on
We want
A solution
An answer
A pill
A medicine
A magical being
To make suffering end
In order
To be
Skinnier
Healthier
More wealthy
Successful
Lovable
Make life easier
If only we could wave a magic wand
Or stick to the diet
Or do the affirmations
Or follow the right guru
Or read the right books
Or do the exercises
Or make the bad people go away
We desire
Quick fixes
Instant solutions
We wanted to be better yesterday
Last year
Ten years ago
And still we’re waiting.
Meditation
Doesn’t make you better
It doesn’t provide
The silver bullet
To curing life’s ills
It is not the be all and end all
To achieving happiness
But it does take the edge off
Allows for moments of clarity
Moments of peace
Moments of stillness
It is free
You don’t need any special skills
You don’t need to be any kind of person
You don’t need to believe in anything or anyone
Just pay attention
Without judgement
And repeat.
This post originally appeared at my Vivalu Meditation site.
A solution
An answer
A pill
A medicine
A magical being
To make suffering end
In order
To be
Skinnier
Healthier
More wealthy
Successful
Lovable
Make life easier
If only we could wave a magic wand
Or stick to the diet
Or do the affirmations
Or follow the right guru
Or read the right books
Or do the exercises
Or make the bad people go away
We desire
Quick fixes
Instant solutions
We wanted to be better yesterday
Last year
Ten years ago
And still we’re waiting.
Meditation
Doesn’t make you better
It doesn’t provide
The silver bullet
To curing life’s ills
It is not the be all and end all
To achieving happiness
But it does take the edge off
Allows for moments of clarity
Moments of peace
Moments of stillness
It is free
You don’t need any special skills
You don’t need to be any kind of person
You don’t need to believe in anything or anyone
Just pay attention
Without judgement
And repeat.
This post originally appeared at my Vivalu Meditation site.
- Published on
Sheldon Lake, Fort Collins
If someone had told me
Just two years ago
That I would be living in
Fort Collins, Colorado
I would have said,
Where?!
They say home is where the heart is
And yes, my love is here,
But this pretty little town
An hour north of Denver
Population approx 150,000,
Has, in less than two months,
Become home
I love Old Town
With its multitude of fairy lights
And hipster stores
Selling Tibetan and locally-made crafts
And burgers and pizzas and
Yoga mats
I love the Bean Cycle and
Wolverine Bookstore
With its shelves of second-hand books
And coffee aroma
I love City Park
With its rolling green hills
And large sparkling lake
Its waters now frozen and home to
Impromptu ice hockey games
And ice fishing
And ice skating ducks
In the summer
When the water is liquid
It is filled with paddle boats
And swimmers
And cries of joy from the adjacent water slide
I love cycling to rehearsal
Down wide streets with designated cycle lanes
And along the Poudre Trail
Following the bends and turns of the river
Through parkland and forests
Within a ten to fifteen minutes you are out of suburbia
And into the open expanse of
Colorado with
Mountains on the horizon
And nothing but sweeping brown vistas
All around you
And everywhere you go
Ducks and geese fly in V’s up above
Black dots against heart-breakingly blue sky
The sky is always blue
With an average of
300 days of sunshine a year
Every time I catch the silhouette
Of dark leafless trees against that blue
I gasp
I love the extremes in temperature
One day will see you shivering at -26C/-14F
And the next day will be 12C/53F and you wondered what it was like to feel cold.
The way the air smells fresh and crisp after snow
And when it’s warm, the scent is tinged with manure from the surrounding farms.
The way the wind whips down the streets
The way the snow falls
The way the sun shines.
I love that Craigslist works
We have a lovely handmade coffee table
And a keyboard
And babysitting gigs
I love that people interact and connect
I’ve built more of a community in two months
Than I ever did in two years in London
Every other person brews beer
Keeps bees
Knits
Fort Collins is full of artists and students and hipsters
I fit right in.
I love our farmer’s market
And driving fifteen minutes out of town
To Jodar Farms to buy eggs
And pork and chicken for Aaron
I love the taste of local kale and spinach
And those eggs
With their bright yellow yolks
And multi-coloured shells.
I love being here
This unexpected place
That once, didn’t even know existed
Colorado
From the Spanish, meaning, coloured red,
For now,
My home
The end.
Just two years ago
That I would be living in
Fort Collins, Colorado
I would have said,
Where?!
