paper-work, wasp-work, care-work

I went on a working visit to a meditation centre. I worked in the cafe, serving sweet treats, teas and coffees.

There were three wasp hives in the building. They were left there - as the first rule of the building is no killing.

In the cafe we would let the visitors know that there were a lot of wasps outside, advising they might want to sit inside away from them. People usually sat outside - it was sunny. There was a sense that they would not be disturbed by the wasps - they had been meditating, and could practice their skills on noticing the wasps rather than being irritated by them.

Within ten minutes people would usually come back inside - bothered by the wasps, that had tested their limits.

It used to be a children’s home before it became a meditation centre - I had lived there as a teenager.

I thought a lot about the residues within the building from the time it was a children’s home - about how being there in it’s new form as a meditation centre spoke to my memories as a teenager there.

I thought about the wasps being a bit like kids in the care system - the way that we brushed up against peoples limits. The way that people thought that they would not be disturbed or bothered by us - that they could flex their skills of care - and then the edges were found and they would not be dealing - their patience over-tested.

I thought about sweets - about the draw of sugar. Someone I lived with there when it was a children’s home said that it was like sweets were used to shut us up.

I thought of us buzzing around the building - our nervous systems on edge - our bodies buzzing with stress. I thought of what it was like the residue of being treated as a pest.

I collected dead wasps off the window sills and from the corners of rooms. I thought about ways to care for them. I thought about how care is learnt and practiced in the care system - how messy it is, and how dehumanising sometimes too - to be processed in distancing ways.

I thought about the residue of wasp in me - and the process of building new homes. I looked at the wasps - I looked at the paper-work - I looked at ways that I practice care now.

Wasp, I tried

I tried to say goodbye to you today -

I tried to tie up some knots and roll your body away - from mine -

I tried to skirt around your edges -

avoiding your sting

- you left -

I tried to trim the corridors and smoke you out -

I tried to bypass all your haunting

- fill up all the holes -

I tried to tell myself my sticky fingers wouldn’t stop me finding homes.

I tried to let the others know -

I tried to let the others out -

they tried to warn me in their swarms and all I did was squirm - as you drown in fizzy drinks

- they did

sticky us -

extinguishing the rising humm -

but just like I came back to where it started - clinging on

you chased the sweeter words around -

then I left you by the kitchen door

- I forgot to say goodbye -

until I picked you off the window sill -

to touch your other sides.