No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man
Performing poetry at the Artworks Community Theatre in Waiheke Island. Photo credit: Chris Moran, Morgan Creative
“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.”
“Did you see anything?” A soft voice called to me at the end of my Reiki session. My eyes hadn’t opened yet as my mind and body needed time to reconnect. I don’t remember where I went, but it was somewhere peaceful. Reiki in the middle of a bustling Sunday market is an interesting, almost out of body experience. There was no escaping the excited conversations of serendipitous reconnection, live music and optimism of people basking in the sunshine. Even the wind demanded my attention as it swirled around the gazebo, squirming through the thin netting curtains that provided little privacy. I closed my eyes not to escape, but to focus.
My energy had been depleted lately and I needed to reset. In nature, winter is a time of hibernation. When some animals go to sleep to conserve energy, especially when food is scarce. A season to wait out the cold and make plans for spring. It’s been quite the opposite for me - July and August have been my busiest yet (in the Southern Hemisphere, winter is in the middle of the year here). I scored a chance to travel and perform poetry around the North Island with C.R. Avery’s NZ Tour. With performances in Rotorua, Hastings, Hamilton and Waiheke Island, it was pretty dope for someone who has never gigged before. My chapbook, “Stories from my bunk bed and other feelings' found its way into the hands of a select few - a limited print run that quickly sold out. August finished off with a bang with an invitation to perform at Rhymes and Lyrics in Mount Maunganui on National Poetry Day 2023. If winter is the deep sleep to rejuvenate the soul, then spring is the friend with a glowing tan, fresh from a tropical holiday.
After coming home from the tour, I promised myself to retire some poems from my performing roster. They were the stories from day dot, the ride-or-die that became so ingrained in my tongue that even today, I can feel them in my bones as I perform them. Although, ‘The Death Rattle of my Ovaries’ doesn’t cut as deeply as it used to. I wrote many of those words when the silence was uncomfortably loud, before I realised the true power of my words. Today, I set them free, to breathe life into stories waiting to be told.
Our lives begin with our first breath, so air is connected to new beginnings - something I thought about as I shifted my focus to the wind blowing through the gazebo. I felt my breathing grow deeper, like taking gulps of air before diving into the water.
“Did you see anything?” The voice asked again. “Not really, but I felt water flowing through me,” I replied in a sleepy haze. Water is both the calm and chaos in my mind. Flowing water is my way of embracing the push and pull of life’s changes, asking me to think as well as feel the right direction. There’s a lot we don’t see beneath the surface - something that we thought was ordinary is, in fact, remarkable. Even though my feet have returned to where it all began seven years ago, I’m not that woman anymore. My silence is still loud, but my voice is no longer afraid.
xo Ronna Grace
fivefootronna is Ronna Grace Funtelar is a graphic designer, weekend adventurer and writer. She’s a woman with a curious mind who lives for hiking mountains, outdoor adventures and finding epic places to eat cheese.