They say home is where the heart is
And yes, my love is here,
But this pretty little town
An hour north of Denver
Population approx 150,000,
Has, in less than two months,
Become home
I love Old Town
With its multitude of fairy lights
And hipster stores
Selling Tibetan and locally-made crafts
And burgers and pizzas and
Yoga mats
I love the Bean Cycle and
Wolverine Bookstore
With its shelves of second-hand books
And coffee aroma
I love City Park
With its rolling green hills
And large sparkling lake
Its waters now frozen and home to
Impromptu ice hockey games
And ice fishing
And ice skating ducks
In the summer
When the water is liquid
It is filled with paddle boats
And swimmers
And cries of joy from the adjacent water slide
I love cycling to rehearsal
Down wide streets with designated cycle lanes
And along the Poudre Trail
Following the bends and turns of the river
Through parkland and forests
Within a ten to fifteen minutes you are out of suburbia
And into the open expanse of
Colorado with
Mountains on the horizon
And nothing but sweeping brown vistas
All around you
And everywhere you go
Ducks and geese fly in V’s up above
Black dots against heart-breakingly blue sky
The sky is always blue
With an average of
300 days of sunshine a year
Every time I catch the silhouette
Of dark leafless trees against that blue
I gasp
I love the extremes in temperature
One day will see you shivering at -26C/-14F
And the next day will be 12C/53F and you wondered what it was like to feel cold.
The way the air smells fresh and crisp after snow
And when it’s warm, the scent is tinged with manure from the surrounding farms.
The way the wind whips down the streets
The way the snow falls
The way the sun shines.
I love that Craigslist works
We have a lovely handmade coffee table
And a keyboard
And babysitting gigs
I love that people interact and connect
I’ve built more of a community in two months
Than I ever did in two years in London
Every other person brews beer
Keeps bees
Knits
Fort Collins is full of artists and students and hipsters
I fit right in.
I love our farmer’s market
And driving fifteen minutes out of town
To Jodar Farms to buy eggs
And pork and chicken for Aaron
I love the taste of local kale and spinach
And those eggs
With their bright yellow yolks
And multi-coloured shells.
I love being here
This unexpected place
That once, didn’t even know existed
Colorado
From the Spanish, meaning, coloured red,
For now,
My home
The end.
- Published on
The year started twirling a “glow sword”
Because in the land of the free and the brave
It’s easier to buy a gun than a sparkler
We applied for a fiance visa.
I flew back to London.
In February, I started house hunting,
Visited Brighton
And saw A Chorus Line at the Palladium
I watched women in black t-shirts and bright red lipstick
Rise and dance outside Parliament House.
We had a bake sale at the theatre.
I wandered the streets of London
Trying to feel at home.
In March, I saw Liza Minnelli at Royal Festival Hall.
In the midst of a snow storm
I moved to Ruislip.
Saw my friend’s play
Nights of Enchantment,
And over noodles, had a long and delightful conversation
With an old friend.
One bright chilly morning
I walked from Covent Garden to the Thames to Islington.
In April, I did quite the unthinkable
And quit my job ushering
At a west end theatre
And prepared to walk 780km across
Northern rural Spain
I saw the Lichtenstein retrospective at the Tate Modern
On the 30th April I caught the Eurostar
From London to Paris
And spent the day on trains heading
South across France to the Pyrenees
On the first day of May
I walked up and down the Pyrenees
Crossed into Navarra
And spent the next 31 days
Walking the width of Spain
Until I reached Santiago de Compostela
In June, I saw War Horse at the New London.
I flew over the Atlantic
To spend the summer with my love
We went to a wedding
And a Wesslmann pop art exhibit in Richmond
Drove through Washington DC, Jersey, New York, and Connecticut
And arrived
Home
At summer camp
We staged 2 full-scale musicals
In 8 weeks
I taught singing and voice
And melted in the heat
Watched Yo Yo Ma and the Boston Symphony Orchestra
At Tanglewood
And walked a rainbow chalk labyrinth
Smudged and glowing from rain
In August
I saw Matilda, Once, and Peter and the Starcatcher in NYC
And wandered the streets of Manhattan praying for a miracle.
I unwillingly flew back to London
And moved to the south east.
I worked as a temp
At an international commercial property research company
Two finance firms
Two publishing houses
And spent my days behind reception desks around London
Writing and researching my play.
I saw Blue Stockings at The Globe.
In September, I quietly turned 29
In one of the offices of London
And in the evening saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory at the
Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, with my big brother
I saw Grounded at The Gate Theatre
And did a workshop on writing solo material
I traveled to Bath to audition for a play
I saw Once with my Australian singing teacher
And remembered why I was doing what I was doing.
I saw A Doll’s House at The Duke of York
And had to talk myself into staying for the second act.
I went blackberry picking in Southminster
And made a blackberry pie.
In October, I had my interview with the US Consulate
And was rejected
I waited for a piece of paper
Declaring my lack of criminal record
To be sent from Australia to the UK
Via snail mail
I waited for my file to be lifted from the hundreds of other files
In someone’s office
I saw Trevor Ashley perform
Liza on an E
And Malala Yousafzai speak at Queen Elizabeth Hall
I went to the London Dungeon and SeaLife Aquarium with my first London friend
I saw The Light Princess at the National Theatre
And a debate between the founder of No More Page 3
And three playboy bunnies
In Carnaby St.
