Behind the scenes: breaking open
Join me on an exploration into the inspiration and reflections of the pieces I've shared in my first book, breaking open.
Last year I published my first book, breaking open - a healing journey back home, a book of poetry and prose from my own healing journey I hoped might be a support and comfort for others on their healing journeys.
It is a collection of pieces I wrote to help me process and better understand the journey I was on, and still am. For a while now I’ve been imagining sharing a poem, or a piece of prose from the book, along with a reflection, or more detail, to deepen into the exploration of this journey.
A couple of weeks ago, after a long spell of minimal interaction on Substack, I dived back into reading, and came across
’s post Remember. I loved hearing how this poem came together. It was a prompt for me to channel some of my energy (which is feeling a little on the low side at the moment) and have a play with my own pieces. Thank you Brian!On the back cover of my book I write this as an author description:
Kali Bell grew up on far flung farms in South Africa with wild geese as her swimming companions and baboons in the backyard. She currently lives in New Zealand with her faithful furry companion, Millie, and their favourite place to be is the ocean.
She was given a Crohn’s diagnosis when she was 21 and this led her on a journey of finding out more of who she was, how to become the guardian of her own body and how real, deep vulnerable connection and self-love were at the core of everything for her.
Her words are an exploration of finding a home within ourselves and how we can become our own best friend.
I thought I might as well start here, because the story of my healing journey could begin with this Crohn’s diagnosis at 21. A diagnosis that I chose would not define me, however it was a catalyst in carving a clearer path with what resonated with me, and in diving deep into who I am (as the years have passed), what makes me tick, and how I can be more of myself.
Or we could track it further back to how, as a youngen I took on the stories of society, internalised them and slowly (or not so slowly) felt like I became a stranger in my own skin. To hide this feeling from those around me, I ran a tight internal ship to keep the mask on.
Maybe I could have started at 31, where two years after developing a fistula, I began digging deeper into my own ways of being and finding tools and support to shift some deep thought patterns and self-talk that was really no longer serving me.
I ponder all of these starting points still, for a future book I envision where I share this journey in a memoir.
So…the first poems I share relate to some of the different points I could use as a starting point. I wrote them in June 2021, inspired by a prompt from Tanya Markul’s she books (found on pages 24, 29 and 68):
eleven 11, a dark winter’s night wrapped in a cloak of tangled emotions tripping me up shrouds of shoulds society’s rules who am I? twenty-one 21, on a wide river skating on thin ice it cracks sharp edges cut through my flesh I’m open vulnerable for the first time. thirty-one 31, thirsty for hope it’s been a dark night but there’s a halo of light on the horizon flickering on and off sometimes it lasts long enough to light the whole day.
In some of my next posts, I’d love to dive deeper into those times as a way to begin this exploration into some of my pieces in breaking open.
What did this piece spark in you? Did a time in your life pop into your mind that felt like a turning point of sorts on your journey? If you’d like to share, I’d love to hear!
“11, a dark winter’s night
wrapped in a cloak
of tangled emotions
tripping me up
shrouds of shoulds
society’s rules
who am I? “ - I deeply resonated with this piece Kali. A common path for many, but how we all navigate this , I believe is “who we become”, so unique yet so much shared 💓
Avanol.
These words are so clearly expressed and yet laden with a deep feeling of loss, confusion, and a grappling with this totally new life now confronting you.
The heart breaking poignancy underlying this has stirred up such sadness for me around being part of that huge change, that time of your loss of innocence. the loss of a life as you had known and understood it up until then. It was shattering for me....feeling it all...part of it and yet not part of it.
But reading what you have written has also triggered my own deep childhood feelings.
That day at 5 years old when my parents left me at the house of strangers, where I was now to board so that I could go to school.
I still vividly recall standing at a white picket fence gate in silent shock as I watched my parents car drive away back to the farm, back to the only home I'd ever known and loved.
Back to the the life that had been mine, back to all that was familiar...our dogs, the cows being milked in the early morning, driving with dad through the farm hills in the dawn, mists lingering in the valleys and gulleys, pink with the coming sunrise, the smells of the bush, the birdsong, the voices of Zulu people that had been my company back then.
I kept looking and waving long after the car had disappeared over the first rise in the road, swallowed up in clouds of dust.
An aching longing gripped my heart. Time stood still.