I went to Brighton with Mum and
Rode the carousel on the pier.
The next day I was the sickest I have been since moving to London
Ten months of waiting catching up with my stomach.
In November, I saw Matilda at the Cambridge
One last time
Walked along the Thames
Saw the Christmas lights in Oxford St and
Bid farewell to London.
I flew across the Atlantic
To be with my love
And, finally,
We were married.
In December
I worked on my play
Went to my first American audition
And was cast in my first Shakespeare
I discovered I could run in below freezing temperatures
Volunteered in a second-hand bookshop
Learnt to play the ukulele
Went to a Warhol exhibit
And wandered through Old Town admiring the fairy lights.
We started our happily ever after
The end.
Because in the land of the free and the brave
It’s easier to buy a gun than a sparkler
We applied for a fiance visa.
I flew back to London.
In February, I started house hunting,
Visited Brighton
And saw A Chorus Line at the Palladium
I watched women in black t-shirts and bright red lipstick
Rise and dance outside Parliament House.
We had a bake sale at the theatre.
I wandered the streets of London
Trying to feel at home.
In March, I saw Liza Minnelli at Royal Festival Hall.
In the midst of a snow storm
I moved to Ruislip.
Saw my friend’s play
Nights of Enchantment,
And over noodles, had a long and delightful conversation
With an old friend.
One bright chilly morning
I walked from Covent Garden to the Thames to Islington.
In April, I did quite the unthinkable
And quit my job ushering
At a west end theatre
And prepared to walk 780km across
Northern rural Spain
I saw the Lichtenstein retrospective at the Tate Modern
On the 30th April I caught the Eurostar
From London to Paris
And spent the day on trains heading
South across France to the Pyrenees
On the first day of May
I walked up and down the Pyrenees
Crossed into Navarra
And spent the next 31 days
Walking the width of Spain
Until I reached Santiago de Compostela
In June, I saw War Horse at the New London.
I flew over the Atlantic
To spend the summer with my love
We went to a wedding
And a Wesslmann pop art exhibit in Richmond
Drove through Washington DC, Jersey, New York, and Connecticut
And arrived
Home
At summer camp
We staged 2 full-scale musicals
In 8 weeks
I taught singing and voice
And melted in the heat
Watched Yo Yo Ma and the Boston Symphony Orchestra
At Tanglewood
And walked a rainbow chalk labyrinth
Smudged and glowing from rain
In August
I saw Matilda, Once, and Peter and the Starcatcher in NYC
And wandered the streets of Manhattan praying for a miracle.
I unwillingly flew back to London
And moved to the south east.
I worked as a temp
At an international commercial property research company
Two finance firms
Two publishing houses
And spent my days behind reception desks around London
Writing and researching my play.
I saw Blue Stockings at The Globe.
In September, I quietly turned 29
In one of the offices of London
And in the evening saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory at the
Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, with my big brother
I saw Grounded at The Gate Theatre
And did a workshop on writing solo material
I traveled to Bath to audition for a play
I saw Once with my Australian singing teacher
And remembered why I was doing what I was doing.
I saw A Doll’s House at The Duke of York
And had to talk myself into staying for the second act.
I went blackberry picking in Southminster
And made a blackberry pie.
In October, I had my interview with the US Consulate
And was rejected
I waited for a piece of paper
Declaring my lack of criminal record
To be sent from Australia to the UK
Via snail mail
I waited for my file to be lifted from the hundreds of other files
In someone’s office
I saw Trevor Ashley perform
Liza on an E
And Malala Yousafzai speak at Queen Elizabeth Hall
I went to the London Dungeon and SeaLife Aquarium with my first London friend
I saw The Light Princess at the National Theatre
And a debate between the founder of No More Page 3
And three playboy bunnies
In Carnaby St.
I went to Brighton with Mum and
Rode the carousel on the pier.
The next day I was the sickest I have been since moving to London
Ten months of waiting catching up with my stomach.
In November, I saw Matilda at the Cambridge
One last time
Walked along the Thames
Saw the Christmas lights in Oxford St and
Bid farewell to London.
I flew across the Atlantic
To be with my love
And, finally,
We were married.
In December
I worked on my play
Went to my first American audition
And was cast in my first Shakespeare
I discovered I could run in below freezing temperatures
Volunteered in a second-hand bookshop
Learnt to play the ukulele
Went to a Warhol exhibit
And wandered through Old Town admiring the fairy lights.
We started our happily ever after
The end.
- Published on
The Bean Cycle Coffee Shop,
And Wolverine Farm bookstore
Fort Collins, CO.
Is the most perfect of coffee/book shops
Comfy couches
Walls lined with second-hand books
And poems
And artworks of local artists
The smell of coffee and old books
Handmade signs
Everything a little dusty
The old bicycle on the wall
Music plays
Audible enough to create a vibe
Chill enough to allow conversation
And reading
People sit
Sipping coffee
Absorbing in other worlds
Through words and print on paper
Type away on laptops
Face each other
Over round tables
Conversation
A background hum
The kids’ corner
Tucked away
The rocking chair and teddy bear and doll
Mom reading to her daughter
You are welcome to sit
And read
And browse
And drink coffee
Small children clamber up the stairs to the loft
They turn their heads
Grin the through the railing with cheeky smiles
The clanky old register
Books to be priced, stacked, and shelved
I can’t even begin to describe the satisfaction of
Rows of dusty books
Sorted by category and author’s surname
Every shelf
Contains treasure,
My “to read” list
Ever growing.
Even if I sat down and read books
Cover to cover
All day long
For the rest of my life
I would never reach
The end.
And Wolverine Farm bookstore
Fort Collins, CO.
Is the most perfect of coffee/book shops
Comfy couches
Walls lined with second-hand books
And poems
And artworks of local artists
The smell of coffee and old books
Handmade signs
Everything a little dusty
The old bicycle on the wall
Music plays
Audible enough to create a vibe
Chill enough to allow conversation
And reading
People sit
Sipping coffee
Absorbing in other worlds
Through words and print on paper
Type away on laptops
Face each other
Over round tables
Conversation
A background hum
The kids’ corner
Tucked away
The rocking chair and teddy bear and doll
Mom reading to her daughter
You are welcome to sit
And read
And browse
And drink coffee
Small children clamber up the stairs to the loft
They turn their heads
Grin the through the railing with cheeky smiles
The clanky old register
Books to be priced, stacked, and shelved
I can’t even begin to describe the satisfaction of
Rows of dusty books
Sorted by category and author’s surname
Every shelf
Contains treasure,
My “to read” list
Ever growing.
Even if I sat down and read books
Cover to cover
All day long
For the rest of my life
I would never reach
The end.
- Published on
an approximation of what I looked like
Forty dollars,
And another form where I fill out
Every address that I have lived at
Since I was 16,
And twenty-four hours later
I receive an email to say my police background check
Is clear
And the certificate is on its way.
A week later it arrives
I book the courier
To collect my passport
Police certificate
And prayers for a speedy return
The courier collects the parcel
See you in 4-5 weeks
He says.
No.
I say.
I want to see you walking in that door with my passport and visa by the end of the week. Got it?
He laughs.
He doesn't get it.
It takes the Embassy three days to process receipt of my passport.
Then nothing changes for almost three weeks.
My status reads "Ready"
It has been "Ready" since before the interview.
I lose my voice
Develop a horrible cough
I want to stay in bed and never get out.
I must be miserable to be around
I don't care.
Get me out of this limbo. I'm done. I've been waiting for 10 months.
I feel pathetic. Ten months is nothing in the grand scheme of things.
I take my first sick day since arriving in London.
I cannot face work or people or getting out of my pajamas.
Every time I've skyped Aaron in the last few days I cry. Sob uncontrollably.
I'm sick of my love being trapped behind a screen.
At 5pm the status changes.
"Administrative processing"
The stories on visa journey* are frightening.
Some people have gotten to this part of the process
And waited another year.
I feel utterly hopeless.
Another week rolls by.
Everyone is being optimistic and supportive
The system doesn't care. I am nothing. I am not human.
I am six numbers and an alien.
"Approved".
Wait, what?!
We check the website repetitively to make sure it hasn't changed.
Two days later I receive a tracking number from the courier.
My passport is on its way.
I'm headed to my love.
And after 10 months, and three weeks...
I'm on the plane! I'm on the plane! I'M ON THE PLANE!
In ten hours I'll be with my love!
The head of the cabin crew announces that we'll soon be landing in Denver
It is minus 10 degrees celcius outside
Every passenger does a double take
We are the only plane landing at this time
The customs queue is short
I have read that I may be taken to a separate room for my customs interview
I am called
The officer doesn't make eye contact
I hand over my passport
And a thick sealed envelope from the embassy
Containing all my documents
X-rays, police certificates, birth certificates
And every address I have lived at since I was 16.
Right thumb on the screen please Miss Lyons.
(Right thumb on the screen).
When did you last leave the United States Miss Lyons?
I left at the end of August...
Silence.
I was here on a J1. For camp.
I know.
I laugh a little. He has still not made eye contact.
Four fingers of your right hand please Miss Lyons.
(Four fingers of my right hand on the screen).
You know you have 90 days to marry.
Yep!
He doesn't look up. He stamps my passport, places the envelope in a pile.
Congratulations. Thank you Miss Lyons. NEXT.
The world is covered in snow
And I'm with my love
Everything is going to be WONDERFUL!
Now we just have to get married!
And another form where I fill out
Every address that I have lived at
Since I was 16,
And twenty-four hours later
I receive an email to say my police background check
Is clear
And the certificate is on its way.
A week later it arrives
I book the courier
To collect my passport
Police certificate
And prayers for a speedy return
The courier collects the parcel
See you in 4-5 weeks
He says.
No.
I say.
I want to see you walking in that door with my passport and visa by the end of the week. Got it?
He laughs.
He doesn't get it.
It takes the Embassy three days to process receipt of my passport.
Then nothing changes for almost three weeks.
My status reads "Ready"
It has been "Ready" since before the interview.
I lose my voice
Develop a horrible cough
I want to stay in bed and never get out.
I must be miserable to be around
I don't care.
Get me out of this limbo. I'm done. I've been waiting for 10 months.
I feel pathetic. Ten months is nothing in the grand scheme of things.
I take my first sick day since arriving in London.
I cannot face work or people or getting out of my pajamas.
Every time I've skyped Aaron in the last few days I cry. Sob uncontrollably.
I'm sick of my love being trapped behind a screen.
At 5pm the status changes.
"Administrative processing"
The stories on visa journey* are frightening.
Some people have gotten to this part of the process
And waited another year.
I feel utterly hopeless.
Another week rolls by.
Everyone is being optimistic and supportive
The system doesn't care. I am nothing. I am not human.
I am six numbers and an alien.
"Approved".
Wait, what?!
We check the website repetitively to make sure it hasn't changed.
Two days later I receive a tracking number from the courier.
My passport is on its way.
I'm headed to my love.
And after 10 months, and three weeks...
I'm on the plane! I'm on the plane! I'M ON THE PLANE!
In ten hours I'll be with my love!
The head of the cabin crew announces that we'll soon be landing in Denver
It is minus 10 degrees celcius outside
Every passenger does a double take
We are the only plane landing at this time
The customs queue is short
I have read that I may be taken to a separate room for my customs interview
I am called
The officer doesn't make eye contact
I hand over my passport
And a thick sealed envelope from the embassy
Containing all my documents
X-rays, police certificates, birth certificates
And every address I have lived at since I was 16.
Right thumb on the screen please Miss Lyons.
(Right thumb on the screen).
When did you last leave the United States Miss Lyons?
I left at the end of August...
Silence.
I was here on a J1. For camp.
I know.
I laugh a little. He has still not made eye contact.
Four fingers of your right hand please Miss Lyons.
(Four fingers of my right hand on the screen).
You know you have 90 days to marry.
Yep!
He doesn't look up. He stamps my passport, places the envelope in a pile.
Congratulations. Thank you Miss Lyons. NEXT.
The world is covered in snow
And I'm with my love
Everything is going to be WONDERFUL!
Now we just have to get married!
- Published on
I love a good wedding
All my friends will tell you
I’m the first to cry at them
Be there to sing and dance and by merry
And celebrate the legal uniting of
Two souls
I’ve been to weddings in gardens
On farms
In churches
I’ve had the privilege of speaking at weddings
And singing in the ceremony
I love watching friends and family
Declare love
To their loved ones
And for my own wedding
I wanted exactly no part of the circus
I’ve been engaged once before
We started preparing a wedding
Picked a date, went dress shopping, drafted lists, looked at venues
Learnt that the minute you mentioned
“Wedding” instead of “party”
The prices instantly doubled
I discovered that
Every. Person. In. The. World.
Has. An. Opinion.
And if you don’t listen to, and follow through, with their
Sage advice
You will be DOOMED
Or offend, insult, or have yourself struck from the family tree.
Instead of perusing wedding magazines
And blogs
Or attending fairs and conventions
Or sitting with girlfriends and sisters over coffee
Discussing details
I read about the history of weddings
Trying to understand
What bought us to this level of crazy
I discovered that, in its earliest days,
The Christian church abhorred marriage
And declared celibacy was the only way to spiritual truth
That marriages throughout history
Have been about the economic empowerment of men
And a means of controlling women
Their bodies
And reproduction
Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert
Was the most readable
The traditions didn’t speak to me
The white dress, the rings, the vows,
Bows on chairs.
I hate, with a strange passion, chairs covered with white fabric and bows.
I just wanted to marry my love
And live happily ever after the end.
I begged my first fiance to elope
Save the trouble and expense and drama
Instead we broke up.
Nearly three years later
I nervously told Aaron
I didn’t actually want a wedding
He was thrilled.
And so after a very long wait
And most of the year apart
We finally became husband and wife.
We got married on a Monday
Because it was the first day we could
After applying for the marriage license.
I wore a dress
I’ve worn a hundred times
And will hopefully wear a hundred times more
Aaron wore a collared shirt
We both wore smiles.
We drove to the town hall in Aaron’s car
We walked inside the building
And because we live in Colorado
We did not require witnesses
We did not require a ceremony
Just the intention to be legally bound
We signed our names
Sealed it with a kiss, and,
We were married.
We called our families
Wrote to our friends
And shared a dinner that we cooked together
It was quiet and lovely
And outside, the snow was glistening.
The end.
All my friends will tell you
I’m the first to cry at them
Be there to sing and dance and by merry
And celebrate the legal uniting of
Two souls
I’ve been to weddings in gardens
On farms
In churches
I’ve had the privilege of speaking at weddings
And singing in the ceremony
I love watching friends and family
Declare love
To their loved ones
And for my own wedding
I wanted exactly no part of the circus
I’ve been engaged once before
We started preparing a wedding
Picked a date, went dress shopping, drafted lists, looked at venues
Learnt that the minute you mentioned
“Wedding” instead of “party”
The prices instantly doubled
I discovered that
Every. Person. In. The. World.
Has. An. Opinion.
And if you don’t listen to, and follow through, with their
Sage advice
You will be DOOMED
Or offend, insult, or have yourself struck from the family tree.
Instead of perusing wedding magazines
And blogs
Or attending fairs and conventions
Or sitting with girlfriends and sisters over coffee
Discussing details
I read about the history of weddings
Trying to understand
What bought us to this level of crazy
I discovered that, in its earliest days,
The Christian church abhorred marriage
And declared celibacy was the only way to spiritual truth
That marriages throughout history
Have been about the economic empowerment of men
And a means of controlling women
Their bodies
And reproduction
Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert
Was the most readable
The traditions didn’t speak to me
The white dress, the rings, the vows,
Bows on chairs.
I hate, with a strange passion, chairs covered with white fabric and bows.
I just wanted to marry my love
And live happily ever after the end.
I begged my first fiance to elope
Save the trouble and expense and drama
Instead we broke up.
Nearly three years later
I nervously told Aaron
I didn’t actually want a wedding
He was thrilled.
And so after a very long wait
And most of the year apart
We finally became husband and wife.
We got married on a Monday
Because it was the first day we could
After applying for the marriage license.
I wore a dress
I’ve worn a hundred times
And will hopefully wear a hundred times more
Aaron wore a collared shirt
We both wore smiles.
We drove to the town hall in Aaron’s car
We walked inside the building
And because we live in Colorado
We did not require witnesses
We did not require a ceremony
Just the intention to be legally bound
We signed our names
Sealed it with a kiss, and,
We were married.
We called our families
Wrote to our friends
And shared a dinner that we cooked together
It was quiet and lovely
And outside, the snow was glistening.
The end.
- Published on
The US Embassy, London
The interview date has been set!
Next week I'll be with my love!
THE WAIT IS OVER!
The morning is bright and blue skied
It makes me nervous
Big events of my life usually happen in the rain.
I arrive at the Consulate
A folder two inches thick with paper under my arm
Duplicate copies of my application
Forms forms forms
DS160, I-134, medical report, birth certificates
Police certificate dated within the last six months
Passports
American standard passport pictures
Affidavits of support
Pictures
Evidence.
The check-in takes half an hour
I am given a ticket
I sit with a man from Manchester and a woman from Cambridge
His wife is in Austin
Coincidentally, so is Cambridge's husband
We have all been waiting 9-10 months for this day
We watch the sanitised images
Of the United States of America
Flash across the big screen at the end of the room
America knows how to put on a show
The Aaron Copland-esque soundtrack triumphantly plays across the heads of the waiting
America. Innovation. Diversity. See all that America has to offer.
My heart aches for my love and the land that will soon be my home.
I check my ticket number again. I110.
I101. I102. I103.
An hour later I am called to the window.
The woman behind the window is being trained.
She has never seen the software before and is being walked through
Step by step,
Click by interminable click,
The man training her is patient.
They are both kind and full of smiles.
I try to remember to breathe.
Page by page I hand over my documentation.
DS160, I-134, medical report, birth certificate
Police certificate dated within the last six months
Passports
American standard passport pictures
Affidavits of support
Please write your name on the back and sign here.
I am shaking. My mouth is dry.
Your application looks great Miss Lyons!
I smile.
The man asks for my Australian police certificate.
My heart and stomach simultaneously drop to the floor.
I don't have one.
He says I need a police check for every country I have lived in for more than two years from when I was sixteen.
Where does it say that?!
I ask him,
Where does it say that? The website asks for a police check dated within the last six months.*
He shrugs. It's very clear.
I am crying. No where does it say you need a police check from every country you have lived in for more than two years from the time you were sixteen.
Don't worry. It won't delay your application.
But I won't get my visa today?
No. But it won't take long. That's all you need.
I am so frustrated I want to scream.
Do you know how long it takes to get a piece of paper mailed from Australia?!
I wanted to leave yesterday. March. January.
They take my passport and pile of papers.
I am told to go and wait in the waiting area until my number is called again.
I sit and sob.
A man offers to get me a tissue.
I cannot speak.
Another hour passes. The video is back to the beginning.
America. Innovation. Diversity. See all that America has to offer.
I am called to another window.
The woman is kind and full of smiles.
I am still crying.
Okay Miss Lyons. Do you still intend to marry Aaron?
I nod through tears.
I need you to say it out loud honey.
Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.
She smiles. Great. I'm just going to ask you a few questions.
How did you meet Aaron?
She has tissues ready.
Your application looks great, honey. It's all approved except for the police check. So once we have that we're good to go.
She hands me back my passport and a list of instructions.
Outside the sky is still infuriatingly blue.
*The immigration website has since been updated to reflect these changes.
Next week I'll be with my love!
THE WAIT IS OVER!
The morning is bright and blue skied
It makes me nervous
Big events of my life usually happen in the rain.
I arrive at the Consulate
A folder two inches thick with paper under my arm
Duplicate copies of my application
Forms forms forms
DS160, I-134, medical report, birth certificates
Police certificate dated within the last six months
Passports
American standard passport pictures
Affidavits of support
Pictures
Evidence.
The check-in takes half an hour
I am given a ticket
I sit with a man from Manchester and a woman from Cambridge
His wife is in Austin
Coincidentally, so is Cambridge's husband
We have all been waiting 9-10 months for this day
We watch the sanitised images
Of the United States of America
Flash across the big screen at the end of the room
America knows how to put on a show
The Aaron Copland-esque soundtrack triumphantly plays across the heads of the waiting
America. Innovation. Diversity. See all that America has to offer.
My heart aches for my love and the land that will soon be my home.
I check my ticket number again. I110.
I101. I102. I103.
An hour later I am called to the window.
The woman behind the window is being trained.
She has never seen the software before and is being walked through
Step by step,
Click by interminable click,
The man training her is patient.
They are both kind and full of smiles.
I try to remember to breathe.
Page by page I hand over my documentation.
DS160, I-134, medical report, birth certificate
Police certificate dated within the last six months
Passports
American standard passport pictures
Affidavits of support
Please write your name on the back and sign here.
I am shaking. My mouth is dry.
Your application looks great Miss Lyons!
I smile.
The man asks for my Australian police certificate.
My heart and stomach simultaneously drop to the floor.
I don't have one.
He says I need a police check for every country I have lived in for more than two years from when I was sixteen.
Where does it say that?!
I ask him,
Where does it say that? The website asks for a police check dated within the last six months.*
He shrugs. It's very clear.
I am crying. No where does it say you need a police check from every country you have lived in for more than two years from the time you were sixteen.
Don't worry. It won't delay your application.
But I won't get my visa today?
No. But it won't take long. That's all you need.
I am so frustrated I want to scream.
Do you know how long it takes to get a piece of paper mailed from Australia?!
I wanted to leave yesterday. March. January.
They take my passport and pile of papers.
I am told to go and wait in the waiting area until my number is called again.
I sit and sob.
A man offers to get me a tissue.
I cannot speak.
Another hour passes. The video is back to the beginning.
America. Innovation. Diversity. See all that America has to offer.
I am called to another window.
The woman is kind and full of smiles.
I am still crying.
Okay Miss Lyons. Do you still intend to marry Aaron?
I nod through tears.
I need you to say it out loud honey.
Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.
She smiles. Great. I'm just going to ask you a few questions.
How did you meet Aaron?
She has tissues ready.
Your application looks great, honey. It's all approved except for the police check. So once we have that we're good to go.
She hands me back my passport and a list of instructions.
Outside the sky is still infuriatingly blue.
*The immigration website has since been updated to reflect these changes.
- Published on
a sample of the paperwork. sorry trees.
In November 2012
Over the slight crackle of
Another late night skype
We decided that if this long distance
Romance
Was going to continue
We needed to be together
On the same continent
And to do that, we needed to get married
In January
The air was cold
The trees were bare
We were warm and happy
In the cabin in the woods
And submitted our forms
For a K1 visa - the fiance visa
So we could be together.
I returned to London
With hope in my heart
My lease was due to finish in March
And we (rather optimistically) hoped it would be done and dusted by then
Save moving twice
The end of January rolled by
And then all of February
My lease expired
I moved to Ruislip in the middle of a snow storm
Every day I skyped my love
We sent emails and messages
Across the Atlantic
I love you
Today is the day!
I went to work
And ate and slept
And everyday checked the status of our application
And we heard
Precisely nothing
By April
I was feeling angsty
And angry and depressed
I was underpaid and
Under-appreciated at work
The Camino called
I quit my job
And left
On the 1st of May
My blue backpack and I
Went for a long walk
Started in France
Up and over the glorious Pyrenees
And into Spain
A month of walking
Waking, walking
"Pacing in a straight line"
Eating and sleeping
And talking to my love
And asking the universe
Please, please, please
Let TODAY be the day we hear something!
At the end of the walk
Still nothing
Not a word
I went back to England
Miserable, frustrated
Sick and tired
Anemic from a month in a country that actively despises vegetarians
Chilled by the coldest Spanish May in fifty years.
I needed a visa for camp
And went to the Consulate
Armed with paperwork
To show I would return to the UK
Even though I didn't want to.
The officer asked
Precisely nothing.
Three days later
I was on a jetplane
Headed for my love
Two months of summer
Bliss
Green leaves shimmering on the trees
Blue sky.
In the middle of rehearsal
We got the letter! It's been approved!
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry
The kids all cheered
The rehearsal had to continue
August. Now we'll know.
They've approved it.
Not long to go now.
A month at most.
Re-send all the documentation, and myself, to London.
September.
Not a word from the Consulate
Or the processing centre
Tiny nuggets of information
Discovered by combing forums
Stumbling across websites
More fees
More forms
The process has now been digitized.
Re-submit all the documentation, line by line
Online
The help line cannot help
Please register online
I submit my information to yet another website
My case now has 6 reference numbers
I still cannot speak to a human
The automated email responds
Please check the website
The homepage leads to a FAQ page
The FAQ page leads to a status page
The status page leads back to the homepage
I still have no information
All of September passes by
Then all of October
The leaves begin to change colour
And finally drop
We switch the heating on.
I'm living in comfort
I can work while I wait
I'm not fleeing war
Or famine
Or dire circumstances
Life is fine
But I want to be with my love
And the wait
Is awful.
Over the slight crackle of
Another late night skype
We decided that if this long distance
Romance
Was going to continue
We needed to be together
On the same continent
And to do that, we needed to get married
In January
The air was cold
The trees were bare
We were warm and happy
In the cabin in the woods
And submitted our forms
For a K1 visa - the fiance visa
So we could be together.
I returned to London
With hope in my heart
My lease was due to finish in March
And we (rather optimistically) hoped it would be done and dusted by then
Save moving twice
The end of January rolled by
And then all of February
My lease expired
I moved to Ruislip in the middle of a snow storm
Every day I skyped my love
We sent emails and messages
Across the Atlantic
I love you
Today is the day!
I went to work
And ate and slept
And everyday checked the status of our application
And we heard
Precisely nothing
By April
I was feeling angsty
And angry and depressed
I was underpaid and
Under-appreciated at work
The Camino called
I quit my job
And left
On the 1st of May
My blue backpack and I
Went for a long walk
Started in France
Up and over the glorious Pyrenees
And into Spain
A month of walking
Waking, walking
"Pacing in a straight line"
Eating and sleeping
And talking to my love
And asking the universe
Please, please, please
Let TODAY be the day we hear something!
At the end of the walk
Still nothing
Not a word
I went back to England
Miserable, frustrated
Sick and tired
Anemic from a month in a country that actively despises vegetarians
Chilled by the coldest Spanish May in fifty years.
I needed a visa for camp
And went to the Consulate
Armed with paperwork
To show I would return to the UK
Even though I didn't want to.
The officer asked
Precisely nothing.
Three days later
I was on a jetplane
Headed for my love
Two months of summer
Bliss
Green leaves shimmering on the trees
Blue sky.
In the middle of rehearsal
We got the letter! It's been approved!
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry
The kids all cheered
The rehearsal had to continue
August. Now we'll know.
They've approved it.
Not long to go now.
A month at most.
Re-send all the documentation, and myself, to London.
September.
Not a word from the Consulate
Or the processing centre
Tiny nuggets of information
Discovered by combing forums
Stumbling across websites
More fees
More forms
The process has now been digitized.
Re-submit all the documentation, line by line
Online
The help line cannot help
Please register online
I submit my information to yet another website
My case now has 6 reference numbers
I still cannot speak to a human
The automated email responds
Please check the website
The homepage leads to a FAQ page
The FAQ page leads to a status page
The status page leads back to the homepage
I still have no information
All of September passes by
Then all of October
The leaves begin to change colour
And finally drop
We switch the heating on.
I'm living in comfort
I can work while I wait
I'm not fleeing war
Or famine
Or dire circumstances
Life is fine
But I want to be with my love
And the wait
Is awful.